Page 37 of The Holy Academy of Witches

“I understand. I can’t tell you why Melody acted this way, though I know well enough. I’ll keep your secret as long as you keep mine. Just know… I will do what I can to help you both. However, should you ask me to choose between the two of you….”

“You’ll choose her.” I sighed.

“I will. Always.” She was resigned to the path her heart had chosen.

I placed the empty flask on the bench, “thank you for being honest. For what it’s worth I’m thankful for your potential friendship, Amelia. I really am.”

“Maybe someday Sage, you never can tell how the wheel of fate may spin.” Amelia smiled, her cordial nature back in full now we were on the same page.

“Someday then,” I smiled. Walking toward the door with a heavy heart, the loneliness I felt stirring into a deep purple in my mind. Perhaps I would never have an ally, or a friend. Perhaps I could only ever hope to be the second choice.

Running to the dorm, I barely made it to my bed before my knees buckled and the visions pulled me under. I’d gotten too good at fending them off, a hundred snippets racing across my mind as the dam broke. Cillian’s face, the lake, obstacles, rotting flesh, and shadows. The shadows overtook the vision, casting everything into a thick film I couldn’t see past. Yet darkened images kept coming, unreadable but important. So important. Straining to see, I reached forward, pushing the vision only to see a devastating explosion before the darkness took over and I was falling. Deeper and deeper into the dark, until I couldn’t see my own hands, could barely remember I had any, because here I wasn’t Sage. I was everyone and no-one, everything and nothing.

Nineteen

Adeline

Using dark magic is electric, your whole body lights on fire. The more you use it the more you crave it. The feeling is akin to the peak of an orgasm, every nerve ending sparking, that moment right before you come crashing down to earth. Utterly euphoric.

But it consumes you, burrows deep below the surface, into your very soul. The nightmares… the rising, never-ending panic, the demons which hunt you… That’s the least of it. You crave it. You need it. You must give in to it. Bleed for it, give it your power, give it all of you, everything. To resist takes every drop of strength you have, strength you didn’t even know you had. You can’t sleep, you can’t think straight. You feel like a shell with only the bad parts left inside.

I stared in the bowl before me, deep in thought. I had long since agreed with myself that the risks of using dark magic were worth it. They paled in comparison to the benefits of finding a way to stop this war before it could even begin. But I wondered if other people would feel the same if they knew what I was doing. Would they think me a monster? As evil as the terrorists who cursed and destroyed innocent lives? Possibly. Did I care? Not at all. If I was the sacrifice that was needed to end this war then so be it.

I had spoken on the phone briefly with my contact at the local university, a professor of microbiology. Dr. Benson was a mortal who had knowledge of our kind due to a previous boyfriend. She was exceptionally talented in her field and was as straight-talking and no-nonsense as myself, which made her the perfect colleague. I had been corresponding with her for the last two years as my alias - Dr. Olivia Lannister, a 38 year old pathologist, divorced with two children and three cats. She was key to my understanding of the changes caused by the curse at a cellular level. It was with her knowledge and advice I had gotten as far as I had with tracing the curse to its innate structure. If I could figure out how they had made it then, theoretically, I could reverse the process and deconstruct it. Understanding its devastating effects was also a main concern… The molecular changes caused to the body detailed in Dr. Benson’s latest report were alarming to say the least.

Trying not to dwell too much on the latest side effects of what I was about to do, I dipped the pipette in the shimmering liquid which simmered gently in the bowl. Drawing up a small sample, I peeled back the sleeve of my uniform like I had countless times before and squeezed. Two drops landed on my exposed wrist. I immediately discarded the supplies laid out around me. The burning of the curse took effect almost instantly. Ignoring it as best as I could, I diluted the mixture, pouring it into a vial with steady hands.

As the burning intensified, I grit my teeth against the pain, moving the objects back into their hiding place under my floorboards. Waving a hand over the place they lay, the illusion flickered back into existence.

I breathed in through my nose deeply, blowing it steadily back out through my mouth as I looked at the clock on my wall. Three minutes dragged by. I pulled back my sleeve and drew a circle around the infected area before making a note on my laptop. The skin was already blistering. Angry and red. After another minute the pain was almost unbearable. If left unchecked the curse would enter my bloodstream, hallucinations would start and before long I would be begging the nearest person to either cut off my arm or end my life. I picked up a bottle of my latest trial cure. The sample was small but promising, considering my limited resources.

