Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brigid
The distant caw of a raven pierces the air, and suddenly I ’ m weightless. Darkness swirls around me, threads of shadow wrapping around my body like a snake coiling. I ’ m not just surrounded by them—I am them. I ’ m part of the darkness itself.A shadow.
I watch my hands dissolve into inky blackness. I should be terrified, but there ’ s an odd sense of rightness. Like this is all familiar in some way.
“ What ’ s happening?” I whisper, my voice echoing strangely.The shadows throb and twist, merging with my skin. It doesn ’ t hurt. If anything, it feels incredible—cool and powdery, like a piece of silk.
I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. When I open them again, the world looks different. Sharper. More detailed.Part of me wants to scream. But a deeper, primal part of me embraces it.
The raven calls again, closer this time.
I ’ m weightless.
I float down from the platform, my body nothing more than a vague form of smoke and shadow. The world around me blurs, edges softening as I descend in uncanny silence. The noise of the Harrowing fades to a dull roar, muffled by the cocoon of darkness enveloping me.
My feet—or what should be my feet—touch the ground without a sound. The shadows ripple and swirl, reforming into something human-shaped. I can see through my own body, translucent and ethereal. It ’ s fucking terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
I take a step forward, marveling at how my body moves. It ’ s like gliding through water, each motion fluid and graceful. The darkness flows with me, responding to my will without conscious thought.I am it, and it is me.
It ’ s only then that I become aware of the crowd, and the silence. Hundreds of eyes are locked on me. No one says anything.
All I see is fear. Their bodies rigid with tension. Some take an involuntary step back, as if my very presence might contaminate them.Even the stoic-faced professors look shaken, their carefully maintained masks of cynical indifference cracking.
A ripple of movement spreads through the crowd as people shake it off and come back to life. They start to whisper to each other.
My gaze finds Fiona, and I falter. She ’ s not gaping like the others. Her eyes narrow, head tilted as she studies me with unnerving intensity. There ’ s surprise there, but something more, almost like recognition, tempered with a wariness.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. I need to see a friendly face before I lose my shit completely.
My eyes dart frantically through the sea of chilly faces, searching for those three who make me feel like I ’ m not alone. “ Where are you?” I whisper, desperation clawing at my insides. My breathing is short and shallow.
And then, finally, I spot them. Callen, Tiernan, and Rory stand off to the side, partially obscured by the crowd. Relief floods through me, so intense it ’ s almost painful.
I take an instinctive step towards them, but stop as reality crashes back. They can ’ t come to me. Not here, not now. The disappointment is crushing.
Callen catches my eye, and for a heartbeat, his carefully crafted mask slips. He winks, quick and subtle, a glimpse of his usual cocky grin playing at the corners of his mouth. It ’ s gone in an instant, but it ’ s enough.
My gaze shifts to Tiernan. His face is impassive as ever, but there ’ s a slight tightening around his eyes. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod, conveying volumes in that tiny gesture.
And Rory... well, Rory ’ s beaming like the goddamn sun. His smile is infectious, lighting up his whole face. Anyone else will think he ’ s just being his usual self, but I can see the worry lurking beneath the brightness.
I can breathe again.
I straighten my spine, drawing strength from their silent support. The fear doesn ’ t disappear, but it becomes manageable.
That is, until the hairs on my arms stand up and I feel the overwhelming sense of being watched. No, not watched—inspected. Yes, I ’ m currently being gawked at by a hundred pairs of eyes, but this feels different. I scan the crowd, searching for the source of this unnerving sensation, and my heart nearly stops.
I see who can only be King Cillian.
He sits on the raised dais with the Council, his presence a black hole sucking all the air from the arena. Fuck, he looks so much like Callen it hurts. The same sharp jawline, the same aristocratic nose, same full lips. But where Callen ’ s eyes dance with playfulness, Cillian ’ s are cold. Calculating. There ’ s a cruelty etched into the lines of his face that makes me queasy.
His gaze locks onto mine, and I can ’ t look away. It ’ s like being pinned by a predator. Sweat beads on my forehead. Every instinct screams at me to run, to hide, to do anything but stand here under his scrutiny.
“ Well, well. Quite the performance, little shadow.”
I pivot slowly, not wanting to take my eyes off of the king.
Marius. When the hell did he get so close?
He angles his head, lips curling. “ Did I scare you?”
“ What do you want?” I try to steady my voice. I glance toward Callen, Rory and Tiernan and of course they ’ re laser-focused on Marius as he speaks to me.
Marius leans in, close enough only I can hear him. “ How did it feel?”
“ What?” I ask, distracted by the king ’ s sinister attention and the daggers the guys ’ stares are throwing this way. “ How did what feel?” But I know what he ’ s asking.
“ Don ’ t play games, little bird.” Marius steps closer. “ It ’ s beneath you.”
I step back, glancing nervously at the dais. King Cillian ’ s eyes haven ’ t left us. “ Was it you?” I blurt out. “ Did you help me?”
Confusion flickers across Marius ’ face. “ Help you?”
Before I can press further, his expression changes. He notices the king watching us, and something unreadable passes over his features. It ’ s there then gone, replaced by his usual indifference.
“ I ’ ll see you soon, little bird.” And then he ’ s gone, melting into the crowd as if he was never there.
As he leaves, my eye is caught by the sight of Laria stalking away, her blonde hair lashing behind her. Even from here, I can see her fists clenched at her sides. I don ’ t think she ’ s that happy that everyone ’ s attention shifted away from her, to me, of all people.
“ You okay?” Eira appears at my elbow, her voice low.
I nod. Laria ’ s anger will only mean bad news for me. She wanted to be the star, the one everyone talks about. Instead, they ’ re all whispering about me and my darkness.
“ Don ’ t let her get to you,” Eira murmurs. “ She ’ s just upset she didn ’ t get to show off.”
Before I can respond, Fiona ’ s voice booms across the arena. I still can ’ t bring myself to think of her as Dean Fiona. “ Congratulations to our successful candidates!”
The crowd cheers, but it feels hollow. I think about how many empty chairs there will be in class now.
“ As for those who didn ’ t make the cut,” Fiona continues, her tone almost jovial, “ better to find out now, hey?”
My stomach twists. How can she be so casual about it? People died today.
“ But don ’ t fret, folks!” Fiona ’ s voice rises with excitement. “ Tomorrow ’ s spectacle will be even bigger! Day two of the Harrowing awaits, and trust me, you won ’ t want to miss it!”
The crowd cheers.
I barely survived today. I can ’ t even imagine what tomorrow will bring.