The first day of a new school year in September always carried a certain promise with it; that things will be different from here on out, that things will be better. Most people were at least a little excited or curious about what the new year had in store for them. But that always changed once second semester rolled around. The novelty had worn off, and the only thing left in its wake was a bone-deep sense of fatigue and disinterest. The business of the holidays had finally died down, and now everyone was left to face the same, unrelenting slog that was the second half.

  That Monday morning, Spencer waited for me at my locker. Her expression said she was in just as much pain as I was.

  "You ready?" she asked when I approached.

  "For another five months of this?" I said, opening the locker door. "No, not really."

  "We're so close to freedom!" she pointed out.

  "And five months feels like a long time right now." I grabbed my things for the day and shut the metal door again.

  She let out a big sigh. "I hear that. But c'mon. Let's go, you'll be okay. You look like you're dying."

  "Thanks for that," I grumbled, but laughed. It was just like her to call it as it was.

  The school was bustling with people. There were clusters of students lining the hall, talking and comparing schedules. Some were already discussing the assignments and workload and bemoaning what they'd have to endure in order to survive the semester. It wasn't that difficult to spot the seniors in the mix; they typically looked the most relaxed or apathetic. It was a rhythm we'd all danced through three times before. But I could understand the intermittent frustration. After all the work that went into getting the grades needed for college, all of the studying and homework and stressing about what was expected of us... It was difficult not to resent it when the reality of school returned.

  My timetable wasn't overly packed, but it was demanding enough. U.S. history, kinesiology, psychology, then forensic science. The second semester always came with more heavy hitters in the curriculum department. At the very least, forensics had always interested me. Plus, I shared first and third period with Spencer, and second and fourth with Luke. It wasn't bad at all.

  "So," Spencer said as we headed for history class, "are you still cool to help with the art gallery at school this Saturday? It's supposed to open at three, so if we're there before two-thirty, I think we can manage to get everything set up by opening. Maybe."

  I nodded. "Of course! I'll bring my camera."

  She beamed at me. "I appreciate it, dude. It'll be great for my portfolio. I just need to make sure my pieces are all set up properly. The lighting has to be right, and they can't be hung too low. And the placard has to be on each frame."

  "Well, it's not like I'm a photographer by trade or anything. I don't know much about the lighting thing," I admitted, "but I'm sure we can make it all look good."

  She looked over her shoulder at me as we approached the classroom. "Don't worry about it. Just getting your camera in there and snapping some pics will be enough. You have a good eye. Just don't go taking photos of other people's work!"

  I laughed. "I think that would be a pretty easy promise to keep. Your art is incredible. You don't have much competition here."

  "Exactly! And I plan to keep it that way!" she added with a wink, opening the classroom door.

  History was interesting enough, but I'd never been especially gifted with retaining information about dates and facts. I did, however, like to listen to the stories that went with those facts. How things had happened, why they had happened... Those were things I could get on board with.

  The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. All of my teachers just focused on the regular first-day stuff: syllabus review, rules and regulations, and reminders that no, we did not need to use textbooks just yet, but we'd need them by next week. It was boring, and by lunch time I was just ready to go home and take a nap. I knew, of course, that if I wanted to keep my grades up and be accepted into my preferred colleges, then I had to remain committed to the whole studying thing. But that was for another day.

  During all of my classes, my mind kept drifting back to Ashkan. I would stare at the clock and count down the hours until I could go home, teleport to Emiarhia, and visit him at Northview. Kadia had given all three of us the entire week off to rest and recuperate from the abduction incident, as well as to prep for the Academy's second semester, which started next Monday. She told us that Ashkan needed to recover fully and to rest before he went back to class and training, but I wondered how long that would last. He was usually chomping at the bit to return to work. I knew that was his way of keeping himself from overthinking or over-feeling. I just hoped that he would actually let himself rest and not pretend that he was fine, only to suffer in silence.

  As it turns out, Ashkan was awake and recovering well, but was extremely tired. The 'neural nourisher' procedure he'd undergone didn't allow him to get much sleep. We barely had a conversation because of that. His energy and attention were entirely focused on healing from the damage that the kidnapping had caused. And of course, there was also a lot of work that needed to be done in order to ensure that the same thing wouldn't happen again. The magical dome barriers surrounding Kadia's, Shaye's and Ashkan's homes had all been updated and reinforced to make it as difficult as possible for dark magic to pass through. Apparently, shadows were more advanced than I'd thought. The underground prison-hideout Ash had been held in had also been fully destroyed. The Rime Guard was able to arrest some more Inkbloods from that place, too. Just not Balgaur or Vhinrud, unfortunately.

  Winithas was by and large overjoyed to find out that Ashkan was alive. The headline was blazed on the front page of every newspaper you could find. Lunellia and her staff had their work cut out for them in keeping the reporters out of Ash's hospital room. His guards helped with that. Regardless, the story had made its way to the world at large. Of course, with that came the speculation, the wild theories. But nobody had much time to hypothesize before King Typhis stepped forward to release an official statement: that Ashkan's injuries were non-lethal, and that he would be in good health, soon to return to his duties as a saviour. In a surprising continuation, he went on to divulge the shadow imposter and the Inkbloods' involvement. Nothing about Vhinrud and only a brief mention of Balgaur, but the news was still explosive. I'd almost choked when I read that part.

  The headlines had a field day, and Lunellia had been scrambling to deal with all of the press invading Northview in the hopes of getting a soundbite from Ash. I suppose the King was in a tough position. The people would riot if they didn't get an update about a missing saviour, and with all of the bad press about Ashkan being dead, he probably thought it best to offer a little peace and reassurance. But on the other hand, the last thing the realm needed was more fear about Inkbloods. It was a careful balance that he walked. He made sure to clarify that this was an isolated incident. Still, I was a little irritated that he had to involve nearly every detail in his statement. It was already going to be hard enough for Ash to move on. He didn't need all the questions about it and the endless reminders.

  The next day arrived way faster than I thought it would. January eighth. My eighteenth birthday. Growing up didn't feel like a prospect, it felt more like an inevitability. Like whatever had kept me a kid for so long just decided to end the fun all of a sudden. Everything felt...serious now. And that feeling definitely wasn't helped by the prophecy looming over my head. Ashkan was eighteen. I was eighteen. And Shaye would join us in about six months. How had time flown by so fast? It was just ticking down until I would have to seriously start dealing with the war. Or...whatever the prophecy really meant. And what if it had been wrong after all, and no war would ever actually come? Or what if we actually had another year or three? What would we be expected to do then? After dedicating our lives to a lie?

  I peeled myself out of bed and started the day the same way I always did: showering, contemplating life, getting dressed, daydreaming. Although it did seem a little deeper that morning. There was something different in the air. More real.

  When I went downstairs, there was breakfast waiting for me on the kitchen table. Dad smiled brightly. Mom took a picture of me – a yearly tradition. I had no choice but to oblige. The bright flash filled my vision, and I couldn't see a damn thing. I blinked, bringing the world back into view, before my eyes snapped to the stranger sitting next to Dad at the table.

  I stared at her for a moment, still trying to register exactly what I was looking at. My brain put the pieces together slowly: tanned complexion, warm-toned green eyes like Mom's; long, copper brown curls...

  I could feel my stomach start to knot. "...Kadia?"

  "Uh... Finley," she corrected. "Happy birthday."

  Oh. My. God.

  My brain went into overdrive, trying to remember my sister's alternate appearance so I could compare the two. The hardest things to remember about one universe while I was in the other were visual details; images. There was always dissonance there. And in that moment, I didn't really have time to look closely at her. My eyes just bounced around, looking at the change of hair texture, eye colour, a new outfit... Seeing Kadia speak English while wearing jeans was stupefying enough. I barely got the chance to register the new sight at all, let alone compare it to the one I knew.

  I finally shook myself out of the stupor and realized how awkward and rude it all was. I opened my mouth, but Dad interrupted me before I could say anything.

  "Your sister decided to pop by and celebrate with us this morning before you headed to school. We didn't know she'd be here until just a little while ago."

  Kadia – Finley, I mean – smiled up at me, but it seemed a little strained.

  "Uh... Wow." It was all I could come up with. I sat down, feeling like the world's most awkward idiot. "Thank you. Um... It's cool to see you, uh... How did you get here?"

  "I have a travelling ticket," she replied. "I thought maybe I should...check in with my family. And it's your eighteenth, so..." She shrugged and pushed some food around her plate with a fork.

  I felt like such a jerk for not being excited about seeing her, and I felt even worse that my immediate reaction wasn't happiness, it was shock. But how else was I supposed to react? I didn't want to pretend like we'd grown up together. And I was sure she didn't want to do that either.

  "That's really nice of you. Thank you," I repeated.

  Finley glanced at me again. "I apologize, I probably should have messaged or something first. It was...a bit of a last-minute decision."

  "That's okay," I said.

  I glanced at Mom and Dad, who seemed really happy that she was here. It was clear they wanted us to bond. And I did want that too – it was just such a weird thing to think about. We were sisters. Yet, in a sense, we didn't even really know each other at all. And I was the one who'd messed with her life in the first place. I shoveled some scrambled eggs into my mouth to give me an excuse to not have to say anything else.

  The breakfast conversation was kept pretty light. Mom and Dad were just excited to have the entire family in the same place, and they filled Finley in on all of the latest developments in our lives on Earth. They mostly told stories about me and what I'd been up to: classes, future career ideas, college applications, the incident with the punch bowl on New Year's. She asked questions and seemed politely interested.

  "Do you have any classes with Lucas this semester?" Mom asked.

  I nodded and swallowed a mouthful of waffle. "Yeah. Kinesiology and forensic science. Why?"

  She shrugged, sipping her coffee. "Just curious. I think it'd be nice for him to have a few friends to hang out with in his classes."