My vision swam as I lifted the stopper on the bottle. The pain was excruciating. I looked at my wrist to see the curse had progressed rapidly, the skin beginning to decay in an area twice the size of that I had outlined. I closed my eyes, pushing down the rising panic and forced myself to remain calm as I dabbed the solution onto the affected area. I swore loudly as it made contact, dropping the bottle to the floor. The purple liquid inside leaked out into a shimmering puddle. I looked to the clock again. One minute… just one minute to see if it would work. My stomach clenched violently as it tried to empty its contents. I gripped my desk, eyes tightly closed. The pain, both a horrific reminder of why I was doing this in the first place and enough to make me never want to do this again.

My alarm sounded from my phone. Blowing out a pained breath, I looked down at my arm.

“Shit!” Angry tears sprang to my eyes at the sight of my skin. The “cure” had done absolutely nothing, except sting like a bitch. I went to the cabinet by my dresser and drank the contents of a pain relieving tonic, it slid down my throat like warm honey. Coating my throat with a residue which slightly numbed as it cooled. My skin tingled as its magic began to take effect, the pain in my arm only lessening by a fraction… but it would be enough for what I needed to do. I grabbed the knife from my desk and without hesitation sliced straight into my flesh, cutting away the infected skin, the only way to stop the spread. I whimpered as I clamped my mouth shut. The knife landed with a clang on the desk as my grip failed me. I whispered an incantation as I rubbed healing balm into the raw wound. My nails dug into my palm as I squeezed my hand tightly.

I sat back onto my bed heavily. Well that was one way to spend my lunch break. Thank the Gods that I could skip my next lesson without causing a fuss. My habit of being ahead academically meaning I could take liberties every now and again. I looked at the mess on my floor, the useless test sample soaking into the rug beneath my bed.

I stripped out of my uniform, feeling in desperate need for a shower. As I stood under the warm water, I let it run over my body while I began lazily rotating on the spot. I tried not to feel too defeated by the failure of this latest batch of cures. I knew what I was doing was no simple task, but I wouldn’t give up. Not when things were only getting worse. Dr. Benson had mentioned during our chat that attacks were now being reported in the mundane news. They were reckless now, the danger increasing. As I stepped out of the shower, I dried myself off with one of my large fluffy towels. The skin at my wrist had almost completely knitted back together. It would leave a mark, it always did.

After dressing into a clean uniform, I swept my hair up into a high ponytail using a black ribbon and applied some makeup. My hand trembled slightly as I swept the blush over my cheekbones and I paused, looking in the mirror at myself. No external sign of what I had done… what I continued to do to myself. I wondered if eventually it would become too much to bear. If the dark magic didn’t taint my soul to the point the damage was irreversible perhaps I would break mentally instead? I swallowed, my mouth still tasted like healing tonic.

After quickly cleaning my room, I left the dorms and walked the path to the lake. Choosing to spend the remaining time before the next lesson getting some fresh air, I could still feel residual dark magic humming through my body as I neared the lake. The urge to itch and scratch at the new skin on my wrist was overwhelming. I was really overdue a spa session. I booked an appointment on the Academy’s app before I forgot… again. Though I probably needed to meditate for a month straight with the corruption currently swimming in my veins.

The autumn sun hung overhead, lower each day as we neared winter. Thankfully there wasn’t too much of a bite to the air yet as I nestled down onto a grass verge by the lake. I looked across the sparkling water, still, apart from a single ripple cutting through its surface from the opposite side. A lone swimmer at the boys campus.

I stretched my legs out in front of me, smoothing my skirt out, and leaned back on my hands, my face turned towards the sun. Eyes closed. I felt myself relax, birds tweeted from a nearby tree, a breeze rustling it’s golden leaves. I could have slept if I wasn’t reclined in such an uncomfortable position and didn’t have to get to class soon. A shrill ringing cut through the quiet, making me jump. I slipped my phone from my pocket, glancing at the screen before putting it to my ear.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Good afternoon, how are you?” Cillian asked. His velvety voice clear, despite the sound of talking around him.

“Fine. Just doing a spot of sunbathing before class.”

“Before class? It’s almost two o’clock.”

“I skipped this morning. I was tired.”

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