Chapter 48 Masika
MASIKA
“WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING?!” Olivier bellowed as they sprinted out of Elysium Hall and into the chaos of night.
In the distance, hundreds of Demiens, Ascended and Resistance fighters swarmed across the grounds, all of them caught in a bloody battle.
Screams split the night, a pungent cloud of magic stifling the air.
Billowing shadow creatures soared over their heads, some of them cradling limp bodies in their talons.
“The base,” Masika muttered through labored breaths. “It’s the only place that could potentially have something to destroy the ring with. Not to mention it’s probably the safest place we could be right now.”
“It’ll take us days to get there!” Olivier shot back, ducking when a swirling vortex of shadows burst from somewhere to their left. He gripped Emilio roughly by the collar, tugging him closer. “We’re never going to make it.”
“Well, do you have a better suggestion?” Irene snapped, tossing her hands in frustration.
Olivier hesitated, gnawing the inside of his cheek. His eyes flitted north—out toward the heart of the battle. “Fine.” He shook his head, conceding. “Go. But…I’m staying here.”
“What do you mean you’re staying?” Masika asked.
“The others”—Olivier gestured toward the Library—“the Resistance needs as many on their side as possible.”
Emilio laced his fingers through Olivier’s. “If he stays—I’m staying too.”
Irene hesitated, weighing her options. Finally, she conceded with a sigh. “Fine…go. But we have to move—now!”
She was right. Up ahead, only a few yards away, a throng of Demiens were approaching, dark rivers of shadows flanking their path. The group was still focused on the Resistance fighters they were attacking, but it wouldn’t be long until they spotted them, and then…then they’d have to fight.
Masika lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Olivier and Emilio. She pulled back, looking between the two boys. “Be careful.”
Olivier nodded. “Right back at you.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Irene, narrowing his eyes. “Watch over our girl. Make sure you bring her back to us in one piece.” When Irene rolled her eyes in response, Olivier grinned.
Emilio sniffled, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. He looked between Masika and Irene with wide, pleading eyes. “See you later?”
The two girls nodded.
“Yeah,” Masika assured him. “See you later.”
And then Emilio and Olivier vanished, disappearing under the black cloud of Olivier’s relocation spell.
For a moment, Masika continued to stand there, staring at the place where the two boys had been only moments earlier. Sorrow struck her like a sharpened blade. They had all just reunited, finally brought back together again, and now they risked losing one another—for good this time.
“We have to go,” Irene whispered softly.
Masika nodded. She was right. “Let’s go.”
Irene grabbed Masika tightly by the hand, and the two of them were swallowed by the crimson haze of Irene’s relocation spell, materializing a few yards away from the Blackwood gates.
And then they started running.
There was no telling who might be out here waiting for them. The majority of the fight had shifted deeper into Blackwood, trickling toward the main halls, but there might still be Demiens lurking in the forest—waiting for those who might try to escape.
Masika was about to suggest casting a cloaking enchantment when she noticed that Irene wasn’t beside her anymore. She’d stopped a few yards behind, eyes locked on the ring in her hand.
“Irene!” Masika called out to her. “Come on! We have to keep moving.”
But Irene remained rooted to the ground. She shook her head, face contorted in confusion. “It’s not possible…” she muttered softly.
“What?” Masika asked. The battle roared in the distance, and Masika knew they needed to get moving, to put as much distance between them and the fight as possible. “What are you talking about?”
“The ring…” Irene whispered, seemingly lost within the depths of her mind. “It belonged to the Soulless One.”
“Yes,” Masika said, exasperated. “I know. I heard Wren.”
Irene finally dragged her gaze away from the ring, eyes falling upon Masika like a guillotine. When she spoke next, her voice was a trembling whisper, disbelief and terror etched upon her face.
“So then why is Mateo’s name written on it?”
Masika blinked, taken aback. “What?”
Irene held the ring delicately between her thumb and index finger, holding it out toward Masika. When Masika approached Irene, reading the words etched into the brass ring, her world tilted.
Mateo Albano.
Masika met Irene’s searing gaze. Silence drenched the space between them.
“How is this possible?” Masika whispered.
“Mateo isn’t the True Headmaster,” Irene replied with a shudder. “And he isn’t the Soulless One.”
She paused, closing her fist around the ring.
“He’s both.”
Footsteps. The snap of a twig. A deep, guttural chuckle.
