Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 210

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Thornhill Academy.

Touch, Take, Release

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(Allison)

Cassian does not rush, but there is a certainty to him this morning that threads through the air. He turns toward me with that grave, steady focus of his –

the one that feels like a hand gently closing around my pulse.

“You need to understand my power,” he says, voice low, each word deliberate. “Not in pieces. Not only when you siphon it. You need to know how it moves,

how it breathes, how it reacts when you call on it.”

The quiet around us deepens, the world folding in as if granting him the floor.

I nod. “Show me.”

A rare softness touches his expression, something like pride wrapped in caution, something that watches me as though I am both fragile and unstoppable.

“My power works through perception,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Not sight, not touch. Perception. Thought is a landscape that is layered, shifting, full of doors and windows and walls. I walk those structures. I reshape them and if I must…” His gaze holds mine, calm and devastating. “I collapse them.”

A shiver moves across my skin as I gently siphon just a little of his power.

“Open your senses,” he says, raising a hand as if guiding me without touching. “Not toward magic. Toward minds. Narrow it, be precise. Focus on the hum

beneath the surface of everything.”

“What do I do?” I ask quietly.

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I let my eyes fall shut, drawing in a slow breath. I reach carefully, and the world swells in response. Thoughts glimmer in the air like faint sparks, distant yet distinct, drifting in and out of the edges of my awareness. Not voices, or words, but impressions: intention, alertness, instinct.

Cassian’s hand settles lightly at my hip, grounding me in a way that steadies the trembling edge of my focus.

“Good,” he murmurs, warmth brushing my ear. “Now listen for the shapes.”

Shapes… I widen my awareness, and the patterns emerge like constellations in fog.

Animal minds flicker bright and sharp, small flames darting in quick pulses.

Shifters layer themselves, instinct curled around thought.

Witches hum with soft enchantment under their ribs.

Demons move like clean, cold lines drawn through stone.

Humans are tangled threads, restless and endlessly contradicting.

“Choose one,” Cassian says gently. “Hold only the outer edge.”

A bird perched above us flares in my awareness, its mind is quick, nervous and bright. I brush the perimeter of its mind, a feather–light touch that makes the

creature still mid–breath.

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Touch, Take, Release

“I feel it,” I whisper.

“Now compress.”

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I press inward, careful and slow, until the spark folds in on itself. The bird falls into a dazed stillness, wings slack, its entire being paused, suspended, then

it jolts awake and bursts into the air, scattering frost. I open my eyes and see Cassian is watching me, his pride unmistakable.

“That,” he says, “is collapse without destruction.”

My heart thunders. “So I can-”

“You can quiet a mind. Redirect it. Or break it entirely.” His gaze never wavers. “And when you siphon me in battle, you must know what you are touching.”

We continue deeper into the forest. He teaches me how to sense the fox hiding beneath the roots, how to ease into its awareness without startling it, how to

feel the particular way its instincts swell when threatened. He shows me how to glide from one mind to the next without losing my own shape, how to trace

the lines of a consciousness without sinking too deep into it, how to let go cleanly. His voice is a tether the entire time, grounding me, steadying me,

guiding me through a landscape invisible to everything but thought.

And then he says, quietly: “Try reaching toward me.”

I inhale. “Cassian-”

“It’s safe,” he promises. “I’ll keep my mind open just enough for you to touch it.”

I reach… and the moment I brush him, the world shifts.

Heat.

Restraint held tight under the surface.

Awe woven into every glance he’s ever given me.

The pulse of attraction he refuses to voice aloud.

The softness he hides under that cold exterior.

And threaded through it all – a want so deep it pulls me under like a tide.

I gasp and pull back, breath stumbling. His jaw tightens and his fists bunch at his sides from the force of holding himself still.

“You didn’t go too deep,” he says quietly. “You only skimmed. That’s good.”

My face burns. My hands tremble. The air feels different now… it’s charged, fragile, waiting. A flare of wildfire bursts into the edges of my senses – bright, unrestrained, impatient, Kael.

He steps into the clearing. “Vale wants-”

But Cassian lifts a hand, and Kael freezes mid–stride.

“Use him,” Cassian murmurs. “Direct. Soft pressure.”

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I slip into Kael’s mind. It flares around me like a bonfire loud, sprawling, impossible to contain and with the slightest push, the energy shifts downward. Kael moves into a deep, courtly, utterly graceful bow.

Then he straightens, huffs and storms off. “I’m not dealing with this shit right now!”

My laughter bursts free, bright and unrestrained. Cassian looks at me as though the sound is sunlight breaking through storm clouds and something in my chest loosens, blooms, ignites. I move without thinking. I leap. My arms wrap around his shoulders, legs locking around his waist, and the force of it knocks a shocked breath out of him as his hands catch my thighs to steady us.

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