  "We are friends," I pointed out.

  She smiled and patted my hand. "You're friends in a romantic sort of way."

  Kill me now. "Okay," I said with a laugh, "Those things are hard to figure out, Mom. We're working on it."

  "Just keep me updated. I know he likes you; you like him. Just see where it goes."

  Finley raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. "Do you have a...boyfriend, Chloe?" The tone in her voice told me she'd already heard about my romantic pursuits in my absence, but was asking about it for politeness' sake.

  "No," I replied, a little too sternly. I could feel myself blush.

  Mom interjected, "But we have our fingers crossed." She winked at me, and I could feel my face get even hotter. I just shoved more waffle into my mouth.

  The rest of breakfast passed without too much fuss, thankfully, and Dad was soon piling gifts in front of me. The typical birthday things: gift cards, clothes, some new camera accessories, some jewelry, a new pair of headphones... Finley sat off to the side while I opened the presents. I could tell that she felt like she was intruding. Or maybe just out of place. I didn't really know what else I could do to try to make her feel more comfortable.

  "Thank you for everything, Mom. Dad." I pulled them both into a hug.

  "I know you don't think it's that big of a deal," Mom said as we separated, "but we are really proud of you, Chloe. We're so proud of both you girls."

  "Of course. Thank you..." Finley murmured, but I knew that was for their sake more than anything. "I apologize, I...didn't get you anything. I wasn't sure what you'd like, and..." Her eyes darted from Mom, to Dad, and then back to me.

  I just shook my head. "Oh, that's okay, you didn't need to! Everything you've done for me since July has been more valuable than any gift. I can't repay you for all that."

  Her eyebrows rose. When I didn't say anything more, she nodded and ducked her head a little. "Oh, right, of course. Well, I'm...glad that I can help. You're... You're welcome." She bit her lip and glanced around awkwardly. "Uh, I should head home, then. Get back to work... Until next time, Mother, Father."

  "Don't be a stranger, please," Dad told her, leaning forward in his seat. "You are always welcome to come stay or visit."

  She smiled. "I know. And I'll, uh, make a point to get back here more regularly. I just...needed some time."

  Mom got up and pulled her into a quick hug. "We understand. Just give us a little warning, so we can have a nicer meal prepared and not just a pile of waffles, all right?"

  Finley laughed lightly. It was a sound that I didn't hear very often. It sort of felt like I wasn't supposed to. "All right."

  Dad gave her a brief hug too. "Tell Thorne we say hi."

  "I'll tell him. It was...nice to see you all." Her hand locked onto my shoulder and squeezed it for a moment before letting go. "Happy birthday again. Enjoy your day."

  "Yeah, thanks," I replied.

  "If you need me, you know where to find me." She pulled out a small scroll from her pocket, unrolled it, then disappeared in a flash of light.

  Dad grinned. "That was sweet of her, wasn't it? Waking up this early to see you."

  I smiled and nodded, but my mind was still reeling. Seeing Finley (Kadia?) on Earth really threw me for a loop. My two worlds were clashing so much. It was getting more complicated to compartmentalize in my head. When I'd first discovered Emiarhia, Dad had instructed me very clearly to keep both my lives strictly separate from one another. But as the months flew by, I'd started to notice the cracks where some things started to overlap. Finley coming here was proof enough of that. More and more people knew about my two lives, about what was going on with me. My parents, the King and Queen, Kadia, the Greengroves, Balgaur... It was just one thing after another. I hoped it would stop there.

  Spencer, Lauren, Reese, Niki, and Jess were all waiting for me at my locker when I got to school.

  "Happy birthday, nerd!" Spencer yelled. She was the first to spot me.

  I laughed and shielded my face with a hand, flushing pink. Nearby students turned to stare as I made my way down the hall. That was the one thing I hated about birthdays – all the attention.

  Lauren grabbed my arm and dragged me to the middle of the circle that the others had created around my locker. "Eighteen! How's it feel?"

  "Oh my god," I muttered. "It feels the same as seventeen."

  Reese chuckled and leaned over to hug me. "That's okay. Still a kid at heart."

  Niki nudged my shoulder. "Aw, they grow up so fast."

  "Oh my god," I repeated, a little louder, shoving her back playfully. "You're all horrible."

  Jess held up a sparkly gift bag with a green bow tied on top. "But not horrible enough to not get you a present, huh?"

  I grinned and took it from her. "You guys really didn't have to..."

  "Just shut up and open it," Spencer ordered, bouncing up and down on her feet.

  I tried to suppress a grin as I pulled off the ribbon and dug my hand inside the bag, past the glittery tissue paper. My fingers grazed multiple objects. I pulled them all out one by one: some assorted bags of my favourite candies, a tube of bubble bath, a pack of fuzzy sock-slippers, a bottle of shimmery indigo nail polish, and...a rolled-up poster with a rubber band wrapped around it. I could guess pretty confidently who'd picked out what.

  "Unroll it, unroll it, unroll it!" Spencer urged, still bouncing up and down.

  I chuckled. "You're gonna pop my eardrums; calm down." I untied the band and unrolled the poster, then let out a loud gasp as my eyes settled on it.

  It was a print of a fully illustrated, hyperdetailed comic cover, signed by Spencer. She'd drawn the two of us as superheroes. My costume was navy and silver, with a flowing cape and a pair of cool gauntlets on my wrists. Spencer's was orange, black, and pink with some funky-looking, high-tech goggles and a chunky pair of platform rocket boots. We were standing on top of a mountain in a dramatic pose. I had one arm extended in front of me with my fingers spread out, and Spencer was standing beside me with one foot propped up on a boulder. Behind us was the view of a bustling city, complete with tall skyscrapers, a skyline, and a glittery ocean in the distance. The top of the page had 'The Adventures of Spitfire and Chamomile' written in bubble letters. I stared at it, absolutely blown away, trying to pick up all the little details that Spencer had included in it. The shading, the depth of field, the colours... I was so touched.

  "You made this?!" I looked at Spencer in complete shock. At first, I thought it must've been from some superhero series or something, and she just bought it. But no, it was from her imagination. And she'd signed it and everything.

  She blushed slightly. "I drew it, yeah, but it's not the greatest. Just something fun."

  I wrapped her up in a tight hug, grinning. "You're the best. Thank you!"

  She hugged me back for a moment, then gently pushed me off her. "You're welcome... Don't make it weird. Happy birthday, ya dork."

  "Thank you guys, seriously," I said, turning my attention to the other four girls. "This is the nicest thing ever. I love you guys."

  They all said something similar back while I carefully attached the poster to my locker door with magnets. I couldn't stop smiling at it. Spencer was so talented. She rarely let me look through her drawings. I always knew she did them, of course; I just rarely got to see anything. The fact that she'd given me a work of her own was so amazing to me.

  "Yo, what's the occasion?" a voice called out from down the hallway.

  Everyone turned to see Joel and Luke making their way toward us. My heart immediately skipped a beat at the sight of the latter.

  Spencer waved them over. "Hey! Since when do you two hang out alone together?"

  Joel smirked. "I can be a charming guy, y'know."

  "I might believe that," she joked.

  Luke just laughed. "He was showing me a new demo that he's been working on. I helped him out a little bit." He flashed Joel a smile. "You should add that bassline you showed me to it. It was awesome."

  Joel nodded and slung his arm around Luke's shoulders. "See, the guy has good taste."

  He opened his mouth to respond, but noticed the poster behind me. "Whoa, cool poster. Where'd you get it?"

  "It was a birthday gift from Spencer. She drew it; isn't it amazing?" I grinned at her.

  "Wow, you're insanely talented," he said in surprise, eyes widening as they scanned the art. Then, he glanced back at me with a look of confusion. "Sorry, wait, did you say 'birthday'? When was that?"

  I failed to stifle a laugh. "Today, actually."

  Luke blinked, his face turning a little rosy. "Oh, um… Happy birthday!"

  Reese and Spencer cracked up laughing.

  I giggled at the way he looked so disoriented. "Thanks. It's not that big of a deal."

  "Jesus, Chloe," Joel chimed in. "Why didn't you say so? Happy birthday, lady!" He high-fived me.

  "I already told you she was turning eighteen today!" Spencer exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

  "Ow. Wait, you did? When?" He rubbed the spot where she'd hit him.

  She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Last week! At the diner!"

  He shrugged. "Bro, my head was somewhere else then. I don't know..."

  Luke turned his gaze back to me. "I would've...done something if I knew that. Sorry."

  I shook my head. "Luke, seriously. It's all good. I don't want a big deal. Or any kind of deal, even."

  Joel gave his shoulder a pat. "Just buy her a slice of pizza, man. It's not too late to redeem yourself."

  Naturally, Spencer nodded vehemently at the proposition. "Ooh, good idea! Let's all go out for pizza!"

  As the others jumped at the idea and started making plans, I remained quiet. As much as I would've loved to have a pizza party with my friends, I couldn't. Not today. Sure, the Academy's break wasn't over yet, and training was cancelled for now, so I wasn't exactly busy. But... Ashkan. I knew he likely had all the support he needed in the hospital – between Kadia, Shaye, Lunellia, our trainers, and his family – but something about skipping out on a day of visiting him, especially for an occasion I didn't really care that much about, didn't feel right to me. And I wanted to be there for him. Besides, maybe he'd be feeling well enough to carry an actual conversation today. I could only hope.

  I winced apologetically. "Sorry, I can't today..." Everyone spun to look at me again.

  "What, why?" Lauren demanded.

  "Boo!" Jess added.

  I could feel my face heating up. I'd never been good at talking to big groups about my personal life. Too many people invested in what was going on. "I, uh, it's just, um... I have plans. My parents are taking me out to dinner."

