Chapter 12 Irene
IRENE
It wasn’t that Irene didn’t have the stomach for torture, but there was something particularly uncouth about doing it first thing in the morning.
The girl let out another broken cry, the sound echoing against the narrow stone walls. This time, the strangled scream was accompanied by the lightning crack of corporeal magic as Samira thrust the glowing spear into the girl’s side.
Though Irene had expected her Council trial period to begin shortly after the tapping ceremony, she’d still been caught off guard when she’d awoken earlier that morning to find Samira Heydari and Everly Hawthorne standing over her bed, the pair looming like a set of snickering specters.
“Surprise!” Samira had said, yanking the sheets away from Irene’s body. “We’re Council buddies!”
For a brief moment, Irene had assumed she was still hallucinating. At least, she’d hoped she was still hallucinating. But much to her dismay, Samira and Everly were not figments of her imagination, nor the product of some magically induced hangover. And their presence was very much real.
Instantly, panic had flooded through Irene.
Mateo. But as she glanced around, the Demien was nowhere to be seen, so she could only assume he’d managed to sneak out when he’d sensed the two Ascended approaching.
Though Irene had told him about her initiation into the Council the previous night, she’d been hoping to discuss their strategy further, but it appeared any alone time with Mateo would have to wait.
Irene blinked in confusion, drawing her attention back to Samira and Everly. “Excuse me?”
Everly rolled her eyes. “What Samira means to say is…we’re the other potential initiates.” She gestured among the three of them. “For the Council.”
Irene couldn’t contain her disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
She wasn’t even trying to be a dick about it, but what in the actual hell?
The two girls hadn’t been Irene’s first guess for who else might be chosen.
She supposed Everly had her merits—she was ruthless and cold and had sent more students to reformatory than most Ascended combined—but she was sloppy.
Easily swayed by her whims and emotions.
And Samira…well, Samira was a notorious party animal who spent more time concocting hallucinogenic elixirs than doing anything of value.
But maybe Irene had been underestimating the two of them.
Maybe they were more dangerous than she realized.
“Okay, well…” Irene had sighed, sitting up. She’d reached beneath her bed, grabbing her boots and sliding them on. “I’m assuming you’re not here to chitchat and braid each other’s hair, so what the hell are you here for?”
Before either Samira or Everly could respond, a deep purple cloud had billowed between them, and then Housemaster Violet was materializing within the smoke. Her raven-black curls were pinned away from her angular face, dark brown eyes narrowed in assessment.
“They came to fetch you under my instruction,” Violet had said, wrapping her tweed coat tightly across her chest. “It’s time for the Council test period to officially begin.”
And now here they were. Learning the mechanisms and intricacies of torture.
Irene steeled herself against the sour odor emitting from the cell they were in.
When Housemaster Violet had initially relocated them, Irene had been struck by a wave of disorientation.
She hadn’t recognized the strange corridor they’d been transported to.
The air was damp and thick, with a mildewy scent that made her nose itch.
But there was another scent in the air—something bitter and metallic, with a pungent undercurrent that reminded her of rotten meat.
Blood.
Housemaster Wesley had been waiting for them, leaning against one of the stone walls, nervously fidgeting with his glasses. When he’d spotted them, his head had popped up in attention.
“H-hello, girls.” His lips curled into an apprehensive grin. “Follow me.”
They’d walked through the narrow corridor in silence. As they ventured forward, the stone walls flanking their path slowly shifted into a seemingly never-ending line of cages. Most of the ones near the entrance were empty, though the floors were stained with oxidized blood.
“What the hell is this place?” Irene had asked out loud.
“These are our dungeons,” Violet had said matter-of-factly. “We are deep beneath the Ascended Quarters.”
Dungeons? Irene had shivered as the word echoed in her mind.
As they journeyed deeper through the corridor, a faint shuffle began to echo in the distance, a collection of weak and brittle breaths rattling in the air. And a few seconds later…Irene saw the first body.
They were lying in the fetal position, clothes torn and shredded, skin covered in gruesome lacerations. With every cage they passed, Irene was faced with another prisoner, each one more battered than the next. They were barely conscious. Their souls hanging by a thin, fraying thread.
