Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 223

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through centuries of shared skies. Below, the Council’s army is dying, but I don’t revel in it. I don’t mourn it either. This is the cost of choosing the wrong war. I descend one last time, landing briefly near the centre of the clearing to ensure no rebels are caught in the next wave. Once the area is clear, I signal upward and the dragons respond instantly. Flames carve through the field in precise lines, driving soldiers out of cover and straight into shadows, claws, and blades waiting below. The ground is scorched in places, torn up in others, but it is far from silent. Screams still rise, steel still rings, and magic still lashes out wildly. Smoke curls upward, thick and choking, carrying the stench of ash and burned flesh. Below, the rebellion moves constantly, never settling, never assuming safety. Hellhounds reposition through the undergrowth. Demons seal breaches as fast as they form. Fighters drag wounded back, replace fallen positions, and adjust

without waiting for orders.

I hover higher, wings beating steadily, eyes never leaving the chaos below. New threats surface as fast as old ones fall. A spellcaster breaks free near the eastern edge. I mark him instantly, banking to line up another strike. A group of soldiers surges toward the trees where Allison is hidden, and my attention snaps there without conscious thought. She is still there. Still standing in the middle of it. I wheel back into the fight, fire coiling in my chest, already selecting my next target. We hold the air. We keep the pressure. We protect the ground long enough for the others to do what only they can. The war is still raging below me. And until it isn’t, I will stay in the sky.

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20:34 Thu, Jan 15

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Thornhill Academy

The One Moment I Missed

Cassian

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There is no easing into this. One moment Allison is breathing steadily beside me, fingers curled into the sleeve of my jacket, grounding herself. The next, the battlefield surges, and I am inside it inside minds, inside fear, inside the fragile places people don’t realise exist until someone presses there. I open myself to it. The first mind collapses cleanly. A Council officer halfway through a spell freezes mid- gesture, confusion flashing across his thoughts just before everything folds inward. He drops without a sound, eyes glassy, magic dissipating uselessly into the dirt. Another one tries to scream. I erase the impulse before it reaches his throat. Around us, steel rings and magic flares, but my focus never leaves the narrow radius where Allison stands. She is close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin

through my coat, close enough that her breath syncs with mine without effort. My power flows into her in a controlled stream, measured

and steady. Exactly as we trained. She shapes it beautifully at first, reaching out with precision, collapsing minds that push too close,

draining spellcasters just enough to disrupt them without burning herself out. I feel her concentration like a taut wire through our bond,

perfectly aligned with my own. A soldier breaks through the tree line to our left. I catch his mind before he fully registers us, turning his

thoughts inward, compressing panic and intent until they tear themselves apart. He falls hard, convulsing once before going still. Allison

doesn’t flinch. She’s watching the field, eyes sharp, tracking movement with a calm that would terrify anyone who understood what she

was capable of. I protect her perimeter without thinking. Mind after mind. Thought after thought. Snap. Collapse. Erase.

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The strain builds gradually, like pressure behind my eyes. It’s manageable and familiar. I’ve lived with this kind of mental load for years.

But Allison-I feel it when it starts to cost her. Her control slips by a fraction of a second. Just enough that a spellcaster nearly finishes a

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