I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs even as my chest screamed with the weight of it. He glanced my way, justonce, and his eyes met mine. There was no fear there. Only determination.
And love.
I wanted to scream for him to stay behind. To tell him the dragons’ prophecy. To beg him not to become one of the names that would be carried in ember-fire at dawn. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the right. He was as much a part of this fight as I was.
The air rumbled, deep and low, cutting through my thoughts. It wasn’t thunder. It wasn’t Wards.
It was the front doors of the Academy.
They shook against the frame, a sound like the growl of a beast too big to be stopped. The great wooden panels shuddered under the weight of something pounding from the other side. Dust rained from the beams above as the hinges screamed.
I darted forward before I could think, shoving past clusters of witches, fae, and shifters.
“Hold the hall!” I shouted back. “Don’t let the line break!”
The corridor funneled me toward the main entrance, the sound growing louder, closer, until every step rattled through my bones.
The doors heaved again, the runes flashing faint blue as they strained.
And for the first time, I felt it.
The weight of Malore’s will pressed directly against the Academy’s heart. Not testing. Not teasing. Pushing. Demanding entry.
I skidded to a stop at the threshold, breath sharp in my chest. The hall behind me still roared with battle cries, illusionsflashing, spells sparking, and chants of 'together, together' echoing through the stone. But here at the doors, there was only silence between impacts.
I laid my palm against the wood, the runes thrumming hot under my skin.
The next strike landed.
The whole Academy shook.
And I knew we were out of time.
My hand burned against the wood, the doors trembling so violently it felt like I was holding the pulse of a dying heart. The blue glow flickered, dimmed, and for a terrifying moment, vanished altogether before sparking back to life.
Behind me, footsteps pounded. “Maeve!”
Keegan’s voice.
He half-stumbled, half-charged down the corridor, his hazel eyes fever-bright, jaw clenched as though he could stop the storm with his teeth. Twobble and Skonk trailed after him, both panting, both looking entirely out of place in a battle corridor but still carrying themselves like they’d been summoned for this exact moment.
“Don’t touch the door!” Twobble cried. “Whatever’s on the other side doesn’t want tea and scones!”
The doors shuddered again, splinters flying from the wood. A fissure of light shot down the seam, blinding and unnatural, and the air filled with the scent of iron and rot.
“It’s him,” Keegan growled, his voice low, animal.
I swallowed hard. “Malore.”
Another strike, and the beam across the doors cracked in two. A kitchen sprite darted past us with a pan, shrieking, then vanished through the nearest wall. I couldn’t even blame them.
Keegan stepped forward, shoulders squared. “If he gets in, the students…”
“I know,” I said quickly, my pulse hammering. “We hold him here for now.”
“Not we,” Twobble said, tugging at my sleeve. “We, as in you two magic-tangled soulmates, hold him here while I make sure my skin stays firmly attached to my bones, and I get the students outside.”
Skonk elbowed him. “Speak for yourself. I’ve got standards. I’m staying.” His grin widened, devilish as ever, even with the rune light flashing across his face.
