Chapter 18
Rynlee’s POV
Steam curled around me as hot water rushed down my back, soaking through my hair and easing the stiffness in my shoulders.
I stood there beneath the spray, letting the heat melt away the remnants of yesterday’s fight, but my thoughts refused to quiet.
Aiden had come too close to the truth about Alaric and I.
Too close to seeing what was really happening.
And gods, he was acting so strange. Possessive one moment, distant the next.
I ran my fingers through my wet hair and tilted my head back into the stream when a sharp pain flared in my neck.
“Ah—” I flinched, my hand flying to the bandage there.
The lights above flickered violently. My breath caught. “What the hell?” I whispered.
Then… I saw it.
A long, black, clawed hand gripped the tiled wall just beyond the edge of the steam.
My pulse spiked. I stumbled back, snatching a towel and wrapping it tightly around myself.
And then it stepped forward. The thing had to be ten feet tall, its limbs stretched and gangly, moving as if it were disjointed, wrong.
Its skin was black and mottled, almost shifting like smoke clinging to bone.
Red eyes glowed in its skull-like face. It tilted its head at an unnatural angle with a sickening crack.
My back hit the cold tile. My breath hitched.
It smiled with rows of jagged, needle-like teeth bared at me, and before I could scream again, it lunged.
I threw my arms up instinctively; golden light erupted around me in a dome-shaped shield just as its claws slammed into it.
The barrier held. Then everything grew silent.
No scraping, no screaming, only silence and the faint drip of water.
I cracked one eye open, and the thing was gone.
The bathroom lights flickered once more and then steadied.
Steam still curled in the air like nothing had happened.
The wall where its claws had been? Spotless.
I lowered my shield, my hands trembling, heart thundering in my chest. “What the actual fuck?” I whispered. I stumbled forward, eyes scanning the room, corners, mirrors, vents.
Nothing.
No trace of the creature. No evidence it was real.
Except for the lingering chill in the air.
I didn’t wait. I bolted barefoot back to my dorm, my towel clutched tightly around me, the hallways strangely quiet at this hour.
Gia was already asleep, curled up under her blankets.
I dressed quickly in the dark, hands shaking as I pulled on my pajamas and climbed into bed.
I faced the wall, pulling the covers up to my chin.
But sleep didn’t come. Because every time I closed my eyelids, I saw those red eyes in the shadows.
And the thing with the smile that wanted me dead.
“Whoa, you look like shit,” Ryan commented as we took our seats for Magic History with Professor Quinnell.
“Ryan, sometimes you should really learn when to shut up,” I snapped, shooting him a glare.
He raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Whoa, sorry. You’re right.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Sorry, I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is it because you and Alaric are…” he trailed off, raising his brows and making an obscene gesture with his fingers, index through thumb.
My cheeks burned. “What? No!” I smacked his hands down, mortified. “Gods, Ryan, no. And also, how the hell do you even know about him and me?”
He smirked. “Come on, Ryn. It’s kind of obvious. The way he sits next to you, how he’s always touching you? You two give off serious we’re together but trying not to be obvious vibes.” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. If Ryan could figure it out, that probably meant everyone knew.
“Does everyone else know?” I muttered, peeking at him through my fingers.
Ryan’s smug grin only widened. “What do you think?”
“Great,” I mumbled, just as Professor Quinnell strode into the room.
“Good morning, class,” he greeted, placing a heavy stack of parchment down and preparing his projector.
My gaze flicked to Ryan again; he’d been sitting in Sofia’s old seat for weeks now.
It always tugged at me. I could still picture her there, clutching one of her ancient tomes to her chest, eyes wide behind her glasses.
She should’ve made it to the top. She deserved to.
“Today, we’ll be discussing light magic and the role it plays in sustaining our kingdom’s balance,” Quinnell announced, fiddling with a glowing crystal that began projecting symbols onto the wall. But I couldn’t concentrate. I was running on fumes from another sleepless night.
The image of that creature—red eyes, too-long limbs, that smile—still haunted me.
And now this whole mess with Alaric. If Ryan knew, how long before Aiden found out?
And would he even care? He had Jasmine. Yet the way he acted the other day, possessive, furious over Ryan hugging me, it didn’t feel like indifference.
It felt like something else entirely. Something dangerous.
