Chapter 20: Eyes in the Dark
Reality snapped back with the violence of a cracking whip. One moment Evan stood in the nightmare forest, the scent of damp earth and copper thick in his nose—the next he was on his knees in the ruins of the north wing, gasping as if he'd been drowning. The transition left him disoriented, his vision swimming with afterimages of twisted trees and Lucian's knowing smile.
Behind him, the mirror they'd used as a portal had fractured further, its surface webbed with glowing cracks that pulsed like veins. Thin trails of black ooze seeped from the breaks, winding down the ornate frame in sluggish rivulets.
Selene swayed where she stood, the silver light in her eyes guttering like a dying candle. Her skin had taken on an alarming translucency, the blue of her veins visible beneath the surface. Aria lunged forward just in time to catch her before she collapsed, the smaller girl staggering under Selene's unexpected weight.
"What the hell happened in there?" Aria demanded, her grip tightening on Selene's shoulders. Her knives gleamed at her belt, their edges darkened with whatever substance coated the roots.
Evan wiped his bleeding palm against his trousers, the movement sending fresh pain shooting up his arm. The cut was deeper than he'd realized, the edges of the wound unnaturally clean as if made by something far sharper than steel. "We made a deal," he said hoarsely.
Rowan's fingers tightened around his crossbow, his earth-brown eyes scanning the crumbling walls around them. "What kind of deal?" His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
The ground answered before Evan could. A terrible lurch sent them all staggering as a fresh fissure split the stone floor—not radiating from the mirror this time, but originating from somewhere deep beneath the academy itself. The sound of tearing fabric filled the air as the crack widened, stones grinding against each other in protest. From the darkness below came a whisper that slithered into Evan's bones, vibrating in his teeth:
Found you.
They ran.
Not toward safety—there was none left in the crumbling academy—but deeper into its bowels, where the stones were oldest and the shadows hung thickest. Lucian's voice echoed in Evan's skull, guiding them through the maze of crumbling passages with unsettling familiarity.
Left at the fork. Down the broken stairwell. Faster, little stormcaller, unless you wish to meet your destiny prematurely.
The others followed without question, their footsteps echoing through the narrow corridors. Even Kai, still pale and shaking from his ordeal, kept pace, his water magic flickering weakly in his palms like a dying lantern. The normally vibrant blue of his magic had taken on a sickly greenish hue, tainted by whatever remained of the Vessel's influence.
The tunnel ended abruptly at a door Evan had never seen—black oak banded with tarnished iron, its surface carved with warnings in a language that made his eyes ache just to look upon. The symbols seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of his eye, rearranging themselves into familiar shapes before dissolving back into nonsense.
Selene stopped so suddenly that Rowan nearly collided with her. "No," she breathed, the word barely audible. Her silver eyes had dimmed to a dull gray, the light in them fading by the second.
Aria tested the door, finding it locked. "What's in here?" She kicked at the stubborn wood, then hissed when it didn't budge. "Damn thing's sealed tighter than Caine's liquor cabinet."
Selene's voice was barely audible above the distant rumbling. "The first sin."
Evan pushed the door open. The wood gave way with surprising ease, as if it had been waiting for his touch all along.
The chamber beyond was small and circular, its walls lined with seven mirrors—each reflecting not the room, but a different horror. One showed a stormcaller bound in their own lightning, their mouth open in a silent scream. Another displayed a pyrebinder burning from within, their skin cracking like dry parchment. A third revealed a terramancer being crushed beneath collapsing stone, their hands raised in futile defense.
At the center knelt a figure in tattered robes before an eighth mirror shrouded in black cloth. Not a corpse. Not quite. The figure moved with a rustle of decaying fabric as they raised their head, and Evan's breath caught in his throat.
The face beneath the hood was his own.