Chapter 67
The anchored must have lost interest in August, because the mist clouds had stopped hovering.
He sat now in the centre of the market square, surrounded by the nothingness of the Hollow Dark.
Even his thoughts had gone quiet, and he soaked in the blissful silence, with no intention of ever moving from that spot.
So, when Felix dropped to sit in front of him, August nearly jumped out of his skin.
What was he doing here?
He flashed August a tight, bitter smile, then gestured curtly with one hand for him to get up.
August ignored him and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Hands clamped tightly on either side of August’s head. His eyes flew open, and he tried unsuccessfully to pull away.
“You’re supposed to be saving the world.”
He scowled at the intrusion of Felix’s voice in his mind and fired back without speaking. Get out of my head!
“Then get off your arse and sort this out.”
No.
Felix’s eyes narrowed. “You are such a coward.”
I was fine here. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?
“Because I knew you’d screw this up.”
He registered then, Felix’s wilted appearance. His eyes were sunken, and dark veins snaked beneath his pale skin. How far was it from the edge of the tear to here? He’d walked all that way.
August wanted to tell him to leave, to get out and let him be, but he knew Felix couldn’t leave this place without him.
He was going to die.
Good riddance.
August refused to feel bad for him while they were sitting in the spot where Felix had tried to kill him…the first time.
All of this was his fault.
You shouldn’t have come here.
“But I did. Now, get up and get us out.”
Why would I save you? asked August. Maybe I’ll just let you die here. One problem solved.
Felix arched a brow. “You let me die, I swear I’ll haunt you until your last breath. You know how persistent I am. It’d be deeply unpleasant for both of us, and frankly, a terrible use of my afterlife.”
August glared. Gods, you are irritating. Leave me alone. He shoved Felix’s hands away and climbed to his feet. When he turned to leave, Felix grabbed his arm and held him fast. He spun, ready to shove him away, but the tightness on Felix’s face froze him in place. August had never seen him afraid.
Felix returned his hands to August’s head, gently this time.
“Please, Auggie. You might think I deserve this, but what about everyone else? Marlow and the others are out there. I need to get back to them.”
August pressed his mouth flat, eyes pulling from Felix to look at his surroundings. He didn’t want to leave. Leaving would hurt. And he was so tired of hurting.
“We need you,” Felix added. “I need you.”
The words rang through August’s mind, cutting through the haze like the tolling of the alarm bell.
What was he doing? He couldn’t stay here.
You have to fix this. Lottie was right. He couldn’t give up.
August grabbed Felix’s hands, gave a sharp nod, and then gently pulled them from his head.
He took a moment to steady himself, dragging in the musty air. Fear clawed deep inside him, and he wished, just for a moment, that he didn’t care enough to take the risk. That he could use the indifference he’d grown so comfortable with and hold it like a shield.
It will kill everyone.
August lifted his arms out to his sides. His eyes fell shut, and he exhaled shakily.
He could feel everything. Not the physical sensations—the Hollow Dark swallowed all that—but the shiver of the veil, the cold vibrations of the anchored, the raw, gnashing edges of the tear.
He reached for them, but it was too far.
“Do it again,” his mother’s sharp voice rang in his mind, and he flinched at the sound of it. “Stop being so dramatic.”
He could see her, standing in the training room, drenched in sunlight, arms folded. Had he ever set foot in there? He didn’t think so.
It felt like a memory. But it was utterly foreign, like it belonged to someone else. Was it an anchored memory, pushed into his head?
His hands fell to his sides, and he squeezed his eyes tighter, focusing on it. Diving deeper.
A woman kneeled on the ground in front of him, almost at eye level with his small form. A castle servant, by the look of her uniform. She was afraid, but he didn’t know why.
“I can’t.” He recognized the voice. It was younger, but it was his. This was his memory.
But it was new.
“You’re trying my patience, Augustus. Stop wasting our time.”
“Please, Mother.” His voice cracked. “Just let me—”
The aesran swung without warning, the back of her hand colliding with his cheek. Pain bloomed hot, and his vision blurred with tears.
His mother narrowed her eyes. “I’ve given you a task. You will complete it.”
“No, I don’t want to!”
There was a body on the floor beside the woman. Another castle servant. The man’s neck was twisted and broken. Like Benjamin.
