15. Asha
Asha
Ishove my hair out of my face and yank myself away from Hale when he releases his grip. He is getting seriously irritating with that brute strength. “Well,” I state into the silence. “That was not what I expected.”
“Was that your magic?” Leith asks, coming closer. His face is paler than usual, but he appears fine now after the slightly concerning incident.
“Yes,” I say, chin high. “It was mine. But more to the point… what is an Unbound Source? Hmm, Tobin?”
Tobin looks at me, his silver eyes still swirling with gold afterglow. He doesn’t look like the calm witch prodigy anymore; he looks like a storm that hasn’t finished breaking. He wipes a bead of blood from under his nose, his posture stiff.
“It’s a classification,” Blackridge says, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
He adjusts his cuffs, perfectly composed while the rest of us look like we’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.
“A rare one. It means his power isn’t tied to a specific lineage or a fixed capacity.
It’s raw, adaptable, and—as demonstrated—dangerous when provoked. ”
“Dangerous,” I repeat, crossing my arms. I look at Tobin. He’s always been the calm, controlled one, the strategist, but that power I just saw wasn’t calm. It was a god-tier wrecking ball. “You’re a freak, Tobin. Even by our standards.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tobin mutters, finally meeting my gaze. His silver eyes are clouded with exhaustion, but the arrogance is still there, tucked in the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t. You almost brought the ceiling down on us.”
“But it’s still up there, and everything is fine.”
“You’re an arse.”
“Nice,” he drawls with that sexy smile I want to slap off his face right now.
I won’t admit to being marginally terrified. But I was. The idea of being buried alive before I return to my body, my realm, my power was a horrifying one, and I don’t wish to repeat it on any level in the near future. “I want,” I grit out, “my body back.”
“You will get it, Miss Asha,” Blackridge states. “Your clock is ticking, but we may have found where you can access it.”
I stare at him, my blood spiking with adrenaline and something that might be fear. “Where?”
Blackridge moves to the black pillar. The eye remains closed, but the stone hums with a low, resentful vibration. He places his hand on the smooth surface where the crack had been. “The designation system didn’t just label you. It tracked the resonance of your original form.”
“So down then,” Leith says, staring at where the purple thread vanished. “But what is down there?”
I cross my arms, trying not to hope. “Who cares if my body is?”
“It’s not,” Blackridge says. “But the access to it probably is.”
“Probably? You give me all this on a probably?”
He shrugs. “Yseld made sure you were caught by SilverGate and recreated into your current form. Your real body is that of a goddess. It doesn’t burn up and die like most other creatures. It’s hidden behind the Shadow Well.”
“Shadow Well?” I ask, moving closer. “What is that?”
“The Shadow Well is the anchor between realms,” Blackridge explains, his gaze fixed on the spot where the magic retreated. “It’s a void that consumes light and magic. If your body survived the transition, it’s being held in stasis within that void.”
“A void,” I mutter. The word tastes like copper on my tongue. “Of course. Why would it not be somewhere convenient like a spa?”
“The Well is located beneath the Foundations. It’s the oldest part of the academy. The Shadow Well isn’t just restricted. It’s lethal to those without the capacity to hold their own identity against the dark. You are a goddess of chaos, but in that body, you are a flickering candle in a hurricane.”
Hale steps up beside me, his heat a solid wall against the damp chill of the chamber.
I don’t give a fuck about the risk. This mortal shell is a cage, and I’m ready to smash it to pieces. Hale’s hand settles on my shoulder, but I don’t shake him off. I’ll need his fire if we’re heading into a void.
“We’re going,” I tell Blackridge. “You want me gone, SilverGate wants me gone. I want me gone.”
The headmaster doesn’t look surprised. He knows I’m right on all accounts. Tobin looks exhausted. Leith stands silent, his blue eyes fixed on the black stone. They’re all coming. It’s not a choice.
“The Foundations are not a destination for the weak,” Blackridge warns.
“I’m not weak,” I snap. “Open the way.”
“I can’t do that,” Blackridge says. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I say, resigned. “So where does that leave us?”
“With research to do,” Tobin says, almost as weary with this as I am.
“But can we? Can we research the Shadow Well without the academy trying to eat us?”
“One way to find out,” Leith says with a smirk.
“Hilarious,” I mutter, but I have to admit, he’s right. We are flying blind, and until we can figure this fucking Shadow Well business out, my body remains off-limits, and my clock is ticking.
