Page 62 of Darkness and Deceit
My hands tremble and I clench them into fists at my side.
Simon appears beside me like a shadow falling into step, his blade already unsheathed. I glance at him, but his face is unreadable. All steel and silence.
We climb the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder with every step. I reach for the tether, trying to find that steady pulse ofhim, of Kai, but all I get is static. Smoke. Silence.
The doors open to chaos.
The courtyard is full of people.
Injured students huddle in clusters.
Professors move between them, shouting orders.
The sky is still dark with smoke, and the scent of scorched earth and ash clings to everything. Out past the gates, the forest glows with fading firelight—patches of that strange blue flame still licking at the ground like it’s hungry.
Bennett stands near the center, her crow perched on her shoulder. She’s covered in dust and blood, but her stance is steady. When her eyes find mine, something shifts. Her mouth opens then closes. She doesn’t speak.
“Where are they?” I ask. She knows exactly who I mean.
Her jaw tightens. “There were losses.”
The words hit like a punch. “Who?”
“I don’t know yet,” she says. “The Keepers are still sorting through the wounded. The fire disrupted everything. We couldn’t get to everyone in time.”
“Fuck. I should’ve been out there.”
Bennett’s jaw tightens. “There are rules in place for a reason.”
“Rules?” I spit. “Is that what you call locking us in while people were dying?”
“Defense-based magic is restricted for first-years,” she says, tone clipped. “Too much power, too soon, leads to casualties. Control must come before chaos.”
I laugh, and it’s a cold and hollow sound. “Tell that to the dead.”
Simon tenses beside me, but before he can say anything, a commotion stirs near the entrance to the west wing, and then I see him.
Vaughn stumbles into view, blood soaked through his shirt, his hair tangled and wild. He’s limping, barely upright, and pushing past a healer who’s trying to get him to stop.
My breath catches.
I sprint toward him.
“Are you—” I don’t even finish. My hands go to his arms, his chest, his face, searching for wounds. But the blood isn’t his.
“It’s Kai’s,” Vaughn says, voice rough with exhaustion.
Everything inside me stills.
“He’s alive,” he adds quickly, clutching my shoulders. “But... it’s bad.”
I don’t wait for more. I grab his hand, dragging him back the way he came. Simon falls into step beside us, jaw tight, eyes scanning.
We push through the chaos—past fallen stone, broken glass, overwhelmed healers and students crying into each other’s arms. I catch a flash of white coats and glowing glyphs up ahead and veer toward them.
The healing wing is overwhelmed. Beds spill into the hallways. Names are shouted, instructions barked, sobs rising behind closed doors.
I barely register any of it.
