Chapter 27
Brigid
The floor must be wearing thin beneath my feet with the amount of time I’ve been pacing, my thoughts a swirling mess.
Fuck Lochan and his accusations. Fuck Marius and his cryptic bullshit. And fuck this whole goddamn academy for turning my life upside down. I wasn’t happy back home, but at least life was normal.
Was it though? Even I know that’s not the truth.
I remember my visions, and the relief that has come from not having them pounding in my head anymore.
A soft knock at the door breaks through my spiraling thoughts. I freeze, scared that it’s Lochan back after a few hours for another round of ‘Brigid is evil incarnate and I’m gonna prove it’.
"Who is it?"
"It's Eira. May I come in?"
My shoulders relax slightly at the sound of her voice. I open the door. Her genuine smile is a welcome interruption. It’s nice that at least three people in this academy don’t hate me and will still talk to me after the ball. I haven’t seen Callen yet so jury’s out on him.
"Hey," I mumble, stepping aside to let her in. "What's up?"
Eira glides into the room, light on her feet. "I thought you could use some company. You seemed troubled earlier. I saw you leave the dining hall."
I snort, flopping onto my bed. "Troubled is an understatement. This place is driving me insane."
Eira perches on the edge of my desk, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know the feeling. Grimstone isn't exactly welcoming to those who don't fit the mold."
"You don't seem to have any trouble fitting in," I mutter, picking at a loose thread on my cuff.
A sad smile plays on Eira's lips. "Appearances can be deceiving. Being an owl-shifter comes with its own set of challenges. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but when you think ‘shifter’, an owl isn’t necessarily what comes to mind. Panther, sure. Wolf, absolutely. Feathers and beaks? Not so much."
I study her face, searching for any sign of pity. But all I see is a weariness that mirrors my own. "How do you deal with it?"
"I seek knowledge," Eira says softly. "There's power in understanding yourself and your abilities."
"What do you mean?"
Eira leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “This building holds a lot secrets, Brigid. Including an off-limits archive that might have answers about your shadow magic."
"An archive? Where?"
"It's not easy to get to," Eira warns. "But if you're interested, I might know someone who’s been there once or twice and knows how to get in,” she says, aiming for slyness and failing. She practically bounces and her face is lit up like a Christmas tree. “There are so many artifacts, and books and bits and pieces of knowledge! If there’s information to be found, it’s there that we’ll find it.”
I stand up, my earlier exhaustion forgotten. "Show me."
Eira's eyes widen. "Now? It's dangerous, Brigid. If we're caught..."
"I don't care," I interrupt. "I'm sick of everyone treating me like I could turn into Voldemort at any minute."
Eira hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Well, I don't know what that is, but alright." I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that she doesn't know who Voldemort is or that she agreed to take me to the archives. "Follow me. And stay close.”
We slip out of my room, and I follow Eira’s lead.
She moves with a hushed silence, her footsteps barely audible against the stone floors. We walk for a long time, down corridors I’ve never been through, down stairs that shift imperceptibly. This part of the academy looks even older than the rest of the building. There are no windows, and the only illumination comes from the greenish glow coming from orbs in sconces set into the walls at intervals.
I flinch at a sudden creak. "How much farther?” It’s super creepy down here, and I’m not easily unnerved by creepy things.
Eira's eyes, huge in the dimness, flick towards me. "Not far. Stay close."
My skin crawls.
"I feel like we're being watched," I mutter.
"We probably are," Eira replies, her voice barely a breath. "But we're almost there." She grabs my hand. "It's okay," she says.
I nod, swallowing hard. We round another corner and Eira stops abruptly, running her fingers along a seemingly blank stretch of wall.
“What are you—“ I start, but my words die as a hidden door swings open with a sigh.
Eira tugs me forward. "Quickly."
We slip inside and the door closes behind us. I blink, adjusting to the new darkness. The air is thick with dust I swipe at my head as I feel cobwebs across my face. As my eyes adapt, I gasp.
Towering shelves stretch upwards, disappearing into shadows at the top. Books. Rolled up parchments. Strange objects that I couldn’t even begin to name. They crowd every surface. It’s overwhelming.
