Jade
“Oliver—”
Logan’s hand clamps over my mouth, his fingers no longer inside me, his entire demeanor shifting from passionate to predatory in an instant.
“Get back to the ball,” he commands, already stepping away from me. “Now.”
“Like hell.” I yank his hand away from my mouth, my body trembling from the whiplash of going from intense pleasure to sudden terror in seconds. “That’s Oliver in there, and he’s talking about… what are Revenants? Why does someone want to recruit Evie?”
“Jade, this isn’t—“
“I’m coming with you.” I straighten my dress with shaking hands, trying to ignore how my body still pulses and thrums from Logan’s touch. “That’s my best friend’s brother screaming. That’s my roommate they’re threatening. You really think I’m going to hide while—“
“While you get yourself killed?” His eyes flash with something dangerous. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
“Then tell me.” I call on my electricity, silver sparks dancing between my fingers, controlled and deliberate.
The passages light up with my power, casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone.
“See?” I lower my hands and let the electricity fade. “You’ve been training me well. I can control it. Now stop arguing and move.”
Another cry echoes through the passages. Oliver again, followed by the sound of a struggle.
My stomach clenches with dread, and I take off toward the sounds, kicking off my heels as I navigate the twisting tunnels.
The stone is cold under my bare feet, and I definitely step on something sharp, but I don’t care.
All I care about is not leaving this place knowing I could have helped but having done nothing.
We’ve already had one student death this semester, and I refuse to let there be another.
Logan’s quickly by my side, and we’re racing through the tunnels, following the echoes of voices.
Snippets of conversation drift toward us as we get closer.
“—told you to stay away from her—” That’s Oliver, breathless and angry.
“—narrow-minded view of power—” A smoother voice, cultured and far too calm for whatever’s happening here.
“—won’t let you turn anyone else—“
“—already too late for that—”
Logan grabs my arm to slow me down as the voices grow louder, more distinct.
But that smooth voice… I know it. I’ve heard it in classes, asking probing questions about my progress, giving me books to help me catch up on my magical education.
“Professor Thaddeus?” The realization hits me like a punch.
Logan doesn’t respond, but his jaw tightens, and we round the final corner just as a door ahead shimmers shut.
I’d recognize that door anywhere, with the seven intertwining circles etched into the stone. It’s the one that leads to the Scorched Circles.
I hurry toward it, open it with my sigil, and Logan and I burst through onto the moonlit training grounds.
The air at the base of the Scorched Circles shimmers with residual heat. And there, high above us on the Crown—that jagged volcanic peak where only the desperate or foolish dare to fight—a massive column of fire erupts against the night sky.
“No!” The word tears from my throat as the flames die down, revealing two figures silhouetted against the stars.
Even from this distance, I can make out Oliver’s form, stumbling, and the taller figure of Professor Thaddeus standing over him.
Logan’s already moving, orange flames swirling around his feet. “Stay here.”
“Are you insane? Take me with you!”
But he’s already dissolving into flame, leaving me standing alone at the base of the Scorched Circles with nothing but frustration and the lingering scent of smoke.
A second later, he materializes in a burst of fire next to Thaddeus on the Crown.
No. This is so not okay. I’m done being left behind. Done being protected like some fragile thing that might break.
I have power, and I’m going to use that power.
So, I close my eyes, reaching deep inside to where my magic lives. Not the electricity that comes so easily now, but the fire I’ve always struggled with. The pathetic little flames that barely answer my call unless I’m in the Ember Ring or the Fury Loop.
Except... something’s different tonight.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe it’s the anger from being abandoned down here by Logan.
Maybe it’s all the training I’ve done in the Fury Loop.
Maybe it’s the memory of Logan’s hands on me, his fire mingling with my electricity in ways that shouldn’t be possible.
I don’t know what it is, and I don’t care. Because all that matters is the heat building in my chest, spreading outward like liquid sun through my veins.
Power. It’s there inside me—it always has been—waiting for me to let it free. I’ve just been so obsessed with control that I haven’t allowed myself to let it wildly loose on purpose.
Time to change that. Because Logan just made fire travel—a skill that only the most advanced witches in the world can do—look easy. But he’s taught me a bit about fire travel before, given me tips on it, even though I’m far from reaching that level.
Just think about where you want to be and—
The fire answers, roaring through me with a vengeance, every nerve ending screaming as reality frays at the seams. Next comes the pull of being turned inside out, my organs rearranging themselves as space folds around me.
I can hear my heartbeat echoing in the void between spaces, taste ash and ozone on my tongue, and feel the burn of magic rewriting physics.
Then, suddenly, I’m whole again.
My knees slam into volcanic rock, and the world spins, my stomach lurching from the journey that should have been impossible for a witch at my level.
But I did it. I’m here. At the Crown. The highest circle, the one with raw magical amplification and no safety nets, where students are forbidden to go, ever.
“Jade?” Logan’s voice cracks with disbelief as I struggle to my feet. “How did you—”
I barely hear him. Because in that same split second, Thaddeus moves faster than should be possible. One moment he’s standing over Oliver, and the next his dagger plunges into Oliver’s chest with sickening precision.
“No!” The scream rips from my throat, but it’s already too late.
Oliver’s eyes go wide with shock. Blood blooms across his shirt. He crumples to the volcanic rock, and I know with horrible certainty that he’s gone.
I’m barely aware of my screaming as Thaddeus spins toward me, that same dagger covered with Oliver’s blood already flying through the air and sinking into my stomach with a sickening thud.
Pain explodes through me. Not just the sharp agony of metal piercing flesh, but something else. Something cold and wrong that spreads through me like poison.
