34. Asha
Asha
Blackridge doesn’t take me to his office.
That would’ve been almost polite.
Instead, he leads me through a side corridor off the dining hall, down a narrow stone passage lit by cold wall-lamps that give everything a cold clarity I resent.
Professor Dain walks on my right. The silver-rod witch stays on my left with that ridiculous device angled towards me as if she expects me to explode.
Tempting thought.
The deeper we go, the quieter SilverGate gets. The usual hum of students, moving wards, and petty irritation drops away until all I can hear is our footsteps and breathing.
Blackridge opens a heavy iron-banded door with a touch of his hand, and I’m escorted into a chamber built for unpleasant conversations.
It’s circular and windowless with black stone on every side.
A table stands in the centre with four chairs around it, though I doubt this room sees much civil discussion.
Wards run through the floor in silver lines and vanish into the walls.
“Sit,” Blackridge says.
“Must I? The last time we did this, I ended up flat on my back being electrocuted by my own magic.”
Blackridge closes the door behind us with a soft, final click that makes my skin prickle.
Dain takes the chair opposite mine. The silver-rod witch remains standing for a second, then sets the rod against the table edge and sits to my left. Blackridge stays on his feet.
I smile at him with all the warmth of an execution order. “What, no restraints? You’re slipping.”
His dark eyes settle on me. “Sit down, Asha.”
He says it quietly. That makes it worse.
I drag out the chair anyway and sit because I’d rather choose the moment than be forced into it. The chair is black wood, old and slightly too solid, as if the academy expects dramatic revelations and struggling prisoners.
Blackridge places both hands on the back of the final chair but doesn’t take it. “You’ve had an eventful day.”
“Have I?” I ask. “I barely noticed.”
The silver-rod witch gives me a severe look. “Do not be flippant.”
I turn to her. “Do not wave ugly metal at me like you’re doing something impressive.”
Her nostrils flare. Good. If I’m being dragged into a magical interrogation dungeon, I may as well enjoy myself.
Dain exhales slowly. “This will go more smoothly if you stop trying to provoke everyone in the room,” he says.
“That sounds boring.”
Blackridge finally pulls the chair out and sits with no flourish or wasted movement. He looks like he has already reached the end of his patience and is deciding whether I’m worth the effort of acquiring more.
“Matron Yseld,” he states. “What did she say to you?”
I tip my head and give him a bright, poisonous smile. “That was private, and while I might be convinced to tell you, I’m not saying a word in front of these two.” I gesture vaguely to the other two professors.
Blackridge doesn’t even glance at them. “Out.”
The silver-rod witch stiffens. “Headmaster—”
“Out,” he repeats.
Dain studies him for a moment, then pushes back his chair and stands. He looks at me as if he expects blood on the walls by the end of this. “If this turns into a corpse situation, I’d prefer advance notice.”
“I’ll do my best to be considerate,” I say.
That earns me the faintest shift in his expression before he heads for the door. The witch grips her ridiculous rod tighter and follows, clearly offended that she’s just been dismissed from her own little theatre piece.
The door shuts behind them.
Silence settles fast and heavy.
I turn back to Blackridge. “Much better. Now we can have our secret little chat.”
His gaze remains on me, cold and steady. “What did Yseld say?”
“That depends. Are we doing the part where you pretend to know less than you do, or can we skip to the useful bit?”
“You’re in no position to bargain.”
I smile. “Then why did you clear the room?”
He says nothing.
I let the silence stretch because I know how to use it too. The wards under the floor hum faintly. They prickle against my skin, enough to remind me this room was designed to keep power contained and truth extracted.
I tap one nail against the table. “You first.”
Blackridge folds his hands in front of him. “Yseld should never have spoken to you.”
“And yet she did.”
“She interferes.”
“So do you.”
“That is my job.”
“Interfering in divine exile feels extracurricular.”
His expression changes by so little that anyone else would miss it. I don’t.
I sit back in the chair. “Ah. So we’re skipping the denial. Lovely. That saves time.”
“You enjoy playing with information you don’t understand.”
“I understand enough. You knew I was here before I did. You moved Yseld down a back hallway so I wouldn’t bump into her. You’ve been watching me ever since.” I tip my head. “Why?”
He studies me for a long beat. “Because when you fell into my wards, half the buried systems under SilverGate woke up.”
My pulse kicks once. I keep my face smooth anyway. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“It became a you one.”
“Try harder.”
“The academy sits over older structures.” His voice stays even. “Structures connected to thresholds, crossings, and old gatework that predates the academy by centuries. Most of it sleeps. It did not stay asleep when you arrived.”
I hold his stare. “You mean when I was murdered and dropped through your precious wards.”
His eyes sharpen. “Yes.”
No apology. No surprise. Just that flat, dreadful honesty that makes him even more annoying to deal with.
I drum my fingers once against the table. “Go on, then. Impress me.”
“SilverGate caught you,” he says. “It wasn’t an accident or kindness. It was by design.”
I keep my mouth shut because I’d already figured that out.
He watches me for a second, then continues. “The systems below were built to detect threshold anomalies, foreign currents, divine signatures, realm breaches, and catastrophic magical displacement. They were meant to identify what crossed and either reject it, contain it, or route it.”