"This is... incredible," I breathe.
Eira nods, a small smile playing at her lips. "Welcome to Grimstone's archive.”
“How did you find out about this place?” I like this girl, but it’s a little weird that she knows how to find a supposedly secret and forbidden archive. I wish I’d asked the question a bit sooner.
“Owl shifters have an innate need to seek and consume knowledge. My sister went here a few years ago and she told me there were rumors about the archives’ existence, but she never found it herself.” Eira takes a deep breath. “But I made it my mission to start looking for it as soon as I got here. As far as I know, I’m the only one who knows how to get in, other than some of the staff. I think.” She nibbles on her lip.
Her story seems pretty plausible. Every time I see Eira, she has her nose stuck in a dry-looking textbook, and she's constantly asking questions. I hadn't realized it was an owl thing.
I run my fingers along the edge of a golden box, its top engraved with unusual writing. "Where do we even start?"
"That depends on what you're looking for," Eira says.
I hesitate, torn between excitement and fear. "I need to know more about the Raven King and shadow magic."
"Be careful, Brigid. Some knowledge comes at a price."
"I don't care," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm tired of being in the dark.”
As we begin our search, I realize I’m shivering. I can't shake the feeling that whatever we find here could change everything.
We scan the shelves for an hour or so, and I’m starting to get a little frustrated that I haven’t found anything even remotely connected to The Morrigan, the Raven King or shadow magic.
I'm flipping through an ancient-looking grimoire when Eira frantically waves her hands at me, then puts a finger to her lips. I stop, confused. Then I hear the voices. They’re coming our way and getting louder.
“I thought you said no other student knows the way to this place?” I hiss.
Eira shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I didn’t think they did. Maybe it’s a professor?”
But those aren’t professors coming straight for us. I almost wished they were.
Lochan's voice cuts through the silence, sharp and angry.
"She's dangerous, Callen. You're letting your dick cloud your judgment."
I stand still, straining to hear more. Eira starts to walk toward me, and I raise my hand and shake my head. She freezes.
Callen's reply is quieter, but no less intense. "And you're letting your paranoia rule you. Brigid's innocent until proven guilty."
"Innocent?" Lochan scoffs. "She was in the dean's office, for fuck's sake. How do you explain that?"
My cheeks burn with a mixture of shame and indignation. I want to burst in there, to defend myself, but Eira's hand on my arm stops me.
"Maybe she was looking for answers," Callen says. "Can you blame her? We've all been keeping secrets."
"Secrets keep us safe," Lochan growls. "If she finds out about —"
"Then what?" Callen interrupts. "She deserves to know.”
My heart thuds so loudly I'm sure they can hear it. What are they keeping from me?
"She'll run," Lochan says, his voice dropping. "Or worse, she'll stay and destroy us all."
Anger flares within me, hot and sudden. How dare he? After everything I've been through, everything I've endured—
The shadows around me begin to writhe and twist. I try to calm myself, but it's too late. The magic surges, dark and potent.
A nearby shelf groans, then topples with a deafening crash, shaking the ground beneath our feet.
Shit .
The door slides open and Lochan bursts in, his eyes wild, Callen hot on his heels. Their expressions morph from surprise to suspicion in an instant.
"What the fuck?" Lochan snarls.
My heart hammers against my ribs. "I can explain—"
"Save it," Lochan cuts me off, his voice razor-sharp. "I knew you couldn't be trusted."
"That's not fair," I protest, but my words are drowned out by the cacophony of accusation and defense, with the Eira chiming in and Lochan yelling.
Callen steps between us, his hands raised. "Let's all calm down and—"
"Calm down?" Lochan's laugh is bitter. "She's sneaking around, breaking into the archive, eavesdropping, using her fucking shadow magic—"
"I didn't mean to!" I shout, my frustration boiling over. "If you'd just listen—"
But they're not listening. The enmity in the room is a living thing, frizzing with unspoken threats and barely contained violence.
My gaze darts around, seeking an escape, but there is none to be had. Eira is pale as a sheet and looks like she’s about to shift and fly away.
Then I see something.
