Page 19 of The Shadows Beyond
Cinn stuck to Noir like glue as the old man tore across the campus, alongside hundreds of others. Vaguely, he understood that his particular hands would not be at all useful in whatever ‘attack’ was taking place, but he had no idea of where else to go. So, he followed.
It didn’t take long to trace the smoke in the sky all the way to the source.
And what a sight it was.
The building, composed of massive slabs of azure-blue bricks, was dome shaped and several stories tall. At least, ithadbeen, because a large portion of it was cracking, slipping, crumbling to the ground with almighty crashes. Just visible through the increasingly thick smoke were three black circular shapes hovering in the sky. They were ebony-black, yet they hurt to look at, like bright light.
Though he took several stumbling steps backwards, dozens of people streamed past him, jostling Cinn in their rush to get closer to the auditorium.
The Cerulean Auditorium.
Where Julien had gone to watch that guest lecturer he was so excited about. Was he still inside the building? Cinn shouldn’t care about that rude asshole, especially after he’d abandoned him earlier. That he did infuriated him greatly—his inability not to care about others had always been his most vulnerable point.
Noir had left him, or he’d left Noir. Either way, he was now alone in the crowd of frightened watchers.
An abrupt shrieking sound had his eyes magnetising back upwards, to the black voids. To his horror, bursts of red light launched out of them, streaming like fireworks. Fireworks that burst into flames. Not the warm orange glow of a fireplace but wickedly dark flames. Crimson-red flames. Scarlet-red flames. Blood-red flames. Hungry flames.
Within a heartbeat, the unnatural-hued flames coiled and danced like malevolent spirits desperate for destruction as they engulfed the entire building.
Cinn pressed his fist to his mouth in a silent scream. How many people was he watching die?
The first telltale signs of Cinn losing himself to the dark place—of Cinnshadowslipping—began. Sweaty palms. Heart racing impossibly fast. The sensation that he was floating, untethered to this world. He fell to his knees just as the metal on his wrist began to burn. A hiss of pain escaped him as he inspected the bangle. There was no visible injury to his skin. The metal cooled and with it, the symptoms of his affliction.
Strong hands pulled him roughly to his feet. “Cinn! We’ve been worried about you! Are you okay?”
Cinn turned to find Darcy’s concerned eyes piercing his. “I’m fine. But isn’t that where Julien…” He gestured to the burning inferno.
Her lips pressed into a grimace, then her eyes widened as she shouted, “Elliot!”
In three strides, Elliot crossed the thick crowd, throwing his arms around Darcy and squeezing her to him. “I just got here. About to go ask what I can do. Is Julien still in there?” His voice cracked on Julien’s name, and the primal fear etched onto Elliot’s face was echoed on Darcy’s. “Stay here. I’m going inside to find him.”
“Don’t be stupid!” Darcy shrieked, gripping Elliot’s arm. She looked to Cinn, as if he would be any use in this crisis. There was no way he would be able to restrain Elliot, the man was built like a brick wall. “That could be suicide. Let them—”
Elliot brought his hands up to cup her face. “It’sJulien,Darce. Julien.We can’t lose anyone else. I don’t know what I’d do if—”
“Luckily, we don’t need to find out.”
Three heads snapped towards the French accent.
“Oh!” cried Darcy, launching herself at Julien with such velocity that Cinn flinched backwards.
Elliot appeared to be holding himself back from also throwing himself at Julien. He settled for grabbing the hand that wasn’t rubbing Darcy’s back.
Relief coursed through Cinn’s veins, and he couldn’t help but smile at the three friends. Their obvious devotion to each other tugged on his heartstrings, causing a surge of unexpected homesickness.
“Alright?”
It took several seconds for Cinn to clock that Julien was talking to him. He nodded in response, turning back to the auditorium. The chaos was now organised—security guard-like figures pushed the crowds back, and a line of people dressed in dark uniforms stood next to the building, palms raised. Although the thick smoke obscured his view, it appeared they were trying to extinguish the flames using massive balls of swirling water.
“Those officers are our gendarmerie.”
Transfixed, Cinn stared, unblinking. It was like he’d stepped into a movie. A movie with black holes in the sky and superheroes andmagic.
The surrounding air crackled with a malevolent energy. With a bright flash, the grass to the left of them burst into the same red flames, only for a passing moment, the fire vanishing to leave a smoking, charred symbol on the ground. Shocked gasps circulated through the crowd as people began to point in various directions—several other patches were appearing, burnt into the ground, spaced out across the lawn.
Cinn took one cautious step towards the closest one. The symbol was a twisted amalgamation of jagged lines and intersecting circles, itschaotic design defying any sense of order or symmetry. A central circle was marred by sharp lines slashing through it, like a blade cutting through reality itself. Radiating outward, smaller circles intersected with the main form, resembling ripples of disruption originating from a pebble dropped into a pond. The words to explain why eluded Cinn, but it was an unsettling sight.
“It’s the mark of the Arcane Purifiers,” Elliot hissed. “They must have been targeting today’s speaker, Julien. Your guy, Valerius Weaver. Else they would have attacked the Solstice Atrium, or St. Caelum’s. It makes sense, given Weaver’s outspokenness about furthering motetech.”