Blackridge’s attention moves to the pillar. “Research won’t be enough.” He steps away from the pillar and checks the walls. The plaques remain dim, but a few flicker as if they’re listening. “The Shadow Well cannot be opened by knowledge. It responds to authority.”
“Mine,” I say.
“In theory.”
I inhale slowly and count to three. It doesn’t help. “If one more person says in theory or probably, I’m going to start removing tongues.”
Hale’s fire brightens. “I’ll hold them down.”
“Thank you, princey.”
Blackridge gives us both a look full of professional disappointment. “Your authority is incomplete in this body. You carry the resonance, not the full force. The Well may recognise you. It may also decide you are an imitation and strip you apart.”
“Colour me not shocked by this information.”
“It gets worse,” he says.
“Don’t add to the misery pile unless it’s useful.”
“The Well consumes unstable identities,” Blackridge says. “You don’t have access to your full name. Your current body belongs to SilverGate. Your original authority belongs to StormGate.”
“And?”
“And three claims on one existence create a fracture,” Blackridge says. “The Well will test which claim holds.”
Tobin presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose before looking at me. “If it tests identity, we need your name.”
“My full name is still unavailable, in case you missed the part where I coughed out ash.”
“I didn’t miss it,” he says. “I’m saying we need another anchor.”
Hale’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “The bond.”
Blackridge’s attention cuts to him. “Potentially.”
“Oh, don’t sound so thrilled,” I say. “You’ll strain something.”
“The bond may hold her current identity stable,” Tobin says, slowly now, like he’s arranging pieces on a board no one else can see. “But it also ties her to this body. If we use it as the main anchor, the Well may preserve the wrong form.”
“Then we don’t use it as the main anchor,” Leith says.
I look at him. “You have a better idea?”
“Death.”
The chamber goes colder.
Hale’s fire snaps higher. “No.”
Leith ignores him and looks at me. “Your first death remembers. StormGate stored it. Sovereign death preserved the path. If the Well tests identity, death may recognise the original claim before SilverGate’s body interferes.”
“That sounds too close to throwing me at a death wall and hoping it likes me,” I say.
Leith’s expression doesn’t change. “It already likes you.”
“Disturbing.”
“It chose you,” he corrects. “StormGate chose you. Death recorded it. The Well sits between those systems. If anything can pull your original identity through without shredding this body first, it’s the record of your first death.”
“My first death is annoying.”
“Yes, but eventful,” Tobin says, lowering his hand from his face. “That moment sits before your current identity. Before SilverGate renamed you. If we can access that record and bind it to your authority, it may anchor the Well to your original form.”
Hale looks ready to set the chamber on fire anyway. “You’re all saying words that sound clever, but the plan is still using death magic on her while she walks into a void.”
“I’ve had worse days,” I mutter.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous,” Leith says.
Blackridge steps away from the pillar and studies the dead plaques with an expression I dislike intensely. Too focused. Too prepared. He knows something, or he’s considering whether telling us will lead to less destruction than not telling us.
“Death may also decide to keep her,” Hale snaps.
Leith’s stare cuts to him. “Death doesn’t keep what belongs to chaos.”
“Helpful,” I say. “Put that on a plaque while I fight it.”
“Death isn’t a creature standing beside a door, Miss Asha. You cannot simply punch it until it gives you what you want.”
“I’ve had excellent results with that method.”
“Not here.”
Leith’s attention remains fixed on the pillar. “Death doesn’t keep what it cannot claim.”
“You said that already, just in different words, and you seem to forget I have died at least twice,” I say.
“The second death was SilverGate’s body failing,” Tobin says. “Temporary. It doesn’t matter in the same way.” He gives me a tired look. The gold around his silver eyes has faded, leaving him pale and too still. He hides the exhaustion well, but not well enough.
I shift closer before I think better of it. “Are you going to collapse?”
Tobin gives me a flat look. “I’m not that fragile.”
“You’ve been bleeding out of your face and unmaking ancient wards,” I say. “Forgive me for checking.”
A flicker of something warmer moves through his expression before the control locks back into place. “I’ll survive.”
“Good answer,” Hale mutters. “Not convincing.”
Blackridge turns from the plaques. “He’ll recover if he stops pushing his core for the next several hours.”
Tobin’s jaw sets. “That isn’t happening.”
“Then collapse later,” I say. “After you fix my life.”
