Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Allison

Claws swipe past my face in a blistering arc, so close that I feel the sting of displaced air across my cheek as I bend myself backward in a movement so

sharp my spine creaks in protest. The world tilts upside down for a split second before I twist my body with the momentum, plant my heel into the dirt, and

fling my arm upward in a sweeping burst of stolen magic that slams into the attacker’s chest. It sends him tumbling back into the undergrowth, his body

carving a ragged trail through leaves and splintered branches- just in time for me to lift my head and watch, helpless and furious, as Evander takes a

vicious hit to the jaw from a troll whose arm is thicker than a tree limb and whose roar shakes the clearing like thunder rolling through stone. The sound

tears something in me. I lunge toward him, but another creature, a fox shifter with poison-laced claws and eyes burning with feral hunger, cuts into my path, forcing me to drop low, slide beneath its swipe, spring upward behind it, and catch it by the scruff of its neck before it can whirl around. I siphon its magic without hesitation, feeling the sharp metallic rush of its panic flood my veins, then fling it so hard into a nearby tree that the trunk shudders from the impact. Kael is fighting two harpies at once, their wings beating in a frenzy that churns the dust into thick clouds around his feet, their talons raking sparks off his already-bruised ribs. He moves with the staggering determination of someone who should not be standing, let alone defending himself. When he falters just slightly, just long enough for a talon to nick his cheek and draw blood, I feel another lash of fury coil tight beneath my ribs like wire pulled

to breaking.

The troll roars again, its breath hot and rancid as it swings downward, aiming for Evander’s skull, I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I simply move. A burst of borrowed witchfire surges down my arm, flames cracking the air, and the troll’s massive body lurches backward under the force of it, its heels gouging deep trenches in the dirt. My vision pulses at the exertion, black spots freckling the edges, but I shove the dizziness away because Kael coughs blood behind me, and Evander’s thigh is bleeding through his pants. The clearing is swarming with too many enemies, too many claws and spells and teeth, and every single one of them seems to have decided that the three of us are prey worth cornering. A witch cloaked in moss and bones lifts both hands, her fingers folding into a delicate, deadly shape as swamp-green magic spirals outward from her palms like a serpent waking from a dream. The spell crackles through the air with the smell of rot and grave soil, and she aims it not at me-but at Kael. I sprint so hard the earth blurs beneath my feet.

“Kael!” I shout, but the warning is useless because he is too slow to dodge, too injured to move the way his instincts are begging him to, and I reach him only in time to throw myself in front of him, catching the full brunt of the witch’s spell with my bare hands. Pain detonates through me like a star collapsing. The magic doesn’t strike-it burrows, claws, tears, ripping through the thin membranes of energy still clinging to my reserves, devouring the last of my shields until all I can do is grit my teeth and force it down, force it into me, force myself not to scream as the weight of it crushes every breath from my lungs. I hit the ground on one knee. My fingers tremble. My vision swims. The world tilts. And still-still-they come for us.

The fox shifters circle with low, eager growls, their eyes gleaming with the cruel confidence of predators who know reinforcements won’t be coming. The harpies dive again, wings slicing the air as they screech overhead. The troll heaves itself upright, dust falling from its shoulders in thick clumps. The witch smiles as if she has already won, her magic gathering for another strike. Behind me, Kael struggles to stand, his breath a ragged rasp in his throat, and Evander braces on one arm as he tries to push himself upright, swaying on unsteady legs that can’t seem to decide whether to hold him or fold. And seeing them like that-bleeding, exhausted, shaking but refusing to give in-wrenches something open inside me that I have spent years trying to bury. I realise in this moment that I finally have something worth losing…and I am not going to lose them. A shadow unfurls along my spine, slow and languid, like a creature stretching awake after too long confined in silence. It curls through my veins, cold and electric, sharpening every sound, every breath, every flicker of movement in the clearing until the world crystallises with unnatural clarity. Come out and play, wraith.

Darkness pools beneath my feet, thick and viscous like oil, and the air bends around me as the wraith drags her fingers along the inside of my ribs, urging me forward, urging me to let go, encouraging me to stop pretending I am something soft or breakable or in need of saving. My vision sharpens into something predatory, colours bleeding into richer shadows, every movement around me slowing as if time itself fears interrupting us. My skin hums with a cold, electric hunger. My teeth ache with the urge to tear. My heartbeat shifts into a low, deliberate thythm, the cadence of a creature who knows the kill is already hers. I let the shift consume me, and then I hand over the reins.

Let me have them. It whispers in my mind.

The wraith stretches through me like smoke, and I rise in a slow, deliberate movement that makes the creatures around us hesitate, their instincts screaming warnings their minds cannot translate. I move between Evander and Kael without thought, without breath, without anything resembling mercy, my shadow spilling outward in a rippling arc that pushes back the foxes, the harpies, even the troll as if an invisible force has redrawn the boundary between hunter and hunted. I feel the wraith smiling inside my chest as I prowl forward, step by steady step, claiming the space around my mates with the unmistakable certainty of a creature defending what is hers. The enemies falter, the clearing tightens, the air turns sharp-and then the forest behind them explodes.

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17:41 Thu, Jan 1 MA

Chapter 177

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Rhaziel charges into the clearing, shadows rolling off him in waves so dense the air bends around him, his sigils burning like darkened stars across his skin, his expression carved from fury and terror and something so primal it makes even the troll flinch. Cassian crashes into the clearing beside him, breathing hard, eyes sharp, as he takes in the sight of us and the enemies closing in. They don’t hesitate. Not for a heartbeat. Not for a breath. Not for a single mortal second. And I can see the moment these creatures realise, they fucked up.

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