Chapter 31 Olivier
Olivier
“What do you mean it’s empty?” Catherine’s voice was a lethal blade, trembling with rage.
“I mean…” Dina gestured to the vacant tomb with a defeated wave. “There’s nothing in here. No body. No soul. Nothing. Just…this.” She raised the piece of parchment toward the torchlight.
It was a drawing. The face etched upon the parchment was nothing more than a boy, perhaps only slightly older than Olivier. A sharp, angular face. Impressively blue eyes. Lips pulled into a sullen scowl. It was signed with one letter…V.
“That isn’t possible.” Catherine gaped, eyes darting between the group. “We followed the clues. We found the keys.” She joined Dina, staring down at the empty tomb with panic burning in her eyes. “This can’t be right.”
“There has to be something else,” Olivier agreed, striding up next to her. He searched, frantic. “Maybe—maybe there’s another riddle. Something we aren’t seeing. The drawing! Maybe the drawing is a clue!”
“Guys.” Masika’s voice echoed behind them. “He’s not here.”
Olivier snatched the drawing from Dina’s hand. There had to be something they were missing. Something hidden in the tomb.
“Look! Maybe that’s a clue! Maybe—”
“Olivier.”
Masika’s voice wobbled with every word. “He’s. Not. Here.”
Each word was a punch in Olivier’s stomach. He stared at Catherine, searching for another explanation, for something. But, to his horror, he watched the denial and panic on her face slowly melt into complete and utter defeat.
Olivier couldn’t handle it. He rushed out of the tomb without another word, racing up the steps, stumbling back out into the forest. He heard Emilio calling after him, the patter of his footsteps approaching.
The others were only a few paces behind, though it was clear they were giving the two space.
“Olivier.”
His name sounded so beautiful tumbling out of Emilio’s lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the other boy. Olivier dug his fingers into his hair, cursing beneath his breath as he paced back and forth.
“Don’t you get it?” His voice cracked, unable to temper his own desperation. “He was supposed to fix me. He was supposed to help.”
“I know.”
Emilio reached out a trembling hand, but Olivier backed away.
“No…no, you’re not listening.” Olivier rubbed his face with his hands.
The others had emerged from the tomb, and they were watching the scene unfold, silent.
“I’m screwed. That’s it for me. I’m done.
We’re not getting our eternity, Emilio. We’re barely getting a few days.
Hell, without the True Headmaster, we’ll be lucky if we have hours. ”
“You don’t know that,” Emilio said softly.
“Of course I do! I’ve always known.” What had he been thinking, believing in his own happily ever after?
In something other than the eternity he’d been handed?
“There was no getting out of this. There never was. I was a fool for clinging to hope for as long as I did. For thinking my fate would change just because I wanted it to.”
“Olivier, please.” Analisa’s soft voice reverberated behind them. “I could…I could still try—”
“You said it yourself!” Olivier interjected, pointing an accusatory finger at the healer, who flinched. “I’m a lost cause! You know it. You said you felt it the moment we walked out into purgatory.”
“You can’t give up,” Emilio muttered softly.
Olivier winced. “I’m not…I’m not giving up, Emilio.
I’m—I’m just accepting it.” He wiped the stubborn tears burning behind his eyes with the back of his hand.
“It was for you, anyway. The only reason I tried. The only reason I even bothered to hope…it was all for you.” He shook his head and stumbled backward.
“But…there’s no point in trying. Not anymore. ”
Analisa stepped forward. “Olivier. I really think that maybe I can—”
It happened so fast.
Too fast.
One second Analisa was speaking, standing there, and the next a gaping hole had been carved into her chest, a golden arrow protruding from the wound.
Somebody screamed. A cry. A broken sound.
Analisa fell to her knees. Catherine and Masika sprinted forward, sinking down next to her. Dina stood there, paralyzed with shock, Benji clutched in her hands. It was as if she had hardened into stone, watching the scene unfold in numb panic.
The healer touched the wound with shaking hands, magic pouring out of her, streams of silver light wrapping around her injury. But the arrow protruding from her torso was keeping the wound from healing, and if she couldn’t close it in time…
Masika must have noticed the same thing. She summoned her elemental magic, thrusting her arm out, cerulean ribbons of power wrapping around the arrow. She pulled it out with a grunt and threw it to the ground beside her.
But still, the wound wouldn’t close. Analisa’s brows creased together in confusion, her magic uselessly swirling within the wound.
She glanced up, eyes wide. “What…what’s happening to me?”
“The arrow,” Catherine choked out, eyes darting to the discarded arrow on the ground. Olivier noticed something strange about it, glowing crimson veins swimming beneath its golden surface. He began to reach out toward it, but Catherine’s panicked cry stopped him in his tracks.
“Don’t!” she bellowed, frantic. “Don’t touch it.” She shook her head, a terrifying look of disbelief upon her face. “I think…I think it’s been infused with some sort of ancient magic. I think it went through the core of her soul.”
“No,” Olivier choked out. He pressed his hands firmly against the wound in Analisa’s chest, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.
“Come on, Analisa. Stay with us. Who’s going to annoy the shit out of me if you’re gone, huh?
” He laughed, but his vision blurred with tears, panic twisting in his chest. Analisa smiled and blood poured from her mouth. “Just—try again, okay? Try your magic.”
“I…” Analisa lifted her hand and the usual spark of healing magic fizzled and faded, unable to conjure even a single ember. “I can’t.”
Before Olivier could say anything else, a terrible choking sound erupted from the back of Analisa’s throat, blood sputtering onto her lips.
And then, as if Olivier had been transported into one of his nightmares, the one where the eliminated nominees haunted him, their disintegrated forms whispering to him in the night, Analisa’s soul began to… fade.
Her skin broke apart. Chunks of flesh melting into ash and dust.
Analisa looked up at Olivier. She tried to open her mouth to speak, to say something, but no sound came out. And from one breath to the next, Analisa came apart, her body splintering into speckles of dust and ash, until she vanished completely, the particles swirling away with the wind.
Nobody had time to react.
Nobody had time to mourn.
Because it was in that same moment that another arrow came hurtling toward them from deep within the woods, nearly hitting Catherine in the shoulder, though she managed to duck away at the last second, rolling back onto her feet.
Olivier’s eyes snapped between Emilio and Masika, a silent communication jolting among the trio.
We’re under attack.
And then all hell broke loose.