Chapter 41
Seph
Pain.
Everywhere.
A living thing. A crushing thing.
Fear followed, sharp and metallic, scraping down the inside of my skull.
I was terrified.
Water surrounded me—too close, too tight—pressing against my skin, slipping into my mouth, choking me, swallowing every sound I tried to make.
But my eyes were open.
And through the blur of liquid I saw… a room.
White. Sterile. Wrong.
Glass between me and it. Machines blinking in artificial colours, beeping with no heartbeat to follow, wires twitching like insects feeding.
A body lay on a sheet across from me.
Still.
Too still.
A cold convulsion ripped through me.
No. No. No…
My spine arched or tried to—my body didn’t move the way it should.
I flinched inside the tank, a trapped bird beating useless wings.
I tried to kick, but my legs—my legs weren’t there.
Or they wouldn’t answer.
Or they belonged to someone else.
The water burned.
A bolt of agony shot through me—once. Twice.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
Like lightning stitched into my veins.
I wanted to scream.
I couldn’t. The water held the sound hostage.
And I couldn’t feel her.
Something cracked inside me.
A hollow ache that wasn’t mine, yet was.
Where was she?
Where was she?
The question throbbed through me like a second heartbeat—frantic, despairing, lost.
Where is she? Where is she? WHERE IS SHE—
**
I shot awake in the cave to the dim morning light, breath clawing in and out of my chest in panicked bursts.
For a moment I expected water.
Glass.
Pain.
Instead, a soft ray of sunlight spilled through a crack in the stone, warm against my face.
My eyes drifted to the cave entrance.
K lay curled against the doorway, his body wedged in an impossibly uncomfortable position—like he’d fallen asleep guarding the exit. Or guarding us. His lashes rested against bruised-looking skin, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.
I looked around, heartbeat still stumbling.
Sy was nowhere in sight.
Dev and Ash were still sleeping—both far closer to me than I remembered.
Dev must have rolled in his sleep because he was barely a breath away now, stretched on his side, face relaxed in a way I had never seen while he was awake.
He looked… almost angelic.
Sharp cheekbones softened by sleep.
Black hair messy, unruly, nothing like his usual precise sweep.
For a moment—just a moment—I wondered what it would feel like to touch it.
If it would be as soft as it looked.
My hand lifted before I even realised.
Then froze.
I pulled it back slowly, pulse stuttering.
He wouldn’t appreciate that.
…Would he?
Would you touch me?
The memory flickered—Dev’s voice, low, hesitant, unexpectedly vulnerable.
Why had he asked me that?
And why now, after everything, after all these years…
why was touching him suddenly all I could think about?
Ash snuffled beside me, shifting in his sleep.
I eased myself away, careful not to disturb either of them, and moved toward the entrance.
K was still curled against the stone doorframe, blocking the cave out of pure instinct. I stepped past him quietly, unwilling to wake him.
Just outside was a narrow ledge—two metres of stone jutting out over the forest below. I had noticed it last time, barely. A thin path wound down its side into the trees.
The sun had already warmed the rock, so I sat with my feet dangling over the edge.
In my stomach, a knot of anxiety twisted tighter with every passing minute.
I had to go back.
I didn’t want to.
I had to.
How will I face this?
“Be careful. That’s a big drop,” K said behind me.
I jumped at the sound.
Turning, I saw him pushing himself upright. He looked terrible—like he hadn’t slept at all.
“I’m not afraid of heights,” I murmured.
“Maybe I am,” he said quietly. “Ever thought of that?”
I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth.
“You aren’t scared of anything. You never were.”
He walked toward me slowly, then lowered himself onto the stone at my side.
“Do you remember that night we snuck out to watch the fireworks after the Light Festival?” he asked.
I nodded, the memory unfolding warm and bittersweet.
“We sat on my roof. Sable got us blankets, but she couldn’t stay. It was just us.”
“You were fifteen then.”
“You were seventeen,” I said softly. “Already a big man. I always felt like a kid beside Sable… but not beside you.”
“I never saw you as a kid, Seph.”
“Don’t lie, K. You called me Baby Quinn every day.”
“Kieran,” he said finally.
I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”
“Call me Kieran.”
I studied him. Something in his face—soft, wounded, hopeful—made my chest tighten.
“Why?” I breathed.
He gave a sad, crooked smile. “Why what?”
“Why did you really leave?”
The question hung between us like a blade.
This was it.
The moment.
If he answered—really answered—maybe the damage could be repaired. Maybe there was a reason that made sense, something I could hold, something I could forgive.
Kieran’s jaw tightened. Silence stretched thin and fragile.
“Do you remember what happened to my father?” he asked at last.
Of course I remembered.
Everyone remembered.
Levi Hawthorne had tried to lead a rebel coup against the Light Council. He’d claimed elections were rigged—proof in hand—that the Council had begun quietly deleting dark users from society.
My father, Gideon Quinn, the Council’s polished, smiling face, had called Levi a traitor.
The entire city had been summoned to witness his execution in the square.
Kieran swallowed hard. “They captured twenty men. Including my father. Put them on a platform for all to see, nooses hanging above their heads…”
His voice faltered, the memory tightening around him like the rope itself.
“And worse,” he whispered, “they made me watch. I wasn’t allowed to speak with him, or hug him, or say goodbye. Only watch him die.”
“That’s horrible,” I said, feeling useless.
And guilty.
I hadn’t been there. I hadn’t seen the bodies.
I’d only seen how happy my father had been that day—practically dancing.
