18. Bram
18
brAM
MistHallow Academy looms before us, surrounded by mist, unsurprisingly. It’s a beautiful Gothic masterpiece of dark stone and twisted spires that pierce the misty sky. Magick radiates from every brick, every gargoyle, every shadow—old magick, wild magick, the kind that makes the foreign power inside me stir restlessly.
Morrigan’s magick. Though calling it hers feels wrong now. It’s changed since inhabiting my body, grown wilder, more feral. And it’s refusing to leave.
“You okay?” Tate asks, noticing my discomfort. “Your aura’s flickering.”
“The magick here,” I gesture vaguely at the academy, “it’s making Morrigan’s power restless. More restless . ”
Torin eyes me warily. “Restless, how?”
Before I can answer, the massive iron gates swing open with a sound like thunder. A familiar figure strolls out, all casual grace and calculated nonchalance.
“Well, well,” Vex drawls, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Look what the apocalypse dragged in.”
He looks different from the last time I saw him. Less stud, more academic. It’s disturbing. Some things should never change, and Vex’s arrogant attitude is one of them. Is this another fuck up? Please don’t let it be another fuck up.
“You’re looking very, not you,” Tate says, clearly sharing my thoughts.
Vex snorts. “Still the same badass. But now with some responsibility. I’m a Teaching Assistant. Turns out corrupting young minds is quite fulfilling when you’re getting paid for it.”
“Great,” I mutter as Tate rolls his eyes. But I’m glad to see he hasn’t changed. “We need your help,” I add as the power inside me writhes again, making me grit my teeth.
Vex’s expression sharpens, the facade of casual amusement dropping away. “ My help? Again? This is becoming a regular occurrence. Where is Ivy?”
“She isn’t here. It’s actually Ivy that needs your help,” I grit out, much to Tate’s annoyance.
“Oh? And what new mess has the little shifter got herself into now?” Vex asks with a smirk.
“Are you going to help or not?” Torin demands.
“Me? No.” Vex turns, gesturing for us to follow. “But I know someone who can. Or at least, someone who understands what’s really happening.”
“So you do know what’s going on?”
“Sort of. Professor Blackthorn is more up to speed.”
We follow him through the grounds, past groups of students who stare at us with undisguised curiosity. The magick here feels ancient, primal in a way that calls to the power inside me. It wants to reach out, to connect with the wild energy that saturates this place.
We reach a heavy wooden door carved with runes I don’t recognise. Vex knocks once, then pushes it open.
“Professor Blackthorn,” he calls out. “We have visitors from Thornfield.”
The office beyond is exactly what you’d expect from a magickal academy’s headmaster - floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, arcane artefacts, a massive desk covered in scrolls. The man behind it, however, is not what I expected.
Professor Blackthorn looks young, maybe late twenties, with sharp features and eyes that are a startling shade of blue. But there is definitely more to him than meets the eye. He is old and powerful and hopefully, our salvation in this dire situation we have found ourselves in.
“Ah,” he says, standing. “Death’s champions. I’ve been expecting you.” His gaze fixes on me. “Especially you, Mr Sinclair. We have much to discuss about what’s growing inside you.”
“Growing?” I repeat, not liking the sound of that. The power writhes again in response to his words.
“Yes,” Professor Blackthorn gestures for us to sit. “What you’re carrying isn’t just Morrigan’s power anymore. It’s evolving, adapting... breeding, in a sense.”
“Breeding?” Tate’s voice rises sharply. “What exactly does that mean?”
The professor’s eyes narrow as he studies me. “Wild magick is like a living entity. When contained within a vessel—particularly a powerful one like yourself, a Dark Fae Royal and one of Morrigan’s bloodline—it doesn’t remain static. It grows, changes, develops new characteristics. It is fundamentally yours now, Mr Sinclair. Unfortunately, this brings up a whole host of problems, which have nothing to do with the Life and Death predicament we are in.” He stifles his amusement.
“You’re a god now, arsehole,” Vex states with that shit-eating grin.
