Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 146

Chapter 146

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Allison

By the time night settles over Thornhill, the attic feels smaller than usual. We’ve spent the whole damn day pretending calm is something we can plan for. Evander sat cross-legged on the floor with his notebook, Kael paced like a caged wolf, and Rhazeil kept slipping in and out of the shadows like the world was his revolving door. Every time he reappeared, it was with some new piece of advice or a sarcastic observation that made Kael want to throw a shoe at him. By late evening, we had a plan. A fragile one, but still-a plan. Blend in. No glowing. No accidental firestorms. No spontaneous shadow-summoning in the hallways. Pretend to be the kind of student Thornhill loves: boring, contained, unremarkable. It sounds simple. It feels impossible. Kael eventually crashes on the couch, one arm flung over his face, still muttering about how he could have handled the training better. Evander retreats to bed after double-checking every candle and charm we placed to help suppress my magic. I stay by the window, staring at the rain streaking down

the glass.

Rhaziel’s been gone for a few hours-realm duties, he said-but I can still feel the faint hum of his bond at the edge of my awareness. It’s calmer than mine, colder like moonlight compared to wildfire. When he finally reappears, it’s so quiet I almost miss it. The air folds in on itself, and then he’s there again-half light, half shadow-his tail flicking lazily as his silver eyes adjust to the dimness.

“You’re awake,” he says softly. “Again.”

I shrug. “Hard to sleep when you’re plotting the downfall of a pompous council pet.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Ah. The not-mate.”

I roll my eyes but can’t quite smother the heat crawling up my throat. “I hate him,” I admit, surprising myself with how easily the words come out. “Not just him-everything he stands for. People like him are the reason my kind were hunted. The reason I have to hide what I am every single day.”

He leans against the window frame, tail curling along the floor. “And yet you pity him.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he says, voice smooth, maddening. “It’s in the way you say his name. Anger is always easier than

grief.”

I glance at him. “You sound like someone who’s spent too long in people’s heads.”

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17:45 Wed, Dec 31 @ GO

Chapter 146

“I spend long enough in their nightmares,” he says with a faint smile. “They tell me everything.”

That earns a small laugh from me, the first since morning. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I say after a moment. “Not really. But with him…” I hesitate. “Maybe I do. Just a little.”

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Rhaziel tilts his head, eyes glinting like steel caught in moonlight. “How much do you want to hurt him?”

“Enough.”

The grin that spreads across his face is slow and wicked “I could go for a snack.”

I blink. “A what?”

“Nightmares,” he says simply, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “They’re delicious.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “You’re serious.”

“Always.”

For a heartbeat, we just look at each other. Then I grin back. “Alright, Shadow King. Let’s give you something to chew on.”

The air around us shifts, the attic dimming until only the faint blue of my sigils lights the space. Rhazeil moves closer, his presence a whisper against my skin. “You remember how to do this?” he asks.

“Like riding a bike,” I say, though my pulse jumps.

“Then lead the way.”

I exhale, letting the shadows rise. They slide over me like ink in water, cool and weightless. My body blurs, the solid edges dissolving until I’m only shape and light-the Wraith. Beside me, Rhazeil fades into something darker, taller, endless and together, we step through the veil.

Cage’s dorm smells like whiskey and desperation. He’s sprawled across the bed, one arm over his face, a half-empty bottle on the floor. Papers cover his desk, rel strings stretched between pins on the wall. Notes. Drawings…. My name. My photo…It’s…all me.

Rhaziel’s voice curls in my mind. “Obsession tastes sou

I drift closer. The air bends around me, carrying the fait hiss of power. A whisper of shadow touches his temple, and his dream flickers. He twitches but doesn’t wake.

<

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17:46 Wed, Dec 31 @

Chapter 146

“Let’s make this interesting,” I murmur.

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The room shudders, and walls twist inward, the light leaking red and black. The floor darkens, swallowing the edge of his bed. The bottle shatters on its own, spilling shadows instead of liquor. Cage stirs, mumbling something, his brow furrowed, and the dream deepens. His father’s voice echoes from nowhere. Weak. Always weak. He jerks upright, gasping, eyes wide and flantic. His walls are bleeding, the sound of footsteps filling the dark. Rhazeil’s laughter ripples through it, low and guttural. I let my form shift, my claws lengthening, my eyes glowing faintly blue. Cage spins, trying to find the source, but every direction holds another shadow, another whisper. His breath comes in sharp bursts, and he calls my name once, then again, pleading this time, as if I might save him.

I step out of the dark, inches from his face. “Miss me?”

He chokes out a sound that might be a scream. The shadows around him crawl, claws brushing his ankles, cold enough to burn. Rhazeil materialises behind him, voice silk and poison.

“Do you know what happens to little liars?” he asks, head tilting. “They dream forever.”

Cage stumbles back on the bed, stumbling through his sheets before he hits the floor. The ground swallows him halfway, then spits him out again. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out-just smoke. When I lean down, the tips of my claws trail along his jaw. “Sleep tight,” I whisper. He jerks violently, mouth flying open, piss running down his legs…and then we’re gone.

We’re back in the attic before the echo fades. I’m still half-laughing, shadows fading off my skin. Rhazeil drops onto the arm of the couch, tail flicking lazily, grin wide enough to be dangerous.

“You’re cruel,” he says, approvingly.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did I?” I grin, breathless. “He wet himself like a toddler.”

Rhaziel bursts out laughing, a rare, unguarded sound that rolls through the room like thunder muffled in velvet. “Oh, little terror,” he says finally, wiping at an imaginary tear. “You are going to be the death of

me.”

“Promise?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Feel better?”

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