Immortal Consequences(21)
The early glimmers of morning had begun to spread over Blackwood—the thick nighttime mist breaking away, revealing a plum-colored sky with feathered cerulean clouds. No sun, just a silverish glow that emanated from the sky and illuminated their world in a translucent veil.
The farther Irene and Masika walked, the more the world around them began to stir awake. Even the trees seemed to rouse from their slumber, groaning and fluttering their russet leaves. Just as the morning bell rang in Elysium Hall, a cluster of eager students funneled out from Holsterd, the House that sat northwest of the Library. It was a sea of tartan coats and neutral tones, a muted palette of button-downs and lace.
They’d each received a unique uniform upon entering Blackwood. Irene’s uniform was a black silk dress with two slits on either side and a pair of black heeled boots. Masika’s was a burgundy turtleneck tucked into a black skirt that clung to her hips and loosened at the hem.
Their uniforms fit them. And not just in the physical sense. They fit them—their essence.
“So…what do you think?” Irene linked her arm over the crook of Masika’s elbow.
“About?”
“The girl. Louise. The shadows.”
Masika shushed her and tugged her in closer. “Are you trying to get us in trouble? We just promised Silas we wouldn’t say anything. If somebody hears you—”
“Nobody can hear me,” Irene chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Look around. Everybody is too preoccupied preparing for the Decennial.”
Masika glanced around nervously. Irene was right. There was a palpable electricity in the air, a flurry of anticipation. Students were congregated in small groups, whispering to one another in hushed murmurs, their eyes wide and gleaming with hope. Those were the dreamers. The ones with rosy cheeks and hungry eyes. The ones who truly believed they stood a chance at the nomination.
It was easy to spot the realists. The students who anxiously gnawed on their fountain pens while frantically scribbling in their tattered journals. The ones perched on benches with dour expressions and textbooks tucked between their hands. They weren’t hopeful, because they had submitted to their fate. They drowned themselves in academics because they would rather lose themselves in the smudged ink and cobwebs than face the music.
Masika lived somewhere comfortably between. She was secretly hopeful. Nobody wanted to experience the Forgetting. No one wanted to spend eternity wandering the Ether, reaping lost souls on an unbreakable loop. It was exhausting enough to have to reap lost souls once a week during their assignments. But she also understood that earning the Decennial nomination wasn’t easy. It was a shot in the dark. And though she wanted nothing more than to be given a choice, to be handed the opportunity to decide her own fate, she also wasn’t going to allow herself to be crushed under the weight of disappointment.
“Fine,” Masika sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear. “We can discuss it. But can we at least hold off until we’re back at Ivory?”
Irene groaned. “You’re so paranoid.”
“I am not—”
“Masika! Wait up!” A cheery voice rang out behind them, and the pair instinctively froze.
Masika glanced over her shoulder and spotted a pair of large hazel eyes framed by square black glasses.
Liza Mendez. A bit younger than the usual Blackwood student; she was sixteen when she crossed over. Most students who were chosen were seventeen or eighteen, which Masika had learned was essential for their souls to properly acclimate to Blackwood. Fully formed adult souls didn’t have the transient quality required to traverse the Ether. Youthful souls, however, harbored the perfect balance of death and stubbornness that had them clinging to their humanity.
“Hey, Liza.”
Irene pinched the inside of Masika’s arm. Masika knew what the signal meant.
Get me the hell out of here.
“I was hoping you had a second to chat.” Liza looked between them, eyes quickly skating past Irene. The two of them didn’t exactly get along. “I’m sure you’ve heard that us girls over at Holsterd would love to have you join our Defensive Strategies Club. We have an opening now that—” Her voice broke off. “Well. You know.”
Of course she knew. Everybody knew.
Quinn Woodrow had disappeared last month. Well, disappeared wasn’t exactly accurate. She’d left a note taped to her vanity mirror. An explanation. Ramblings about wanting more—about wanting a way out. And everybody knew what that meant.
The Demien Order.
Headmaster Silas’s assertion that recruitment numbers had been historically low didn’t mean that some students still hadn’t fallen prey to the Demien Order’s poisonous words.
Turned out, Quinn had been one of them.
“That’s very kind of you.” Masika smiled. She could practically feel Irene’s searing gaze against her face. “But I don’t think my schedule will allow it. I’m pretty busy.”
“Very busy,” Irene added.
“Well…either way…we’d love to have you over sometime.” Liza smiled and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But who knows…maybe one of us will be nominated! Could you imagine? Getting to stay in the Ascended Quarters?” She let out a wistful sigh. “I heard it’s enchanted to be even larger inside. That it spans hundreds of floors.”