“Route it where?”
“Depends on the threat.”
“I’m touched that your academy couldn’t decide whether to imprison me or throw me back.”
“It did imprison you. In that body.”
“Yes, yes, it did, and when I get my real body back, I’m going to start setting fire to some shit.”
“Not here you won’t,” he states. “You are more trouble than you are worth, Miss Asha. Whatever you need to get back, do it and do it fast before anyone finds out what you really are.”
“And Dain and rod-lady? What exactly do they know?”
“Enough to be dangerous,” he says. “Not enough to be useful.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Cryptic. How original.”
“Dain knows the academy reacted abnormally to your arrival. He knows lower wards tripped, hidden anchors stirred, and several suppression layers had to be reinforced before dawn. He doesn’t know why.”
“And rod-lady?”
“Professor Mirebelle knows a foreign current attached itself to this realm and that your magical profile doesn’t match any recognised bloodline, species, or divine pattern in our records. She suspects possession, breach contamination, or displaced godwork.”
I blink. “She sounds fun at parties.”
“She is not.”
“That’s tragic.”
Blackridge ignores that. “Neither of them knows your realm’s name, or that the lower gate answered you, or that Yseld identified you.”
I let that settle. “But you do.”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“The moment you crossed. Yseld is chatty.”
I go very still.
“Chatty,” I repeat. “That is one word for a woman you shoved into a forgotten corridor and tried to silence.”
“I relocated her.”
“You hid her.”
“Yes. Not for your benefit but everyone else’s. They find out a goddess walks among them in the body of a witch with limited power… how do you think that ends for you here? An academy full of monsters?”
I smile without warmth as his words slice through me and make me extremely nervous. “Refreshing. I do appreciate honesty when it finally drags itself into the room.”
Blackridge doesn’t return the smile. “You should appreciate urgency more. The systems under SilverGate are failing to stay dormant around you. Today was not contained as well as you think.”
That wipes a little of my amusement away. “Contained enough that you’re speaking to me alone instead of calling a tribunal.”
“For now.”
“You said SilverGate caught me by design. Whose design?”
He is quiet for a beat too long.
“Ah,” I murmur. “That bad.”
“The estate existed before the academy. Before the current wards. Before the Founding houses. SilverGate was built on a threshold site because whoever raised the first structures wanted access to crossings between worlds.”
“And one of those worlds is mine.”
His gaze does not shift. “One of them was.”
A cold current moves through me that has nothing to do with the room. “Was?”
“The gate to your realm was sealed from this side,” he finishes. “Long before you arrived.”
For one second, I don’t breathe.
Then I do, hard and sharp. “Sealed by who?”
“The creature who crawled out of this realm and into yours to become a god.”
My stomach clenches. “Are you joking?”
“No,” Blackridge says.
I hear it the way you hear a door close in an empty castle.
I stare at him across the table and feel an electric current move under my skin. “Explain that very carefully.”
His eyes stay on mine. “Your realm did not create that god. This realm did.”
I laugh once because the alternative is putting my fist through his throat. “You’re telling me I’m descended from SilverGate?”
“Not necessarily. Your realm clearly had creatures already there. They didn’t have a ruler powerful enough to withstand a hostile takeover.”
Hostile takeover.
“Who was it?”
“Her name has been scrubbed.”
“Sounds about right,” I mutter. “Is it the creature in the tunnels under the library?”
“Possibly.”
“When?”
“A long time ago,” Blackridge says. “Before SilverGate became an academy. Before the current ward council. Before most surviving records.”
“That is not a time.”
“It is the best I have.”
I look at the black stone wall just past his shoulder and picture a faceless creature stepping through from this realm into mine, climbing its way into worship, power, fear and rule. Into my world, my history, the blood-soaked spine of everything I have ever known.
Then I look back at him. “It became a self-made god in StormGate.”
“That appears to be what happened.”
“How? Are creatures from SilverGate infinitely more powerful than in StormGate, so an ordinary creature here is a god there?” That is a question that needs an answer. If I’m not as powerful as I think I am, then this is going to end in disaster.
“Unknown. It could simply be that the creature who crossed over was a syphon and accumulated others’ powers.”
Okay, good. I can work with that.
“Why did you have Dain and Mirebelle escort me to this room if you didn’t want to say any of this in front of them?”
“They came to me; I had to show willing. I knew you’d ask them to leave.”
“What is your endgame, Eldris?”
“To get you out of my academy.”
“You’re going to help?”
“I won’t hinder.”
“Good enough.” I slap my hands on the table and stand. “I’m getting closer. I need time.”
“You have a week.”
“And then what?”
“Then I let SilverGate off its leash with regard to you, and you will not like the outcome, Miss Asha. Time is of the essence.”
I hold his stare for one hard second longer, then force my face into bored disdain because if I let him see what that lands like, he’ll file it away and weaponise it later.
“A week,” I repeat.
“Dismissed, Miss Asha.” He waves his hand, and I dissipate, landing back in the dining hall to face three overly concerned brutes who are about to rip a fae dressed in a silver gown a new one.