Immortal Consequences(115)

Masika had heard enough.

She released another spell. And another. A scream ripped from her throat with every crackle of magic. August dodged each one, never once raising a hand toward her, never once fighting back. But she wanted him to. If only to make the betrayal hurt less. If only to make the decision to hate him easier.

He stumbled to the ground, his knees pressed against the icy floor.

“Get up and fight me,” Masika rasped, stumbling forward. Sweat dripped down her neck as she summoned another crackle of magic into her palms. She was exhausting herself, depleting herself completely, but she didn’t care.

August shook his head, dark hair falling over his eyes as he looked up at her.

“No.”

One more. She just needed one more shot to call it even. But when the spell darted out of her palm, hurtling toward August, he dove out of the way and it crashed into the wall behind him. The mountain rumbled, cracks splintering through the sheet of rock, and everything around her began to collapse.

Shards of ice fell from the sky. Crashing onto the floor. The room roared.

August’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s coming down!”

Masika looked around, eyes searching for Catherine, but she was gone. Russo and Birdie, nowhere to be seen. When she turned back to look at August, he was still standing by the doorway, gesturing her forward, his eyes wide and desperate.

“Masika!”

She couldn’t hear him.

And then the walls around her came tumbling down.

52

Irene

Irene dove through the arch and landed back in the forest. She could feel the ice-cold water pulling her in. The sound of her mother’s voice echoing around her head like a nagging fly. But despite the terror coursing through her veins, she’d dismantled the illusion.

She’d clawed her way out and escaped.

The forest was quiet—nothing but the rustle of leaves and the faint whistle of the wind. She thought about sticking around for a bit, waiting to see if any of the others came through, but decided against it.

If they’d been eliminated…there was nothing she could do about it now.

Irene made her way through the forest, sticking to the path they had walked along, until she came to the Blackwood gates. When she stepped closer, the gates opened on their own, as though welcoming her back.

Leaves crunched beneath her boots as she trudged toward Bonestrod. When she arrived, she noticed that the wooden doors had been left slightly ajar. She drew in a breath, preparing herself, and swung them open.

She froze at the doorway when she saw what waited for her on the other side.

August sat on one of the long tables, palms pressed against the back of his neck. He looked like an absolute wreck, blood oozing out of a large gash in his shoulder. Wren, on the other hand, looked pretty much unscathed. No injuries to be seen.

But none of that was what shocked her.

In front of everyone, splayed on the floor, were Olivier and Emilio. But something wasn’t right. Olivier sat behind Emilio, holding his body against his chest, hand pressed tightly against Emilio’s abdomen.

There was blood. So much blood.

It leaked out of Emilio’s stomach, trickling through Olivier’s fingers as he desperately tried to hold the other boy together. Something had ripped apart Emilio’s skin, a large gash sliced right through the center of his stomach.

Nobody said a word. Olivier wept with bone-chilling intensity, cursing under his breath as he applied pressure to the wound. Emilio’s blood covered nearly every inch of Olivier. It stained his shirt and his arms and his neck. Even his hair.

Irene stared, frozen.

“What happened?” she heard herself ask.

Olivier flinched, as though he hadn’t noticed her standing there. He looked up, eyes bloodshot.

“I…I don’t know. I found him like this. He was—” Olivier’s voice broke as a sob rattled in his chest. “He was stabbed. It was…somebody…or something…”

Irene staggered forward, hands trembling. “But it—it was just an illusion. That can’t be possible.”

Emilio looked weakly up at her, struggling to keep his eyes open. His face was marked with a stoic calmness that unnerved her.

Like he’d already accepted his fate.

Another realization struck her as she glanced around the room.

“Where’s Masika? And the others?”

At this, Wren stopped pacing. She looked up and shook her head. “Josie and Carter were eliminated. I found Carter’s body…” She grimaced and batted away tears. “But…we don’t know where Masika is.”

Irene had opened her mouth, prepared to question further, when the doors to Bonestrod burst open and Headmaster Silas strode in.

He regarded them with a solemn nod. “Hello, nominees. I’m glad to see you’ve—”

Olivier’s voice drowned out the rest of his sentence. “Do something!”

Silas came to an abrupt halt. He surveyed the mess on the floor.

“Please,” Olivier begged through a hoarse whimper. He gestured to Emilio’s stomach with a shaking hand, mouth hung open in horror. “I’m begging you. Please…just—just fix him. He dismantled the illusion. He beat the trial.”

“You’re right, Mr. Dupont. He did complete the trial. But his injuries will remain. They must heal naturally.”