Amidst the scattered papers and fallen books, a journal lies open, and on the page the symbol I’ve been seeing drawn in what looks like blood. Words leap out at me, searing themselves into my brain:
"The Morrigan's prophecy”
Below it, in faded script:
"... become a vessel, the prophecy foretells from the spilling of blood not their own. ”
The world tilts. Those words... they can't mean... I think of cutting Sean’s face, the blood dripping on the ground.
"Oh, fuck," I breathe, my voice barely audible over the din.
But Lochan notices. His eyes narrow, following my line of sight. "What?"
I can't speak. Can't think. The implications of those words hit me like a sucker punch, leaving me winded and reeling.
Before I can process the revelation, Lochan’s arm shoots forward. His fingers close around the journal, yanking it from my grasp. The leather cover slaps against his palm with a dull thud.
"Hey!" I reach for it, but he backs away, his eyes blazing with mistrust.
He flips roughly through the pages. "What are you hiding?"
I clench my fists, anger and frustration bubbling up inside me. "I'm not hiding anything, you paranoid asshole. If you'd just—"
"Enough!" Lochan's voice booms through the archive, silencing us all. He glares at me, jaw tight. "Your shadow magic, your secrets... You're a threat to everyone here."
His words sting, but it's the look in his eyes that truly cuts deep. Cold. Unforgiving. Like I'm some kind of monster.
Callen steps forward. "Lochan, we need to—"
"We need to protect our people," Lochan snaps. "From her."
As they continue arguing, their voices fade into white noise. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, and I try to piece together the fragments of information I've gathered. The Morrigan. A vessel. Blood. Shadow magic. The Raven King. Salvation or devastation.
What does it all mean?
I feel a soft touch on my arm and turn to find Eira beside me. Her owl-like eyes are wide with concern, and she gives a slight nod towards the door, the path to it clear now that Lochan is distracted.
I hesitate for a moment, torn between the need for answers and the desire to escape this clusterfuck. But as Lochan's voice rises again, anger evident in every syllable, I make my decision. I still have the scroll and the book I ‘liberated’ from the library.
With one last glance at the journal in Lochan's white-knuckled grip, I slip away, Eira close behind. We move silently through the corridors, the weight of unspoken questions hanging heavy between us.
Back in my dorm room after Eira and I part ways, and I replay the events of the day in my mind
I pause at the window, staring out over the estate. The light is fading already; the days getting shorter and shorter. The forest beyond the academy’s walls seems to glow with an ominous energy matching the turmoil in my gut.
"The Morrigan's prophecy," I whisper, tasting the words on my tongue. They feel heavy, laden with a significance I can't yet grasp. I shudder as I remember the way Lochan looked at me in the archive.
My fingers twitch, itching for a paintbrush or a pencil. I need to get these images out of my head before they consume me. But as I reach for my sketchbook, a soft rustling at the door catches my attention first.
I stop. Is it Lochan, coming to finish what he started in the archive? Or maybe Marius, with more vague warnings about my supposed destiny?
I approach the door slowly. As I get closer, I notice a slip of paper on the floor, partially visible beneath the door. I grab the handle and yank the door open, but the corridor is empty.
I bend down to pick up the note. The paper is nondescript, not the fancy parchment that Grimstone uses for messages. and the writing scrawled across it in black ink sends ice through my veins:
' Trust no one '
I stare at the words.
Great .
I shut the door.
Sinking onto my bed, the note trembles in my hand as the weight of everything crashes down on me. Prophecies, shadow magic, murder—and now this ominous warning.
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. When I open them again, my gaze falls on the bird outside my window. A raven perches on a nearby branch, its dark eyes fixed on me with an unsettling awareness.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask him, knowing I won't get an answer but desperate for any kind of guidance.
The raven remains silent.
Who can I trust? Eira’s friendship seems genuine, but I thought that once before about someone. Lochan obviously hates me. And Marius... his offer of help feels too loaded. Rory and Tiernan have been nothing but nice to me. But how well do I really know them, despite this bond thing they mentioned? And then there’s Callen… I don’t even know how to describe how I feel about him.
Once again, I’m reminded of how acutely alone I am.