Chapter 38 Harper
HARPER
The forest is unnervingly quiet after Liam wakes, too quiet, as if the trees themselves are holding their breath.
All of us hover in that fragile space between awe and dread, replaying Ares’s casual remark over and over.
Second time’s the charm. He had said it with the same effort one might use to comment on the weather, as though delivering Liam back into life had never been in question.
But the truth sits heavy between us: Liam’s heart beats because Ares demanded it to.
Ares and Sebastian shoulder Liam between them, each step careful, deliberate.
Liam’s feet drag through the underbrush, his hands loosely gripping their shoulders as though he doesn’t fully understand how his body works anymore.
The confusion clouds his eyes, memories disjointed, circling only the minutes before everything went wrong.
Behind us, Poppy frees whatever creatures she can find, moving quickly, wanting no part of this forest now that death has touched it.
Ares adjusts Liam’s weight again, breath catching in his throat. “If your father didn’t know where we were before, he does now.”
Exhaustion bleeds into his voice, a subtle tremor beneath the practiced nonchalance. His eyelids flutter, too heavy, as though each blink challenges whatever strength he has left.
Impulsively, my hand finds his arm. His muscles tense beneath my fingers, and in the dimming light he glances down at me as if debating whether he can spare the energy to respond.
“What did you mean,” I ask quietly, “by second time’s the charm?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightens immediately, grinding something vicious behind clenched teeth.
Ares exhales once. “We don’t have time to stand here and dissect my phrasing.
Your father is already trying to track us.
I used blood magic...your blood magic. And I'm not a Shadeborne. That kind of spell hits every Shadeborne tied to his power like a beacon.” He jerks his arm away, not cruelly but out of sheer necessity, resuming his pace beside Sebastian.
“What I did might as well have lit the sky on fire for him.”
His steps falter once, recovery quick but not quick enough to hide the cost bleeding through his veins.
I fall back, letting him and Sebastian carry Liam forward.
Sebastian throws Ares daggered glances every few strides, thinly veiled resentment bristling between them.
Behind them, I reach out, brushing my fingertips against Theo’s hand.
He latches onto my arm without hesitation, leaning into me with the weight of someone who has lived through too many emotions in too short a time.
My voice slips out before I can think better of it. “What did he mean by it…?”
Theo squeezes my arm gently, guiding me closer.
“Liam is alive,” he whispers, voice tight with grief and gratitude entwined. “Whatever the cost, however steep...it’s worth it.”
I want to agree. I want to let his certainty anchor me. But a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Ares said he had already paid the price. But there are always taxes with Shadeborne magic. And taxes often fall where the world least expects them.
Theo’s voice breaks through my spiral. “That magic he used… it came from your family?”
My gaze drops to the darkened trail beneath our feet.
“Yes. Anyone who carries my father’s blood can wield it.
Anyone bound to him.” Ares, starved and bruised, flashes through my mind, years of obedience, years of survival under my father’s thumb.
“He must have done something unforgivable to earn even a fraction of it.”
Theo hesitates, almost afraid of the answer. “Harper… can you do what he did?”
Before the weight of his question can settle, Ares speaks from ahead of us, voice rough, breath uneven, but unmistakably sharp.
“She doesn’t need a wand.”
He doesn’t slow or look back. “That’s why he wants her. She can wield blood magic in its rawest form.”
Sebastian stiffens beside him.
Poppy stumbles a step.
Theo grips my arm tighter.
And Liam, weak but breathing, lifts his head between them, confusion softening his features.
The truth hangs in the air like a storm about to break.
The outline of the Vireldan viaduct rises through the thinning trees like the ribcage of some ancient creature carved into the cliffside.
Its long, arched bridge spans the narrow gorge beside the castle, stone glistening with the evening’s damp chill.
Theo moves ahead, his wand tapping lightly along the stone as he finds the path.
He pauses only when the rhythm of footsteps behind him shifts, when Sebastian and Ares fall abruptly silent.
Poppy waits at the viaduct’s threshold. Her eyes widen at the state of us: blood-streaked, ash-dusted, bruised in ways that suggest more than a simple scuffle.
Liam groans as a sharp breath escapes him, the pain still working its way through nerves newly reclaimed by life.
Ares pauses as well, faint and pale beneath the caked blood.
His gaze flicks to Poppy, and he adjusts Liam’s arm off his own shoulder, slinging it over hers with practiced care.
“Take him inside,” Ares murmurs, voice low but firm. “Straight to the medical wing. Now.”
He doesn’t wait for debate. Sebastian falls in beside Poppy, guiding Liam’s other side; Theo is already sprinting across the viaduct, using his wand to brace the heavy doors wide open.
I move to follow, but something in the corner of my vision tugs me back. Ares hasn’t stepped forward, not even an inch. He stands at the threshold of the viaduct, staring ahead as if the air itself is threaded with wires only he can see.
“Ares.” I hesitate, then approach. “Come on...we could use your help.”
His jaw works once, a muscle flexing against exhaustion, and he drags a hand up through his hair, scattering dried blood along the strands. “Someone has to manage the fallout with your father before he decides to bring the fight here.”
He says it as if discussing an errand, not a man capable of razing entire villages. My stomach knots. “If you face him after what you did today… he’ll kill you.”
Ares breathes in sharply, the cold air filling his lungs as his head tilts skyward.
Grey clouds swirl like smoke above us. “He made a deal with me,” he says quietly.