  Thankfully, my lie was quickly accepted. Not one of them could refute it. But I noticed Luke frown a little. He didn't say anything, however.

  "That sounds nice, though," I offered to try to make everyone feel better. "Maybe we could still go out next week or something?"

  "How about after the art exhibition?" Spencer suggested. The others murmured in agreement.

  So, before I could think too much about it, I nodded, too. "Yeah, that could work. Thanks."

  The warning bell rang, and the eight of us split up to go to our separate classes. I couldn't help but wonder if blowing everyone off on my birthday was crass, especially considering all the gifts and excitement they were showing toward the day. I wasn't trying to be ungrateful. I just didn't want to celebrate this birthday in particular. It carried a lot more significance than I was comfortable with. My mind kept turning back to Ashkan and how he might be doing, and it overruled any guilt that I might've had. I just couldn't get him out of my thoughts.

  It was like heating a pot on the stove: It doesn't require your constant attention, but it never fully leaves your mind, always there in the back of it, even if you forget to look at it. That's what Ash had become. The thing at the back of my mind that I could never escape, never stop thinking about entirely, even when I wasn't consciously aware of him. The whole morning felt like that. An undercurrent, just beneath the surface. A background noise. Something always at the periphery of my attention; something I was a little afraid to look too closely at, but couldn't seem to keep away.

  Every day since Ashkan's rescue was pretty much the same. Wake up, go to school, hang out with friends, go home, do homework, visit Ash, return home, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Over the course of a couple days, he'd been getting more and more responsive, albeit slowly. Lunellia said that was normal. His brain needed time to repair and recover after trauma like that, as well as the invasive treatments. She wasn't sure exactly how long it would take, but the important thing was that he was doing better.

  I kept my expectations low as I made my way to his room for the fourth time that week. I'd stopped at the Academy's library first before heading over. The afternoon sunlight poured through the windows in the infirmary, warming the pale blue walls. I pulled my hood and scarf away from my face before checking in at the front desk. They knew me well by then. The nurse simply smiled at me and said I was free to go through.

  Niista and Wendyll were on their way out when I reached his room.

  "Hi. How is he?" I asked nervously as I approached them.

  Niista looked tired. She offered a faint smile. "A little better."

  Wendyll took hold of my arm. "He's sleeping. Be quiet."

  "Okay. I will," I promised. "Has he seen his dad yet?"

  "We visited with him yesterday morning," Niista replied. "It was...different."

  "Good different or bad different?"

  She shrugged. "Strange different."

  "Different," Wendyll added with a serious nod.

  "To be frank, I don't think he quite knew what to make of the entire situation," Niista continued. "He's having a hard time wrapping his head around the...logistics of it all. But he's glad to see that Ashkan is recovering. Although he was keen on interrogating the doctor about the treatment process... He had a hard time believing the news in the first place. As did all of us. I suppose we still are."

  A pang of sympathy wrung my chest. "Understandable."

  Wendyll put a finger to his lips to remind us that Ashkan was sleeping. Then, he gave me a quick wave and grabbed the sleeve of Niista's jacket, tugging it until she joined him in the direction of the hall.

  "Uh, see you later!" Niista called back at me, stumbling after her brother.

  I said goodbye to them and continued down the corridor. I knocked quietly on Ashkan's door to see if he'd stirred, then took a deep breath before entering. The room was silent but well-lit. I shut the door as softly as possible and tiptoed around the foot of his bed to the corner. The side table was filled with assorted gifts and letters from people, as well as a vase of fresh flowers from Shaye. I wasn't sure if there was anything I could get him that would make him feel better. Or if he'd want anything from me, even if there was something. I scoured my memory for anything I could think of. Books, playing cards, snacks... Nothing seemed exactly right.

  I sat down in the padded armchair next to the bed, placing my satchel on the floor beside me. Ashkan was lying with his back to the door, facing the window, on his shoulder that hadn't been partially dislocated. There was a soft blue blanket laid over him up to his waist. I could hear the faint sound of steady, relaxed breathing. The remaining bruises were improving every day. Slowly but surely. His black eye was already half-gone. The carvings on his left forearm were now exposed, healing and partially scarred over. Seeing that writing again stirred a complicated set of emotions within me. Some I couldn't pinpoint at all. Others I just couldn't put into words.

  ...Miscreant. It was such an ugly word. It made my throat constrict and my eyes burn. I loathed it, and the sight of it. What had he done to deserve that? To warrant that level of hatred and pain? His soul didn't deserve that scar. The word must've been purposely chosen to provoke. Because that wasn't him. Not at all. The tears welled up. I angrily wiped them away, trying not to dwell on thoughts of what he'd been put through. I had to stop doing this to myself. There was nothing that could be changed, nothing that could be fixed. Everyone was doing what they could to help him. All that was left to do was just wait, and show him that he had people who cared. That he wasn't worthless.

  I couldn't get over the juxtaposition of the tranquil, witty, charming Ashkan I knew and the young man in the bed before me. Yet I could see both personalities, both the halves that made up the person that he was, and it was still incomprehensible to me that anyone could want to hurt him. It was so intensely sad. There were no words to adequately describe the hurricane in my head. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. If I dwelled on it any longer, it would break me. I had to stop. Think about something else. Anything else.

  Putting my elbow up on the armrest and resting my chin in my palm, I turned my attention to Ash's hair. The dense, golden mop of waves was wild, draping over his ear and falling over his brow. I wondered if he usually brushed his hair out, or just ran his fingers through it and hoped for the best. It didn't look untidy, just carefree. Perfectly imperfect. Always in disarray somehow. Very typical. The rest of his form followed that theme – when else are people at their most serene than when they're asleep? My eyes trailed over his face. The slight scrunch of his brow, the subtle movement of his eyes behind his eyelids, the way his cheek smushed against the pillow. I gave a light huff of amusement at the sight. Then, an ineffable feeling overcame my thoughts. So much of him was irreplaceable.

  Embarrassment swept over me when I realized what I was doing. Studying him like that was a little creepy, wasn't it? I grimaced at my own actions, a flush of heat rising in my face. When did I start looking at him like that?

  Shaking my head, I hunched over to rummage through my satchel. Although the Academy's students were still on break, the campus library was usually open for extra study and research. And for learning purposes, of course. I'd stopped by there earlier to find information about dark magic – shadows in particular. That proved to be about as easy as it sounds. Most of what was available were published journals or articles about personal experiences. Very few, however, had anything substantial in the way of helpful information. All of the valuable sources were locked away in the archives, which could only be accessed by faculty and approved staff. I figured I was out of luck…until I remembered my schedule for the new semester.

  I was going to have a class about protection against dark magic (though I'd learned it was much more socially acceptable to call it 'forbidden' magic), which meant I had an excellent excuse to request access to the archives: I told the librarian I wanted to get a head start on the class' lessons. So, after some convincing and a little white lie, Mrs. Trettle – a frail woman with the kind of severe librarian glasses you could never be sure if they were just for show, or real – finally relented and let me go take a look around the archives. I spent half an hour or so poring through as many texts and grimoires as I could get my hands on.

  And now, here I sat with the fruits of my labour, with more questions than answers. I knew it wasn't a great look to be reading something that was essentially considered forbidden literature, but I had to try to figure this out. I had to know what I was up against. People were so hesitant to talk about dark magic. It made me wonder if that was just a side effect of its taboo status, or if it really was just that horrible. I glanced over at Ashkan, guilt beginning to creep in. But it wasn't like I was learning it. Just how to potentially defend against it, in the event that I came across it again. Which seemed more likely than not.

  The books were very old and rather thick. The pages were dusty, worn, and yellowing, but the letters were still bold and dark, easily visible. There were also some sketches and illustrations in them that were rather graphic, and a bit hard to stomach, but I soldiered on. 'Shadows and Magic: A Peculiar Compendium of Creatures, Curses, and Cases' was where I began. There were several entries that mentioned shadows and what they could do. One entry confirmed what Kadia had told me about destroying them:

  Shadows, structurally, are relatively delicate. Their fragility is rooted in their mystical characteristics. They cannot eat or drink, and can only mimic breathing. Most cannot cast any kind of spell. Particularly robust and intricate ones have been known to possess limited magical reserves. Shadows are extremely expensive and extensive to produce, and their complex nature makes it even more difficult to maintain their density. Due to their makeup and material, any force that would harm the structure of their magic would result in their destruction. Exactly as a severe injury would destroy a physical form, so would an injury to a creature's magical form cause it to cease existing. Therefore, any disruption to a shadow's overall cohesion will cause it to disintegrate.

  The other passages I could find were mostly similar in their descriptions of how lethal shadows could be, and their difficulty of use, but also of their lack of more elaborate abilities and impersonations.

  Considering the enormous expense of production for these beings, they have the ability to serve as both protectors and enforcers. For this reason, they are extremely intuitive and reactive to their environments. Despite their potential for beneficial uses, the virtual impossibility for shadows to be controlled after creation prevents them from being chosen as beings of security and discipline, and makes them strictly classified as weapons of dominance. They possess a myriad of pre-programmed emotions and intellect levels, which makes it unfeasible to predict how they will behave in unfamiliar situations. However, it should be understood that these doppelg?ngers generally extract behaviours from their host.

  They will instinctively display emotions that closely, although often not exactly, mirror those exhibited by the subject of whom they have been formed. The level of emulation will be proportionate to the complexity of the emotion's chemical response. This means that an environment with excessive variation of such levels will force an anti-immersion process that can contribute to stress, panic, or indecisiveness in the shadow. These creatures are also known to exaggerate, amplify, or even misinterpret their host's thoughts, feelings, memories, and motivations in order to increase the likelihood of reaching the assigned goal. In this case, the success of the assignment becomes more important to the shadow than a perfect imitation of their host. This mindset can cause the shadow to behave in unexpected ways, and is perhaps the primary factor which contributes to the myth that shadows are not independent beings, but rather real people under the effects of a sort of mind control.