“The Council—this world—it’s sick, Seph. All of it. And I tried to fit in at first. I did. But in the end… I couldn’t avoid the truth. I left because I wanted to change things.”
“How?” I asked him.
“By fighting. By working with people who are trying really hard to make a difference.”
“What—like the Equinox Front?”
“The Equinox is not as evil as the press would have you believe, Seph.”
“They are killing people!”
“And the Light Council isn’t?” His voice sharpened. “And what about what happened to you, Seph?”
“To… me?”
“The tests. The treatments. The constant experiments. Do you think it’s right, what your father does? What he did to you?”
I looked away, throat tight.
“What if you’re wrong though? What if all those years of experiments were meant to fix this—this void inside me?”
“Do you really believe you need fixing?”
“Of course I do, Kieran! I can barely touch anyone for more than a few seconds without panicking that I’ll steal their goddamn soul! Look what happened to Ollie!”
Kieran shook his head fiercely.
“Ollie was a misogynistic bastard who preyed on girls half his size. But Seph—that wasn’t you hurting him. That was your power reacting to protect you.”
He leaned closer, eyes bright with conviction, not madness.
“What you carry… it’s not a curse. Not to me. It’s the one thing the Council can’t control. The one thing that could turn the tide. If people saw what you could do—if everyone understood what you are—we could save people. Real people. Families who are disappearing. Kids who never come home.”
He exhaled, trembling slightly.
“Seph… you could change everything.”
I stared at him.
At the hope burning in his eyes.
At the way he looked at me like I was salvation.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Wrong.
Something cold slid down my spine.
He didn’t see the cost.
Not yet.
Sy stepped up the path, his arm full of fresh rabbits. He stopped when he saw us sitting there, his expression sharpening into something unreadable.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked mildly—but his gaze was all blades.
I jumped to my feet, suddenly desperate to put distance between myself and Kieran.
“Let me help,” I blurted, already moving toward Sy.
He nodded but didn’t look away from Kieran.
Not even once.
Kieran’s eyes narrowed, a glare simmering beneath the surface—
feral, defensive, wounded pride rising like smoke.
We left him on the ledge, Sy guiding me back toward the cave.
When we were a few steps in, Sy leaned down, bringing his voice to the barest whisper beside my ear. His breath was warm, his words, ice.
“Be careful around that one, little one.”
A pause. Heavy. Ancient.
“There is a darkness in his heart I do not trust.”
“I will, Sy,” I whispered back. “Thank you.”
He nudged me gently, a faint, sorrowful hint of affection in the gesture—as if he already saw the path unfolding…
and wished he could spare me from walking it.
Dev and Ash were already awake, and soon after we’d eaten, we began the walk back toward the Institute.
I walked beside them—Ash on my left, Dev on my right—my thoughts a storm of tangled threads.
Kieran trailed behind us.
Sy had chosen not to return, promising he would see me later.
With every step closer to Darkmoor, something twisted in my gut. A slow, cold coil tightening.
“Are you okay?” Dev murmured.
I gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”
It was a lie.
In my head, the nightmare replayed again and again—every image sharp, vivid, burned into bone.
Terrifying, yes.
But worse than terrifying:
It had felt real.
I thought of Echo.
Without Jess and me, she must be frantic, terrified, alone.
And though I hadn’t been at Darkmoor long, I felt her inside me—woven into my fear, my instincts, my heartbeat.
I wanted to protect her.
Ridiculous. She was just a ghost.
…wasn’t she?
I barely noticed the line of vans and security cars in the parking lot.
I barely registered the stiffness in Ash’s shoulders or the way Dev’s eyes narrowed at the sight of so many Council uniforms.
Unease gnawed at me.
I excused myself as soon as we stepped through campus gates and hurried toward my room.
The boys followed quickly, but my anxiety was climbing too fast, too hard to brush off.
As we turned into Night Wing, I saw them.
Soldiers.
Dressed in pure white, faceless behind mirrored masks, their eyes cold and empty as polished stone.
My steps faltered.
“Maybe you should go,” I whispered. “Kieran, Ash, Dev—seriously. Maybe you should—”
“Not a chance,” Kieran snapped.
“He’s right,” Dev said, already reaching for the blade at his hip. “We’re not leaving you.”
Before I could argue, four soldiers emerged from the corridor ahead, blocking our path. They stepped forward in unison, arms out, forms rigid.
They stopped the boys immediately.
Ash’s fists clenched.
Dev’s knife flashed.
Kieran straightened, radiating danger without lifting a finger.
But it was too late.
I knew exactly what was happening now.
And the dread that had been curling in my stomach finally bloomed into cold, absolute certainty.
I ran.
I shoved past the soldiers, past the boys, sprinting the last few steps to my door.
A familiar pressure slammed into my mind—frantic, panicked, pushing at me with all its strength.
Echo.
She was here.
For a heartbeat, I swore I felt her breath at my ear.
Don’t.
The door swung open.
And there he was.
Blond hair perfectly combed, not a strand out of place.
Skin unmarred, polished, as if sculpted.
Glasses gleaming.
Tall. Controlled.
Composed.
The shape of him filled me with the same terror it always had—bone-deep, instinctive, trained into me from childhood.
He stepped toward me, blocking the doorway, his eyes colder than the tile floor beneath our feet.
“You couldn’t stay out of trouble for one month, could you?” he said, shaking his head with measured disappointment. “I should have known.”
My throat tightened.
“Father,” I whispered.
“Hello, Persephone,” Gideon Quinn said calmly.