Page 52 of Goody Magic Academy: Year Three

Suddenly, before I could process what was happening, a blurry figure appeared in my peripheral vision and came between Balthazar and me. The sickening sound of metal piercing flesh filled the air, followed by an agonized scream.

Jaxon crumpled, his body falling onto mine like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and I felt something warm and wet spreading across my skin. With mounting horror, I realized it was Jaxon’s blood.

The blade protruded from Jaxon’s chest, buried to the hilt. His eyes, filled with desperate love, met mine for just a brief moment before the light in them went out and they fluttered closed.

“No!” I screamed, the word tearing from my throat in a raw, anguished cry. “Jaxon! Jaxon!” My hands clutched at him frantically, feeling the warmth rapidly leaving his body. I could smell the metallic scent of his blood mixing with the acrid stench of his burned flesh, a horrifying cocktail that made my stomach heave.

Balthazar’s cold laugh cut through my grief. “He’s dead,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “No supernatural can survive a hellish blade.”

The words swung into me like a wrecking ball, driving the air from my lungs. I cradled Jaxon’s lifeless body against me, feeling the sticky warmth of his drying blood coating my skin. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with his blood on my cheeks.

The church was silent save for my ragged sobs echoing off the stone walls. Jaxon’s sacrifice ate away at me, threatening to consume what little strength I had left. In that moment, cradling the body of the man I loved, I felt more alone and vulnerable than I had ever been before.

But beneath the crushing grief, a defiant spark of rage stirred. Jaxon had given his life to save mine. I couldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain. As I held him, a new resolve hardened within me. This wasn’t over.

As if in answer to my desperate, unspoken prayer, a deafening crash made the entire church shake. The massive wooden doors exploded inward, splinters and debris flying through the air like shrapnel. I instinctively ducked, shielding Jaxon’s lifeless body with my own.

Through the cloud of dust and wooden fragments, a blinding light pierced the gloom and my eyes widened as a magnificent silver dragon burst into the sanctuary. Its scales shone like mirrors, reflecting the chaos around us. With a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of the church, the dragon spewed a torrent of fire.

The stream of silver flame engulfed the broken pews and the desecrated altar, intensely hot, washing over my bare skin in waves. The acrid smell of burning wood mixed with the already oppressive odors of blood and decay created a noxious cocktail that made my eyes water and my throat burn.

Members of the Bloodborne Brotherhood scattered like cockroaches exposed to light as they dove for cover. Even Ari, the demon who had seemed so formidable mere moments ago, scrambled to get away. The fear in his eyes was palpable, completely different to his earlier bravado.

My heart leapt. This could only be Raven Acosta. Help had arrived, but was it too late?

Amid the chaos, only Balthazar and the high priestess held their ground. Their unwavering stance sent a chill down my spine, despite the inferno raging around us.

I clutched Jaxon’s body tighter to my chest, my skin still sticky with his blood. “Please, please,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the roar of the flames. My hands trembled as I grasped the hilt of the hellish blade still protruding from his chest. With a nauseating, wet squelch, I yanked it free before tossing it aside. “Wake up,” I pleaded, shaking him gently. “You’re a vampire. You can’t die.” But his badly clawed and burned body remained still, his eyes closed, his chest motionless.

A flash of movement caught my attention. The high priestess, her face contorted with malicious determination, was aiming the Dragon Nexus at Raven. Realization struck me like lightning.

“Raven!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “Shift!”

My warning came too late. The Dragon Nexus pulsed with an otherworldly power, tendrils of energy lashing out toward the silver dragon. Raven’s agonized shriek cut through the air like a chainsaw.

The high priestess’ lips curled into a triumphant smirk. “You will die,” she crowed, her voice oozing malice. “And once you’re dead, Raven, I’ll kill every supernatural being with a mixed bloodline. Purebloods will rule again.”

Her words sent a wave of horror washing over me. This was bigger than just me or Jaxon. The fate of all mixed bloodlines hung in the balance.

Suddenly, a familiar, ragged male voice cut through the cacophony. “Peyton, quickly! Go get help! You can’t fight this on your own.”

My father’s words jolted me back to reality. I was naked, weaponless, cradling the lifeless body of the man I loved, whileRaven fought against the power of the Dragon Nexus. The odds were stacked impossibly against us.

With every fiber of my being screaming in protest, I gently laid Jaxon’s body on the ground. Tears streamed down my face as I placed a final kiss on his cold lips. Then, summoning a strength I hadn’t known I possessed, I forced myself to stand.

As the world spun around me, a dizzying kaleidoscope of fire, silver scales, and malevolent faces, one thought burst into my mind with razor-sharp clarity: I had to get help. It was the only way to save Raven, to honor Jaxon’s sacrifice, and to protect all mixed bloodlines.

With a last, anguished look at Jaxon’s still form, I turned and ran, my bare feet pounding on the stone floor, driven by desperation and the fading hope that somehow I could turn this nightmare around.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Istaggered through the swamp, each step sending shockwaves of pain through my battered body. The muggy air clung to my skin, heavy with the stench of decay and smoke from the burning church. My bare feet slapped against the muddy ground, bringing fresh torment whenever sticks and broken twigs tore at my flesh.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish that wracked my soul. The image of Jaxon’s lifeless face flashed before my eyes with every blink. The sound of Raven’s agonized shrieks echoed in my ears, drowning out the squelch of mud and the rustle of leaves as I pushed through the undergrowth.

When I felt I had put a safe distance between myself and the nightmarish scene at the church, I stopped. I was panting heavily and my lungs burned, each breath tasting of smoke and failure. With a thought that felt more like surrender than decision, I shifted into my dragon form.

---