  I sat up straighter. It was no secret that Ashkan's shadow hadn't been a flawless copy of him. I mean, it was safe to say that the real Ashkan would never semi-forcibly make out with me in an alley. It was just a distraction tactic it used to steal my necklace. In other words, it manipulated me. It was a vicious trick that had succeeded; the memory sent shivers down my spine. There was no telling how much trouble we'd be in if Shadow Ashkan had succeeded. What Ash's fate would be. Knowing what I knew now, it was easy to see how the shadow could've gone about its task in a more...violent way.

  For example, if a host's disposition is mellow, the shadow is more likely to display neutral and muted behaviours. Regardless of the host's nature, any shadow's primary objective is always to achieve its goal. Emotional processing will be utilized, but at a minimum necessary level. This means that shadows do not naturally exhibit behaviours commonly associated with compassion, morality, social norms, or a sense of self-preservation. In their minds, nothing matters except completing their mission. While this unyielding attribute has advantages, it is largely blamed for the emotional and behavioural responses that make shadows problematic. No matter what, a shadow's primary concern, and ultimate priority, is the goal that has been imparted upon it. Nothing else registers as important, and no authority can deter it. If a shadow cannot persuade, manipulate, seduce, or intimidate others into helping it, it may result to physical violence and even murder. The success of its mission will always take precedence. Their actions may appear completely arbitrary or senseless to an onlooker, but they are connected directly to their goal. Other motivations have no bearing on a shadow. If a shadow behaves erratically or in an untoward manner, it can indicate that the assignment involves acts that are otherwise shameful, or actions that are likely to shock a target's emotional core.

  Shocking my emotional core? Nothing like trying to kiss me senseless and then immediately robbing me would do the trick. Another chill ran down my spine. This was raising even more questions. Shadows could mimic their hosts perfectly, and they could also commit acts that their hosts would never stoop to. It was hard to guess at any given point how much or little they were pulling from their host's genuine nature. Which of Ashkan's traits had the shadow intentionally been playing off of? Or any at all? The shadow seemed almost completely its own entity. A creature of hollowness, paranoia, and impulse. It might've only needed a small piece of Ash for its role.

  In effect, their reliability is limited at best, though they are otherwise lethal in function. They will never offer compromise, nor will they allow their programmed mission to go unfulfilled. This causes the shadow to be exceptionally vindictive, dangerous, and unpredictable. Under no circumstances should a civilian attempt to interact with or stop the creature. Further information on usage and creation of shadows is not permitted and will not be made available to the public, regardless of social, economic, or political standing. The information collected on these species is only available on a case-by-case basis to operatives trained in the appropriate uses, and exclusively to scholars and students wishing to obtain approval for independent studies for their academic advancement. One cannot be too careful when in the presence of these spectral beings...

  I rubbed my eyes and sighed, tipping my head back on the armchair. That was already so much to absorb. Vhinrud's face flashed through my mind, and my blood started to boil. He had to have been pretty powerful to have created a shadow, and a relatively intricate one at that. I hated him with every cell in my body. How hadn't anyone stopped him yet? So much power concentrated in one person was a major threat. I chewed on my bottom lip, biting down until it stung. I've seen and heard about plenty of vile things throughout my time on Emiarhia. But this... I frowned, still in disbelief. All of this is a new low.

  "What're you reading...?"

  My head snapped up, almost giving myself whiplash. Ashkan's eyes were barely open and half-covered by his tousled hair. I slammed the book shut. He jumped a little at the noise.

  "Sorry!" I hastily shoved the tome into my satchel. "Did I wake you?"

  "Nnn... No. S'fine." Ashkan turned away from me to look out the window and blinked sleepily at the light coming in. The clouds outside were wispy, the sky a muted shade of blue.

  I could feel my face redden slightly. I didn't need anyone seeing me reading up on dark magic, especially not him. He didn't need another reminder about what happened.

  "Do you want me to come back another time?" I offered. "It's okay if you need rest. I just thought I'd swing by to check in on you."

  "No... I mean..." His voice was thick, heavy with drowsiness. He shifted onto his back. "No. S'all right. You're a sight for sore eyes..."

  I gave a small smile, watching as he stretched his arms out above him and winced a bit as his injuries pulled. "Well, I'm happy to be here. I was worried you might not be up for visitors yet. How're you feeling today?"

  He shrugged lightly and stifled a yawn. "Okay. Better than yesterday."

  "Yeah?"

  "Mmhmm." He rubbed at his eyes before propping himself up on his elbows. "Still kinda...stiff. And a little sore, I guess. It's fine. Just wish it'd go away faster..."

  I hesitated, considering how to best respond. It'd only been a few days. Of course he'd still be sore. He'd been badly beaten. I think what he'd gone through would've definitely killed me.

  "Do you need anything for the pain? Or...water, or food, or...?" My voice was kept neutral as I asked. I was really trying to not make him feel pitied or fussed over, but at the same time, I had to offer some kind of assistance.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ashkan's eyes wandered the room a bit. He didn't answer right away. He seemed to be processing. I tried to keep my face from showing any emotions that might make him feel like he was a burden, even though I thought it was a little silly that he was too proud to ask for help. After all, what are friends for?

  "Mm." He rubbed his eyes again. "No. I'm okay... Thanks, though..." He blinked and then turned his gaze to me. His expression became more attentive and less dazed. "Did I...miss something? Did you need something?"

  I couldn't help the wry grin that appeared. "Yeah, Ash. I need you to get better soon. The world's getting too boring without you around to cause trouble."

  "Hah." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "That's why I'm in here. For the sake of the world. It wouldn't be able to go on without me, now would it?"

  I smiled a little more sincerely at that. There he was. He was starting to feel like himself again. He yawned again, covering his mouth. Then he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, gingerly. He still winced.

  "Easy, easy," I urged softly.

  He shook his head. "I'm fine, it's fine... It's not bad at all... Honestly, I'd just like to get back to training... I've had enough of bed rest."

  "It's not a race."

  "Yeah, I know." He raked a hand through his hair, grimacing at the way the tangles caught and resisted the motion. "Still..." He gave another, larger yawn. "Ugh. I've been sleeping way too much."

  "You need the rest."

  Ashkan blinked and turned to face me fully. He arched an eyebrow. "Are you telling me to go back to sleep?"

  I bit down on another grin, giving my head a shake. "No."

  He squinted. "So, what were you reading...? What's so secretive?"

  Colour rose to my cheeks. "It's not secretive," I retorted defensively.

  "Sure sounded that way when you closed the book," he said, looking faintly amused.

  "I just... It's not..."

  He frowned as he watched my face grow warmer. "...Why are you blushing? Did you steal something?"

  My eyes widened in shock, the heat on my face intensifying. "What? No!"

  He laughed. It was weak and tired, but a laugh nonetheless. It sent a rush of butterflies through my chest. "Oh, that's it. You definitely stole something."

  I narrowed my eyes at him and huffed indignantly. "I didn't steal it. I got it from the Academy's library. I just...wanted to learn some more about shadows..."

  His face fell a little at that. "Oh. Did you...learn anything new?"

  I debated how honest to be. "Uh, yeah... Nothing super crucial, though. I just wanted to kind of...make sense of some of the stuff I saw."

  His brows knitted. He studied me for a long moment, as if unsure whether he really wanted to know. "What do you mean?"

  I considered my answer. It didn't take a lot of deliberating to come to the conclusion that I shouldn't tell him. Nobody except me was going to know that the shadow had decided to have an impromptu make-out session with me. And nobody would ever need to know. That was not something I ever wanted to have to talk about. The whole incident made me sick just to think about. The way it had held me. It felt like there was still a residue of cold, dead hands on my arms and in my hair.

  "Nothing major," I finally settled on. "Just...some stuff about them being more complex than I would've expected, I guess. They don't always stick to actions their hosts would do. I was surprised."

  Ashkan looked puzzled, but he nodded slowly. "Yeah. That makes sense... That's...one reason why they're so hard to track down...or stop, or... Deal with, or anything..." He gave a soft sigh and rubbed his face again. "Anyway. You don't need to worry about that, though, okay? They'll handle it... The Guard... They're on top of it, and I'm sure...everything's fine."

  "Mhm. Sure." I watched him for a moment.

  Even while recovering in a hospital from serious injuries, he was trying to reassure me. He had more compassion than most people gave him credit for. In a way, he was just as kind-hearted as Shaye was, except less worrisome and a lot more subtle. Comparing the two, most wouldn't notice the similarity. Shaye had a way of always thinking about the feelings of others first and putting others before herself. But she was explicit about it; Ashkan nearly never would be. Shaye had her worries written on her face and in her posture and her movements. Ashkan hid everything and was an expert at hiding in general.

  If you were hungry, Shaye would first ask if you were, then bend over backwards to cook or find your favourite meal, whatever it took. If Ashkan saw you hungry, he would wordlessly get up, find some good food, and hand it off to you without you even bringing it up. In some ways, the two of them were twins and yet worlds apart. Shaye's love was loud, shameless, and bright – almost overwhelming at times – while Ashkan's was silent but invigorating, like a breath of cool air; something that you didn't know you wanted until you felt it.

  "You know it wasn't me, right...?" He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, a note of unease in his tone. "Whatever that shadow did, or...said, or anything like that."

  I raised my brows, a bit shocked by the comment. I was worried I'd offended him in some way by talking about it at all, and here he was still worrying about my feelings. "Of course. I know it wasn't you. It just... Forgive me if I've been kind of stuck on the topic for a day or two, but... It really looked exactly like you. I mean, Inkbloods have their matching marks, and their dark eyes and their weird veins, but… That shadow, it was a carbon copy. At least appearance-wise."

