Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 45

moved. “The crystal does not lie,” she said, voice pitched just above a whisper, as if secrets sat on her tongue. “It only shows you what might be. The future is a river, always moving, always splitting. It is your

intention that decides which stream you see.”

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She demonstrated, palms brushing lightly over the orb until it glowed faintly gold, and then stepped back with a theatrical flourish. “Now.

You try.”

Around me, classmates leaned in, whispering and laughing nervously as they extended their hands toward their crystals. I pressed my palms against mine, the superb surface grounding, and let my focus sharpen. I knew what I wanted to see. Her. Allison. My dragon rumbled low inside me, curling tighter with a restless urgency. Show us. I pushed all of it into the crystal, the need to know, the gnawing pull in my chest, the question I’d been circling since the riverbank. What was my future with her?

The surface clouded. Shapes swirled, bending, flickering. For a moment, I saw the curve of her face, pale and bright, but then it warped, splintering into two paths. In one, she stood at my side, light in her eyes, power threading between us like silver fire. In the other, the light fractured; her back was turned, and the shadow swallowed her whole. My brow furrowed. None of it made sense. Professor Mirelle drifted over, silent as a ghost, until her presence pressed against my shoulder. Her hand steadied against the orb, and the swirling stilled enough to sharpen the edges. She hummed low, her voice curling cryptic but certain.

“The future you are seeking is not set in stone, Evander Drayke. It bends. It breaks. It could go one of two ways.” Her dark eyes cut to mine, gleaming with something that felt like knowledge I wasn’t ready for. “But one thing is clear, truth. Truth will be the torch that lights the path you want. Without it, you will lose what you seek.”

The words landed like a stone in my gut. Truth. Did that mean I was supposed to tell her? Tell Allison what my dragon already swore? That she was his. Ours. That he’d claimed her before the festival, before the laws, before the world would allow it? I clenched my fists against my knees as the crystal dimmed, leaving nothing but my reflection staring back. Truth, she’d said. And all I could think was, if I told her, would she even believe me? Or would it drive her further away? Would she even want me? What if she rejects me? Class ended, and I wandered off, lost in thought, to defensive training.

My brain was stuck on autopilot as I headed for the girls’ change rooms to leave my shirt for Allison. I didn’t even realise I’d drifted past the point of no return until the air shifted, warm, scented faintly of lavender and steel polish. My boots scraped the edge of the tile, and then I looked up and froze. She was there. Allison. Standing in front of the mirror, her back half-turned, shirt in her hands, bare from the waist up. Time stopped. Every shred of thought I’d been drowning in, visions of crystal balls, futures I couldn’t hold, my dragon snarling mate, burned away like paper in fire. All that existed was her. Pale skin kissed with faint bruises, the faint scar-lines on her back like someone had tried to break her and failed. My throat dried, my chest locked, and my dragon slammed so hard against my ribs it almost

cracked them. Mine.

Her eyes lifted, and they found me. Wide, startled, furious. My body stuttered back a step, muscles clumsy where they were usually perfect. “Shit.” My voice came out rough, strangled. “I didn’t…I wasn’t….”

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12:47 Tue, Dec 30

Thornhill Academy.

Beaten By A Girl.

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