Chapter 43 Masika
MASIKA
There was dying, and then there was whatever this was.
Maybe there wasn’t exactly a word for it.
How could Masika even begin to describe the agony of her soul fracturing?
Of a thousand hands ripping into her soul, tearing at her insides, tugging at the threads of her sanity in the hope that it would break? That she would break?
By some miracle, she’d managed to black out after a while.
The pain had lingered, but there was some distance behind it, as if Masika had sunk into her body and watched the whole thing play out as an observer.
And now…here she was. Where exactly? She wasn’t entirely sure.
It had to be the same cell, considering she’d been lying on the ground for the past few hours, but the world around her had lost all shape and meaning, nothing but shadows undulating in her peripheral vision.
Somewhere in the distance, there was an explosion.
Or, at least, what Masika assumed was an explosion.
A thunderous boom rattled the walls of the dungeon, chunks of rock cascading onto the floor, plumes of smoke rising from the ashes.
Was that an alarm? A blaring noise echoed above her.
Over and over. Screams echoed. Far away, the sizzling crackle of magic reverberated, mixed with something else—a deep, guttural roar that reminded Masika of the moment the mountain had come crashing down around her.
She tried to move, placing her hands against the floor, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. A strangled whimper echoed from her throat. Why couldn’t she move? Had they broken her legs? Was she actually dying?
A shiver of fear cascaded down her spine.
She couldn’t help but wonder what was left of her. Maybe her entire soul was broken.
Maybe they’d left nothing behind.
A voice fluttered in front of her. Deep. Warm. Familiar.
“What’s wrong, my darling girl?”
Despite the fact that Masika’s cheek was still firmly pressed against the cold floor, she managed to drag her eyes upward, facing the source of the voice. Standing above her, scruff on his jaw and a smile on his lips, was her father.
Masika’s breaths splintered out of her in shallow huffs. So…this was it.
Her ending.
“I’m tired,” she managed to choke out.
“Is that so?” Her father squatted down next to her. He reached out his hand, brushing his palm against her forehead, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. It even felt like him. Rough, callused hands tinged with tenderness. “Well. Why don’t you close your eyes, then? Take a rest.”
Searing heat crawled against Masika’s skin. Burning her from the inside out.
“I…can’t.” She breathed and the sound rasped in the back of her throat. “I won’t…wake back up.”
Her father shrugged. “Would that be so bad?”
Masika chuckled. “I suppose not.”
Her father smiled down at her. “You’ve been through so much, my darling girl. You’ve been so brave. Not just in death, but in life too.”
He was right. Her death hadn’t been clean and swift.
She hadn’t gently drifted off into the darkness, welcomed into the afterlife by a merciful hand.
Her death had been long…arduous. Messy. A sickness that slowly ate away at her.
Fluorescent lights and sharp needles jammed into her skin.
Endless doctor appointments met with wave after wave of disappointment.
Chemicals dripped into her veins. More pills. More pain. More waiting. More hoping.
And what had it all meant in the end? What good had it done?
“Dad…” Masika sobbed. “I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared.”
Her father’s expression changed from one beat to the next. His smile dropped. “Then get the hell up.”
Masika flinched. “What?” she croaked.
Her father leaned in closer. “Get. Up.”
Masika blinked. Her father’s face warped—two versions of him splitting and joining back together.
But his features were changing too, molding into another face…
a face Masika knew well. But it couldn’t be real.
She was clearly losing her mind, the apparition of her father was proof enough, so there was no conceivable way that what she was seeing was real. That the face staring back at her was—
“I SAID GET THE FUCK UP!”
The voice that shot out of her father’s mouth was shrill and familiar, and then suddenly it wasn’t her father looming over her but Irene, eyes wide and frantic as she gripped Masika by the shoulders, desperately attempting to drag her onto her feet.
Masika groggily blinked through the haze muddling her senses.
“Irene?”
At her name, Irene blinked. A smile crept onto her lips.
“Rise and shine, Masi. It’s time to get you the hell out of here.”
Masika’s mind whirred, nausea licking up her throat. In the distance, more explosions rang out. The screams were deafening. The stench of magic overwhelming her senses. She let out a low groan.
“What’s happening?” she muttered.
“Armageddon.”
“Oh.” Masika let out a soft sigh and her eyes fluttered back closed. “That’s nice.”
“No—” Irene groaned, cursing under her breath. Masika could feel Irene’s hands on her, the desperation radiating from her as she struggled to pick Masika up. Masika wanted to move, but she was just so damn tired. Couldn’t she just keep lying there? Couldn’t she simply wither away?
“Wake up, Masi.” Irene slapped Masika across the face. “Eyes open. Come on.”
The sting from Irene’s slap was enough for Masika’s senses to refocus.
She opened her eyes, properly taking in the chaos unraveling in front of her.
Soot streaked across Irene’s nose, the bottom of her hair slightly singed.
Her dress had been ripped at the hem, a deep crimson stain slashed across her knee, though there wasn’t a wound in sight.
“You look like shit.”
Irene laughed, but there were tears behind her eyes. “Right back at you.”
Somehow, despite everything, Masika managed to find a tiny sliver of strength. She pushed herself onto her feet, gripping one of the iron bars of the cell when her leg buckled beneath her.
“Can you move?” Irene asked softly.
Masika shrugged. “Define move.”
Irene threw Masika’s arm over her shoulder, grunting as she helped drag her out of the cell.
“So…care to explain what exactly is going on?”
“Well,” Irene huffed. “The Demien Order and the Resistance have both stormed the gates of Blackwood, and the school is essentially on the brink of a cataclysmic afterlife war.”
Masika opened and shut her mouth. She had a million questions, but all she managed to utter was “Right. And…where are we going?”
“Uh—” Irene chuckled nervously. “I haven’t really thought that through quite yet.”
They were turning a corner when the patter of footsteps stopped them in their tracks.
Irene sucked in a sharp breath.
“Shit.”
Everly Hawthorne was standing before them, blocking their path.
Her eyes flitted between Irene and Masika, brows furrowed.
The brief flicker of confusion in her gaze quickly vanished under sharpened fury.
She clenched her hands into fists, flames shooting out of her knuckles.
“What are you doing?” Each word slipped out of her with a punch of air. “Put her back in the cell.”
Irene placed her arm protectively in front of Masika. “Get out of the way, Everly.”
“Oh my God.” Everly let out a cackle. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you honestly think you could get away with this? That Headmaster Silas wouldn’t notice? That he wouldn’t rip your soul out of your throat for this betrayal?”
“I don’t give a damn about Silas,” Irene said through gritted teeth. “And if you had even a fraction of a brain cell left in that skull of yours—you wouldn’t either.”
Everly’s nostrils flared. “You filthy traitor—”
She raised her arms, poised to strike.
But Masika moved first.
She hadn’t even felt herself summon her magic. It had simply been there, waiting for her.
Masika’s arm sliced down in one clean swoop.
Everly stood frozen for a suspended moment, eyes wide, mouth parted.
And then a blossoming line of blood appeared on her neck, severing her head cleanly from her body. It fell to the floor with a sickening thud, rolling over to Irene, who continued to stare at Masika with a strange mixture of shock and admiration.
Masika let out a shaky breath.
“I really, really hate that girl.”
And then Masika passed out and collapsed into Irene’s arms.