“It protects the people I need protected...including myself. He’ll take his pound of flesh, because he always does, but he won’t end me. He still needs what I can do.”
A sickening truth curls beneath his words. My father keeps what he finds useful. Nothing more.
I swallow hard. “Then tell me what you meant. When Liam woke up. You said-”
His gaze drops, meeting mine with a finality that unsettles me. “Talk to Liam when he’s strong enough. It’s his truth to give you, not mine.” Then, after a beat: “And don’t waste time on me. There are people behind you who can’t breathe until they know you’re with them.”
I turn. He’s right. Dozens of wide-eyed students and faculty crowd the viaduct’s entryway, watching us with fear, confusion, hope, disbelief, all of it swirling into a single silent question.
But before I move, something inside me rebels at letting him walk away like this.
My hand reaches of its own accord. Fingers close around the rough fabric of his sleeve, catching the warmth beneath. He stops. Slowly, he lowers his head, looking at me through hair that now hangs in disordered strands around his eyes.
“Stay alive,” I whisper.
A hint, just a flicker, of a smirk breaks across his exhausted face. A ghost of amusement. Or gratitude. Or something he’d never admit to.
“Always do, Whitlock.”
He steps back. Three paces. Five. And then, like a ripple pressed into the fabric of the air, he simply disappears, swallowed by the grey light, leaving nothing but the faint scent of iron and pine in his wake.
We burst through the castle doors with Liam slumped between us, his boots dragging along the floor as Sebastian and I shoulder his weight.
Every corridor we pass through fills with startled faces, students pausing mid-conversation, professors lifting their heads with suspicion or alarm.
Theo moves ahead at a near run, wand tapping with sharp, urgent clicks as he navigates, breath hitching each time Liam’s voice slips past him in a pained whisper.
Poppy peels away at the entrance. She mutters something about researching the strange metals and runes used in the traps, how nothing resembled traditional poacher magic, and then disappears into the shadows of the lower level.
Her absence leaves a sudden hollow behind us, as if the three of us are now dragging our grief alone.
We push deeper into the school. A few professors attempt to stop us, demanding explanations we don’t have the luxury of giving.
Theo ignores them entirely. Sebastian mutters something unrepeatable under his breath.
I don’t bother to look at anyone’s face; my eyes stay locked on Liam’s, on the pale sheen of sweat, the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the way every breath sounds like a stone rolling uphill.
The medical wing finally comes into view, the antiseptic bite of latex and the soft warmth of freshly laundered linens wrapping the air in a strange, almost cruel familiarity. The last time I was here with Sebastian, there was silence. Teasing. The kind of lightness that feels impossible now.
Professor Anwen intercepts us near the first empty cot. “Here, lay him down.”
We ease Liam onto the bed, careful yet panicked, all three of us reluctant to relinquish our hold until his weight is fully supported by the mattress.
He groans, and Theo is on him instantly, hands fumbling for Liam’s, his head lowered, breath shaking.
Anyone else might question it, but none of us have the energy for pretenses anymore.
“What happened?” Anwen asks. A question we can’t answer. None of us even attempt to.
“It was your father’s men… wasn’t it?” comes a voice behind me.
Locke.
Relief nearly buckles my knees. Liam manages a faint smile when he hears the familiar voice, an expression so painfully hopeful it nearly guts me.
I release my grip on Liam and Sebastian at the same time and turn toward Locke.
Without hesitation, I fold myself against him, my arms going around his middle as if clinging to a truth I desperately want to believe.
He stiffens for a heartbeat, surprised, probably, but then his arms circle me, heavy and grounding.
“You’re covered in blood,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see my face. His eyes scan the torn skin, the raw edges of fresh wounds, the shaking I can’t seem to control. “Are you hurt? Harper, look at me, are you alright?”
Everything inside me breaks.
“No,” I whisper. And then the rest spills out in a rush. “No, I’m not...I put them all in danger, Locke. All of them. Liam, Sebastian, Theo, Poppy-”
My words dissolve into sobs before I can finish. He hushes me in gentle strokes of his hand through my hair, signaling someone behind him for supplies or simply silence.
“It’s alright, Harper. They’re safe. You’re safe,” he says, but even he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
Sebastian steps in when Locke guides me toward him. His arms wrap around me in an embrace that’s warm but cautious, his touch gentler than it has been in weeks. He avoids the place Ares warned him about, choosing instead to cradle my back with careful hands as I tremble against him.
“Get her out of here,” Locke says quietly. A command softened by concern. “She’s drained. She shouldn’t see any more of this tonight.”
He squeezes my shoulder once more, shares a knowing nod with Sebastian, then returns to Anwen’s side, his voice lowered as he gives her the bare minimum, just enough to justify the chaos, not enough to expose the truth.
“Harper,” Liam calls, barely audible.
I pull away from Sebastian long enough to meet my brother’s gaze. He looks fragile. Alive, but fragile. “Visit me when you’re better,” he breathes.
I nod. Words would fail me anyway.
Sebastian guides me away from the bed, away from the blood and whispers and shaking hands. Away from the sight of Theo still bent over Liam, unable to step back, unable to let go.
I allow myself to be led out of the medical wing, every step heavier than the last. The hallway feels colder. Wider. Emptier. Because deep down, beneath the exhaustion and the ache in my bones, something claws for attention, a sense that tonight wasn’t an end.
Only the beginning.
And Liam’s death… his almost-death… was just the first tremor of what’s coming.