Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175

Allison

Daylight is the enemy out here. It slicks across the world in long, sharp bands of gold that pierce through the treetops, illuminating every wrong thing about this forest-the claw marks etched into bark, the tangled undergrowth that hides more than it reveals, the thin tendrils of mist curling around our ankles like hands reaching for a body that doesn’t belong. I’ve travelled this terrain before, more times than I can count, but never with two half-dead men limping behind me and never with the Council breathing down my spine like a curse I can’t outrun. We shouldn’t be moving during the day. Every instinct I have screams against it. But we don’t have a choice. Evander drags his left leg every fourth step, and there’s a slight hitch in his breath that’s the only sign he’s still in pain. The concealment potion hides us from magical tracking, but it does nothing for the strained ribs that grind every time he inhales. Kael moves beside him, hand clamped over his side, hood shadowing his eyes. He tries to pretend the pain doesn’t hurt-Kael always pretends-but the heaviness in his

stride betrays him. We’re moving too slowly, and I hate it.

“We need to rest,” Evander murmurs eventually, voice low and threaded with exhaustion.

“We need to move,” I counter, not bothering to turn around. “If we stop now, we lose the advantage the potion bought us.”

“And what advantage is that?” Kael mutters, breathless. “I feel like I got run over by a bloody transport truck, Al.”

“You basically did,” I remind him gently. “Three times.”

Evander coughs out a laugh that sounds like it hurts. “Accurate.”

I stop then-only because the incline ahead steepens, not because I think they’re wrong-and look back at them. They’re trying so hard not to show it, the pain, the fear, the weight of what happened in the Underhold. Evander’s face is pale beneath the hood, Kael’s shirt soaked through with sweat. Their healing is working, but so slowly it makes my stomach twist.

I soften my tone. “We’re going through the woods. Off the path.”

Evander’s brows lift. “Why the woods?”

“We can’t risk being seen.” I sling my backpack higher on my shoulder. “The further we get from the path, the fewer eyes we’ll have on us. Anyone out here travelling in daylight is either desperate or stupid, and I’d rather not gamble on which one finds us first.”

Kael grumbles, “Great. More trees.”

But he follows me as I lead them off the trodden trail and into the deep growth. This forest is old. Older than Thornhill, older than the towns scattered across the wildlands, older than the Council itself. The deeper we go, the thicker the air becomes, heavy with moss, damp leaves, and dangers that I’ve already calculated are less than those that await us on the main roads.

Evander finally asks the question he’s been holding in: “Why the warfront again? Isn’t there going to be a million council-run soldiers there?”

“Yes, but no one sane would go there willingly,” I say. “Which means it’s the last place anyone will expect me to run. Hiding in plain sight works better than running into shadows right now.”

Kael makes a face. “Could’ve just said the place sucks.”

“It does,” I admit. “But it also has enough magical interference that even powerful trackers get scrambled. The potion will disguise us for two days, but once it wears off…” I let the sentence trail into the thick air between us. They understand.

Evander nods. “Then we make the two days count.”

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Chapter 175

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I do another scan of the treeline. The forest is dense enough that the sunlight barely reaches the ground, fractured into scattered shards that glint off dew- drenched leaves. We move slowly, very slowly, but steadily. The boys stop only to catch their breath, never more than a minute, never long enough for their reserves to settle. The concealment potion hums faintly under my skin, holding my signature tight, pulling it inward until I can barely feel it. Kael and Evander feel the same through the bond, quiet, muted and dull. If they weren’t right here with me, I would be convinced they were dead. I hate it, the emptiness it creates, the silence where their magic should brush against mine. But it keeps us alive. So I’ll take it. The forest shifts as midday approaches, the shadows stretching in strange directions as if responding to something unseen. Birds stop calling, the wind stills, and even the insects go silent.

Kael notices first. “It’s too quiet.”

“It’s a forest, it’s supposed to be quiet,” Evander counters, but his voice wavers.

“Not this quiet,” I whisper.

This kind of silence isn’t natural. It’s the kind that arrives before something else does. I slow our pace, motioning for them to stay close. Every sense sharpens, every instinct tightens. My pulse kicks faster, not because I’m scared-fear comes later, after survival-but because my brain is already mapping escape routes, vantage points, and potential threats. The ground slopes downward into a narrow ravine. The trees tighten, forming a tunnel of branches

overhead.

Kael swallows. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” I breathe.

We keep moving, and a twig snaps somewhere to our left. We stop.

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