“Err,” I stammer, as that thought had not even entered my head. “But why won’t it go back to her?”
“It’s not recognising her as its source anymore, not to mention, you are infinitely more powerful at your base level.” Blackthorn gives me a nod as if that fixes and explains it all.
The power inside me pulses, and it feels protective of me.
“So,” Blackthorn says. “Tell me about Life and what she’s done with Death.”
“Why don’t you start by telling us how you know all this shit?” Torin starts.
“I know everything,” Blackthorn states. “I get that Thornfield’s headmaster is a bit of a lacklustre feature, more puppet than hands on, so I’m glad you came to me with this and not him. Not that he has any idea what is going on under his own roof. He is ridiculous.” The last three words are muttered under his breath, but I press my lips together not to laugh. I have to agree. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen him, let alone spoken to him. We appear in a massive shambles compared to this place. It’s a bit sad, actually, now that I see what we are missing out on. It also makes sense why Vex jumped at the chance to abandon the ship. He is nothing if not a self-preservationist.
But aren’t we all…
My eyes narrow as my thoughts wander off in a direction that has nothing to do with the situation we are in.
“The void is changing. We have necromancers here who have been studying it since they felt the shift.”
Ooh, okay. That makes sense. I guess it does affect everyone, not just us, after all.
“Go on,” I prompt when he stops.
“Everything is changing,” Blackthorn says grimly. “When you altered time to save Ivy, you didn’t just change events. You changed the fundamental nature of reality itself. The void is becoming something new, something neither Life nor Death can fully control.”
“And that’s why Life is dying,” Tate concludes.
“Dying?” Vex straightens up with a frown. “Life can’t die.”
“Apparently, she can,” I say. “And she’s trapped Ivy in the void to force us to give her what she wants.”
“Which is?”
“Morrigan’s power.”
Blackthorn’s eyes narrow. “Life wants Morrigan’s power? How interesting. That wasn’t something I considered. Do you know why?”
“To save herself somehow? We don’t know. We are here to see if you can help us figure it out.”
Blackthorn rises, moving to one of the towering bookshelves. “The problem isn’t just that Life is dying. The problem is why she can die at all. She made a fundamental mistake - one that’s corrupted her very essence.”
“Lila,” I say, the realisation hitting me. “Lila was a real creature, and Life possessed Lila for too long.”
“Yes.” Blackthorn pulls out an ancient text, its pages crackling. “Immortal beings aren’t meant to inhabit lesser vessels, even supernatural ones, for extended periods. A few hours, maybe days at most. But Life...” He shakes his head. “She stayed in Lila’s form for years, playing at being Ivy’s best friend, manipulating events from within.”
“How do you know this?” I ask with a frown. “How do you know about Lila?”
“She is here on death’s door, Mr Sinclair.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“So being Lila poisoned her,” Tate concludes. “Being in a lesser vessel for that long... it changed her. Weakened her.”
“If Life dies, the void collapses,” Blackthorn says. “Everything collapses. The natural order depends on both forces existing in balance. Without Life, there can be no Death - there would be nothing to die. Except...”
“Except Ivy,” I say, the power inside me surging. “She would survive because she’s Death incarnate.”
“She wouldn’t just survive,” Tate adds his revelation from earlier. “She’d be the only thing left. A god in a dead universe.”
“That’s why Life needs Morrigan’s power,” I say slowly. “Wild magick is pure, primal. She thinks it can purge the mortality that’s corrupting her and make her a god, too.”
The power writhes inside me, and suddenly, its reluctance to leave makes perfect sense. It knows what Life intends to use it for.
“But she’s trapped Ivy in the void,” Torin says. “Why? If everything’s at stake...”
“Insurance,” Blackthorn says simply. “And containment. She needs Ivy, where she can’t interfere while she attempts to save herself. But she’s miscalculated badly.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Because the void is the one place where Death’s power is absolute. By trapping Ivy there, she’s given her access to power even Life doesn’t fully understand.”
The magick inside me pulses, almost eagerly, and I know now it’s been trying to tell me something all along.