Page 151 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“No.” Theo and I said at the same time. Sage’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she sighed.

“C’mon, it’s this way.”

“How do you know it’s the right one?” I asked, following after her.

“Because you’re not the only one with a slight knowledge of religion. Me and Theo grew up mundane. They kinda shove church down your throat where we’re from.”

“We’d recognise Gabe anywhere.” Theo said, pushing past a tree and letting the branch swing back towards me.

“Don’t call him, Gabe.” I muttered. “Also this one isn’t Gabriel. It’s the Virgin Mary. She will, hopefully, point us towards the angel Gabriel.”

“It’s here.” Sage whispered softly, climbing over the remains of a stone wall.

In a small clearing stood an almost perfectly intact statue of Mary. Her head bowed in subservience under her modest garb. She was turned to the left, no doubt facing her counterpart somewhere across the campus.

“I’ll cast a repellent around the perimeter,” Cillian said. His long legs carrying him off in less than a second.

Sage reached into her bag for The Bible, as she approached the revered figure. I stepped forward, joining her at her side as she opened the book to the next page. When nothing immediately happened we glanced at each other. She blinked down at me. Sighing with frustration, I held my hand over the pages, letting my magic bleed into the delicate paper. Sage’s hand settled atop my own as she concentrated on letting her own magic out.

Within moments, the usual swirling script flowed across the page, sparkling in the moonlight.

Scroll-bearer soaked in life,

Find him bathed in nights split light.

The ebb and flow must both be so,

To end magic’s night of woe

“Have I said how much I detest riddles?”

“I’m beginning to dislike them too.” Sage answered.

“Should we write it down somewhere or?” Cillian asked.

“No, it just stays in the book till we need it. Adeline says it’s better not to have any further evidence of what we’re doing.”

“Oh, well ifAdelinesays that’s what we should do…”

“Fine. That’s probably the smartest thing to do anyway,” Cillian cut off Theo’s sarcastic remarks. “Is there any point continuing tonight?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so. The other riddles have all been during different phases of the moon. I can’t see why this one would be any different… Which means we have a while to figure it out.” I replied.

“Yeah, I agree. Plus I’m absolutely wet through. We can figure out tomorrow or another day… I wanna get somewhere warm,”

Cillian wrapped his arms around her and whispered something about doing something to warm her up, which made me simultaneously jealous and want to rip off my own ears.

Seventy-Nine

Adeline

Islammed the laptop closed with force. Not able to shake the feeling of needing to do more, needing to help, not being enough. I felt anxious all the time, my skin was crawling like I needed to break free of this seemingly mortal confinement. I knew deep down it was the dark magic, my feeling of uselessness magnified by the negative energy. It sucked the life out of you, literally. But I needed to push harder if I was going to make a difference in this building war. There had been four further attacks since what happened at the children’s hospital and with each one I threw myself deeper into dark magic use, researched every possible avenue I could think of, and reached out to every professional I had contact with. All to no avail. I was no further along than I had been two years ago. And the extremists were only getting smarter, more cunning. They weren’t just one step ahead, they were ten. Every curse they used already had defensive magic infused so it couldn’t be broken down, couldn’t be cured. Every time I got close to figuring it out they used a new version, one more sophisticated, more lethal.

I opened the ancient tome I had snuck out of the library, the pages whisper thin and almost translucent. Each turn of the page revealed intricate drawings and almost illegible script. I got out the required supplies, including ingredients and instruments I wouldn’t normally keep stocked. That had been an interesting weekend, trying to find the necessary sacrificial blade without raising suspicion.

I double checked my door was locked and began the ritual. The text called for the wording to be recited in Latin at all times and to “ne’er raise one’s voice or risk corruption of speech.” So I began.

Whispering the sacrificial ritual, I poured my salt out into the shape of an inverted pentagram. As each end of the trail met, forming a circle, the five candles placed at each point of the star burst into an unnaturally blue flame. I lowered the pouch of salt to the ground and carefully placed my brass ritual bowl into the centre of the pentagram, ensuring I didn’t disturb the lines of salt. I ensured I had my supplies within reach, and sat at one end of the symbol.

---