  Ashkan winced and nodded. "Right. I know... Sorry." He hesitated before adding, "And... You know I would never hurt you. Right?"

  "Yes, you would never hurt me. That thing was not you," I insisted. "Don't apologize. There's nothing for you to apologize for."

  "You're right." His gaze had dropped to his lap, and he picked absently at the fraying threads of the blanket draped over his legs. "I wish I could've seen what it was doing while I wasn't there."

  "Oh...no, I really don't think that's necessary. Trust me."

  The long, pink scar on the back of my left hand prickled. The mark was identical on my palm, where the switchblade had gone right through. It took me almost five continuous minutes of full-throttle healing to seal it all back together. Wounds that leave scars like that are way harder to make disappear – and the scars usually shrink, but stick around. 'Healing' scars was basically unheard of because they aren't wounds themselves, just leftovers. They're still skin. All I could do was hope it'd fade.

  Ashkan looked a little alarmed at that. "Why? What was it doing? Other than stealing your necklace and forcing you to chase it across rooftops."

  I looked away. "That's...the gist of it. Nothing more."

  A beat passed. Then two. I kept quiet. It wasn't really a lie. There wasn't any point in telling him everything. I didn't want him to know. It felt too...gross and humiliating to even speak of.

  Ash studied my profile with a skeptical eye. "Really. It didn't do anything more?"

  "It didn't do anything more. I got my necklace back, and that was the end of it. Had to fight it for it, but...you already knew that."

  "Right..." He seemed unconvinced, but didn't press it. Then, after a long moment of thought, he said, "Well, you can be sure that I'm the real me. No fake Ashkan here."

  I gave him a teasing look. "That's what a shadow would say."

  He made a face, but then rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. "Right, you're right... Just..." He adjusted the pillows behind him so that he could lean back into them more comfortably. "...Okay. All right. Ask me something."

  My brows knit in confusion. "What?"

  "Ask me something. I'll prove that it's me. Ask me something only the real me would know."

  I let out a breathless laugh. "Seriously? Ashkan... Don't worry about it. I'm sure you're real."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Don't doubt me, Brie. Ask me something. Anything."

  I shook my head a little, bemused by the request. "Fine. Um... All right, what's my favourite colour?"

  "Really? Too easy. The shadow would absolutely know that," he dismissed. "But in case it doesn't, it's indigo."

  I stared at him, slightly impressed. "Uh, no. That's not right," I lied.

  "What?!" His eyebrows shot up and then scrunched down over his eyes in consternation. "Yes it is! Because it's the colour of a clear winter's night sky. When you can see all the stars. That's what you said. Right?"

  I suppressed a smile. "Yeah, you're right. I did say that. But I didn't think you'd remember."

  Ashkan looked confused and maybe a little offended. "Of course I'd remember. Yours is indigo. Shaye's favourite is... Oh, well, she changes it every month. But she's on pale pink right now. Last month it was chartreuse. Anyway, ask me something else."

  I sat back in the armchair and chewed on the inside of my cheek. "This feels...kind of invasive and pointless."

  He raised an eyebrow, giving me an almost challenging look. "Humour me. Or I'll do it myself."

  I laughed. "Fine by me. I already know you're you."

  He sat up a little straighter. "All right, fine. You twiddle your thumbs when you're nervous. And you always get this blank look on your face when you do."

  I couldn't stop the amused grin that formed at that. "Everybody knows that. It's not exactly a secret."

  "Okay. Fair." His expression had changed a bit; there was more determination present. He leaned forward and went on, "When you're concentrating on something, you bite your tongue between your canine teeth. And when you're focusing on healing, your eyelashes flutter."

  I let out a quiet huff. "Ashkan..."

  His eyes glinted a little. He knew he was winning me over. "And when you're avoiding eye contact, you tilt your head down and twist your earring. But only if it's a stud. And in class, when you're working, you'll drum your fingers on your desk. It doesn't always have a rhythm, but sometimes it does. And… You like rain, you don't like thunder, and you hate being in the spotlight."

  My eyes narrowed, though the smile on my face didn't fade. "All right, I get it! You're really observant. Happy?"

  He folded his arms and relaxed more into the pillows propping him up. His grin had an air of triumph to it. "I just want you to be sure."

  "I am sure." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and rested my elbows on my knees. "Good thing you had that memory relaxer treatment... I'd hate if everything that happened stayed as clear as everything else you seem to remember."

  He frowned. "I don't remember a whole lot... Just bits and pieces. Vague images. Foggy. Nothing specific."

  I tried not to let any concern show in my expression, though I could guess how difficult this whole thing must've been for him. He seemed to have mostly healed from the physical aspect of it all. It was his head that had taken the hardest hit. I couldn't even begin to imagine how disorienting it had to have been.

  I kept my voice as even and unconcerned as possible as I asked, "What can you remember?"

  Ashkan closed his eyes, and for a moment he looked like he might go back to sleep. But he stayed awake and shook his head, brow wrinkling. "Um, I remember some of what happened before those Inkbloods found me. The Roaring Witch, the dancing, the singing... Even though I was quite drunk. It was...very loud." He chuckled lightly. "Then...you walked me home. I remember talking for a while, but I don't remember what I said. I'm pretty sure it was nonsense..."

  "Yeah, I don't really remember much either," I lied, vividly recalling the precise spot on my cheek where he'd kissed me. So that was the real Ashkan... Good to know…

  He blinked slowly at me. "...What's your name again?"

  I smiled. "Very funny."

  He gave a soft chuckle and smiled too. Then he cleared his throat and shifted his legs under the blanket. "After that, I went inside... And you left... Then..." He went silent and stared vacantly ahead of him, as though he was seeing something I couldn't.

  I waited for him to continue. When he didn't, I prodded him with a gentle, "Then?"

  Ash's gaze cleared a little as he focused on me again. "Sorry. So... After that... I'm not really sure how it all went down." He looked away and took a breath. "It was so dark. I'm sure I was outside. I think I left, actually... You must've been long gone. But I went back outside. Maybe to get some air, clear my head... I don't know. I walked for a bit, I think. Not far. And then I just remember the carriage, the figures, the struggle, the blood... Then I think I blacked out completely. They must've knocked me out."

  I looked down at my lap. "And then you woke up at their hideout..."

  He gave a sharp nod. "And then I woke up there. And... Well, I'm sure you know the rest. I don't. That's where the memory goes hazy, and then there's just a huge blank, occasionally broken up by some more tame moments."

  "Tame?" I echoed, raising a brow.

  "Yeah." He hesitated before elaborating, "Uh... The meals, for instance. I remember thinking how strange it was that I wasn't just given...some kind of slop. There was real food. And as much water I could drink. Nothing special or expensive, but... Three times a day, sometimes four. Every day except for the last. It was decent."

  "I'm glad they didn't just feed you leftover breadcrumbs. Especially since Inkbloods don't eat." I sighed. "I really wish I could've sliced their tattoos while I was there. Then we wouldn't have to worry about Balgaur and this Vhinrud guy, who was really keeping me busy with his relentless attacks... Maybe I should've told Kadia or Thorne about that whole immortal thing. But then I'd have to come up with an explanation as to where I learned that trick."

  He shrugged. "It's fine. I'm glad we even have a plan of attack for those monsters at all. I would've sliced Balgaur's throat myself if those shackles didn't eliminate my magic."

  "Actually, did you notice while you were there if Vhinrud even has a tattoo?"

  He shook his head. "I can't remember much. I barely remember what the bloke looked like, if I'm honest."

  "That garish frilly collar would've covered it anyway," I recalled. "So I wouldn't worry about it. He should be vulnerable to damage either way. Just like Balgaur is."

  Ashkan's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, and then he frowned. "Speaking of, I think Balgaur... He was acting...oddly. Before you all showed up."

  "Oddly?"

  "Mhm." He stared at his hands for a long moment. "It's hard to describe, really. It's not that there's much detail I can give. He just... Well, he was more accommodating than I expected him to be, I suppose. Far from pleasant, of course, and definitely not...gentlemanly in any sense, but..."

  "But what?" I spurred.

  His mouth twisted a bit as he struggled to find the words to convey what he'd meant. "Kept...asking if I needed food or water. He didn't want to hurt me. Or, he didn't...want me dead, I suppose. That's all he's ever wanted before. At least, that's how it has felt."

  My brow furrowed. "Then who hurt you that badly?"

  "I... I don't know. Maybe Vhinrud, or whatever Inkblood was on duty at the time..."

  "Balgaur might've just been following orders," I suggested. "You couldn't help them find the necklaces if you were dead."

  Ashkan paused again. His gaze became unfocused for a few seconds before he finally shook his head. "Yeah. Wait, no... No, there was something else. ...Strong. I needed to be... They wanted me strong?" He sounded confused by the memory.

  I tilted my head a bit as I watched him try to recall whatever he'd remembered.

  "Yeah... I..." His eyes turned back to his hands and his voice got softer. "I thought I was hallucinating, honestly. The first time, I was...sure it wasn't real. These red– Dark red eyes, and... Cold. A cold presence, a hand on my arm. Then nothing for a while. ...I just remember feeling more tired than I ever have. And my whole body just ached, right down to the bone..."

  I didn't know how to reply. I had no clue what he was talking about, or even what I was meant to be thinking of, really. I wasn't even sure he knew what he was talking about. "Dark red eyes? That sounds like Vhinrud."

  He blinked at the mention of that name, seeming to snap out of his haze. "Oh... Yeah, I guess so. It could've been. I'm... I'm sorry. It's all just so..." He gestured vaguely to his head. "Everything's fuzzy... Like there's...mold, growing over my memories or something. I just remember feeling like...something was being taken...from me."

