Chapter 16 Bloodless and Barren #3
It had to be a trick of the eye. It was dark, I was tired .
. . the blood must have landed somewhere—soaked into the soil and was lost in the shadows.
I clung to these explanations, turning them over in my mind like a rosary.
But deep down, beneath the layers of logic and denial, I knew exactly what I had seen. And there was no undoing it.
I had seen magick. And it had shaken me.
Hours seemed to stretch on before I finally found my voice.
Nina was curled up on the chaise, scribbling furiously in her notebook.
A cup of tea appeared next to me, and I took it, letting the warmth ground me.
I broke my rule of no tea tonight; I needed to warm my bones.
And besides, I was the one asking questions tonight.
“What was that, Nina? You said the Circle was the Devil’s Tramping Ground, and then you amended it to Sophia’s. Who is Sophia?” I looked over my cup of steaming hot tea to her.
“I keep forgetting you haven’t been Initiated.”
I frowned. “Sequoia mentioned that. Would Sophia be there at my Initiation?” I sat up from the chair and bore my gaze into her.
Nina chuckled before saying, “No, no. Sophia isn’t a person, she’s an emanation, from the one true Source.
The one we pray to for our magick—from where all other powers are derived.
” She looked away. “But I’ve already said too much—you should talk to the Meister.
I can’t really say more about her until . . .”
“I’ve been Initiated.” I sighed, falling back deeper into the couch. More layers, more dead ends. I was getting annoyed by the lack of answers. Who was this Sophia figure, and why hadn’t I heard of her? If she was connected to The Book of Skorn, surely, I’d have read about her before.
“So, you all do believe in the same thing,” I said to no one in particular in the room.
“I thought this was a rigorous academic institution, but it’s just a cult.
” It stung to say the words, but I felt foolish for having believed anything otherwise.
I had even teased Gabriel when he had made the assertion. And now I was falling for it too . . .
The students, their intellectual discourse, the fervor with which they studied—it had almost convinced me.
Shame permeated through me in red hot streaks.
I had been so desperate for a sense of belonging that I had let myself become convinced that Foresyth was an elite academic institution that had chosen me.
So desperate that I allowed myself to let go of logic.
Neither of those things were remotely true—this wasn’t an academic institution, nor had I been chosen. At least, not for the reasons I thought.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. Did you just miss the part where my blood disappeared upon contact with the ground up there?”
“No, I didn’t miss that part. I just . . .” I buried my hands in my face, “I just wish I could figure this out.” It was foolish of me to break down like this in front of Nina—in front of anyone—but my exhaustion started to drown me. Nothing made sense to me anymore.
“I get it. I was overwhelmed when I first got here, too,” Nina said with a reassuring smile. “But you’re doing fine, really. You’re meeting the Council this week—that’s no small thing. It means they’re taking you seriously.”
It was comforting that she only suspected I was overwhelmed by the academics. “And nobody knows about Initiation until it happens, so don’t feel too bad. It’ll happen when the Meister thinks you’re ready—and then you’ll know everything.”
Know everything. If the Meister really wanted me to solve Julian’s murder, why wasn’t I already made aware of everything? The secrecy and lies were enough to make my head spin. I looked down at the locket on my neck, the one my father had given me the year he died.
“Was there a particular reason you showed me the Tramping Ground?” I asked. I was too exhausted to be slyer about my questioning. But as it stood, I didn’t know why Nina was letting me in on her secret. If secrets were currency around here, why was she sharing hers?
“I wanted proof that I wasn’t going mad. But by your sorry state, it seems like it must have been real.” She shrugged.
Real. I was the least certain of what was real anymore.
“It’s going to entirely shake the Spring Symposium. I can’t wait,” she mused, back to scribbling in her notebook.
I forced myself to return Nina’s smile with one of my own—thin, but passable. I couldn’t afford to worry her, and I certainly couldn’t risk revealing any more of what I was feeling.
Emotions were dangerous here. They made you visible. And visibility meant vulnerability.
“Thanks, Nina. For letting me in.” My exhaustion was settling into me like paralysis. I stretched my legs out and set my cup of tea to the side. It was almost too heavy for my weak grasp, and I splashed a few drops setting it down.
“I should go to bed,” I said, standing.
“Goodnight, Dahlia,” she said, hesitating on the last word. “And just for the record, we don’t all believe in the same thing.”