Page 130 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“Yes, dad.” I said as he elbowed my side. “I’m gonna go, I’ve got stuff to do… You’ll see Sage home?”

“Always. You’re okay?”

“Always.” I echoed, before apparating away.

Sixty-Eight

Sage

The music room was littered with Theo’s notes on portable forcefields. Adeline had taken the liberty of deeply carving her corrections into the paper in red ink. And with them scattered on the floor below us it was giving very low budget murder scene vibes. On any other day I’d make the observation out loud, but I’d already shattered two orbs so far and didn’t want to call any attention to myself when she’d already chopped up the notes.

“Sage, I need you to focus, I can’t keep stopping to sweep the shards away.”

The bloody shard protruding from Cillian’s back.

I jumped, plunging back into reality without any warning of leaving it. Dropping another orb I stood and began to pace. Running my fingers through my knotted curls, gripping the knots and pulling in frustration. Why couldn’t I escape this? Maybe I really was insane this time.

“Sage, are you okay?” Adeline looked at me with open concern.

Would she freak out if I started to cry? Probably. I held the threatening tears at bay and continued to pace wordlessly. It was all I did any more.

Like a caged tiger I had fallen prey to some primal instinct that convinced me answers were just around the next bend. That if I kept walking I’d be able to process the flood of emotions that was drowning out every other aspect of my life.

Adeline watched me now, calm in the face of the insane beast. It should settle me, but instead it seemed to encourage my mind to launch into the unsolved mysteries of my mind.

I was free, I should feel elated, relieved, excited. Instead I was… I didn’t really know what I was. Perhaps I’d been repressing my emotions too long to recognise what any of them were any more. Maybe like an unused language I’d forgotten everything but a few words and now when I finally began to listen again… it didn’t matter. I was lost to myself, so afraid of fate and her fickle gift that I’d shut myself off from the very core of my own identity. Who was I? What did I want? Did I still care about The Run? Did it really matter if I beat anyone, let alone everyone? I’d been training all semester, dodging taunts and traps, focusing on not just catching up but surpassing others that had never been afraid of their own magic, never had to suppress their gifts, never thought they were insane because of it.

I’d gained some semblance of control and comfort through my suppression, being able to go about my daily life without worrying I was going mad from seeing colours in the wind, or pictures in the water. But now… it felt as if those colours had been dumped and mixed into a greyish brown and it was up to me to separate them back out.

I stopped at the large stained glass window, tracing the warm metal outlines with my back to Adeline while I let a few tears leak through.

All I’d wanted my entire life was to be free. Free to explore, free of my visions, free of the pressure to mask around anyone and everyone so as to avoid popping their perfect picture of who I was to them. And then I came here, hoping to find keys to my problems only to be saddled with more mysteries and chains. So when this obvious and all consuming chain was broken why did I feel closer to grief than I did to joy?

Our fake relationship was at an end. Its reason for being was no longer in effect. It seemed Cillian had already gotten the hint as he’d stopped messaging me. Maybe we were already done, the marks on our wrists the only finality needed. I knew lots of people that had complained of being ghosted by their suitors. In a fake relationship maybe it was even more common. Would that be easier? If I never confronted him at all? Or would these tangled feelings continue to grow without that final word?

I pulled out my phone for the millionth time, staring at our message thread. I’d only started the conversation once, when I’d needed his help with the floorboard. Maybe he was waiting for me to reach out? But then… I’d just saved his life, surely that deserved a thank you text at least right? Or maybe he was just glad to be rid of me. Wiping the tears from my face I turned around.

Adeline glanced between my phone and whatever expression I had on my face, a knowing look on her own. Maybe Cillian had already told her his plan to break things off. Maybe she didn’t want to tell me. Maybe I was supposed to ask. But I couldn’t, my throat had swollen so as to make talking or casting nearly impossible.

“I… I can’t.” I managed to choke out.

“You can’t what, Sage?” She asked quietly. She knew, she had to know. She knew everything.

I gestured at the globe and then continued gesturing erratically at the room and then pointed accusingly out the window. My arms then fell to my sides.

“Enlightening.” She said with a touch more of her normal dryness.

I laughed wetly, apparently the tears were back. Maybe I could talk about part of my problem, leave the Cillian bit out of it.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling of dread.”

“Dread?”

“Yes! Unease, Foreboding, anxiety, whatever you wanna call it.”

“I’m familiar with the definition. I was simply surprised by the emotion.” She gave me a look as if to say she was aware I was skirting the main issue.

“Yes well it’s driving me insane, this emotion is I mean.” I stutter out.

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