Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173

Rhaziel

The wilderness stretches endlessly around us, a vast sprawl of tangled branches and shifting shadows, the kind of abandoned land that remembers every secret whispered into its soil. Cassian walks a few paces ahead, scanning the horizon with the sharp, restless precision of a man who is thinking far too loudly inside his own skull. At the same time, I let the shadows unfurl at my feet, tasting the air, searching for even the faintest echo of the girl who should be tugging on the bond like a steady, quiet pulse beneath my ribs. She should be here, faint, distant, strained perhaps-but present. Instead, the bond is… Gone. It happens like a blade sliding into my chest. There is no warning. No flicker. Just a sudden, suffocating absence. I stop walking so abruptly the earth beneath me cracks. For a moment, the world narrows into a pinpoint-my vision blurring at the edges, the air thinning, the ground tilting beneath my boots. The bond, the thread that has tied itself around my ribs since the moment I first scented her, simply… vanishes. The shadows recoil from me,

confused, alarmed.

Cassian turns sharply. “What-?”

I can’t breathe.

“She’s gone.” My voice comes out low, savage, unrecognisable. “She’s gone.”

Cassian blinks. “What do you-”

“The bond snapped.” My hands tremble before I force them still. “I can’t feel her. I can’t feel anything She’s not there, she’s not-”

The panic roars up before I can cage it, a wild, ancient sound filling every corner of my chest. The world heaves, my shadows spiralling outward in erratic, volatile arcs. Trees bend away from me; the air splits; the earth trembles around me.

Cassian curses and steps toward me, palms raised like one might approach a wounded predator. “Rhaziel-hey-Rhaziel, look at me.”

“I need to get to her,” I say, every word scraping like stone. “Now. Let me into your mind. Show me where she is. Open it, boy. Now!”

He flinches back. “Absolutely not.”

I advance a step. “Cassian.” My voice fractures around the edges, the darkness straining behind it. If she is dead-if something has taken her-if she is hurting somewhere and I am standing here-”

“She isn’t dead!” he snaps.

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping closer, “I do. Because if she died, you wouldn’t be standing.”

The words slam into me like a blow, but they do not soothe me. Not completely. Not enough.

Cassian grabs my wrist. “Look.”

I don’t understand what he means-until he twists my hand and forces me to look at the bracelet. The gem flickers. Not dead. She’s not dead.

The gem is not as bright as it usually is, but glowing in soft, shifting colours that pulse slowly, steadily, like a heartbeat under cloth. A faint wash of dusty rose. A nervous flicker of silver. A thin line of amber weaves through them. Worry. Anticipation. Caution.

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17:15 Thu, Jan 1 M

Chapter 173

PIXA

Cassian’s voice gentles. “The bond might be blocked, but this hasn’t stopped. Whatever she did-concealment potion, shielding spell, siphoned magic-she’s still feeling and the bracelet still hears her.”

My lungs finally drag in a full breath. She isn’t dead. She isn’t gone. She’s shielded. The wild, frenzied part of me that had begun unfurling like a nightmare releases its grip on my ribs just enough for me to breathe again.

Cassian watches me closely. “Better?”

No. Not better. But not feral. I nod once.

He exhales. “Good. Because we’re still a few hours out.”

I lower my hand, eyes still fixed on the flickering charm. “How much farther?”

Cassian adjusts his coat, gaze sweeping the decaying treeline. “If we keep moving east, we’ll hit the outskirts of a place she used to frequent. An old trade town. Half of it’s collapsed, but she stayed there off and on for years.”

My shadows stir uneasily. “Years?”

He meets my gaze steadily. “Allison lived a very long time without anyone looking out for her, Rhaziel. She carved out hiding places wherever she could.”

I absorb this quietly. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“Is there,” I say slowly, “a reason she would choose that town specifically? Out of all the others?”

Cassian’s jaw tightens with a sort of weight he has grown used to carrying. “There are many places she could go,” he admits. “Caves. Burned-out barns. Abandoned shelters. Pockets in the wild where unregistered magicals used to hide. Small towns where no one asked questions.”

My brow lowers. “Then how do you know this is the right one?”

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