Immortal Consequences(75)

He sighed.

“You fell into the Shadow Lands.”

Olivier gawked in disbelief. “What? The doors to the Shadow Lands are locked. There’s no way—”

“I know what I saw.”

Wren pressed a shaking hand against her chest. “How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

Olivier’s eyes drilled into his face, the unspoken words rattling between them.

Tell her. Tell her what you did.

But August couldn’t. If he told Wren the truth, that he’d harbored a piece of his soul inside her, it would completely rattle her. Send her flying off the handle. And he needed her to remain focused for the rest of the Decennial.

He needed to keep her safe.

“We should tell Headmaster Silas,” Wren muttered, attempting to sit up. “He’ll know what to do.”

August shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a—”

A sound echoed in the distance, cutting him off. Muffled voices were approaching, closer and closer by the second, and then the door to Bonestrod burst open and three familiar faces looked back at them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” August bristled.

Irene, Masika and Emilio stood before them. They all seemed equally out of breath, their chests rising and falling rapidly. Irene was the first to break the silence, stepping forward with an exasperated sigh.

“We were following this one,” she said, motioning to Emilio, who flinched at the sound of her voice. “We found him a few minutes after appearing back in Blackwood. He was sprinting around like some madman.”

“I saw Olivier running in the distance.” Emilio scratched the side of his arm. “He looked…scared. I thought something might have happened.”

Olivier blinked at him. “And you decided to follow me?”

Emilio flushed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Olivier practically melted into a puddle on the floor.

“My little knight in shining armor.”

Masika’s eyes drifted toward Wren.

“You look like you were run over by a freight train.”

“Thanks.” Wren gathered herself onto her knees. “I feel like I was.”

Emilio stepped toward her. “You really do look awful. What happened?”

“Something attacked her,” August interjected. “She was in the Ether and a darkness led her into the Shadow Lands.”

Irene blanched. She turned to look at Wren with a surprising hint of envy. “You crossed into the Shadow Lands?”

“I guess so.” Wren rubbed her head. “Though I don’t remember much. It’s all a bit jumbled.”

“How is that possible?” Emilio’s eyes widened in concern. “I thought the Shadow Lands were guarded so Blackwood students can’t find them. We shouldn’t be able to locate them, let alone accidentally fall into them.”

August shook his head. “The doors to the Shadow Lands aren’t guarded so we can’t find them. They’re guarded so whatever is inside them can’t find us.”

“And how are we sure this thing that attacked Wren didn’t happen to follow her back to Blackwood?” Masika asked.

August snapped his head toward her. “What did you say?”

Masika rolled her eyes. “I said—”

A piercing roar cut through her words. The six of them collectively tensed, mouths agape and bodies rigid. Something was circling them, drawing nearer, the unmistakable sound of shadow magic crackling through the air. Another roar echoed in the distance, closer and closer, whirling around them in dizzying circles.

August looked at Wren. Their eyes met.

And then the darkness swallowed them whole.

35

Emilio

When Emilio died, he felt the world slip away. It was a strange feeling—knowing that everything around him was fading into his periphery, replaced by a warm and gentle pressure that seemed to spread over every inch of his body. And then, before he could understand what was happening, the darkness took him. He could still remember the untainted darkness of death. How it went on forever, blotting out the rest of the world and everything he had once known.

He’d thought he’d never experience anything like it again.

He had been wrong.

The shadow creature sucked every particle of light out of Bonestrod, as if someone had turned off a switch and eliminated all the light from the world. Emilio scrambled backward, a choked breath ripping from his throat, and then a hand was grabbing him, taking hold of him.

He pushed back, terrified of what might be lurking in the darkness.

“Hey,” a voice whispered, gentle but urgent. “It’s just me.”

Olivier.

He could feel him now. His familiar hands. The sound of his voice. And then, despite the darkness, despite the uncertainty, Emilio relaxed.

“Olivier,” Emilio whispered. “What—what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to God”—Irene’s voice cut through their hushed whispers—“why is it every time I’m with you people something bad happens?”

“Calm down.” August’s voice echoed in the distance. “Just stay quiet.”

“It’s the shadow creature,” Wren whispered. “I can feel it.”