Martyr (21 page)

It was impossible to tell the time of day through the heavy clouds, but it couldn't have been too late. Everything in the world was grey and white and shadow, even after they left the smoldering town far behind. The trees closed in thicker along the sides of the highway, tall evergreens and bare oaks, their branches hissing in the wind. The snow was deeper here, and the sky seemed heavy. The air grew colder with every step, but it wasn't just the inevitability of more snow that made chills cross over Tenn's skin. It was the road sign they passed a few hours in, a sign that sparked more than one memory he hoped he'd never have to experience again.

S
ILVERON
A
CADEMY
F
OR
T
HE
M
AGICAL
A
RTS:
20 M
ILES
A
HEAD

The green sign was pockmarked with bullet holes. Below it, the words bright and crisp-white against a black background, was a sign he'd become all too familiar with in the days before the Resurrection.

MAGIC IS SIN AND
ALL WHO USE IT
ARE THE DEVIL'S MINIONS

The Howls weren't the first monsters spawned by the Spheres. The protesters had almost been worse.

At least Tenn had never heard of a Howl barricading children in a school for magic and burning it down. That had been in Texas, after his parents had allowed him to go to Silveron. His school had never suffered the same fate, but that didn't mean the locals enjoyed having a ticking time bomb so close to their homes.

If he was lucky, they'd pass right on by the school without either of the twins being the wiser. He was already raw enough; he didn't need to face
those
ghosts right now. He'd never spoken to them about his past and vice versa—it was courtesy. So he kept quiet and walked a little faster while the wind picked up and the sky grew dark. The idea of driving again crossed his mind, but Matthias could be anywhere and the road was treacherous. The potential convenience wasn't worth the risk.

In truth, he would have given anything to strike up a conversation. Every step taken in silence was another moment for him to reflect, another small struggle with Water, which wanted nothing more than to drag him under with despair. The numbness was wearing off, the shock of Jarrett's death seeping out of his bones. A small part of him had been hoping that when they were taken back, Jarrett would pop out of some basement safe-house or something and the four of them would continue on as usual. He knew from the very start that it was a dumb hope, blind at best, but that didn't quench the fire. Not until he'd seen the devastation for himself and knew deep down that nothing and no one had survived. Matthias's army had done its work and moved on.

Which also meant they were still out there somewhere. Maybe very close.

Tenn was almost hoping that was the case.

Something on the horizon caught his attention, a glow that seemed unnatural. At first, he thought it was a campfire, some signal that the army was near, but the light was white, not a flickering orange. It almost looked electric.

“What is that?” he asked.

Dreya followed his gaze, none of them slowing their pace.

Air flickered in her throat, a brief flash of power that disappeared in an instant. She gasped.

“A sept,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He wanted to open to Earth and stretch his senses out, but he knew that much power would draw attention. “What the hell is a sept doing this close to the Academy?”

Dreya glanced at her brother. Their pace quickened.

“I am certain,” she said. “Though I have no idea what they are doing out here.”

The septs were the only other established human communes beside the guilds. These, however, were created and ruled by the Church. He had no idea how the places managed to survive the undead hordes, no matter how high their walls. Without the magic they deemed as evil, they should have gone under in the first few weeks. Rumor was their faith kept them safe, but Tenn had seen enough of faith to know it didn't keep the monsters from tearing out your bones and sucking them dry while you bled out on the concrete.

“I don't like it,” he said. “How long have they been here?”

Dreya shrugged, but he hadn't expected an answer anyway. All he knew was he wasn't comfortable with a sept this close to a place he had once called home.

“Keep your eyes open,” Dreya said. “If there are any Inquisitors about…”

She didn't have to finish the thought.

Inquisitors stayed true to their ancient charge—wipe out witchcraft in any of its forms. Which lumped mages with Witches and necromancers and anyone else they didn't like.

Tenn had heard enough horror stories of mages tortured by Inquisitors, had seen the bodies after they'd been hung up as examples. He had no clue how the Inquisitors were able to capture, let alone torture, mages when they themselves eschewed magic, but if he had to choose between a necromancer and an Inquisitor, he'd pick the necromancer. Necromancers weren't known for thumbscrews.

“This is bad,” Dreya said. She kept sharing glances with her brother, who was staring at the glow on the horizon with narrowed eyes. Fire twitched on and off in his chest, making the snow around them flicker orange and red. “If the Witches are nearby…I do not like to think of what has been done to them.”

Devon reached out and put his hand on Dreya's shoulder, his eyes softening.

“They're okay. They're smart,” he whispered through his scarf. Then he caught himself and shrugged deeper into his coat.

They hurried on, trying to put as much space between them and the sept as possible. The last thing they needed was to be caught out here by a wayward priest or Inquisitor. There wasn't any repenting, no way of getting out. Once you were deemed tainted by magic, the only way to purification was a slow and painful death.

If they let you die, that is.

It wasn't until the glow was lost to the grey of the horizon that Tenn let his shoulders relax. His nerves were still on fire with the approach of the Academy, but that was minor to the fear that the Church and its Inquisitors struck through his bones. Minor, until Dreya spoke.

“We should stop soon,” Dreya said. Her voice was a whisper, but it still cut through the oppressing silence of the highway. It set his nerves on edge. He knew precisely what she would suggest next. “At the Academy. It is near.”

“It is,” Tenn said. He let his words trail off, hoping it didn't sound too much like a question.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked. The hesitation stalled him. “Jarrett told us you attended here. Would it be too much for you? To see it again?”

