Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ican’t sleep. How can I be so exhausted and not sleep?
Hours after turning in, I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my room. My skin feels too tight, like it’s struggling to contain whatever’s happening inside me.
The unbinding has left me buzzing with energy that has nowhere to go.
With a frustrated sigh, I slip out of bed and pull on a pair of yoga pants. Careful not to wake anyone, I tiptoe through the common area and stop at the door.
Does Wylder lock it or ward it to notify him if someone is sneaking out? I don’t think so. The only witch I haven’t seen from our cluster is Rowan from the Thornhill coven.
Apparently, her affinity has something to do with shadows and the power of the moon, so she’s in and out at all hours of the night.
For a second, I consider seeing if Orion is awake and up for a midnight stroll through the halls. But on second thought, it’s really late, and I don’t want to be the reason he’s a zombie tomorrow for his sessions.
The hallway is quiet when I step out of our dorm, and just like at Hallowind House, the moment I start down the corridor, an ambient glow takes hold along the floorboards to guide my way.
The academy building feels totally different at night. The shadows grow longer and deeper, but the quiet stillness of the place is comforting.
“Making your attempt at a great escape, little witch?”
I spin around searching for the source of the voice. There’s no one there. The laughter that follows is lilting, amused. Definitely not human.
I spin again, my heart thudding, scanning the darkened corridor. Moonlight spills through the high, arched windows, casting beams of diffused silver across the tiled floor.
Still no one.
Then something moves in the corner.
A flick of a tail. A shimmer of color.
A tiny mouse, no bigger than my palm, perches on the lip of a high bookshelf. It wears what looks like a miniature velvet cloak clasped with a bead-sized amethyst, and a single whisker curls like a question mark.
He blinks slowly at me. “A bit early to be making a run for it, don’t you think?” the mouse says, twitching his nose. “Most students wait until at least their second week to sneak away.”
I blink at him. “I’m not making a run for it. I was going to walk the halls to burn off some energy. Are you someone’s familiar?”
He sniffs. “Certainly not. I’m employed.”
He hops delicately down to the next shelf, then to a floating book, then onto a globe that spins slightly beneath his weight.
“Name’s Crispin. Corridor Watchmouse, Third Circle. Magical security with a dash of flair.”
“Right.”
“And you are the chaos witchling everyone’s talking about. Impressive entrance, by the way. Few students are responsible for drawing blood before even beginning their training.”
My face flushes. “I had no part in the chaos at the welcome circle.”
“Of course not. Innocent until caught in the act, I get it.”
I roll my eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
“Going outside at night is not advisable.”
“I have no intention of going outside.” Yikes. Knowing those Guardians patrol over the grounds at night is enough to keep me a shut-in for life. “I’m just going to explore the corridors.”
He eyes me for a long moment, then gives a squeaky sigh and adjusts his tiny cloak. “Well, if you are intent on wandering, at least use the east archway. The gargoyles on the west side are not fans of surprise visits.”
Then, with a dramatic spin of his cloak and a leap to a swinging lantern chain, Crispin disappears into the shadows.
A faint chuckle echoes behind him. “Be careful, witchling. There are scarier things than me watching the corridors at night.”
His warning gives me pause, but not for long. I do, however, heed his suggestion and head toward the east archway.
Navigating the corridors makes me miss Asher. He would love this and have a million funny observations to distract me from the magical overload fizzing in my cells.
Still, if I keep moving, it’s better.
After a while, the corridors all dance together in a maze of shadows, and I feel a bit like a rabbit lost in an unfamiliar warren.
The sensation is unnerving, and I start to second-guess my path. It’s weird, because I’m usually quite good at keeping my bearings.
As I continue, the sensation of being lost intensifies, and I look at the exits as a way to get back to the main entrance. I hadn’t intended to go outside, but now it feels like the most sensible decision.
In fact, despite my trepidation earlier, I’m now convinced that it’s the only answer.
Outside, the academy grounds are quiet under a blanket of stars. The air is cool against my skin as I follow the glow of crystals and wander down a stone path that winds through the manicured lawns.
Without the distraction of other people, I’m even more aware of the strange sensations coursing through me. At first, there was the static electricity just beneath my skin.
Now there’s also a feeling of urgency… of needing to be under the rays of the moon.
