Page 28 of Shadowed Fate

"Brigid Ryan, shadow witch?" I say with a humorless laugh. "Or Brigid Ryan, complete fraud."

But even as the doubt gnaws at me, something else stirs.

I look at the schedule again. Something called The Harrowing training is listed for this afternoon. My first class. Despite everything, a tiny flame of excitement lights up inside me. I'm petrified, yes, but also curious. Eager, even.

"Well," I say to the empty room, "I guess it's time to see if I can fake it till I make it."

Chapter 14

Brigid

I notice the stares before I even cross the threshold.

I keep my eyes fixed ahead as I enter the classroom, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

The smell of chalk dust, paper, and something acrid—like sulphur matches—is in the air.

Weird brass instruments and bubbling vials line shelves along the side walls, glowing with an otherworldly illumination that makes the hair on my arms stand up. I scan the rows of seats, searching for an empty one at the back.

I beeline for an open spot, second row from the last.

As I slide into the seat, my knife presses reassuringly against my hip through the pocket of my sweater. A habit from my old life that I can't seem to shake, even in this magical place where a blade seems woefully inadequate protection.

A tall man, stocky and brutish, with a shaved head and a long beard down to the middle of his chest, walks in and takes his place at the front.

The man clears his throat, silencing the remaining chatter. "Welcome, students, to your first preparatory class for the Harrowing. I am Professor Azaeron.”

I've heard whispers about the Harrowing since arriving at Grimstone, but no one seems willing to discuss it openly, not that I’ve had a chance to talk to many others yet.

"For those of you who are unaware, this semester will be spent preparing you for your initiation test.” The professor continues, his voice grave, "The Harrowing is not merely an exam. It is a test of survival that separates the wheat from the chaff."

My stomach churns at the professor’s words.

What have I gotten myself into?

A boy two seats over calls out. "More like separates the living from the dead."

I feel the color drain from my face.

Professor Azaeron continues talking about the dangers we'll encounter during the test. I should be paying attention, but my mind races, trying to wrap my head around what I've walked into.

This isn't just a school—it's a goddam death trap.

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, I think I've made a terrible mistake coming here. But then I remember I didn’t really have much of a choice.

I shudder to think about what Lochan would have done if I'd resisted. He probably would have knocked me out and carried me off over his shoulder like a caveman.

The professor’s voice cuts through my spiral of anxiety. "The Harrowing consists of three components: strength, magic, and reasoning. You will be tested to your absolute limits in each area. My task is to help you prepare to the best of your abilities so that you pass the test and continue on at the academy.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. I can feel the stress radiating from the other students.

"Make no mistake," he says, his eyes scanning the room, "some have died attempting the Harrowing. It is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly, I feel a presence beside me.

Someone slides into the empty seat, their movement stealthy and deliberate. I turn my head slightly, trying not to draw attention to myself.

It’s him.

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