Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 240

Evander

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The plan is simple but structured. Even though we rushed to plan every aspect of this, I can’t help but feel like something will go wrong. Kael and I break from the group without ceremony, peeling away from the shadow line where Rhaziel and the others wait with the cage. No goodbyes. No lingering looks. We’re all in. It starts now. Allison’s presence presses at the back of my mind like heat through stone, contained for now, furious and watching. Cassian’s focus brushes mine once, a silent check-in, then recedes. This part is ours. We run. The ground rises gently as we clear the treeline, boots tearing through frost-stiff grass and loose gravel. The Council compound dominates the horizon, a towering structure of pale stone and iron reinforcement that was never meant to feel welcoming. It doesn’t need to be fortified. The wards do that work for them. You can feel them before you see them. There’s a pressure shift, the air thickens, and magic compresses space until it resists you. Kael grins beside me, teeth sharp, eyes bright.

“Bet you five minutes,” he mutters, “before they start screaming.”

“You’re optimistic,” I reply.

We hit the ward line at full speed. There’s a moment of resistance, like pushing through cold water, then the wards snap to attention. The air hums, sharp and alert. They’ll know were here now. The ground vibrates faintly beneath our feet as the system registers two hostile signatures moving fast and with intent. Somewhere deep inside the compound, alarms will be lighting up, messages will be firing through channels, and orders will already be forming. We don’t slow down, we charge. The building looms closer with every stride. It’s massive, all clean lines and authority. The kind of place designed to remind you who holds the power. We skid to a stop less than fifty metres from the front steps, stone crunching under our boots. For three seconds, nothing happens. Then the doors explode open, and soldiers pour out in disciplined lines, armour gleaming, weapons already raised. They fan across the courtyard with practised efficiency, forming a semicircle that tightens by the second. Someone shouts orders. Another voice echoes it. Crossbows level. Spellcasters step forward, magic coiling visibly around their hands.

“On the ground!” a man barks, voice amplified by enchantment. “Hands in the air! Do not move!”

More soldiers flood out behind them. Too many for a routine response. I’m sure they’ve been waiting for this. There’s a bounty on our heads now. Maybe several. I can feel the focus sharpen as they recognise us. Whispers ripple through the ranks.

“Dragon.”

“Hellhound.”

“The siphon’s mates.”

Kael glances at me, expression feral and delighted.

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I lift my hands slowly, palms open and empty. I make a show of compliance, stepping forward just enough to be clearly visible. The soldier in front, the one barking orders, stiffens. His grip tightens on his weapon. He knows this isn’t surrender. I smile at him. Then I close one

“Showtime.”

20:36 Thu, Jan 15

The Signal

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fist. The signal is small and precise. A single, controlled motion and the world answers. Shadows split open around the courtyard as demon soldiers tear through reality itself, emerging in bursts of black smoke and molten air. They don’t run. They arrive already in motion, weapons out, eyes burning, discipline sharp as blades. At the same time, the treeline erupts with sound. War cries rip through the

air as the rebellion surges forward, boots pounding, magic flaring wild and bright. Fire arcs overhead. Stone shatters. The courtyard

dissolves into chaos in the span of a heartbeat. The soldier in front of me stares, stunned, just long enough. I drop my hands and let the

fire loose. Heat floods my veins, controlled and absolute. I don’t roar. I don’t announce it. I simply step forward and unleash. Flame coils

outward in a wide, devastating arc, slamming into the front line with concussive force. Armour warps. Shields shatter. Bodies fly. Kael is already moving, shifting mid-stride, hellhound form ripping free with a snarl that rattles the air. He crashes into the ranks like a living weapon, claws and teeth tearing through formation and morale alike. I advance steadily, fire answering every threat. I burn through spellwork before it can complete, incinerate arrows mid-flight, and shatter stone with concentrated heat. This isn’t rage. Its execution. Every movement is measured. Every strike is intentional. This is for what you did to my woman. This is the price you all pay. The rebellion collides with the remaining soldiers, steel on steel, magic flaring bright and uncontrolled. Demons cut clean paths through the

chaos, efficient and merciless. The Council wanted a spectacle. They got one.

I catch sight of the man who gave the first order, eyes wide now, mouth open in a shout that never lands. He raises his weapon again,

hands shaking. I meet his gaze as I close the distance.

“This was a mistake,” I tell him calmly.

Then I end it. I let my claws come free on a partial shift and tear through his throat, knowing that Allison would be proud. She would want this, and while she can’t deliver the justice that is needed, I’ll deliver it for her. Around me, the courtyard burns. Smoke and magic choke the air. Screams echo off the stone walls. Somewhere behind this chaos, Rhaziel is moving the cage, slipping through the gap we’re carving with brutal precision. I don’t look back. I trust him. I trust Cassian. I trust that Allison is still contained. For now. Kael barrels past me in a blur of motion, blood and fire slicking his fur as he shifts back mid jump to sucker punch a guard in the balls. He laughs,

wild and sharp.