Mateo Albano—the True Headmaster of Blackwood…
the Soulless One—stood before them, parting the darkness with nothing but his presence.
He walked forward and the ground beneath his feet wilted, shriveling into ash and dust and decay.
His eyes—a deep shade of sapphire that glowed in the darkness—zeroed in on them.
All around him, shadows ebbed and flowed, waiting for his command.
“I told you, Irene.” His voice rumbled with power. “If you call me…I’ll answer.”
Masika didn’t miss the way Irene’s entire body tensed at the sight of him. She’d never seen the other girl look so wounded…so afraid.
Mateo snaked his gaze toward Masika. He watched her with chilling curiosity.
“The infamous Masika Sallow. Finally…we meet.”
Masika held her ground, angling her arm protectively in front of Irene.
“We know who you are,” she snapped, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. “Who you really are.”
Mateo chuckled. “I would expect that much. You know…given the ring in Irene’s hand.”
Irene flinched as her name slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “All this time…how could you have been the True Headmaster and the Soulless One?”
“Those are just names given to me,” Mateo replied with a casual shrug.
“Titles. Who am I to control what people write in the history books?” He stepped closer, movements slow and deliberate.
“I was the True Headmaster. Before Silas infiltrated Blackwood and took over. But I had sensed a change cresting on the horizon. An imminent betrayal. So…I took action.”
“The map,” Masika muttered softly. “You left a set of keys meant to unlock a piece of your soul. But it wasn’t there.”
A sudden silence fell over them. Mateo glanced between Irene and Masika, a solemn expression on his face. When he spoke next, there was a soft smile on his lips…a twisted flicker of melancholy.
“Silas was my friend. Did you know that?”
Masika flinched. “What?”
“He didn’t just barge into the school and destroy me,” Mateo explained.
“There’s more to the story than what you’ve been told.
More history. He was meticulous. Brilliant, honestly.
” He let out a deep, bitter chuckle. “Have you noticed the way Silas’s appearance seems to…
change? His age often impossible to pinpoint.
” Next to her, Irene gave an almost indiscernible nod of her head.
“That’s because of the power he stole. The more he loses control, the more Blackwood takes from him.
When I met him…all those centuries ago…he was just a boy. Just about your age.”
A chill ran down Masika’s spine. It wasn’t possible…
Mateo continued, slinking closer.
“I know what the story says. That he simply weaseled his way into Blackwood and took control. But that isn’t true…
not quite. I found Silas, just outside the gates, after he’d managed to drag himself out of the Shadow Lands.
I was the Headmaster, after all—I knew everybody who came and went.
And I knew, without a doubt, that he did not belong.
” A faraway look had fallen upon Mateo, as if he was lost in the past, stuck in a memory.
“I took pity on him. It was foolish, thinking back on it now. But…a part of me thought…a part of me wondered…if perhaps the school had been wrong in marking him as a Corrupted Soul. I thought…maybe…I could fix him. I could change him.”
Mateo let out a sharp exhale and the distant look in his eyes vanished.
“I let him into the school. I enrolled him in Blackwood. I knew it was a mistake from the beginning—could feel the Ether’s discontent—but I didn’t care. Little by little, Silas gained my trust. We were part of a crew…similar to yours, might I add. I trusted him. Saw him like a brother.”
His voice cracked at that final word, but he continued.
“When I finally sensed his betrayal…it was too late. But I had just enough time to set aside the piece of my soul, hide it in purgatory, and entrust a close friend to resurrect me if Silas was successful in his plan.” Mateo’s expression darkened.
Above them, the crimson clouds began to shift together, a swirling vortex forming in the black sky.
“And he was successful. But instead of destroying me outright, he thought it would be fitting to let me rot and wither away in the Shadow Lands. His silly need for poetic justice would ultimately lead to his ruin. Because he didn’t destroy me…
not completely. And just like he did, I learned to harness the power of the Shadow Lands.
I let the corruption seep into my soul. I let it feed on my anger.
I let it consume me. It gave me enough strength to crawl out of the Shadow Lands and back into purgatory.
But what I saw afterward…what I discovered… ”
Mateo’s breath hitched in his throat. When he spoke next, there was a deep and grating rasp to his voice, a dark rumble that fluttered the leaves of the trees surrounding them. Even the ground seemed to tremble, as if cowering before his power.