Seconds feel like minutes. Like hours. Because this can’t be happening. This can’t be real. But the ice spreading through my veins says otherwise, freezing my blood, making each breath a losing battle.
The world tilts sideways, volcanic rock rushing up to meet me, but strong arms catch me before I hit the ground.
“Jade.” Logan’s voice breaks as he lowers me to the ground, his eyes wide with panic and fear. “Stay with me.”
I try to say Logan’s name, but only manage a wet cough as blood fills my mouth, tasting like copper and defeat.
I’m dying.
The thought hits with crystal clarity, no room for denial or jokes. Because this is it. My parents will never know what happened to me. I’ll never get to go home. It will be as if I never existed at all.
My lids are half closed when fire erupts around us.
But this isn’t normal fire. This is pure, terrifying black fire—shadows that swallow light instead of creating it.
I’ve seen darkness tinge the edges of Logan’s flames when he’s angry, but never like this.
The entirety of his fire has never been void of color, howling with a storm that makes the air scream, existing everywhere and nowhere at once.
The world tilts and spins, fracturing into a vortex of shadowed light and impossible heat, and then—
I’m standing at the base of the Scorched Circles.
My hands fly to my stomach.
There’s no wound. No blood. No pain. My dress is pristine white fading to black, exactly as it was when we burst out of the passages.
“What the actual hell?” I spin to face Logan, my body trembling. “I had a knife in my stomach. I was up there and—”
I pause to point up at the Crown, expecting Thaddeus to be there, holding his dagger to the sky and cackling like a villain in a bad horror movie.
As expected, he is there holding up his dagger.
But Oliver is standing again, and then Thaddeus’s blade is sliding between Oliver’s ribs. Again.
“No!” The scream tears from my throat, my brain splitting apart. “This already happened! I already watched him die!”
But I don’t have time to panic. So, I reach for the heat inside me, and the world dissolves into orange flames, reforming at the Crown in a heartbeat as I fire travel for the second time in my life.
Oliver’s already on the ground, his eyes vacant, blood pooling beneath him. It’s the same as what happened before. Like some sick replay.
Then Thaddeus is turning, another dagger in his hand, and the weapon is flying through the air, straight at me.
I try to dodge, but he’s too fast, too precise.
The dagger sinks deep into my chest, just below my heart. Different spot, same agonizing cold spreading through my veins.
My legs buckle immediately.
Death is faster this time. My heart struggles and fails, each beat weaker than the last. The volcanic rock rushes up to meet me, and Logan’s arms are wrapped around me again, holding me tight.
“Damn it, not again,” he growls against my hair.
Fire erupts around us—those black shadow flames that make my dying brain scream that this is wrong, this isn’t natural, this isn’t how fire is supposed to work.
A roar like a freight train tears through the space, and then the world disappears, sucked into a vortex that pulls at the fabric of reality itself.
Then everything goes startlingly silent, and I’m standing at the base of the Scorched Circles. Again. Whole and unharmed, watching that same column of fire bloom at the Crown, revealing those same two figures against the night sky. Again.
Oliver and Thad, right on schedule. Like clockwork. Like a nightmare I can’t escape.
“Oh gods.” My voice cracks, and I gaze up at Logan, begging for answers. “I died. Twice.” Tears stream down my face as the impossible reality crashes over me. “Your fire—at least I think it was your fire—was black. What the hell was that? What was wrong with your fire?”
“Jade—” Logan reaches for me, but I’m already refocused on the Crown, horror pooling at my stomach with the knowledge of what’s coming next.
“I can save him this time. I have to.” Silver electricity crackles across my skin, dancing between my fingers and through my hair, making the air around me taste like copper and ozone.
The look in Logan’s eyes—exhaustion mixed with desperation—almost makes me pause. But Oliver’s up there, about to die for the third time. And maybe I’m in Hell, but I’ll be damned if I stand here and watch it happen.
The world dissolves into flames, and I’m at the Crown in a heartbeat.
Fire travel is getting easier. Or maybe I’m just getting used to dying.
Thaddeus has his dagger raised, about to strike, and electricity erupts from my hands in twin bolts of rage. The power rips through me, making every nerve ending sing as the bolts streak across the space between us, bright as daylight, crackling with enough voltage to turn him to ash.
But Thaddeus spins with inhuman grace, wind rushing around him as he creates a fire shield that swallows my attack whole.
My electricity dissipates against his barrier like it’s nothing.
“Tempest chose well.” He tilts his head, studying me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Before I can launch another attack, he gestures almost lazily, and wind rushes at me.
It pushes my chest like invisible hands, and then I’m flying backward, launched off the Crown with casual indifference.
The edge disappears beneath my feet, and there’s nothing but empty air and the certainty of death rushing up to meet me.
The wind tears at my dress as I fall. The ground is so far below—too far.
This is it. This is how I die this time. Not by a blade, but by gravity itself.
Will it hurt less? Will it be quick? Or even better, will I not feel it at all?
After being stabbed twice, I sure as hell hope so.
“Jade!” Logan’s voice cuts through the roaring wind, and his hand catches my wrist, pulling me against him as that terrifying black fire engulfs us again.
The darkness makes my skin crawl even as it saves me, reality shimmering and bending, sucking us into that screaming vortex where we exist but don’t at the same time.
Then my feet hit solid ground. Gently. Silently. Like stepping off a curb instead of falling from a mountain.
I don’t have to look around to know what I’m going to see next.
Because we’re at the base of the Scorched Circles. Again.
I’m alive and well. Again.
And that damned column of fire is erupting on the Crown.
Again.