  My eyes widened. "Taken? Taken like–?"

  "Energy." His eyes flashed as they met mine, as though a long-buried memory had been dredged back to the surface. "That's it. They needed me to be strong. That's why...I wasn't starved or...mangled...that much. Because they wanted to draw this power from me. The strength they need."

  A chill shot down my spine. My heart suddenly thundered in my chest. Images of Miss Lucera's office flashed in my mind's eye – the flower, the theories of a most powerful kind of magic, the bitter coldness I felt when casting a transfer of energy. I took in a breath as the pieces slowly slid into place.

  I sat up. "Do you think Vhinrud knows ancient magic? The kind I've been learning?"

  Ashkan blinked. "...Ancient magic?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, I... I wouldn't know..." His expression became more distant again. "I've never heard of that type outside of your private lessons. So, I wouldn't...be the best person to ask..."

  I nodded, trying to quell my own racing thoughts. "It's okay. We'll worry about that later."

  "Yeah. Later. Much later." Ash was quiet for a minute. His brow was pinched together again as he seemed to wrestle with another memory. I noticed his eyes drift over to his left forearm. "...The worst pain... That, I remember."

  My attention snapped back to his face, the dread I'd been feeling at the revelation of Vhinrud's possible powers suddenly being pushed aside to make room for concern. I tried to sound calm, but my words were hurried and frantic, "You remember that?"

  "Not really, actually. It's... It's like waking from a long dream. You don't remember what happened or what you saw, but you remember how everything made you feel. You remember the...emotion. And...some details." He paused for a beat. "It felt like fire, ripping me open. It felt like... Like being flayed alive. Or boiled alive. I can't remember the curse. Just the feeling."

  My lips were pressed into a thin line as I stared at his forearm. The reddish-pink lines were the only proof that anything had happened to it, really. A hasty hexagon scribbled near his wrist, then nothing for about an inch before it resumed in jagged, twisted lines. That ugly word. The scars were almost indecipherable because of how deeply and erratically the letters were drawn. I felt a strange need to reach out to him, as if the decaying memory had suddenly put him right back in that dungeon.

  "Ashkan..." I kept my voice quiet, giving a shake of my head. "I'm so, so sorry..."

  He was staring at the scars too, as if he might be able to remove them if he looked long enough. "It's not... I'm all right. It healed."

  "You're not all right," I argued softly. "A fraction of that would've driven me to madness."

  He gave me a wry, crooked smile. "Then it's a good thing it wasn't you."

  My heart twisted painfully. "I would've preferred it."

  He furrowed his brow, still wearing that empty smile. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm all right, Brie. I can think and talk and move and dance and–"

  "I never wanted you to experience it, in any capacity," I cut him off sharply. "None of us did. I'd give anything to erase that from ever happening, without you ever suffering so much as a split second of that pain. I'd give anything to go back to the night you were taken. I wouldn't have left you until I knew you were safely in bed. I'd have... We'd..." Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. I couldn't shake the stony expression from my face.

  Slowly, his faint smile faded as he took in my response.

  "There's more than just physical pain," I finished.

  For a few heartbeats, neither of us spoke. The silence felt somehow stuffy and oppressive, as if the air was just begging for someone to say something. His deep green eyes were fixed on my face, holding my gaze as he tried to think of something to say to that. My unblinking stare never wavered. I was frozen with the weight of guilt and the sting of regret and the urge to help.

  With a heavy sigh, he quietly replied, "I know. The worst is beyond the physical. But it's in the past. So..."

  "I just wish..." I shook my head. "Ashkan... I really thought we lost you. I was..."

  "But you didn't." His voice remained gentle and even as he maintained steady eye contact with me. "I'm sitting right here, aren't I?"

  "We thought you were beyond saving," I pressed. "I've never felt that hopeless about a person before. I've never felt that incapable."

  He didn't even try to speak. He just gave a gentle nod to acknowledge my point, and simply sat still in silence.

  "I can fix some things," I said blankly, lifting my hands. "I can put skin back on people's bones and stitch up their wounds... I can fix torn ligaments, burns, damaged organs, bullet holes, gashes, punctures, fractures... In time, maybe I'll be able to reattach limbs, remove tumors, cure illnesses. But I can't fix this. I can't erase the things you remember. I can't unravel and edit the time I wasn't there for you."

  Ashkan's features had hardened, a look of...something flickering across his gaze. Something that wasn't quite a look of sympathy or pity, but was thoughtful and serious. My words made an impression on him.

  He drew in a slow breath. "There's...not anything you could've done. If it weren't for you, Shaye, Thorne, and Kadia, and the League, and...all of you...I wouldn't be here at all. Brie, really. You didn't know. You couldn't have known they'd be lurking around that night. Even if you had, I wouldn't have blamed you one bit."

  My ribs felt constricted as I drank in those words. I tore my eyes away from his. "Sorry, I shouldn't be making this all about me. You've been through a lot, and you're already overwhelmed."

  "No, it's..." He took a breath. "In fact, I appreciate it."

  My gaze snapped back to his face. "You do?"

  "Yeah. I can't change the past, but I am the luckiest guy in the whole bloody world because I have a posse of determined hero-types who did everything they could to help me. And now... Just having someone beside me is helping more than you could possibly imagine."

  Again, I fell quiet for several seconds. Slowly, the weight on my chest began to lift. His reassuring words brought a flicker of life back to the miserable emptiness that had held my heart captive since the night he disappeared. His gentle, radiant gaze, though a tad tired, exuded an indescribable warmth as he sat and watched me, waiting patiently for a response.

  Not wanting the silence to swallow me whole, I eventually managed a meek reply, "That's...good. I'm glad I can help." My gaze settled on his scabbed and scarred forearm, and I added, "I wish I could do more about...that."

  Ash's jaw visibly tightened. "There's nothing. I'll just have to learn to live with it."

  Something in my brain absolutely refused to accept that. On a whim, I moved to sit on the edge of my seat. "Can I see that closer?"

  "Uh, sure, if...you want." The surprise was evident on his features as he turned his wrist over and placed his arm in my palm.

  My hands carefully cradled his forearm. The damage was just as disturbing up close. I was tempted to cover my mouth or close my eyes, just to stifle the shudder running through me at the sight. It was grotesque; not gory or bloodied, but hideous in how cruel, purposeful, and deliberate the attack had been. Not a line was random. This was the work of someone completely devoid of mercy or reason.

  Ash sat as still as a statue. It was like watching an observer watch themselves be observed. There was a strange aloofness in his gaze. Something indecipherable, like he wasn't even really looking at me at all. As if he was experiencing a memory. A flicker of guilt and a fleeting warning ran through my mind, telling me that I was handling sensitive subject matter – not because he hadn't voiced any objections yet, but because I'd somehow memorized parts of his demeanour over the months I'd gotten to know him, and he was obviously uncomfortable.

  My fingertips flitted across the mutilated hexagon design. "I've seen this symbol before. The Inkbloods' tattoos, the chamber you were in... It can't be a coincidence."

  "It's not," he murmured, apparently snapped out of his trance as he stared at the symbol with contempt. "It's their emblem, I think. Every element has a shape that represents it. People don't like to talk about it, but I've seen hexagons representing darkness in several old books. And their tattoos, with the hexagon covering the small circle... I think it represents darkness eclipsing light."

  A somber frown found my lips. "That would make sense. Inkbloods have been around for centuries, and they obviously have strong links to darkness as an element... Makes me wonder where it came from. Elements are supposed to have been invented by their respective gods, right? How come we never hear about a...god of darkness?"

  He thought about that. "I don't know. Maybe everyone's forgotten them. Or maybe they don't exist at all. Maybe the Elders invented it, or the Inkbloods. In school, we're taught that darkness is just the absence of light. That Gavphine's responsible for it, and all the 'evil' spells are just illegal offshoots of regular magic. ...I don't think I've ever believed that entirely. If darkness is truly an element, then it's odd that there's no dark gemstone. If it were an official category, shouldn't there be something? Stone, gem, ore, whatever... It all seems artificial, almost. It just started popping up in history out of nowhere."

  My brow furrowed. This was a topic no one seemed overly concerned about, so I hadn't given it much thought myself. Although, now that he mentioned it, it did seem odd. If this element really was hundreds of years old and, as Miss Lucera had once mentioned, as important to society as all of the other elements were, why wasn't it more prevalent in history texts, and why weren't its teachings covered in school?

  With a subtle shake of my head, I gently brushed my fingers across the jagged 'M'. "Regardless, every encounter I've had with dark magic has been straight-up malevolent. Darkness is selfishness, cruelty, evil. It's pain and suffering and negativity. And what he did to you was..." The words died in my throat. He knew what it was. He'd felt it. There were no words that could do it justice. With a quieter voice, I added, "That type of darkness shouldn't be in this world."

  His gaze seemed distant again as he stared blankly at his scars, lost in memory. "No argument there..."

  I met his eyes. "I wish I could change this word into a nicer one. But I can't think of which letters to switch out."

  A wry smirk formed at the corners of his lips, his eyes slightly hollow. "There probably isn't an answer to that."

  That pained me to hear; mostly because I knew he was likely right. But another voice in the back of my head urged me to try something else, something to take his mind off that haunting image. Not wanting the conversation to stagnate, I said the first thing that came to my mind:

  "Hm, let's see... I used to be good at anagram games when I was younger. At trying something different and seeing how letters can arrange themselves." I trailed my fingers in a line under the wound. "Um... Canister M... Inert scam. Hmm. Mint...acres?"

  Ashkan blinked and squinted. The faintest hint of a smile reached his features, as if he found the effort endearing.

  "Maybe I can try something else," I offered in a mumble, tapping my chin. My fingers held his wrist carefully. "Uh... Rat... Minces."