“Your training is not subject to your whims. Why must we go through this every time?”
“Please!”
“The dark room, then. You can spend the night there and try again tomorrow.”
“No.” Terror twisted inside him, but he didn’t understand why. What was the dark room?
“Two nights,” his mother pushed.
Magic flared, a spark igniting into wildfire beneath his skin. Anger, grief, fear, pain. All of it coiling inside him, tighter and tighter and tighter until it released in one explosive blast.
“I said no!”
August gasped, eyes snapping open as a surge of magic poured over from memory to reality. It pressed against the massive expanse of the tear, forcing it outward.
Out, not in. He was making it worse.
No. Focus.
He was strong enough to do this.
August reached with his magic again, searching for the edges, and when it still wasn’t enough, he drew from the Hollow Dark, dragging its energy into his veins. He strained, reaching out and out and out until he could feel the veil under his fingertips. Jagged. Hungry.
Impossible.
Too much. It was too much.
Felix stepped in front of him, eyes intense, hands pressing to August’s temples. His irises glowed faintly, the dark blue of a listener. The only colour left in him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said inside August’s mind. “It’s alright. You can stop.”
August scowled. I almost have it. Back up.
He clutched the veil’s edges, his power wrapping tight around them.
“You need to stop, Auggie.” With one hand still anchoring the connection, Felix brushed a thumb over August’s cheek and held it up for him to see the smear of viscous, inky black.
Was that coming from him?
August blinked, his focus slipping for only a moment.
“It’s going to kill you,” Felix said.
But August kept going. He had to.
He pulled at the tear, but it fought back.
He was splitting in two.
Pain shouldn’t have existed here. It never had before. But suddenly it burned through him. Searing. Tearing. His body was twisting itself inside out.
Felix’s hand fell away as he took a step back, eyes round.
August braced himself, gritted his teeth, and pulled again with everything he had.
The veil shuddered.
Then, finally, the ragged edges gave. Inch by inch, he dragged them back, his entire body trembling from the effort.
Almost there.
The ends of the rift were in sight now.
With one last tug, he drew them in until all that was left was a doorway, just big enough for them to walk through. He released his hold and called back his magic, gasping and shaking, heart hammering in his chest.
Felix was still on his feet, but his shoulders sagged and his face was deathly pale. He looked ready to collapse.
The next part would be worse.
August took his hand and after a shallow, trembling breath, pushed through the seam of the tear.
They stepped out onto the damp stones of the market square.
The pain blackened his vision—or maybe it was the darkness trickling from his eyes. A thousand knives carved into his chest, and the agony rose over him like a flood. He was drowning in it.
They both crumpled to the ground, the doorway still swirling angrily behind them. Sweat and misty rain dampened August’s skin as he struggled to stay conscious, his hands splayed on the ground. If he passed out, he wasn’t sure he’d wake up.
A harsh cough tore from Felix’s chest, and he spat a glob of black onto the cobblestones before dropping back to sitting. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked like an anchored, and darkness still snaked beneath his pale skin. But he was alive, and that was something.
August eyed his hands as pinpricks crawled up his fingers. His veins were dark all the way to his fingertips. He was still dying. He needed to finish closing the tear. Needed to end this.
“Auggie, are you alright?” Lottie’s voice.
His gaze snapped up. She was sitting beside him, her expression drawn. She came back. He’d been so worried she wouldn’t forgive him. That he’d never see her again. But she was here.
“I’m so sorry, Lottie,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”
She wiped his cheeks, the black sludge smearing on her fingers. She was solid again.
“Don’t worry about me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll be here soon. You need to run.”
“Who?”
“Ashcroft and his ministry. They were waiting at the edge for you.”
The edge of the tear had been far from here. Would Ashcroft be able to find them?
August winced as he sat back. The market square was covered in brittle vines, the faces of the buildings worn and cracking, like they were centuries old.
The stalls had crumbled. The people were gone.
Of course Ashcroft would find them. They were out in the open in the most obvious place. They needed to move, get out of sight.
He glanced at Felix. He was still conscious, but only just. There was no way he’d be able to run.
“I can’t leave him,” August said.
Felix tilted his head to meet August’s gaze, brow furrowed. The question hung in the air, unspoken yet powerfully present: Why not?
Why couldn’t August just leave him here?