His mouth curves but he remains silent.
I look back at Blackridge. “You’ve got that expression again.”
He doesn’t deny it. “If you want the Well to recognise your original authority, you’ll need three things.”
“Finally.”
“First, a stable pathway to the Foundations. Second, an anchor stronger than the identity SilverGate forced onto you. Third, a means of surviving the Well’s test long enough to reach the gate behind it.”
“Easy,” I say. “We’ve got none of those.”
“We have parts,” Tobin says quietly.
I glance at him. He’s gone into that mode where everything around him becomes pieces he can rearrange if he thinks hard enough.
“Think quicker. SilverGate is getting impatient,” I say as I feel the ground protest my very existence under my feet.
I don’t think anyone else can. No, this is for me and me alone.
A warning to get a move on and quit standing here debating the issue.
“Yes, it’s SilverGate that’s impatient,” Hale says.
I give him a quick smile, then feel the bond tug me towards him.
I place my hands on his chest, and he gives me a narrowed-eyed stare, but the suspicion doesn’t last long.
He grips my fingers tightly and bends to kiss the top of my head.
I let him because he is warm, and hot, and aggressively arrogant.
I want him in my life. I want all of them in my life.
But I want my old life back first, before I can commit to something that they may not survive.
I pull back from Hale’s heat, my skin tingling where his touch lingers.
“The path to the Foundations isn’t a walk down a corridor,” Blackridge says, his voice echoing off the silent silver plaques. “It’s a descent through the layers of the academy’s own psyche. It likes its definitions.”
“I’m done with its definitions,” I snap. “Tobin, find me that pathway. Leith, keep your death magic ready. I don’t care if the Well wants to keep me or shred me. I’m taking back what belongs to me.”
Tobin nods, his face a mask of weary determination. “I can find the route, but I’ll need to tap into the library’s core again. The journal that vanished didn’t just run away. It went to the Foundations. It’s a map.”
“The library’s black hole,” I say.
Blackridge gives me a look.
“What?” I shrug. “We saw things.”
“You saw things,” Hale points out. “We are just agreeing.”
I giggle and then shudder, before toppling over onto my arse. “Hey,” I growl at the ground. “I’m going, okay?”
“Who are you talking to?” Tobin asks.
“SilverGate. It wants me gone. Like yesterday.”
Hale reaches down and hauls me to my feet. I dust off my pants, and then turn my attention back to the headmaster. “Fine. If the Foundations want a goddess, I’ll give them one. But I’m not doing it without my reinforcements.”
Blackridge’s eyes flick from me to the three males standing like a wall of muscle and magic at my back. “I expected as much. You are a disruptive element, Miss Asha. It is only fitting you take your chaos with you.”
He leads us out of the chamber, the stone wall sealing behind us with a finality that makes my skin crawl, before he vanishes.
We trek back up the sloping passage, the purple-grey light flickering.
My mind is a mess of Shadow Wells and hollow gods, but one thing is clear to me.
I’m done being a passenger in this body.
“We need the library,” Tobin says, his voice sounding like it’s being pulled through gravel. He’s swaying slightly, his silver eyes dimming as the adrenaline fades.
“You need a bed,” I counter, grabbing his arm. “And so do I. We aren’t storming the basement of doom while you’re leaking power like a cracked vessel.”
“She’s right,” Leith says, his blue gaze scanning the shadows.
Tobin doesn’t argue, which is the most terrifying thing that’s happened all day. He lets me guide him back through the admin building, his weight leaning into mine just enough to prove he’s running on fumes.
“Hale, help him before he face-plants into the masonry,” I command.
Hale hooks an arm under Tobin’s shoulder, hoisting the witch up like a sack of expensive, exhausted flour.
Leith stalks beside us, his death magic a cold hum that keeps the curious students at bay as we cross the courtyard.
The rain hasn’t stopped, but it feels different now—less like weather and more like a countdown.
We hit the residence tower, and I kick my bedroom door open. Hale dumps Tobin onto the bed, and the witch is out for the count before his head even hits the pillows.
“Stay with him,” I say to Hale as I move to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“In here. I need to think without an audience.”
I shut the door and lean against the cool tile. The mirror is perfect, mocking me with its restored surface. I touch the glass, half-expecting more black script to bleed through, but it stays blank.
“Hollow is hidden,” I whisper to my reflection. “I will get my body back, and reclaim the Eclipse Throne if it kills me. Again.”