  At that, a loud laugh escaped him, which was almost enough to startle me. A grin shot across my face at the sound of it. It felt like forever since I'd heard that laugh. It was like...ambrosia for my soul.

  An amused expression settled on his face, and the hollow darkness in his eyes slowly melted away. "Rat minces? Really? What an improvement."

  "I'm trying!" I laughed, feeling much better. "What, no good?"

  He chuckled to himself. "Didn't say that. In fact, rat minces sounds pretty appetizing right now. I'll take it."

  "I can have the kitchens get some for you."

  "Perfect. Can't wait."

  "On second thought, maybe not," I snickered. "That's...gross, now that I think about it. ...What I'm trying to get across is, I guess, although words can be painful, terrible, evil things, sometimes they can be turned into funny, meaningless things. Sometimes they're just words. I know this doesn't really apply to what you're dealing with..." I paused for a beat, taking a mental step back to reconsider my point. "Maybe... Vhinrud used that word to try to inflict you with all of his negative baggage, all of his pain, sorrow and hatred, with the hope of making you feel...defeated, or hopeless, or empty. Maybe even to make you feel like him. The word, on its own, on the surface, may have made a lasting scar. But...sometimes, depending on a variety of factors, of course...words don't have to have power over you if you don't want them to."

  My voice died as my argument trailed off. It sounded way better in my head.

  As I spoke, the brief amusement Ashkan felt seemed to morph into...another unreadable emotion. He thoughtfully reflected over my point. Several seconds ticked by in silence. I slowly felt foolish for my nonsense babbling. Me, the dumb, blithering moron that felt compelled to break the uncomfortable moment with a distraction, by turning his gruesome, painful trauma into an anagram game. Before I could mentally kick myself for being horrible, Ashkan finally spoke up.

  In a quiet, hushed voice, he replied, "You're right."

  I tilted my head. "I am?"

  He repeated, "You're right. It doesn't have to have power. Vhinrud was... Trying to claim this part of me. He was trying to brand me like one of his followers. I don't know why it didn't work, but...it didn't. If a powerful mage with decades of experience can't finish a curse on my throat, then...maybe the scars don't have to mean anything but what I make them mean."

  A glimmer of hope ignited somewhere within me. "It was only a thought," I quickly clarified. "Sorry if that was dismissive. I was just trying to–"

  Ash rolled his wrist. His hand closed around mine. I froze instantly. My hand burned under his grip, but he showed no signs of letting go. My heart was pounding. I stayed absolutely still, hoping I was hiding just how much that gesture affected me.

  His green gaze lifted to meet mine. The look in them made me feel a tad dizzy. "Thanks, Brie. You know, for someone who claims they aren't good with words, you seem to often know just what to say."

  Any deflective comeback perished in my throat. In that instant, it was so hard not to crack a huge smile, or to blush furiously, or to drop my eyes to his mouth, to squeeze his hand tightly, to do something to show him the effect his words had on me. Every bone in my body seemed to be humming. There was so much to unpack, and no room left in my brain.

  Before I could even come up with a response, Ashkan's fingers wove in between mine. My veins blazed. For a single second, I thought he'd figured everything out. This game we were playing was too obvious. He'd finally deciphered my unspoken language; I just knew it. He could sense it in the air around us. I was frozen solid, waiting, practically expecting him to read me like an open book. But it didn't happen. If he had read any hidden messages, he chose not to act on them.

  "Um," I managed, "I think you, uh... It's...nothing. I wasn't trying to write poetry here, or...take a year to find the right words..."

  Ash grinned a smile that made the butterflies in my stomach take flight. "Be that as it may... Don't sell yourself short."

  I shrugged lightly, attempting to loosen the stiffness in my bones. "Perhaps it's better when I don't think about it."

  His lips pursed with a look of interest and a healthy dose of that signature Ashkan composure. "Now, that I can relate to."

  We shared a chuckle. A giddiness bubbled in my heart. He still hadn't released my hand. My nerves were practically buzzing in my veins, like he was transmitting electricity through our joined hands. I sternly reminded myself that this wasn't a date, nor was it romantic in any way. I was visiting my friend at the hospital after he'd been kidnapped recently. That was it. He was in a delicate emotional state. He needed to focus on feeling comfortable and secure in this environment. He didn't need me distracting him with my stupid infatuation and silly daydreams of being something more with him. I just had to be here for him, as a friend, to give him comfort.

  Unfortunately and simultaneously thankfully, there was a polite knock on the door just then, startling me out of my reverie. Ash's gaze shot up, his attention snagged, and my hand slipped from his as I turned to look at the door.

  "Come in," he called, immediately sitting up a bit straighter and composing his features. I sensed him withdraw a bit from me, like the moment we'd just shared was shoved back in a box in the recesses of his mind and locked up for safekeeping.

  The door opened, and in walked Shaye, who offered a friendly wave. "Hi there!" She took in Ashkan and myself for a moment, as if weighing the atmosphere of the room, before adding, "Apologies if I'm interrupting. Just came by to see how you're faring. I brought sweets." She stepped over to the foot of the bed and placed a large, brown bag atop the sheets.

  Ashkan blinked owlishly before peering curiously into the bag. "You really shouldn't have..."

  "Of course I should!" she retorted cheerily, opening the bag for him. "I stopped by Ysante's bakery this morning and thought of you. There's icciomb loaf, obviously, and some seasonal sweets, and some new confections she'll be eager to have your feedback about. You'll probably like them. Oh! And she sends her regards and wishes she could visit, but she has such a full schedule these days, I'm afraid."

  "That's all right. This is wonderful, Shaye, thank you." Ashkan's expression melted into a fond smile.

  I beamed gratefully to her. There was a hint of curiosity on her features as she glanced at me. I couldn't shake the feeling that she somehow knew about what just happened and was silently asking me about it. Maybe I was just projecting. Regardless, I simply replied to her with a single nod, unsure what I even meant by that.

  Ashkan was busy rifling through the bag and mumbling as he uncovered new sweets and pastries. "Hm. Oh! The vlauke swirls are back. These are amazing."

  Shaye laughed at that. "I know! I practically inhaled mine on my way here. She's such a talent."

  He popped one of the light, swirled cakes into his mouth. A look of absolute contentment crossed his face, which made me grin. He could probably forget just about any pain he was feeling while eating Ysante's baking. She really had a gift for making confections that brought a smile to anyone's face.

  Shaye clasped her hands together, then turned her gaze to me. "How's he been today, Brielle? Is he driving the staff mad yet? Or is he just waiting to get on my nerves when he's out?"

  "Hey! I am a delight," he argued through a mouthful of cake.

  I chuckled at the two of them, shaking my head. "I'm just here as moral support. You'd have to ask Dr. Greengrove."

  Ashkan tossed a small candy twisted in wax paper to her. She caught it deftly, then nodded in gratitude. "Yes. Moral support. She's my own personal emotional crutch. Very helpful." He plucked another wrapped candy from the bag, which he promptly tossed to me. I caught it and sent him an incredulous look, which only earned an amused smile from him. "And very thoughtful," he added as if to back up his point.

  "That's me," I laughed. "Wow, what an ego boost. Thank you." I glanced down at the candy and unwrapped it, discovering a small, shiny, orange oval. I popped it into my mouth. It tasted like sour berries and some sort of spice I couldn't place, and I immediately decided it was delicious. I nodded appreciatively and gave Ashkan a thumbs-up, which he returned with a simple wink.

  "Catching up on some...not-so-light reading, Brielle?" Shaye's voice lifted inquisitively as she eyed the large, leather-bound tome spilling out of my open satchel on the floor.

  I blinked in realization. "Oh. Uh. Yes. Sort of." I shot a furtive glance at Ash, unsure whether I should mention it or not. "It's...for research purposes."

  Her eyebrows raised. "Research into what? It looks...thorough."

  Before I could come up with a believable lie, Ashkan mumbled through a bite of tart, "It's a dark magic grimoire. Talks about shadows."

  Shaye froze. "A...dark magic grimoire..." she repeated carefully.

  Ashkan shrugged as if it weren't a big deal. "Yep. Figured it'd be helpful."

  I blanched a little. My mouth felt dry as I scrambled for something to say that would sound more reasonable. "Um... It just has information in it about how shadows function, how to detect them, and so on. Just in case."

  She tilted her head. "Just in case...?"

  "In case I run into one again." I held her gaze steadily.

  Her face twisted into a frown. "Brielle, you aren't seriously studying dark magic. Tell me you're jesting. How did you even find such a thing in the first place?"

  "We have a class about safeguarding against it next semester, remember? I told Mrs. Trettle I'd be interested in doing extra research ahead of time."

  "So you lied," she flatly deduced.

  "...Partially."

  Shaye gave me a withering look of disbelief and crossed her arms. "Have you lost your wits? This isn't a game. Dark magic isn't to be tampered with. Even just being in possession of one of those things is enough to get you expelled from most public places. Do you realize the amount of scrutiny that you'll face if someone catches you with this?"

  Ashkan interrupted with, "The Academy knows she has it. They gave it to her."

  "That makes it worse!" She waved her hand to punctuate her point. "You shouldn't be dealing with it. They have no business allowing a student to handle such dangerous material."

  I was taken aback by her sudden vehemence, but I fought the urge to defend my case, instead forcing myself to stay calm. "It's fine, Shaye. I know how to be cautious with it. I know I can't just go reading it at any tavern or café."

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled through her teeth. "That book is an incrimination bound in leather. It should be locked up somewhere, not handed out for curious students to fiddle with!"

  I rolled my eyes. "You've been to the library, haven't you?"

  "Yes, and I have seen the protections around that wing. You can't just walk in and pick one up for some leisurely reading."

