The chamber seemed to hold its breath. The darkness pulsed around Rowan, thick with anticipation. The book's whispers slithered through his mind, urging him to take what was rightfully his. The power was there, waiting—all he had to do was reach out.
But Avery's grip on his wrist was real. His voice, though weak, was human. And for the first time since stepping into Blackthorn Academy, Rowan felt truly seen.
He had been pulled in different directions since the moment he arrived. The whispers of the past told him one story. The academy told him another. He didn't know who to trust, but one thing was clear—once he touched that book, there was no going back.
Rowan's fingers curled into a fist.
And then, with a sharp inhale, he ripped himself away from the pedestal.
The moment he did, a furious wind ripped through the chamber, as if the very air recoiled at his defiance. The book slammed itself shut with a deafening boom, the runes around the pedestal flickering violently before going dark.
The figure before him stiffened, its glowing eyes narrowing. "Fool." The single word was filled with something terrifying - disappointment.
Rowan braced himself. "I don't trust you," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. "You're not offering me a choice. You're trying to make me into something I don't even understand."
A slow, eerie silence followed.
Then, the shadows moved.
They surged forward like a crashing wave, slamming into Rowan before he could react. The force sent him flying backwards, his spine colliding with the cold stone wall. His vision blurred, the breath knocked from his lungs.
A voice filled his mind, ancient and seething.
"You will regret this."
A sharp pain shot through Rowan's skull, as if something was branding itself into his mind. His vision swam, and for a brief moment, he saw flashes of something else—
A burning city.
A throne of obsidian.
A face he didn't recognize but somehow knew.
And then—darkness.
Rowan gasped, suddenly awake, his body trembling on the chamber floor. The presence was gone. The shadows had receded. But the weight of the moment lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.
Avery groaned beside him, pushing himself up. His face was pale, his breathing uneven. "Are you—" he coughed, "—are you insane?"
Rowan let out a shuddering breath. "I don't know."
Avery studied him for a long moment before muttering, "At least you didn't take the book."
Rowan's gaze flickered toward the pedestal. The book sat motionless, the runes now dark. And yet, he could still feel it—calling to him. The magic hadn't disappeared. It was still there, waiting.
He had refused it.
But for how long?
Avery pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly before finding his balance. "We need to get out of here before anyone finds us."
Rowan hesitated. "What was that thing?"
Avery's jaw clenched. "A piece of the past," he muttered. "And it's not done with you yet."
Rowan felt a chill crawl down his spine.
As they left the chamber, he knew one thing for certain—the shadows had claimed him.
And sooner or later, they would return to collect.
Rowan barely remembered the frantic climb back through the secret passage. His limbs felt leaden, his mind clouded with the lingering echoes of that ancient voice. Even as they emerged into the dimly lit corridors of Blackthorn Academy, he swore the shadows watched him—silent, patient, waiting.
Avery shoved the hidden door closed behind them, his breathing unsteady. "That was insanely stupid," he hissed. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Rowan wiped the cold sweat from his brow. "Yeah. I said no."
Avery stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Nobody says no. That magic - it doesn't ask twice. The Thirteenth House doesn't take rejection lightly."
A shiver ran down Rowan's spine. "Then why am I still standing?"
Avery exhaled sharply. "Because it's playing with you." He glanced up and down the corridor before grabbing Rowan's sleeve. "Come on. We need to move."
They weaved through the empty hallways, Rowan barely registering the turns. His body ached from the encounter, and his mind still burned with the flashes of the throne, the city in flames, and that unfamiliar face. Was it a vision? A memory? Something buried deep in the magic of the Thirteenth House?
Avery didn't stop until they reached a quiet alcove near the library. Only then did he let go of Rowan, his expression unreadable.
"You don't get it, do you?" Avery finally said. "The magic didn't disappear. It's still inside you. And the more you fight it, the more it's going to push back."
Rowan clenched his jaw. He had felt it—how the book called to him, how the shadows wrapped around him like they already owned him. He had resisted, but now he wasn't sure if that meant he'd won… or if he'd simply delayed the inevitable.
"What do I do?" he asked, voice low.
Avery studied him for a moment, something almost like pity flickering in his eyes. "Find out what they don't want you to know."
Rowan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Avery leaned in. "The Thirteenth House was erased from history. But why? Why would they destroy an entire faction of magic? What were they afraid of?"
Rowan swallowed. That was the real question, wasn't it? Everyone acted like the Thirteenth House was some ancient evil, but what if there was more to the story? What if the academy was hiding something?
A flicker of movement caught Rowan's attention.
Down the hall, half-hidden by the shadows, stood Lyra. Her silver eyes locked onto his, her face unreadable.
"She knows something," Avery murmured, following his gaze. "She's been watching you since day one."
Rowan's pulse quickened. If the academy had secrets, Lyra was definitely one of them.
And he was about to find out why.