Chapter 24 August
AUGUST
If feigning apathy was an art form, then August was a bloody prodigy.
Later that night, he sat in silence, eyes trained on the flickering flames of the bonfire, and willed his body not to feel.
It came easy to him after a while. Almost effortless.
Feel nothing. Feel nothing. Feel nothing.
He repeated it over and over, the words ringing out in his mind like a dissonant alarm.
Around him, Onyx Unit Demiens spoke in hushed whispers beneath the orange glow of firelight.
It was the night before the Equinox Gathering, and already, the atmosphere felt charged.
There was an intensity in their movements.
An edge to their voices. Luckily, most of the Onyx Unit Demiens left August alone.
Whether it was because they detested him for betraying Edith, or simply because they were too afraid of Edith to interfere, the other Demiens barely looked in his direction.
Well, most of them.
“Care for a drink?”
Callum sank into the space next to August, a goblet in his hand. He swished the dark liquid, his wine-stained lips curling into a smirk. He was trying to rattle August, again, but August remained stoic and expressionless as he turned to face the other boy with practiced indifference.
“I’m fine.”
“Ah.” Callum hummed, fingers drumming against the goblet. “Right. I should have known that Augustine Hughes would be above such pointless revelry.” He took a sip, eyes drilling into August. “Isn’t that right, General Hughes?”
August’s jaw twitched involuntarily.
“Correct.”
Callum let out a snort. He leaned closer, the edge of his elbow pressed against August, who did his best not to flinch at their sudden proximity. Callum’s face was inches from his now, those venomous green eyes of his snaking over August’s face with bone-chilling hunger.
“You know…” Callum’s voice was a throaty whisper. “I could tell you liked it.”
August exhaled a slow breath.
“Excuse me?” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Using your shadows,” Callum clarified, smiling. He looked at August as though he were something to eat, wine-tarnished teeth gleaming in the darkness. “You should have seen the look in your eyes. The power. Honestly…you looked ravishing.”
Fury dripped into August’s veins, though a terrified part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Callum might be right.
The moment the shadows had erupted out of him, wrapping around Callum’s throat, August had felt a suffocating rush of power, a perverse sense of pleasure at seeing the other boy suffer.
He had liked it.
And he’d hungered for more.
With every passing hour, with every drop of shadow magic he used, August felt himself change. His anger heightened. His impulsivity a wild animal he could no longer tame. He wondered how long it would be before he could barely control himself. Before he lost himself completely.
Callum let out a deep chuckle.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? How easily you begin to lose yourself to the shadow?” The warmth of his breath brushed against August’s neck. “It’s better to just embrace it, my friend. Trust me.”
August dug his fingernails into his palms. He wanted to feel pain. To feel something. But the sharp sting wasn’t enough to numb the terror clawing at his chest.
He slid his eyes toward Callum. “I am not your friend.”
Callum raised his brows. “Is that so? Then if we’re not friends, General Hughes…what are we?”
August had opened his mouth to answer when a voice sliced through their conversation.
“Callum, if you’re quite done with your pathetic attempts at seducing my brother, I’d kindly ask you to get the hell away from him.”
Edith loomed over them, arms crossed and face pinched into a knowing smirk.
Callum hesitated, but only for the briefest moment, before conceding with a sigh and dragging himself away from the bench. He made a dramatic show of curtseying before sauntering away, snatching a fresh goblet of wine out of someone’s hand as he strode deeper into the encampment.
Edith sank into the seat next to August. She leaned back, slowly stretching her arms overhead. Her shadows practically purred, vibrating against her skin in delight. August tried not to squirm under her gaze.
“You’re scowling.”
“I don’t scowl,” said August, scowling.
“Ah, yes, I forgot that that’s simply your natural state of being.”
August shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you require my help with something, Edith?”
“Why is it that you assume I want something from you?” Edith asked, a lethal edge to her voice. “God forbid I simply want to spend some time with my little brother.”
August flexed the muscles of his neck. He was beginning to lose his patience.
“What do you want?” he asked, each word punching out of him slow and steady.
Edith’s eyes gleamed, clearly enjoying August’s torment. “I’m resuming my sessions with Wren tomorrow.”
Panic settled in August’s bones. Even his shadows flinched inside him, stirring with a renewed sense of panic. He sat up straighter, turning to face his sister.
“But I thought you said—”
“You were right,” Edith interjected, cutting him off.
“About giving Wren a break. Her mind feels more…pliable. Her internal defenses have weakened. But I can’t afford to wait anymore.
I just have this feeling.” Edith glanced at the fire, and a wispy shadow floated across the whites of her eyes.
“We’re close…she just needs one final push. ”
“But why start tomorrow? Wouldn’t it be better to wait until after Equinox?” August asked, willing his body to cooperate. He tucked his shaking hands between his knees. “Once the chaos of the gathering has passed?”
At his suggestion, Edith chuckled.
“I know your feelings for her cloud your judgment, Augustine.” As the words left her lips, August tried to refute them, but she raised her hand, silencing him.
“Either way, it won’t be long now. Come tomorrow, you will perform the Reaper’s Kiss at Equinox.
Whether you want to or not. And once your feelings are stripped from you—once your love for Wren Loughty is ripped away”—her lip twitched, a faint smile spreading onto her mouth—“you’ll come to see reason. ”
August swallowed. He had to remain calm. To still the panic flooding through him.
“That isn’t…” He cleared his throat. “That isn’t what this is about—”
“Do not insult me with more lies, brother,” Edith snapped, eyes boring into him.
“I am no fool. Your soul still yearns for her. I can feel it.” Her eyes roamed down his face, trailing to his forearms…
to the place where his shadows were exposed.
A glimmer of pride burned in her gaze. “But we’ll fix that.
We will make all those feelings, all of that pain, go away.
That is my final gift to you, Augustine. My last sisterly act.”
August’s hands went numb beneath him as his sister’s words settled upon him.
Tomorrow was August and Wren’s last day to try to find a way to remove the security cuff and get the hell out of the encampment. But if Edith truly intended to force Wren to return to the torture sessions, August would have to try to figure it out without her.
He’d have to save Wren—on his own terms.
Edith stood up. Blanketed by the dimness of the cavern at night, her shadows seemed to melt into their surroundings. As if Edith were made of shadows. And perhaps she was. Perhaps that was all that was left of his sister.
Edith turned to face August. Something passed over her expression. A fraction of regret…a faint echo of sadness. Or maybe August was simply seeing things. Clinging to the version of his sister that had died long ago.
“We were bred from darkness, dear brother.” Edith’s lip twitched and the shadow crown floating above her head darkened. When she spoke next, her eyes bored into August’s, branding him. “And to darkness…you will return.”