Page 104 of Owned

The black smoke of his magic poured from his fingertips and wound through the keyhole and around the edges of the door.

A smile flitted over Bastian’s angelic features as he clenched his fist and his magic tightened.

I barely had time to raise my arm to shield my face before the headmaster’s door exploded inward.

Dust and splinters rained down, and I was already moving through the wreckage.

Behind me, Bastian’s laughter rang sharp and clear.

The study was dark despite the sunlight spilling in from the shattered hallway. Shelves lined with ornate leather tomes clungto the walls, and a large mahogany desk sat like a monument to arrogance in the center of the room.

Red faced with anger, Elder Ireni Ubaris rose from behind it. His robes were tangled and, as recognition dawned on him, his eyes widened with incredulous terror.

“Tiberius Romano!” He spat my birth name like a curse as he staggered to his feet. “I should have known—”

“You should have,” Bastian said, cutting him off as he stepped over a smoldering piece of door frame. “But don’t insult us by pretending you don’t know why we’re here, Headmaster.”

Bastian’s magic coiled through the air, an inky serpent that wound its way toward the old man with predatory precision.

“Wait!” The old man’s voice cracked with desperation. “There must be some mistake—I haven’t—”

“Save your breath,” I said coldly.

My brother’s magic struck and wrapped around the Elder’s wrists like vipers as he screamed—a sound that cut through me in a way I refused to acknowledge. It was an echo of something older. Something I couldn’t afford to remember.

“Get on with it,” I snapped.

Bastian shot me a look but didn’t argue. The smoke twisted tighter, binding our captive until he collapsed under its weight with a strangled cry.

“Now, now,” Bastian said, as his magic tugged the old man forward. The headmaster stumbled and then fell to the ground with an undignified crash.

Pulled along by the black smoke, the old man slid across the dark parquet floor and came to a stop at Bastian’s feet.

Bastian crouched down to look at his captive. His pale eyes glinted with malice. “You should be happy to see us. We’ve come bearing news, delightful news! You see, our father has decided it’s time for a little... restructuring at Messana Academy.” Hepunctuated his statement with a casual wave of his hand, as if discussing the weather.

“You have no authority here,” the fallen Sage choked out.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken,” I interjected.

“Authority comes in many forms,” Bastian continued casually. “But surely, headmaster, you would agree that traitors can be afforded no such courtesy.”

I wasn’t a question.

“Your threats are meaningless,” Elder Ubaris insisted, but his composure had already slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Bastian let out a chuckle as he straightened.

I looked down at the old man and felt nothing but contempt for him. A thin line of blood trickled down from his hairline and tracked down his withered cheek.

“Meaningless?” I said. “You mistake our intentions. We’re not here to threaten you, old man—you already know what’s waiting for you.”

Bastian smirked at the old man’s futile resistance.

“You can’t just—” The Elder’s voice cracked, a hint of panic threaded through his voice.

“Can’t just what?” I interrupted. “Take everything you cherish away? Remove your arrogant old ass from your seat? Consider this a matter of perspective—”

“From a certain point of view,” Bastian quipped, “you’re fucked!”

---