“Five minutes was generous,” he calls over the chaos.

I don’t answer. My attention snaps to the upper levels of the building, where movement flickers behind reinforced glass. Figures watching, calculating, adapting. The Council isn’t out here yet.

Good. Let them watch. Let them realise, too late, that this isn’t a warning. It’s an opening strike, and we’re just getting started.

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20:37 Thu, Jan 15

Thornhill Academy

Knock, Knock

Kael

ขจ

Battle is supposed to be loud. Clashing steel, shouted orders, spells ripping the air apart like bad decisions you can’t take back. This is louder. This is chaos with teeth and it’s my kind of party. I burst through the first line of Council soldiers like a bad habit they should have kicked centuries ago, fire cracking down my arms, heat rolling off me in waves that make even trained men hesitate. That pause is all I need. I slam into them shoulder-first, laughing as one goes down hard, another scrambling backward with eyes blown wide like he’s just realised the stories were underselling it.

“Hands up!” someone yells. “On the ground! Now!”

I oblige… Briefly. I throw my hands up, palms open, give them a grin sharp enough to cut glass, and then I close one fist. The world explodes with all the pretty colours of violence. Fire blooms behind me, violent and bright, as the rebellion crashes in from the treeline with war cries that raise the hairs on my arms. Demons shadow-travel straight into the thick of it, bodies tearing into existence mid- strike, claws already swinging, teeth already bared. The Council’s neat lines dissolve instantly. Shouting turns to screaming. Orders turn to panic. Vengeance turns to hunger. Evander is already moving beside me, wings snapping out in a flare of heat and wind that knocks half a dozen soldiers off their feet. He’s calm about it. Focused. Which is unfair, because I am having the time of my life. I duck under a blade, grab the wrist, twist, feel bone give, and kick the guy back into two of his friends. Fire races down my spine, begging to be let loose. I let it. The ground scorches beneath my boots as I launch forward again, tearing through the next wave like I was built for this. Maybe I was. No, I definitely was. Somewhere to my left, a demon laughs. Somewhere to my right, something explodes. Above it all, the Council’s pristine tower looms, tall and smug and very, very about to regret its architectural choices. We’re not here to win this fight.

We’re here to make a mess.

“Left!” Evander calls, and I pivot instantly, incinerating a spell mid-cast. The caster screams and drops. Evander stops hard beside me, eyes already scanning.

“That’s enough,” he says.

I know what he means. The noise. The fire. The spectacle. Every eye is on us now. Every ounce of attention dragged right where we want it. We break away together, slipping through the smoke and bodies, fast and clean, vanishing into shadow like we were never there at all. The noise fades behind us, muffled by distance and terrain. My heart is still pounding, blood singing, fire restless under my skin. I hate stopping. I hate standing still when there’s still screaming to be done. But this part matters more. We find them exactly where they said they’d be. Cassian stands with his posture rigid, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion written into every line of him. Cage is a half-step behind, pale, furious, stubbornly upright when he really shouldn’t be. Rhaziel is everywhere at once, shadows folded close, controlled and coiled. And between them… The cage. Allison is inside it, crouched low, shadows rippling tight against her skin, eyes burning as they lock onto me and Evander the second we appear. Hunger. Recognition. Something sharp and delighted curling under it all. I grin at her before I can stop myself. Cassian doesn’t smile. He just steps forward and shoves a bundle of fabric at my chest.

“Pants,” he says flatly.

I look down. Right.

“Ah,” I say, completely unrepentant. “Forgot about those.”

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20:37 Thu, Jan 15

Knock, Knock

27

Evander snorts as he takes his own, already pulling them on with efficient movements. I follow suit, still watching the tower through the

trees as I tug fabric into place. The service entrance is right there. Plain and unassuming. Exactly the kind of door people like the Council

forget to worry about. I roll my shoulders, fire settling into something tighter, meaner. Cassian moves to the side, giving us a clear path.

His gaze flicks between us and the cage, jaw tight with restraint and fear and something fierce enough to hurt.

“Allison stays with us the whole time. No one loses sight of her. No one leaves her behind,” he says, not asking.

“Always,” I reply.

I step up to the door, place my hand against the cold stone beside it, and lean in close like I’m sharing a secret.

“Knock knock,” I whisper, grinning to myself.

I wait half a beat.

“Oh,” I add pleasantly. “No answer.”

I crack my knuckles, heat flaring bright and eager.

“That’s okay,” I murmur, already shifting my weight forward.

“I’ll let myself in.”