Of course it would be too much
. But the words he wanted to say opposed what was wise. He didn't need the twins' magic to know that another snowstorm was coming soon. The clouds overhead seemed to be within arm's reach, and the wind was picking up with a vengeance. If it didn't blizzard, he would be amazed, and the last thing they needed was to be caught out in the middle of it. Especially if more magic would just attract the army or the sept.

“It's fine,” he said. “There's nowhere else to stop around here. Not for another twenty miles.” And it was true. The Academy had been built as far away from the nearest town as seemingly possible, surrounded by woods and lakes and wrought-iron fencing. They wouldn't make it to the next town by nightfall.

He didn't curse his shitty luck. At this point in the game, he basically figured that anything that could go wrong would. And he would just grin and bear it.

Dreya nodded. When they passed the next exit, the one leading to the heart of Silveron, Tenn sped up and took the lead. Once the first trees closed in above him, he steeled himself and quelled the twist in his gut. Time to face the demons.

21

The
road that led to Silveron quickly changed from concrete to gravel, the grit crunching under the snow. Overhead, the branches stretched like black veins, pulsing memories into the twilight and bleeding through his mind. How often had this path haunted him? All the dreams of death and destruction, the final flight from this place. All the times he returned in his sleeping, drifting like a ghost through the rooms of his past. And now, here he was, walking that very path. It didn't feel any more real than the dream. Except this time, there was no hope of waking up.

The gravel road twisted through the woods, the air growing darker by the second. The only sounds were the trudge of their feet and the hiss of the wind. He felt a shiver of magic behind him. He turned just in time to see Devon opening to Fire, a small orb of white light winking into existence above them. Devon shrugged at Tenn's glare, but the magic was so slight, the only way a necromancer or Inquisitor could feel it would be if they were in sight. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself. At this point in time, he had little faith in his luck being kind.

The woods were still and silent, but from the corner of his eye he caught the glimpse of movement—a fox, peeking out from behind a trunk. Something about the creature's gaze made him shiver. He'd always thought foxes were smart, but this one seemed
intelligent
. Then the fox vanished, and he focused on the road. If the twins had seen it, neither of them said anything. Within a few moments, the trees opened up and the full expanse of Silveron appeared through the darkness.

The buildings were the epitome of academia—tall stone structures with steep roofs and high windows, expansive lawns cleared of trees and pockmarked with benches and shrubs. Just the sight was enough to send Water reeling. He struggled against the tide, tried to keep the Sphere under control. But it was too much, all of it was too much, and the moment his grasp loosened, the magic swallowed him whole.

“It's beautiful,” his mother said. Their car pulled up the winding drive to the Academy, the windows down and the scent of fresh pine in the air. His dad was silent as he drove, but his mother hadn't stopped talking since they saw the first exit sign. He knew it was because she was nervous, didn't want to admit that she was about to say goodbye to her only child. But she hid it as best she could behind admiring remarks about the countryside and how proud she was of him. Tenn just stayed silent
.

The gates were open that day—great wrought-iron things wide enough for two cars to pass through, the full fence wrapping around and out of sight on both sides. “Silveron Academy” twisted its name across the top, the letters glinting silver against the black iron
.

Tenn shivered when they passed beneath them. At the time, he thought it was just the knowledge of leaving his old life behind. It wasn't until a few days later, during one of the convocation ceremonies, that he learned it was actually a magical defense
.

If only that defense had extended past the school
.

If only that had been enough to save the ones he loved
.

He gasped when Water sloshed off him and slid back down into the recesses of his stomach. The memory was vivid—the scent and the heat, the nerves and anticipation. The twins stood a few feet in front of him, staring back with identical faces of concern.

“What was that?” Dreya asked.

“Water,” Tenn said. His voice cracked.

She took a step toward him. “What did you see?”

“My family,” he said. “When they dropped me off.”

“I feared as much. Let us know if it gets too bad. A place like this… Here, blood sings with memory.”

He nodded and pushed forward, passing under the gate. No tingle of magic this time—those defenses had long since faded. The only thing that passed over him now was the whisper of nostalgia.

Somehow, the school was still immaculate, as impressive and imposing as the first day he'd stepped foot here. The lawns were clean and blanketed with fluffy snow, the windows intact and the roofs perfectly dusted with frost. All that was missing was the warmth of inner fires and lights. But there was an emptiness to the place, a hunger. It drew them in and promised an eternity of nothingness.

The only consolation Tenn could find as they made their way through the maze of sidewalks was that his classmates had all gotten out. There was no sign of battle here, no sign of bloodshed. Which meant there had never been any victims here to devour. The last thing he needed was to stumble upon a body of an old friend. The pristine condition of the place made him hopeful he'd be spared that much at least.

He led them toward his dorm, past the field of stones used for Earth practice, around a tall stone tower that had been reserved for Air. The Fire bunker was farther down the path, near the lake where he'd spent the vast majority of his time. The dorm, one of only four on campus, housed the underclassmen. It was stone and wood and two stories tall, flanked by massive oaks that had long since lost their leaves. Like the other buildings, the windows here were intact. The glass front door was closed and whole, the lawn in front devoid of the clutter and chaos he'd grown so used to seeing. With the sept nearby, he'd expected this place to be ransacked. The perfection set his nerves on end. He gripped his staff tighter and walked up the front steps. A twist of Earth and the lock unlatched, the door swinging open on hinges that hadn't been used in years.