Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 224

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20:34 Thu, Jan 15

The One Moment I Missed

“No,” I say immediately, tightening my grip on her wrist. “We’re almost through this wave. Give me thirty seconds.”

She looks at me then. Really looks at me. Her eyes are dark now, power bleeding into the whites, something ancient and hungry coiling just beneath the surface.

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“I can’t,” she says. Not panicked just certain. “If I don’t let it out now, it’s going to tear through me instead.”

She’s right. Damn her for being right.

I adjust instantly, shifting my stance, widening my awareness to brace for impact. “Then I’m with you. All the way.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. Then-

Everything stops as Cage steps out of the chaos directly in front of us. For half a second, my mind refuses to process him here, now, alive

in the middle of this. His face is pale, eyes wide, horror draining the colour from his skin as he takes in Allison-really sees her and what

is happening.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

Allison inhales sharply and lets go completely. The wraith tears free. The air implodes outward from her in a violent rush, shadows

screaming as they twist and warp around her form. The ground cracks, and nearby soldiers are flung backward like dolls, bodies hitting

trees and earth with sickening force. I lock myself to her instantly, pouring calming thoughts into her to anchor what I can, even as the

wraith surges, ravenous and wild. The battlefield recoils. And Cage… Cage moves. Straight toward her.

“No!” I shout, reaching for his mind, for anything, but it’s too late. He saw something I had missed and even now, facing Allison in one of her most ferocious beast forms… He throws himself between her and the oncoming blast, arms outstretched, eyes locked on her face like

it’s the last thing he ever wants to see.

“Allison!” he yells.

The blast hits him head-on. Dark magic splinters across his face on impact, a spiderweb of black veins tearing outward from the point of contact, crawling over his cheek, flooding across his eye like ink poured into a wound. The smell hits me with something like old rot and corrupted spellwork, something designed not to kill quickly, but to linger, to poison, to take its time torturing you. I know that magic. I’ve taught its theory. I’ve erased its practitioners. It’s a disgraceful use of magic, even in a war; many would prefer a clean kill. Cage’s body crumples, hitting the ground hard, limbs folding wrong as the spell takes hold immediately. His breath shudders once, sharp and broken. And Allison-Allison screams. The wraith howls with her, a sound so full of grief and fury that the entire battlefield freezes. Hellhounds skid to a halt. Demons recoil. Even the dragons falter in the sky above us. For one suspended, impossible moment, there is no war. Only her cry… Her heartbreaking, ear-splitting, soul-shattering cry…

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