Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 248

Still Standing

Allison

The power doesn’t leave when the anger does. That’s the strange part. When the last echo of Varyn’s escape collapses into silence, and the dust finally settles, the dark magic stays exactly where it is. It doesn’t howl for blood or demand to be fed. It coils low inside me instead, heavy, hot and watchful, like a beast that has decided it belongs here and is content to wait. I breathe in…

Then out. The world sharpens instead of blurring. I can hear everyone again clearly now. The scrape of boots. The faint crackle of damaged wards burning themselves out. Cage’s breathing, shallow but stubborn. My own heartbeat, steady and strong in my ears. I lift my hands and turn them over slowly, watching the way the faint shadows cling to my skin and then recede at my will, obedient in a way that still feels unreal. Mine.

“Okay,” Kael says carefully, breaking the silence like someone testing ice with the tip of their boot. “Trouble?”

I look at him. He’s a few steps away, posture loose but deliberate, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. His grin is half-there, held back by caution, eyes bright with heat and concern in equal measure. He’s ready to laugh or fight or run straight into hell again, depending on my answer.

“That you, baby?” he adds. “Or is it still the angry lady who wants to tear out my soul?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

“Soul’s safe,” I tell him. “For now.”

The relief that hits him is immediate and unguarded. His shoulders drop, heat bleeding out of him in a visible wave as he exhales hard.

“Good,” he mutters. “Because replacing it sounds like effort, and I’m very tired.”

He steps closer, slowly giving me space even as he closes it. When he reaches me, he doesn’t touch right away. He tilts his head instead, studying my face with the intensity of someone checking for cracks only he knows how to see.

“You’re you,” he says quietly.

I nod. “I am.”

“Thank fuck.” He grins, kissing me softly.

Evander moves in next, silent as ever. He doesn’t ask permission or check if it’s dangerous. He simply shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders with a careful, grounding weight. The fabric is warm from his body, faintly singed with smoke and dragon fire, and the last remnants of the wraith form peel away beneath. I hadn’t realised how cold I was until that moment. My fingers curl into the edge of the jacket on instinct, anchoring myself to something solid and real. Evander’s hand lingers on my shoulder for a heartbeat longer. When I glance up at him, his gaze is full of love and awe.

“You’re standing,” he says.

“I am,” I agree.

He gives me a tender smile and a slow kiss before he steps back, already turning his attention outward again, the ever-present sentinel. I feel Cassian before I see him, the bond brushing against mine with exquisite restraint. He doesn’t push, doesn’t probe. He just touches gently, and what comes through isn’t

static or fear or tightly leashed control. It’s clarity.

You did well, sweetheart.

1/3

14:31 Mon, Jan 19

Still Standing

53

Thanks to all of you, I send back, with quiet assurance that I am no longer drowning. A warmth settles through the bond, and I feel something in him relax,

just a little. Rhaziel watches all of this from across the chamber, ancient eyes sharp and unreadable. Shadows stir around him, restless, uncertain, still

expecting chaos where there is none. He studies the way the magic sits in me now, contained without being suppressed, powerful without being feral. He

opens his arms and I go to him. Settling against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. His tail curves around me, checking every inch of my skin.

‘Hummingbird,” he whispers as he presses a kiss to my forehead, and I step back and offer him a tired smile.

Only then do I turn back toward Cage. He’s still where Varyn left him, slumped against the stone like gravity has finally caught up to him. One arm braced uselessly at his side, his fingers dug into the floor for leverage he didn’t have. Blood has dried dark against his skin, tacky and smeared where someone tried

and failed to clean it away. His breathing is shallow but steady, stubborn in the way only Cage ever manages. The damage to his face looks worse now that the adrenaline has burned off. The swelling has deepened, bruises blooming dark and angry, the stitches pulling tight when he shifts. His eye tracks me anyway, sharp and unyielding despite everything. Something tightens in my chest as I take a step toward him. Then another. The dark magic stirs, alert but restrained, responding to my intent rather than dragging me along behind it. I kneel in front of him without thinking, close enough now that I can see the way his jaw clenches, the effort it takes for him not to flinch. My hand lifts on instinct, fingers hovering inches from his ruined cheek. For a heartbeat, all I

want is to touch him. To prove to myself that I can do it gently now. That I won’t hurt him just by being close. I stop myself and lower my hand, unsure of

the ground we stand on now. The hesitation is loud, and his mouth twitches, a tired, crooked thing that barely qualifies as a smile.

“Looks that bad, huh?”

I scrunch my nose before I can soften it. “The infamous Cage looking bad?” I say. “You know he’d probably throw you off a cliff for that.”

A low huff of a laugh escapes him, ending in a sharp wince. “He sounds like an asshole.”

Kael appears on his other side, already crouching with a med kit he absolutely did not acquire legally. “Hold still,” he tells Cage cheerfully. “Or don’t. I’ll

just pretend you did.”

Evander steadies Cage’s shoulder when his strength falters, careful and unobtrusive, lending support without making a spectacle of it. Cassian kneels too,

assessing damage with quiet efficiency, already planning what comes next. No one looks at me like I’m about to explode, and no one flinches when I move. The dark magic shifts inside me, responsive and calm, and I realise with a small, dizzying shock that this is the first time since all of this began that I’m not bracing for someone to pull away. I wrap Evander’s jacket tighter around myself and exhale.

“He ran,” I say quietly.

“For now,” Kael replies easily.

I look back at Cage, at the blood and bruises and stubborn refusal to stay down, and something settles into place inside me.

“Next time,” I murmur, more promise than threat, “he dies.”

The power inside me hums in agreement, and this time, I let it.

14:31 Mon, Jan 19

Thornhill Academy

A Life, For Once

Allison

53

They patched up Cage as well as they could, cleaned his blood, bound his ribs, and stitched and re-stitched his face with care. He’s upright again, barely, but

he’s stubborn; I doubt he would stay down even if he were half dead. The doors open to the outside, and the fresh air makes me close my eyes and inhale for

a moment. It’s cool, smoke-heavy air that smells like ash and victory. The voices break my moment of peace. People talking, shouting, laughter breaking

loose. There’s a clash of metal being dropped rather than raised and boots scraping against stone as soldiers shift, probably unsure what to do with

themselves now that no one is screaming orders at them. We step out into the aftermath. Some of the Council’s forces are dead, sprawled where they fell,

magic burned out of them. Others kneel in clusters, weapons discarded, heads bowed, shoulders slumped under the weight of a future they didn’t plan for

and don’t know how to fight. Submission feels different from defeat. Vale is waiting near the centre of it all, cloak stained with soot and blood, hair loose

and wild around her face. She looks exhausted and exhilarated. Most importantly, she looks very much alive. The faction leaders stand with her, each of

them marked by battle in their own way, expressions bright with disbelief and relief as they take us in. Their gazes slide over the group until they find me

and stop. I feel the way the attention gathers, the way the air shifts subtly when people realise something has changed and they don’t yet know what it

means. Vale’s eyes narrow just slightly as she studies me with careful precision. Her magic reading mine. I can feel it under my skin.

She hums low in her throat. “Still there,” she says.

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