Chapter 84
Jiselle
My eyes searched frantically–Eva. Ethan. Nate.
There.
Eva’s pale hair gleamed in the torchlight, her hand gripping Ethan’s sleeve tightly. Ethan was watching the council with a look of barely restrained fury, his shoulders taut, his stance ready to fight even before the first blow.
And Nate-
Nate was already moving toward the center, slow and deliberate, his body tense, his eyes scanning every face, every shadow. His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was ready to rip through anyone who dared get too close.
When he spotted me, something in him relaxed.
Only slightly.
He tilted his head in the barest nod.
We were still in this.
We still had a chance.
I shoved through the crowd, pushing against the press of first–years gathering along the inner circle. My heart beat too fast, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every step I took, the energy in the chamber grew heavier. The runes etched into the ground beneath our feet pulsed brighter with each heartbeat, matching the drum of the ceremony’s rhythm.
And then-
Instructor Sira’s voice rose above it all. Smooth. Commanding.
“The first years shall come forward,” she called, her voice echoing against the stone. “And receive the binding mark. Those who are found worthy shall ascend. Those who are not…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t have to.
The implication hung heavy in the air, thicker than the smoke curling from the enchanted torches.
I fell into line beside Eva and Ethan, our shoulders brushing. No words passed between us. None were needed. We all
knew what was at stake.
The line of students stretched ahead, tense and jittery. The air felt wrong. Too electric. Too still. Above us, the volcanic crevice revealed the full moon–fat and bright–pouring silver light over the arena like a divine spotlight.
This was it.
The beginning of the end.
And one way or another-
Tonight, the Academy would bleed.
The first student stepped forward.
She was trembling, her dagger clutched in shaking hands. An instructor guided her to the pedestal at the center of the circle. There, a council elder waited–his robes heavy with power, his eyes dead as stone. Without a word, he took her dagger, sliced her palm, and pressed her bleeding hand to a glowing sigil embedded in the floor.
Light flared.
She gasped, but didn’t pull away.
The elder murmured something low, and the mark flared gold on her wrist.
Accepted.
She stumbled back into the crowd, relief etched across her face.
Another student. Then another.
Some collapsed after the cut, their bodies too weak to handle the magic binding itself to their blood. Others barely flinched. A few smiled like they’d won something.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
Because our plan–our desperate, dangerous plan–was supposed to start now.
The Plan.
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It was simple. Elegant, even.
Nate had uncovered the weakness weeks ago–small fault lines hidden in the rune work beneath the chamber. If triggered just right–through synchronized bursts of magic and pressure–they could disrupt the binding spell before it completed.
We were supposed to trigger it when we were inside the circle–me, Eva, and Ethan, together.
A surge of elemental magic. A Sentinel warning pulse. A sliver of Ethereal force.
Boom.
Rupture the binding before it anchored.
Free everyone–or at least, free ourselves.
But the plan had two fatal flaws.
First–we hadn’t anticipated that the Council would rush the ritual. Pushing student after student through without pause. No preparation. No time to align.
And second-
Eva hadn’t been pulled back into the circle yet.
She was gone.
Taken by Instructor Sira minutes ago under the pretense of “guidance,” and now nowhere in sight.
Which meant-
It was just me and Ethan now.
No warning pulse.
No Sentinel disruption.
Only raw power.
And timing.
My heart sank as I watched another student step forward–a boy this time. Tall, strong, sure. His blood hit the rune and flared blue. Another success.
They were stacking the line with the stronger ones first. Keeping the crowd hopeful. Blinding them to the truth until it was too late.
Until
Already, I
turned on those who hadn’t manifested at all.
Sould
see a few instructors dragging off a small group of students who hadn’t stepped forward–those who hadn‘
t awakened anything during the Trials.
Their faces were blank with terror.
And nobody–noug
one of the council, not one instructor–lifted a hand to stop it.
They were sacrifices.
Necessary losses.
I gritted my teeth.
The blood oath wasn’t a ritual of loyalty.
It was a damn chain.
A leash.
Another body stepped up to the pedestal.
Another hand bled.
Another life bound to the Academy forever.
I caught Ethan’s eye across the line.
He gave the smallest, sharpest nod.
Ready.
Even without Eva–he was ready.
And so was I.
We were the last three students in line now.
Me. Ethan. One other boy I didn’t recognize.
Panic clawed up my throat.
Chapter 84
Without Eva’s pulse to weaken the runes, the disruption wouldn’t be enough. We would be trapped. Bound. Or worse.
The boy ahead of me moved.
Instructor Hadelyn motioned him forward, smiling grimly.
He hesitated.
Just a second.
Then he stepped up.
The blade sliced his palm.
Blood hit the stone.
And nothing happened.
No flare. No light.
The elder frowned.
Murmured.
Two guards stepped forward instantly.
The boy tried to run.
They caught him mid–turn, forcing him to the ground.
The crack of bone against stone echoed louder than any battle cry.
The guards dragged him off without a word.
The line moved.
Ethan stepped forward.
I held my breath.
Watched.
Prayed.
The blade bit his hand.
Blood spilled across the rune.
For a heartbeat–nothing.
And then-
Light burst from his veins, golden–red, like fire caught in wind.
The stone flared beneath him, and Ethan gritted his teeth, staying upright even as the magic fought to sink into him.
The Council elder nodded once.
Accepted.
Ethan stumbled back toward the crowd, his eyes meeting mine briefly.
‘Now,‘ he mouthed.
I knew.
It was my turn.
My hands didn’t tremble as I stepped forward.
They burned.
Every step toward the pedestal, the power inside me coiled tighter. My wolf howled inside my chest–not in fear.
In rage.
In defiance.
The elder’s eyes were cold as he took my dagger.
He didn’t speak.
Just slashed my palm.
The sting barely registered through the roaring in my ears.
He pressed my bleeding hand to the rune.
The stone beneath my feet pulsed once-
And then-
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Chaos.
An explosion rocked the chamber.
Stone cracked. Dust and smoke burst upward.
Screams split the air–students, instructors, council members alike.
The mountain shook.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, alarms began to wail–deep, sonorous, warning bells that hadn’t been heard in decades.
The Blood Oath ritual circle shattered at my feet, the runes breaking apart like dried leaves in the wind.
I stumbled back, coughing, shielding my eyes.
“ROGUES!” someone shouted.
Magic flared wild across the arena–ice, fire, wind–too much, uncontrolled.
Figures clad in dark, battle–worn armor poured into the chamber from the crumbling entrances, moving like a wave of fury and freedom.
The Council guards scrambled to form lines.
Students screamed and ran.
Chaos.
Real, living chaos.
I felt a hand grab my arm.
Ethan.
His face was grim, soot smeared across his cheek.
He shouted over the roar: “Is this part of the plan?!”
I grinned, wild and breathless, adrenaline crashing through my veins.
“No!” I shouted back. “But work with it!”
And then we ran.
Straight into the storm.