That’s when I see it. A wispy silver form floats near a cluster of rosebushes. It’s translucent, vaguely human-shaped, but blurry around the edges. As I stare, it drifts behind the foliage.
“Hello?” I call softly, moving closer.
Another shimmer of silver catches my eye, this one by an oak tree. And another gliding between two lampposts. They’re everywhere, these barely-there forms. Are these ghosts? Am I doing this, or do they just sense me? Is this what Wylder meant about my spirit affinity being in flux?
One particularly bright form floats past me, close enough that I feel a chill where it passes. The impulse to follow it is overwhelming, and without further thought, I’m crossing the manicured lawn, my bare feet damp with dew.
“Wait,” I whisper, though I’m not sure it can hear me.
The form leads me toward a stone fountain, then abruptly dissolves into the night air like mist. I reach out, but my fingers grasp nothing.
The need to follow it pops like a soap bubble, and I flop down onto the grass and stare up at the stars. The night sky is magnificent here, away from the illumination of civilization, a sprawling canvas of twinkling lights and swirling galaxies.
I lift my hand, tracing the calming sigil Wylder taught me in the air above my face. As my finger completes the pattern, I feel a subtle shift—my thoughts slow and my earlier trepidation about coming outside resurfaces.
“What’s going on with me?” I lift my finger and attempt the sigil again. This time, the effect is stronger—a wave of self-awareness washes over me.
My heart rate spikes as I realize I’m outside. I really don’t want to be out here alone and within talon range of mythical bird sentries that want to rip me to shreds.
What the hell was I thinking?
I sit up and something dark flashes in my peripheral vision. Before I can react, a force slams into me from the side, knocking me tumbling in the grass as the breath rushes from my lungs.
I scramble to my hands and feet, but the invisible force shoves me down and I crash to the ground face first. The air around me thickens, pressing in from all sides, then comes a bone-deep, paralyzing chill that makes my teeth chatter.
“Who’s there?” I push up to my feet, spinning to find the academy building to retreat. Only… there is no building.
How is that possible?
I turn a full circle, and there’s nothing around me but inky darkness. “What’s happening? Where am I?”
There’s no answer, but shadows gather around me, twisting into grotesque shapes that lunge and retreat like predators toying with their prey. One brushes against my arm, and I cry out as a searing burn sizzles across my skin.
It feels like an electrical hot wire has been wrapped around my forearm.
Another shadow passing catches my cheek, sharp as a paper cut but colder than ice. I try to bat it away, but my hands pass through it uselessly, meeting nothing but frigid air that numbs my fingertips.
The shadows morph before my eyes, transforming into crawling insects with too many legs and glistening carapaces. They skitter across my skin in waves, up my ankles, around my wrists, across my collarbone.
These aren’t ghosts.
I know they’re not real—they can’t possibly be real—but my fear is overwhelming, primal and unstoppable. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I worry it might crack bone, each beat pounding in my ears as I frantically swipe at my arms, my legs, my face, gasping for breath that won’t come.
The sensation of tiny feet marching across my skin makes me want to tear it off completely.
“Stop!” I shout, but my plea does nothing.
The ground beneath me ripples like water. I stumble, falling to my knees as wave after wave of terror washes over me. This isn’t just fear—it’s magic designed to amplify fear, turning it into something monstrous.
I try to remember the calming sigil, but panic scrambles my thoughts. The shadows converge, pressing closer, scratching and biting. These phantom attackers might not be real, but them slicing my skin and drawing blood is real.
Too real.
“Enough!” The feminine command cuts through the chaos as a flash of purple light erupts all around me. The shadows scatter like startled birds, and the oppressive weight lifts instantly.
A figure rushes toward me—a girl with glossy black hair streaked with red. She kneels beside me, her gray eyes scanning my face.
“Are you okay?” she asks, helping me to my feet.
I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand. “W-what was that?”
“That was a Shadow Hex.” She examines the scratches on my arms with a frown. “A nasty one, too. Any idea who might have it out for you?”
I blink back at her, my mind spinning. “That’s a very long list, I’m afraid.”
She offers a steadying arm as my knees threaten to buckle. “I’m Rowan. And I take it you’re the Hallowind witch that got added to our dorm?”
“Poppy, yeah.” I wince as the adrenaline ebbs, leaving the scratches covering most of my exposed skin stinging and burning. “Thanks for... whatever you did.”