Page 66 of Darkbirch Academy

It doesn’t bother me, I decide, and focus on the immediate issues. Like trying to come to terms with the new sensation of… power coursing through me. I feel almost hesitant to move, like my body is a stranger to my own brain, like I’m no longer certain of my own abilities.

The shrilling of alarms grows louder overhead.

“We need to move. Now.” Dayn is across the room in an instant, his movements once again fluid and predatory. His fingers close around my wrist, the touch uncomfortably electric against my still-sensitive skin.

The urgency in his voice propels me forward despite my lingering disorientation and the fact that he’s the last person I want touching me right now. He pulls me out of the room toward the spiral staircase, his grip unyielding.

“Where are you going?” I ask, wrenching my hand away as we reach the base of the stairs. I cast one last glance back at Mazrov’s lifeless form before beginning the climb. Maybe I should feel a little somber, given that, at the end of the day, Mazrov was just a pawn in Heathborne’s power play: honored only for his usefulness, valued simply for being awilling guinea pig. But it’s a struggle to feel much except relief.

The shrilling grows louder, more insistent.

Dayn doesn’t answer my question, just scales the steps, casting illumination from his palm to guide us. We ascend the staircase at a punishing pace, but somehow my muscles don’t burn as much as they should after the effort of the ritual. My own body feels strange, lighter somehow, my movements imbued with a vitality that wasn’t there before.

The relentless wail of the alarms is joined now by distant shouts—guards mobilizing, the whole Academy awakening to threat within its walls.

When we reach the hallway at the top of the stairs, it pulses with red warning lights, the alarm system fully activated.

“Dayn,” I try again, frustrated. “Where exactly?—”

I stumble, a wave of sensation suddenly slamming into me with such force that I nearly double over. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before—a presence, no, multiple presences, flooding my awareness with an unmistakable signature.

“Darkbloods,” I gasp, my head snapping up toward the ceiling. “There are darkbloods in the building.”

The realization hits me with perfect clarity. Not just any darkbloods—trained operatives, at least two dozen, maybe more. I can sense them moving through the upper levels of Heathborne with deadly purpose. My newly heightened senses map their positions with startling precision, like pinpricks of familiar energy against the backdrop of clearblood signatures.

Is this something like what Mazrov felt, when he sensed me?It hits me suddenly, and I can’t help but wonder if, in anironic twist, I myself now have abilities similar to, or even stronger than, Mazrov’s. After all, we were both subjected to dragon essence, albeit via different methods.How far do these abilities stretch?I feel suddenly even more uncertain in my own skin.

A distant crash reverberates through the stone walls, followed by shouts and the unmistakable crackle of combat magic.Darkbirch agents.

“My people are here,” I whisper, then louder, “They’re here!” Urgency courses through me.

“Esme—” Dayn starts, but I’m already moving, breaking away from him and heading toward the nearest stairwell that will take me up.

“They’ve come for me,” I say, certainty flooding through me. The timing can’t be coincidental—my grandmother’s warning, the urgency in her fractured message. She must have sent them, knowing what was about to happen.I need to get to them.

Dayn moves with inhuman speed, suddenly blocking my path. “You can’t go up there.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Get out of my way!” I hiss. I try to sidestep him, but he mirrors my movement.

“Your magic is unstable,” he insists, his eyes flaring gold at the edges. “The blood exchange, the ritual—you have no idea what you’re capable of right now. It’s too dangerous.”

“For whom?” I demand. “For me, or for your plans?”Whatever they even are.

Another explosion rocks the building, dust raining from the ceiling. The sounds of battle grow louder—magical discharges, shouts of pain, running footsteps.

“They’re fighting and dying while we stand here arguing,”I snarl. “They came for me, Dayn. I’m not going to hide while they risk their lives!”

I try to move past him again, but his hand shoots out, gripping my shoulder.

I flash him a dangerous look. “Unhand me.”

His fingers dig into my shoulder, the pressure just shy of painful. “No,” he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes the air around us vibrate. “I can’t let you leave.”

Something in me snaps. Maybe it’s the dragon blood coursing through my veins, maybe it’s my newly transformed darkblood essence, or maybe it’s just the culmination of days spent dancing to Dayn’s tune. Whatever the cause, power surges through me like a tidal wave, dark and potent.

I don’t think—I act. My hand flies up, breaking his grip with a twist I learned in my first year at Darkbirch. Shadows leap from my fingertips, solid as steel but fluid as water, wrapping around his wrists like living shackles.

Surprise flashes across his face, quickly replaced by something darker. “Interesting,” he murmurs. He flexes his wrists against the shadow restraints, his expression darkening. “Release me.” The command carries weight, but I stand my ground, the shadows tightening in response to my resolve.

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