  "It's not leisurely reading, it's research. Something to help us not get killed," I retorted.

  "It won't help if dark magic kills you first." She glowered at the tome, her frown deepening. "There's a reason it's forbidden to the masses, Brielle."

  I shook my head in defiance. "You know just as well as I do that some books are banned just for fear that they could be useful. It's not like I'm learning how to cast dark magic. I'm learning how to defend myself and others against it."

  Her eyes widened and she sputtered, "D-Do you not understand how corruptive and polluting dark magic is? You don't need to wield it to be affected by it. Any amount of time spent in its presence can–"

  "It's not like it's talking to me. I'm not going to turn evil after just reading about it," I said.

  She looked utterly stunned. "How do you think Rotted came to be? Why do you suppose darkletting was invented? How many have turned from a single use, a morbid curiosity left unchecked? It's a slippery slope, and one that can easily turn fatal. Not only for the user, but for those around them, too. How many dark mages have gone on murder sprees, do you think, from simply having access to books like this one?"

  I scowled at her. "Not all of those who read them became horrible people. If it was really so uniformly corruptive and dangerous, don't you think the Academy would've banned this sort of material a long time ago?"

  "Those texts are for instruction and protection at the hand of highly experienced instructors. Not students," she rebutted.

  "But I'm using it for instruction and protection!" I threw my hands up and nearly rolled my eyes again. "Shaye, you're making a big deal out of nothing."

  She was starting to sound more exasperated now, her face falling into a stern glare. "I'm sure whatever information you gleaned from it was skewed by whoever penned it. The best course of action is to never involve yourself with it. Dark magic is a plague. The longer you stay in contact with it, the more it corrupts you and twists your soul into something else, something sickening and repulsive. It is an illness. It isn't something you can simply refuse or deny; it creeps up on you and changes you in the smallest of ways, ways you won't even recognize."

  Shaye's voice was strained now. Something about this conversation seemed to be striking a chord in her, something personal, something deeper than a general dislike for the practice. My frown softened, and I forced myself to stay quiet, not sure how to react. I looked over to Ashkan to find that he had the same expression.

  He cleared his throat. "Shaye, she has the best intentions; you know that. I can attest that she's only reading it in order to gain understanding of this particular enemy we might be up against. I trust her with that kind of knowledge."

  "It doesn't matter," she cut in sharply. "Her intentions don't matter, nor yours. It's an inherent danger that cannot be overcome. There is no trust to be put. You're not invincible, Brielle. No one is."

  I let out an irritated exhale, my eyebrows scrunching up. "Shaye–"

  "It is wrong!" she bit out in a harsher tone than before. "Its polluting is universal, impartial. You can't know your soul hasn't already been infected. ...This reflects awfully poorly on you."

  Ashkan raised his hand. "Shaye. Stop. You're overreacting–"

  "How can you justify–?" she snapped, but stopped herself as Ashkan cut her off with a glare.

  "This is our friend we're talking about," he interjected sternly, his voice holding an edge I'd never heard him use. "Take it easy."

  Shaye's features were contorted into something bordering on angry. What in the world could have made her that upset? I knew she didn't care much for dark magic, like virtually everybody, but she was normally pretty open to all sorts of discussions. Even things that she didn't agree with or couldn't relate to, she usually tried to understand, so that she could be educated about it. I'd never seen her get this worked up about something. It didn't make sense to me.

  "Don't imply that you didn't see what happened," she replied quietly, almost menacingly.

  His eyes narrowed a little. "See what?"

  "Right, you must not remember..." Her frown returned. "It happened so quickly, after all..."

  Ashkan shook his head and looked at Shaye as though she'd completely lost it. "Huh?"

  I stared at them blankly, completely clueless.

  Her gaze dropped to her feet for a moment, a troubled expression taking over her face. It looked almost pained, like she was recalling a memory that she wished she hadn't. "Many days ago. When we were battling Vhinrud and Balgaur."

  Ashkan stared blankly back at her. "I don't remember just about anything from then. What does this have to do with Brielle?"

  She glanced over to me with a cold look. "You know it. You casted it."

  My heart froze and my muscles tensed. She couldn't possibly mean... "Wait, you think... You think I know dark spells? I-I don't..." I trailed off, remembering that night, that moment. There was a lot of chaos. My thoughts and magic had been jumbled. I remembered the hatred boiling over into something that had felt destructive and gloomy, but... No, that couldn't be it. Everyone was logically pissed off. I was casting ancient magic, as well as light. I was sure of it.

  "I know dark magic when I see it. It wasn't of any other element. There was a reason I was worried about you afterwards. I wasn't certain that it wouldn't affect you somehow," she told me in a softer tone.

  "No, that was ancient magic. It just happened to be...dark in colour," I argued. "The whole room was dark. You don't honestly think I know how to cast illegal spells? How do you even know what those look like?"

  "Because it fit every descriptor I've heard of. Pitch-black, festering, rotting, disgusting, malevolent. Not to mention that 'ancient' magic isn't anywhere to be found in any book I've come across."

  I was starting to feel really defensive now. "Why didn't you mention this before? If you're so concerned, why are you only bringing this up now? We were just fine fighting Balgaur and Vhinrud. Nothing bad happened; nobody got severely hurt. We're fine!"

  She gave me a bewildered look. "Need I remind you that you were hit by one of Vhinrud's strikes? You've been directly exposed to dark magic whether you like it or not. It seeped right into your bloodstream. I wanted to stay quiet and let Kadia go about handling it. But seeing as how you're already toting around forbidden literature... Perhaps I shouldn't have been so generous with my silence."

  "Are you saying Miss Lucera has been teaching me dark magic for all those weeks? Are you hearing yourself? That makes no sense. Do you really think the Headmaster would allow that? I didn't learn any dark spell. That's impossible," I scoffed.

  Ashkan was glancing between us, a perplexed look on his face. "That sounds...highly unlikely. And I'm positive Miss Lucera would never do anything like that. She's one of the kindest teachers in the entire Academy. I doubt she'd ever intentionally teach something as repugnant as that."

  "That doesn't mean the darkness wouldn't latch onto Brielle all the same," Shaye pointed out. "Regardless if ancient magic exists or not, Vhinrud's poison still made direct contact with her. That alone is cause for alarm."

  I was starting to feel sick, both from the accusation and the underlying truth I didn't want to accept. "No," I shook my head. "Shaye, I'm serious. You have to be mistaken. There's no way."

  "It's not the sort of thing one could mistake. That magic you used was born of pure loathing. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end." Her face was etched into an intense, grave expression.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. "I didn't–"

  "You did. I was near you the entire time, watching your back."

  "N-No..." I was starting to panic.

  My magic isn't dark, right? It couldn't have been... Right?!

  My mind raced back to the moment it had happened. I hadn't even thought about what I was doing. It had just felt so...natural. The dark magic hadn't felt strange or unfamiliar in the least, like it was something I should've known, like I'd known it all my life. But no. No, I'd been doing ancient magic. That had been all I was doing. That's what had been natural, what had been normal to me.

  "No. I..." I couldn't seem to form coherent sentences anymore.

  "Shaye." Ashkan's tone was more warning now. "That's enough."

  "What, does this not worry you?!" Her tone was fierce, almost scolding, as she turned to him.

  His eyes flashed a dangerous sort of glare. "You know it does. I'm not in denial. But you're upsetting her, and that isn't going to help."

  "How are we supposed to be able to trust her anymore? What if the book is an early warning sign? We have no way of knowing the extent of her corruption, nor do we know how to counter the damage it may have done. You cannot sit there and say you think she's fine," she replied, a sour look on her face.

  I was speechless. I wanted to say something, I really did. But I just couldn't.

  "She doesn't seem any different, does she?" His voice was biting.

  "That's the problem. It isn't noticeable at first."

  "Cor, Shaye! Now you're just being mean. I know you don't want to fight. Come on," he rebuked in an even tone, trying to defuse the situation. "Let Kadia decide what the next steps are. It's not really something that you or I can handle."

  "It isn't like I want this! Do you think I don't feel for her?!" she exclaimed in exasperation. She then glanced between the two of us and let out a harsh sigh. "Fine. If you believe it's a good idea to trust her, then fine. But this may very well come back to haunt us, one way or another, and I have no qualms about saying, 'I told you so'."

  Ashkan shot her an unimpressed look and shook his head, not replying. He seemed to have said everything that was on his mind.

  The three of us fell into an uncomfortable silence for several moments, none of us looking at each other, and I felt my panic slowly ebbing into a numb sort of fear. It made sense, didn't it? But I just didn't want it to be true. The very idea petrified me. The Headmaster and Miss Lucera would never have let me learn anything remotely like dark magic, no matter the circumstances…

  My hands trembled a bit. I shot up from my chair, grabbing my satchel from the floor. I had to go. I needed to leave. I needed to clear my head and figure out how to explain this. My boots clicked against the tiles as I stormed towards the exit.

  "Brielle," Ash began, but I was already opening the door. "Brie!"

  I hurried through the hallway and towards the main entrance, then through the double doors and into the cold. I needed to think, to calm down, to figure out what I was supposed to do next. But no matter what I told myself, I couldn't slow the doubt that was starting to eat away at me. Maybe... Maybe Shaye had a point. A legitimate point. She'd never led me astray before. She'd only ever had my best interests at heart. And it...made some sense. Too much sense.

  Was I really so terrible as to be secretly learning dark magic without me or any of my friends realizing? Not just that, but to have actually cast several spells of it myself? I felt horrible. Like my insides had turned into sludge. My stomach was doing anxious somersaults. I couldn't tell what I was more afraid of: a future I couldn't hope to control, or myself being uncontrollable.

  One sentiment kept replaying itself over and over in my head:

  If Shaye is so adamant about this, then there's a good chance I'm in trouble.