How long have they been here? Irene had thought. Right beneath our feet.
Eventually, they had stopped in front of one of the cages.
The girl inside was curled inward, arms wrapped tightly around her bony knees.
Blood stained her tangled hair, a thousand jagged cuts marring the skin of her arms and legs.
She was shaking. Teeth chattering so loudly it sounded as though they might break in half.
When they’d approached the cage, the girl’s eyes had snapped up like those of a wild and frightened animal caught in a trap.
Thalia.
Irene barely recognized her. Thalia Greevson had been a fellow student, long ago, though she’d disappeared a few years back.
But the Thalia that Irene could remember was prim and poised, always impeccably dressed, with a serene expression on her face.
Now she looked hollowed. An empty shell of the girl she had once been.
Wesley and Violet had explained their interrogation tactics.
Violence first, questions later.
Apparently, Thalia was part of that same mysterious third coalition Mateo had mentioned the previous afternoon, the one forming in the outskirts of purgatory. According to Wesley and Violet, Thalia had information that could lead them to their base.
“Notice how her defenses have grown weaker?” Violet asked now, looking between Irene, Samira and Everly. Samira pulled the spear away from Thalia, who whimpered and clutched her side with a trembling hand.
Irene cautiously dipped into Thalia’s mind, feeling her way through her mental wards.
Violet was right. When they’d first arrived, Thalia’s wards had felt solid and resolute.
Like an impenetrable fortress. But now, after enduring Samira’s torture, they felt pliable… more susceptible to moving and bending.
“But I still can’t cross through them,” muttered Irene. Samira and Everly must have sensed it too. Samira looked merely disappointed, while Everly looked positively enraged, her arms crossed indignantly over her chest.
Wesley pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He leaned in toward the bars of the cage, staring down at Thalia with a detached pragmatism that made him look as though he were staring at the results of a lab experiment, as opposed to the aftermath of invasive torture.
“In most cases, with this level of pain, you’d be able to successfully dismantle those mental wards and access her memories.
But…Thalia here is different.” Wesley closed his eyes, humming in fascination.
“She hasn’t just placed the wards around her mind…
but threaded them through it. Think of it almost like a maze.
And in my professional opinion, even if we weaken her further… the maze will hold.”
“There has to be a way to solve it, then.” Everly huffed in annoyance. “I mean, if it’s a maze or whatever.”
Wesley slowly slid off his glasses, wiping them against the hem of his wrinkled shirt.
“Magic of the mind is far more complex than that of the body. With something this elaborate, I’m afraid the best we can hope for is her physical form breaking before her mind.
If we can cause enough physical pain…perhaps she’ll simply tell us.
” As he spoke the words, Thalia’s eyes flitted to him.
Irene had expected to see fear reflected inside them—a sense of panic at knowing what awaited her…
but instead, there was nothing but stone-cold resolve blazing there.
“She’s not going to break,” Irene whispered. She was certain of it. But Everly seemed undeterred, shoving Irene out of the way with her elbow.
“We’ll see about that,” she sneered, snatching the corporeally infused spear from Samira’s hand. The Housemasters made no attempt to stop her, merely taking a step back as they silently observed.
Everly approached the iron bars of the cage slowly, head tilted.
“How about you play nice, Thalia. Tell us what you know and I won’t have to use this.”
But Thalia’s response was simple and straight to the point. She lifted her head an inch off the floor, clearly using all the energy she had left to look Everly in the eye, and spat blood directly onto the other girl’s feet.
Samira stifled a cackle of laughter. Irene sucked in a sharp breath.
And then, with a feral scream, Everly thrust the tip of the spear straight through Thalia’s ribs.
The crackle of corporeal magic was instantaneous—bright silver flashes lighting up the room as Thalia’s entire body began to violently convulse, white foam sputtering from her lips, and her eyes rolling back into her head.
“brEAK!” Everly bellowed over the crackling magic. “Tell us what you know!”