“Cadet Yarrows,” Professor Quinnell’s voice cut through my thoughts, jolting me upright. “Where do we draw most of our light magic from?” My brain went completely blank.
“I-I’m sorry, what?” Some of the other first-years snickered, and heat crept up the back of my neck.
“I asked,” Quinnell repeated, “where do we draw the majority of our light magic from?” I scrambled, mind reeling. I knew this answer. My father drilled it into me a hundred times.
“Uh, the runes within the Celetian Mountain,” I finally said.
“We discovered them thousands of years ago, and we’ve been drawing magic from them ever since.
But—” I paused, my eyes narrowing, “—we also uncovered black magic there. At least, according to a book I found in our very own library.” The entire class went still.
“Black magic?” Quinnell echoed sharply, his spine stiffening. “I can assure you, cadet Yarrows, that is a false claim. We do not use black magic. Nor have we ever discovered it.” He shifted, just slightly, from one foot to the next.
My brow arched. “Are you sure? Because the book wasn’t exactly subtle about it. It said we dug too deep. That something dark was awakened in the process.”
“It’s a myth, cadet Yarrows,” he replied, more firmly now.
“A tale spun from fear and misinformation. We draw power from the earth and runes. Nothing more. Leave the talk of black magic to bedtime stories and Blood Assassin propaganda.” But his stance didn’t convince me.
Not after seeing how Professor Wicken reacted the other day.
They were all pushing the same denial. Either they genuinely didn’t know the truth. Or they were too afraid to speak it.
After class, I didn’t wait. The moment the bell rang, I snatched my satchel, shoved my notebook inside, and stormed into the hall.
Ryan caught up a few steps later, half-jogging to match my pace.
“So…” he drawled, “on a scale of ‘I’m fine’ to ‘I just poked a hornet’s nest with a flaming stick,’ where are we landing today? ”
I shot him a look. “He lied.”
Ryan nodded sagely. “We’re going with a flaming stick, then.”
I slowed only slightly, my thoughts racing. “Did you see how tense he got? The way he shifted his stance. That wasn’t just discomfort. That was fear.”
He whistled low. “You really made him squirm, though. Not gonna lie, I was half-convinced he’d combust on the spot. Poof! All that pressed linen and righteous denial, up in smoke.”
“Ryan, this is serious.”
He sobered a little. “I know. I noticed it, too. The twitch in his jaw. The way he flat-out said it was propaganda, or some tale formed out of fear. Classic avoidance tactic.” We turned down the corridor toward the courtyard, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows in broken gold lines.
“I don’t get it,” I said, more to myself than to him. “If it’s a myth, why would we even have a book like that in our library? Especially if it was blood assassin propaganda.”
Ryan gave a low chuckle. “Because once you admit something’s real, you have to deal with it. And gods forbid our pristine, rune-powered kingdom admit it might’ve stirred something a little… abyss-y.”
I halted. “What if they did? Stir something, I mean. The book said they dug too deep, that they had awakened something. And Professor Wicken practically shut down when Luna asked about the mountain the other day. Now Quinnell’s doing verbal gymnastics to dodge the truth.”
Ryan’s smile faded. “And here I was hoping we’d get through first year without unleashing any ancient horrors.”
I looked at him. “You don’t think it’s just Blood Assassin propaganda, do you?”
He hesitated. “I used to. But after today?” He ran a hand through his blond hair, unusually serious.
“The professors are hiding something. And whatever it is… it scares them.” The silence between us stretched, filled with more weight than I wanted to admit.
Wind stirred the trees in the courtyard, sending shadows flickering across the stone floor.
“I think we need to go back to the library,” I said finally. “Find that book again. Maybe see what else was in that section.”
“But I’m going to miss my alchemy class,” Ryan commented sarcastically.
I let out a soft giggle. “Come on, we’re going to skip our next classes unless, of course, you would prefer to be learning about potions?”
“Pfft, no way, Alchemy class is boring, so I’m in.”
“Good, let’s go, but we've got to try and not be noticed, or at least caught.”
He paused, then grinned. “Sneaky is my middle name.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the grin on my lips. Ryan and I made a beeline for the library.
“No one saw us, right?” I asked as we slipped through the heavy double doors, my voice low but casual.