Allison

Everything moves wrong. The world lurches and my stomach twists and suddenly up is sideways and the shadows cinch tighter like they’re bracing for impact. Metal groans. Stone slides past. Trees smear into shapes that don’t stay still long. My claws scrape instinctively, sparks snapping sharp and bright and useless against bars that drink everything I throw at them. I snarl and bite the sound back halfway through, teeth clicking together hard enough to hurt. Too loud. Too close. Too much. They’re near. I can feel them like pressure behind my eyes, like fingers hooked under my ribs pulling. Kael burns bright and reckless, fire snapping and popping and laughing at the edge of my mind. Evander is heat held tight, controlled, and sharp enough to cut. Cassian is pain. Constant pain, a line pulled too tight, vibrating with fear and restraint and the terrible, beautiful effort it takes him to stay calm when everything in me wants to tear him open just to see what happens. And Cage…There’s a hole where he should be. Not gone, never gone, but broken, jagged, wrong in a way that makes the thing inside me perk up and lean forward, curious. Interested. It presses against my spine, purring low and

ugly.

Hurt things are easier, it whispers.

Hurt things taste better.

I choke on a laugh that turns into a snarl halfway out.

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20:37 Thu, Jan 15

Knock, Knock

No.

The tower looms closer. Layers and layers of control stacked so thick they itch against my skin. My heart slams harder.

Break it.

Burn it.

Devour it.

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The hunger surges, loud enough that my vision fractures, shadows slamming outward in a violent pulse that rattles the cage. I slam my forehead into the bars, breathing hard, trying to remember which thoughts are mine and which ones just sound convincing. I know their plan. I understand it. That’s the terrifying part. I’m still here enough to follow along. To track exits. To count steps. To feel the weak points singing to me like open throats. I bare my teeth, saliva slick and bitter on my tongue, laughter bubbling up again, sharp and broken and thrilled. They think they’re containing me. They think they’re moving me. They think I’m holding. I am…just barely. But I know one thing with brutal clarity: I will not stay inside this cage. Not if there’s still anything left to eat.

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20:37 Thu, Jan 15

Thornhill Academy

…

Containment Breach

Cassian

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Kael’s fist goes through the service door like it personally insulted his mother. The lock plate buckles with a metallic snap, the hinges scream once, and then the Council’s side entrance swings inward. Heat and smoke drift behind us from the front assault, but in here the air feels refrigerated, scrubbed clean of battle, scented faintly with something bitter and antiseptic that clings to the back of my throat. Rhaziel’s shadows lift the cage just above the floor so it doesn’t scrape. The smaller containment structure looks almost obscene inside this corridor, too brutal for a place that prefers its cruelty elegant and hidden. Allison crouches inside it, shoulders rounded, fingers white around the bars, her head angled as if she’s listening to a frequency no one else can hear. I stay close, one hand hovering near the cage out of instinct I can’t shut off, the other already mapping the space. Kael shuts the door behind us, softly for once. Even he understands the difference between noise meant to distract and noise that gets you killed.

“Left,” Cage murmurs.

His voice is rough, scraped raw by pain he refuses to acknowledge. He holds himself upright through sheer spite, one hand pressed against

the stitch line that runs down his face. His remaining eye tracks the corridor with the sharp focus of someone who grew up inside a trap,

this trap to be exact. Evander moves at his shoulder, close enough to catch him if he drops, far enough that Cage won’t feel handled. Kael

drifts to my right, restless energy packed tight into his muscles, fire kept on a short leash under his skin. Rhaziel stays behind the cage

like the corridor belongs to him. The moment we cross the threshold, the building notices. There’s no alarm. No sudden light. No

theatrical reaction. The air simply feels like it tightens. Pressure shifts against my sternum, subtle and immediate, like a flat hand pressing into my chest. The hair along my arms lifts, and every instinct I have leans forward and says the same thing. We just crossed another ward. Allison inhales sharply inside the cage. Her pupils flare wide. Her head turns with slow, precise intent, tracking something

that doesn’t move and doesn’t make sound. Her shadows creep along the bars as if tasting the air. Kael glances at me. His grin is gone,

replaced by something sharp and assessing.

“What’s the building doing?” he mutters.

“Sampling,” I say.

The Council doesn’t just rely on guards and locks. It relies on systems that identify you the moment you become a problem. We’re already a problem. The only variable left is how long we remain a surprise. We move. Rhaziel’s shadows carry the cage through the corridor like a coffin that refuses to be mourned, and I walk beside it, mind split between spatial awareness and the bond because Allison is watching, calculating, learning the rhythm of our breathing and footsteps. A junction opens ahead, two corridors branch off from it. The left hall widens slightly, brighter, more polished. The right narrows into something utilitarian.

Cage points with his chin. “Right, Maintenance run. Takes us under the central stairwell.”

We take the right. The air changes again, colder, dampened by stone that holds moisture and secrets. Pipes run along the walls, embossed with runes that glow faintly. The corridor slopes downward, the ceiling drops, and the space forces us closer together, shoulder to shoulder, breath overlapping breath. Allison’s cage looks larger now. Like it’s taking up more than its share of the world, and her claws scrape once against the bars. Rhaziel’s gaze flicks back toward her, shadows tightening almost imperceptibly, an extra coil sliding over the cage like a seatbelt.

“Naughty little wraith,” Kael mutters, half-jokingly.

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20:37 Thu, Jan 15

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