After a few more seconds, she yanked the spear out, chest heaving. Irene held her breath, waiting to hear what Thalia would say, but the other girl simply lay there…motionless. Her limbs had gone unnaturally stiff, her skin pallid, almost translucent, as if her form was slowly fading away.
Violet sucked her teeth. “And here we have a lesson on limitations…” She walked closer to the cage, snatching the spear out of Everly’s hand before the girl could protest. She used the end of the spear to poke at Thalia’s unmoving body.
“If you push the pain too far…if you accidentally enter the core of a soul…you can destroy it.”
Irene’s chest tightened. “Are you saying…Did she just—”
“Shatter the core of Thalia’s soul?” muttered Violet with a defeated sigh. “That would be correct.”
Everly flushed. She staggered backward.
“I didn’t mean to…I just…I thought maybe I could…” Her voice trailed off as she stepped away from the cage.
Samira snorted. “Way to go, Everly. Now all our interrogation was useless.”
“It’s quite all right,” Wesley said, peering down at Thalia’s fading body with a deflated frown.
“It happens every now and then. Truthfully, I doubt we could have gotten anything out of her. Headmaster Silas might not be too pleased, though—he was really hoping this one would give us something concrete.”
“What happens to her now?” Irene heard herself ask.
“I can already sense her soul fading,” Violet said matter-of-factly. “I’d give it a few minutes. And then the fragments of her soul will disintegrate. She’ll simply…cease to exist.”
A shiver ran down Irene’s spine. As wrong as it might seem, Irene couldn’t help but feel as though this was a merciful ending compared to what might have awaited Thalia.
“Anyway!” Wesley clapped, an almost comical grin on his face.
“Let’s keep moving, shall we? Plenty of other souls to interrogate.
Next up, we’ll be attempting what I call a Mind Loop.
It’s essentially a form of mind alteration that allows you to infiltrate their memories and force them into a living nightmare.
It’s quite fun, actually…” Wesley’s voice faded as he ushered them forward, making his way deeper into the dungeons.
The others followed, vanishing around the corner.
Irene was moments from scurrying after them when she heard a breathy whisper behind her.
“Catherine…”
Irene froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
She turned, slowly. Thalia was still lying on the floor, her physical form fading, but her eyes had fluttered open…and she was staring straight at Irene.
“What did you say?”
The girl drew a shaky breath. It rattled in her chest.
“She’ll come…” Another breath. Thready and barely there. “They will…find you.”
Irene cursed. She didn’t have time for this. She squatted next to the iron bars, leaning in closer.
“That name,” she whispered. “What name did you just say?”
Thalia smiled and wheezed through cracked lips.
“I see…the war in you. Your heart…is split. Two sides…” Thalia’s eyes began to flutter closed as she whispered her last words.
“I wonder…which…you will choose.” And then she was slipping away, the tiny sliver of life inside her extinguishing.
Her body came apart, disintegrating piece by piece, breaking into swirling speckles of ash.
“No, no, no.” Irene lunged forward, trying to grab Thalia, to piece her back together, but it was too late.
One second the girl was there, withering away in the cage, and the next, her entire self had come undone, nothing but a mass of swirling particles drifting in the air.
Just like the other eliminated nominees.
Gone.
Destroyed.
Irene scrambled backward, nausea coiling around her throat, pushing herself away from the cage until her back hit the stone wall behind her. She let out a groan, rubbing her face with her palms.
Catherine.
The girl had said the name. She was sure of it.
But what were the odds that she was talking about the same Catherine who Masika had lost to the Demien Order all those years ago?
The same Catherine who Masika had finally told Irene about during the second trial?
But if it was the same person, that meant Catherine had left the Demien Order to join whatever this third coalition was that Thalia had been a part of.
And maybe…
No.
It was pointless to indulge in a future with Masika in it.
To pretend that she’d ever see her friend again.
It was nothing but a useless fantasy. A silly dream.
And either way, what good would it be if Masika was around?
She’d only admonish Irene for joining the Order.
Hell, she’d probably despise her for it.
Wherever Masika was, it was best for her to stay as far away from Irene as possible.