Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 209

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Tue, Ja

Thornhill Academy.

What He Gives, What She Becomes

Cassian

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War meetings always leave a taste in my mouth. The planning was solid. Brutal, but solid and for the first time since I crossed the Wall with her, I actually believe we might win, but belief doesn’t mean trust. Not when the Council is involved. Not when Allison is the one they will aim for first. Not when her

power, even as vast as it is, is only half understood. The tent empties slowly, leaders dispersing, murmuring strategies and fallback maneuvers. Rhaziel speaks quietly with Vale, and Evander and Kael start hauling additional maps. Allison stands there, absorbing everything, shoulders squared like a girl who desperately wants to appear ready. She’s strong, fierce, terrifying when she wants to be, but she’s also inexperienced, and siphoning is unpredictable. If she

falters in the middle of the battlefield–I won’t let her falter.

I step closer. “Allison,” I say, pitching my voice low so the others don’t interrupt. “Walk with me.”

Her eyes lift to mine, guarded for half a heartbeat, then softening. “Okay.”

I lead her away from the tents and noise, toward the clearing behind the camp where the trees arc overhead. Shadows cling to the ground and the air hums

with power

hers, mine, the leftover residue of a thousand spells cast over the years. When we stop, I turn to face her fully.

“The plan is good,” I tell her. “Better than anything the Council expects. But strategy on paper means nothing if we don’t make sure you know exactly what

you can do.”

Her brows pull together. “I know what I can do.”

“No,” I say quietly. “You know pieces. Sets of abilities you’ve used in isolation, but in the war to come, you won’t get the luxury of switching one at a time.

You need to be able to fight with all of them. Seamlessly.”

Her throat flexes in a swallow.

“So… what do you want me to do?”

What I want is to wrap her in my arms and hide her somewhere the Council will never find her. What I need is to turn her into someone the Council will

run from.

“We train,” I say. “With every weapon you have. Including mine.”

She blinks. “Yours?”

I nod, stepping closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath brush across my collarbone.

“You can siphon my power in battle,” I explain. “If you start to run low, or if you need something lethal fast. But you need to practise using it now, when you’re not under pressure and not afraid.”

Her eyes flicker with worry, curiosity, and something warmer underneath.

“And… why would I need to use your power?” she asks.

I smile, but it’s not exactly a kind one; it’s honest. This moment right here is showing her that I will undeniably stand by her side through everything. With everything that I have.

“I can collapse a mind from the inside out.”

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15:42 Tue, Jan 6

What He Gives, What She Becomes

She inhales sharply. “Cassian-”

“My power and yours aren’t that different,” I say, stepping closer. “You take a person’s very being, their magic, their life. You rip it straight from their core

–“I tap lightly against her sternum, right over her heart“-and you hold it in here.”

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She swallows. “Yes. And?”

“And that puts you at risk,” I murmur. “If you take too much, too fast… you will overload. Your body burns out before the magic does.”

Her breath catches, and I see the fear land behind her eyes. Good. She needs to understand the danger she will be in for this war. It won’t just be the

enemies she needs to watch out for, it’s herself as well. She’s a ticking grenade, unless I can put a safety pin in her.

“But me?” I continue, voice dropping. “I don’t take the body or the magic. I take the mind.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly.

“I collapse it,” I say simply. “Fold it in on itself. Turn it into nothing. No sparks, no residue, no power left behind. When I kill someone…” My jaw tightens.

“There’s nothing for you to absorb and nothing that will overload you.”

Understanding dawns slowly, blooming across her face like a sunrise.

“So if I siphon from you-”

“You’ll be drawing clean power,” I finish. “Controlled and contained. Meant to be used and released without filling you past capacity.”

She hesitates. “And in battle?”

In battle,” I say, stepping close enough for her breath to slide along my collarbone, “you take a little from me… you use it… you take down an enemy. Then you take a little more. Use it again. Take down another.”

Her lips part. “Like breathing.”

“Exactly,” I whisper. “A rhythm. A cycle. Take. Use. Release. Repeat. You stay powerful without drowning in what you’ve taken.”

She shivers, but I know it’s not from the cold.

“And you’re willing to let me siphon your power?” she asks softly.

Willing? I’ve been waiting for an excuse to give her everything.

“Yes,” I say. “I trust you to use it, and I trust myself to survive it.”

Her eyes soften with warmth, grateful and dangerous.

“And what do I do with your power once I take it?” she asks quietly.

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