Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 117

Thornhill Academy.

Veil Between

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By the time we step out into the corridor, the day is already humming with magic. The decorations from the festival have long since been cleaned away, and the school’s usual eerie vibe is back in full swing. Tessa walks beside me, humming, her braid bouncing with each step. I pull the sleeves of my long shirt down over my hands, tucking my thumbs through the cuffs to keep them from riding up. I can feel the marks under my skin, thrumming softly like second heartbeats and even though I’m keeping them dimmed, the

faintest shimmer sometimes sneaks through when I’m not careful.

I glance around, lowering my voice. “Where’s Rynor?”

Tessa blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t see him. He said he’d come to class with us.”

She tilts her head, smirking. “Oh, he’s here.”

I stop mid-step. “Where?”

She gestures vaguely to the air beside me. “Here-here. He’s just… not here here.”

“Tessa.”

She laughs. “Demons don’t always like to walk the halls with the rest of us, Ally. Most of them stick to the Veil between realms, it’s kind of their comfort zone.”

I blink. “So they’re just-what-lurking in the shadows?

“Basically,” she says with a shrug. “You’d be surprised how many of them are actually around. They just

blend in. You’d never know.”

I glance toward the corridor wall, where the torches flicker faintly even in daylight. For a heartbeat, the shadows stretch a little farther than they should, dark and soft around me. The air feels cooler than it should, like a gentle brush against my skin.

My stomach flips. “So he’s here. Now.”

“Oh yeah,” Tessa says cheerfully. “I can feel him. Bonderks. It’s like having a very broody, invisible bodyguard twenty-four-seven.”

I huff a laugh, still feeling that faint, protective pulse near my shoulder. “Does he always do that?”

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“Pretty much,” she says. “They like to keep close, especially when they’re on duty.”

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“Right. On duty.” I glance down at my covered hands. The sigils under my skin pulse once, then settle. The air shifts again, the shadows thickening, and I realise what’s happening. Rynor isn’t just nearby. He’s using his shadows, weaving them subtly over me, concealing me the way Rhaziel asked him to.

I whisper, “Thank you.”

The shadows ripple faintly, like a quiet bow, before blending back into the edges of the light.

Tessa notices the look on my face and nudges me with her elbow. “Creepy, huh?”

“Comforting,” I say softly. “Actually.”

We push through the classroom door together, and my mood immediately changes. Professor Morrin’s room always smells like burnt sage, ink, and something faintly metallic. Candles float lazily near the ceiling, shedding motes of golden light, and threads of smoke curl through the air like they’ve been trained to dance. The professor herself stands near the centre of the room, wrapped in at least five scarves that all seem to shimmer with their own temperaments. And I have this terrible feeling in my gut that this lesson

isn’t going to deliver good news.

“Ah!” she says the moment she sees me. “Miss Rivers. I was wondering when the stars would roll you back

into my orbit.”

I offer a cautious smile. “Morning, Professor.”

Her eyes glint in an uncomfortable, sharp and knowing way. “You’ve been busy.”

Tessa snickers under her breath, and I elbow her. Professor Morin sweeps across the room like a particularly enthusiastic hurricane, her bangles chiming. “Sit, sit. Let us see what the threads whisper

today.”

We take our seats among a scatter of crystal bowls and arot decks. I focus on breathing, on keeping the concealment steady while the professor flicks her fingers and conjures a circle of light around each of us, It’s harmless, usually, she tells us: ‘it’s just a scrying exercise,’ which is like a peek into the threads of possible futures, and I’m honestly not sure if I want to now whatever future awaits me.

“Now,” she says, pacing slowly between tables. “Focus on your intention. On what you seek. The Veil

always answers curiosity first.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. Tessa grins at her bowl, eyes shut tight in concentration. I stare into mine,

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watching mist swirl lazily inside. I’m not really expecting anything, maybe just smoke, vague shapes, the usual. But then the fog moves and it tightens, spirals, and sharpens into something I can’t quite breathe through. It forms into five glowing threads, knotted together at the centre, stretching in opposite directions until they start to fray. A storm curls behind hem. I hear-no, I feel-the low rumble of something vast stirring beneath it. My stomach turns, and the air thickens impossibly around me.

And then Professor Morrin’s hand snaps out, slamming the bowl’s rim. The mist vanishes instantly,

replaced by clear, still water.

She’s staring at me, face pale, eyes wide behind her spectacles.

“Well,” she says after a beat, voice trembling despite the forced smile. “That was… eventful.”

“What did you see?” I ask quietly.

She shakes her head. “Not me, my dear. You. The Veil shows itself only to those who need the warning.”

“What warning?”

Her gaze flicks to the faint shimmer along my wrist, where a bit of the shadow light slips free despite my effort to hide it. Her expression softens as she looks at it. “Possibly, it means to warn you that what you carry will not stay hidden forever.”

Tessa frowns. “Professor, that’s a little dramatic, even for you.”

Morrin’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Dramatic, yes. Wrong, no. There are storms coming, child. Old

ones.”

The candles flicker in a sudden draft that shouldn’t exist. For half a second, I swear I see the faint shape of horns in the reflection of her eyes-an echo of shadow. Then it’s gone, and she claps her hands brightly. “All right! That’s enough doom for one morning. Who wants to practice pendulum readings?”

The room buzzes back to life as if nothing happened bu Tessa leans close, whispering, “I think she might be off her rocker, but that was creepy.”

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