Nyx had trespassed up there once and brought about much misery. She dared not do so again, not after all the efforts of the prioress to secure her spot among the ninthyears. Even her own family was participating in the sacrifice to come. How dare she consider sullying their efforts with some rash ploy?
“I’m such a fool,” she whispered to herself.
Jace glanced her way with pinched eyes, but she waved away his concern.
As the wagon trundled across the fourth tier, a pair of men followed the wagon. One bore light armor, but carried his helm under an arm, exposing the shining crimson of his station as a member of the Vyrllian Guard. The vy-knight towered over a slimmer, darker figure hidden under a hunter’s green cloak, with a bow strapped across his shoulders. From this last one’s position of prominence in the procession, Nyx wondered if that squint-eyed hunter had been the one who had shot down the bat.
Anger stoked in her breast at the sight of him.
Behind the pair followed two dozen more of the hardened Vyrllian Guard.
The nonne on her left leaned toward a neighboring hieromonk. “I heard the king’s forces intend to finally rid us of the scourge of those daemon bats. To slaughter a path all the way to the volcanic flanks of The Fist where those monsters roost and breed.”
The monk nodded sagely. “I heard the same.”
Nyx’s fingers tightened on the rail. She pictured dark shapes tumbling from the skies, crashing into marsh and bog. Her vision grew blood-tinged with swords and axes swinging, hacking into broken bodies.
The nonne pointed below. “And it’s high time Goren called for such a hunt.”
Nyx stared down as a final pair climbed behind the crimson-faced guards. The highmayor of Fiskur waved at the crowd as he huffed his way toward the summit. His round face, shining bright red, dripped with sweat. Beside him strode a figure Nyx had dreaded to see again—Kindjal, twin sister of Byrd.
Nyx clutched harder to the balcony rail as her legs trembled. The sight of Kindjal stoked the guilt and worry inside her. Byrd was dead in part because of her own cowardice. She had fled where she should not have, luring her classmate to his doom.
And more death would follow.
She again pictured the slaughter to come.
All the bloodshed and misery will be because of me.
She stumbled back from the rail, barely able to stand, gutted by despair.
Jace drew closer. “Nyx?”
She looked to him. “Get me out of here.”
He scooped an arm around her and helped her away from the rail. He half carried her across the crowded balcony toward the doors. Her hurried departure did not go unnoticed, especially the way she hung on Jace’s arm.
Voices followed in her wake.
… poor girl will soon be avenged.
… her suffering will fuel the flames as that monster writhes.
… no doubt, the Mother has twice-blessed her.
Nyx fled from their words, from their misplaced concern. Shame strengthened her legs. She pushed free of Jace’s arm and rushed through the narrow halls and past the wards. He followed behind her, but she wanted to flee everyone. She did not deserve his friendship.
I’ll only doom you, too.
She reached her set of borrowed rooms and stumbled inside. She tried to close the door on Jace, but he would have none of it. He pushed through after her.
His worry rushed out of him, his eyes huge, his breath panted. “Nyx, what’s wrong? Are you feeling ill again? Should I fetch Physik Oeric?”
She turned to him, ready to batter him back outside, but instead she fell into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest, smelling bitter lime and musky sweat. She shook there, trying to find comfort, to settle her pounding heart. Her body quaked with sobs. She had no words to express her anguish and guilt.
Instead, she felt a darkness closing upon her.
As if from far away, Jace’s voice reached her. “What’s that noise?”
Only then did she hear the sharp keening past the pounding of her heart. It cut through her misery. She stared into the rafters of the study—and spotted tiny eyes, glowing a furious crimson from the shadows. Her lost brother’s ululating cries filled her head, vibrating the bones in her ear, in her skull, and firing across her brain.
Under that barrage, the world began to shiver away.
Nyx gasped, clutching to Jace. “Hold me.”
Then she was gone.
She stands amidst flames. A shadow thrashes and writhes inside a burning cage. Pain is carried on smoke and wind. Before her, wooden bars turn to coal. Flesh to cinders. Bone to ash. The flames cast higher, lifting her. She becomes a fiery ember carried aloft, swirling skyward toward gray clouds.
High enough now, she spots a black storm building at the horizon, stacking higher, roiling with dark energies. It rolls forth from a mountainous shadow in the distance. But no thunder flows from that stormfront, only a wail of fury. The blackness breaks apart into a thousand wings that come crashing toward her.
No, not her.
Bathed in the smoke of charred flesh, she stares down from her height.
Below, the breadth of the school lies quiet and dark, unaware of the savage storm about to break upon it. She tries to cry a warning to those below, but all that comes out of her mouth are the screams of a thousand bats.
With a shudder, Nyx fell back into herself, still in Jace’s arms.
“They’re coming,” she moaned to his chest.
Jace shifted her higher. “Who … Who’s coming?”
A snap of wings drew their attention to the rafters. A dark shape dropped toward them.
Jace yelped and sheltered his body over hers.
The bat dove across their heads and swept out the open window.
Jace kept low. “Stay. There could be more.”
She knew there were many more. She pushed out of his arms. She understood the reason for this visit from her long-lost brother. He had come with a warning and a threat. She shared it with Jace.
“We have to stop the sacrifice, or all will be lost.”
Jace’s face scrunched with bafflement. “What’re you talking about?”
She faced the door, knowing she could not do this alone. “I must speak to Prioress Ghyle. Before it’s too late.”
* * *
NYX STUCK TO Jace’s shoulder as he slipped a key into the lock of a forbidden door. He glanced back at her. “Maybe I should go alone.”
She chewed her lower lip and stared at the brand in the door bearing the vine-wrapped sigil of the Cloistery. A small silver crucible and pestle adorned it. Tension kept her shoulders by her ears. At any moment, she expected to hear the final latterday bell. After that, with the first bell of Eventoll, the fiery sacrifice was due to begin.
She took a breath, then shook her head. “No. We have too little time. I must risk this path.”
“But why?” Jace pressed.
“I don’t have time to explain.”
Certainly not time for you to believe me.
He sighed, keyed the lock, and opened the way to the private stair up to the ninth tier. Jace—no longer a student—had been given access to haul precious books up to the scholars, which included Prioress Ghyle’s chambers atop the school. Such dispensation did not apply to guests. Nyx knew she was putting Jace’s position and livelihood in danger by this trespass. If caught, she intended to deny his involvement.
Jace led the way over the threshold. There was not enough time for him to run up from the fourth tier to the ninth, convince the prioress of the urgency, and return with her back down here. Nyx knew she had to press the matter directly with the head of the Cloistery. No other would believe her.