Immortal Consequences(34)
Time itself seemed to freeze. It was the final gust, the catalyst pushing all of the pieces together. And somehow, Emilio knew. It was an innate feeling, an unconscious understanding, that this moment would, irrevocably, change everything.
“This Decennial is no longer merely about celebrating a single student. It is no longer about showcasing their specific talents and proving them through tests.” Silas’s words echoed throughout the vast hall. “This time…it’s a competition.”
Part III
Unprecedented
12
Olivier
He needed a drink. Or perhaps a lobotomy. Honestly, either would do.
Olivier was certain that if he’d had the ability to knock himself out and simply lie there, sprawled like some squashed bug, he would have skipped with glee and hopped on the opportunity. But even if he downed the entire bottle of enchanted whiskey he kept hidden beneath the floorboards of his bedroom, hell-bent on destroying his liver, he’d emerge the next morning bright-eyed and clearheaded, cursed with the ability to heal himself even if he’d rather not.
The rest of the ceremony had gone by in a dizzying blur. Once Headmaster Silas had announced that the Decennial was going to be a competition, he had gone on to explain how it would work, which only confused everybody more.
“The Decennial will still consist of four trials spanning the next few weeks, but this time…each trial is not merely a moment to showcase your magical abilities but a chance to outshine the other nominees and eliminate them from the running. There will be two nominees per House. If you are selected, you will receive a letter tomorrow morning. Now, as a reminder, just because there will be multiple participants does not mean there will be multiple winners. There will be only one. That has not changed.”
The hall had erupted into chaos the moment the ceremony ended. Olivier’s attention had latched onto Wren, who seemed to be on the precipice of having a nervous breakdown. He’d even seen her attempt to approach the podium to speak to Silas, pushing her way through the crowd, but he’d quickly lost sight of her.
He’d retreated to his room with Emilio shortly after, desperate to make sense of everything.
“What are you going to do if you’re chosen?” Emilio asked. He was sitting on the floor, resting his back against Olivier’s nightstand, nervously fussing with a loose thread on his sweater.
“Dunno.” Olivier shrugged, pounding his fist against the loose floorboard. It sprang open with a satisfying pop. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” It was a lie, of course. He most certainly had. But what could he tell Emilio? That he was grasping at the tiny shred of hope still left inside him? That he might actually stand a chance of stopping the Forgetting before it could swallow him whole? There was no need to worry Emilio. And either way, Olivier was more concerned about him getting the nomination and making the irreparable decision to cross over to the Other Side. About losing him forever.
“Well, this changes everything. We actually stand a chance now!”
Olivier ignored the wave of panic flooding through his body as he uncorked the bottle of whiskey and took a hearty swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Maybe. Maybe not. There are still hundreds of Blackwood students far more qualified.”
Emilio scowled. “There are six Houses. Two chosen from each House means twelve nominees. Say what you will—but that raises our chances.”
A sudden knock on the door caused the two of them to jump.
Emilio glanced up. “Were you expecting anybody?”
“No.”
Another knock. A bit more forceful. The sound of patience dwindling.
“Yes, I hear you!” Olivier called out. He flicked his wrist and the door flew open. He tilted his head in surprise when he spotted Wren on the other side. “What on earth are you—”
“Can you believe this?!” Wren slammed the door behind her and stormed into the room like a sudden wildfire. Quite frankly, she looked like an absolute wreck. Tufts of hair stuck out of her braid at odd angles, her face splotchy. “A competition…who in their right mind thought it would be a good idea to do this? They are changing tradition! Rewriting the laws that govern the afterlife!”
“Uh…” Olivier dangled the bottle of whiskey in front of her. “Care for a drink?”
She snatched the bottle from his hand and threw back a swig—quite impressively, Olivier had to admit. When she was done, she tossed the bottle back to him and slumped onto the floor.
“It’s ridiculous,” she continued, slightly out of breath. “Unprecedented skills? What a load of bullshit. How could they just spring this on us without warning?”
“Tell us how you really feel,” Olivier muttered teasingly, taking another swig.
She shot him a glare. “This isn’t right. And you know it.”
He did. The whole thing felt strange. But before he could chime in, a swirling cloud of bloodred smoke funneled into the room, spreading over them like evening mist. And then, in the blink of an eye, Irene and Masika were standing before them.
“Hello,” Irene said in a nonchalant tone, as if relocating into somebody’s room uninvited and without warning was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. “I see we’re throwing a little Decennial party without us.”
“Is that whiskey?” Masika beamed, scurrying over to Olivier and taking a seat next to him.