Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
LINDSAY
Kael’s arm stays wrapped around me, anchoring me while magic still sparks off my skin in sharp, stinging bursts. It doesn’t touch him. Or if it does, he doesn’t flinch. Nolan and Raiden keep their distance.
Raiden inches closer, gaze locked on me—but the magic lashes out, cracking the floor at his feet. He freezes. Nolan tries to reach for me, a hand outstretched, but a tendril of energy snaps at him like a live wire, and he pulls back with a wince.
I don’t mean to do it. I know I’m not doing it. But something inside me is.
“Kael?” My voice is raw and unsteady.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs again, that same impossible steadiness in his voice, even as the world unravels. His hand shifts slightly, cradling my ribs, keeping me close, keeping me grounded.
I lean into him—and that’s when I see it.
The crack in the Veil. Still there and open.
It’s not pouring creatures anymore. Or bleeding shadow. But it pulses in the air like a wound that hasn’t closed, like it’s waiting for something. And I know. Deep down, in a place no one taught me to look. I know what it needs.
My feet move before I can stop them.
“Lindsay—wait!” Nolan’s voice cracks behind me.
Raiden reaches forward. “Don’t—”
But Kael doesn’t stop me. He lets me go, doesn’t release contact but doesn’t restrain me either. His touch lingers as I stand on shaky legs, as I step barefoot across the scorched stone, my body aching, my soul somehow heavier and lighter all at once.
The Veil pulses again. I can feel it inside my chest like a second heartbeat. Something in me is connected to that place.
“I’m not going in,” I whisper, not sure who I’m speaking to, because part of me wants to go in and face whatever is searching for me. “I’m sealing it.”
Raiden’s breath hitches. Nolan says something I don’t hear.
My hand lifts.
The air stills.
Magic surges to meet me—my own, yes, but something else too. Something older. Something vast. Something waiting.
I feel words rise to my lips, but they’re not mine. They taste like they are a blood-soaked truth. I don’t think. I remember.
“Veil to stone, stone to sky, sky to shadow… you are closed.”
The crack shudders. The air warps. But it isn’t my words alone that do the trick.
Light arcs from my fingers—silver and gold and shadow-black.
Symbols spiral into the air, unfamiliar and yet somehow part of me.
They stitch themselves into the breach like thread through cloth, and with a soft, echoing sigh, the rift closes.
The magic settles, and the shimmer fades.
Silence falls.
I stand there, hand still outstretched, not breathing, not moving. I can feel them watching me—Kael behind me, Raiden across the room, Nolan to my right. The stone wall before me is smooth. Seamless. The Veil, sealed.
Slowly, I lower my arm.
My knees buckle, but Kael is already moving. He catches me before I hit the ground, lowering me with careful strength, wrapping me back in his arms like he never let go.
No one says a word.
No one dares.
I rest my head against Kael’s shoulder, breathing him in. The weight of what just happened presses against my ribs, trying to suffocate me.
Then, softly, almost too quiet to hear, I whisper, “What am I becoming?”
Kael’s arms tighten around me. No one answers. But I feel the question ripple through all of them—echoing like a warning. And I don’t think I want to know the answer.
The corridor is too quiet.
Not the eerie kind of quiet I’ve grown used to. No whispers slipping through the Veil, no pulse of magic from behind the walls. Just the soft echo of my footsteps, Kael beside me like a shadow, his hand steady at the center of my spine.
Raiden, now in a council robe, and Nolan follow at my heels. I feel them more than I see them, their presence anchoring me. But I keep walking.
I don’t remember how the chamber door opened. I don’t remember how I got upright.
Only that I knew I had to go. I couldn’t be in the room where they tried to take my magic any longer.
The air tastes different out here—less like stone and dust, more like something charged. I can feel it against my skin, like the moment before a storm. My bare feet press into the cool tile, and my fingers tremble, but I don’t stop.
A light flares at the edge of the corridor.
Then a sound.
Soft. Then louder. Rhythmic. Chanting.
“Let her speak. Let her speak.”
My heart stutters.
Kael slows his steps, angling in front of me slightly. Protective like he’s always been, but it’s a little elevated now and makes my heart squeeze slightly. But I press a hand to his arm and move forward.
Around the corner, the corridor widens into the main hall—and I freeze.
There are hundreds of them.
Students packed into the space like they’ve been here for hours.
Sitting on the stairs. Lined along the balconies.
Spilling into the corridors. All of the houses are here; every single year are represented in some way.
Some wear their House colors. Some don’t.
Magic hums in the air between them, thick and sparking in the space.
“What… what is this?” My voice cracks on the last word, barely audible above the noise.
A blur of dark red curls pushes through the front of the crowd, and then Tamsin is standing in front of us.
She doesn’t flinch when my magic lashes toward her, flickering at her ankles like smoke. It touches her and dies. Then she launches herself at me, her arms going around me in a fierce hug. Her smile is wide and wild and proud when she pulls back.
“Student protest,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re kind of the center of a revolution, babe.”
My lips part. “I—what?”
Nolan steps up beside me, chest rising hard with emotion. “They came for you, Lindsay. Even the ones who don’t know what you’ve done. They’re here because they believe you should be allowed to speak. To be.”
“Nolan started the movement,” Tamsin adds, smug.
The chanting rises again, shaking the hall.
Let her speak.
My knees threaten to buckle. Kael shifts to catch me, but I wave him off. Just for a second. Because I need to see this. All of it.
Every single face staring back at me. Not with fear.
But with hope.
The second I step fully into view, the chanting dies like someone flipped a switch. Magic pulses in the silence—alive and waiting—and I freeze, blinking into the hush.
No one glares or whispers.
There’s no edge of unease, no wide-eyed flinch like there was before the dance. They’re not watching a girl who broke the rules or might snap. They’re watching me. And they’re hoping.
Something stutters in my chest.
Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I just stand there, choking on a hundred things I could say but don’t. Because what words even fit a moment like this?
So I do the only thing I can. I look at them. Every one of them.
And I let them look back.
My gaze snags on movement near the far column.
Auron. He tilts his head in acknowledgement and then steps back into the shadows, fading from view. Seeing him is unexpected after he ran from the fight at the dance.
But I move on quickly, hope growing inside my chest as I take it all in. Maybe I do belong here. Maybe the Council will have to answer to me now. Because what they did wasn't right.