Cadigan jumps into action, suddenly somber. He locks the door and whips his scribe from his pocket, flicking it through sigil after sigil as he casts layer after layer of shimmering wards.
Any moment now.
The wards that glimmer over the heavy wooden door are no stronger than tissue paper, his casting of them more theater than magic. An attacker—the attacker heading toward our classroom—could break through them with a single, simple spell. Locking the door… all of it was an act.
He’s smug. He’s played his partsowell. And he will be rewarded.
No.
No.
“He’s in on it,” I whisper to Marcus.
“Stay behind me,” he orders, and I nod frantically.
“Away from the door and windows!” Cadigan barks, and we scatter, weaving through the rows of worktables to crouch along the wall.
We all draw our scribes and whisper to each other, but he silences us with a single, stern look. But there’s no fear behind his glower, no anxiousness. Anticipation rushes through him. Exhilaration.
She’ll get what’s coming to her.
Shouting carries down the hall and Marcus crouches in front of me, shielding me with his body.
Terror crashes into my mind, my classmates’ fears flooding my thoughts, but crystal clear, cutting through the cacophony of panic, is a single thought.
Cadigan’s.
It’ll finally be the end of the damnable girl.
The door blows open, torn from its hinges by a single spell, all of Cadigan’s perfectly pantomimed wards dissolving in wisps of light. The omega marches into the room, spells flying from her scribe. She whips her scribe through hex after hex so quickly that the shimmering sigils blur together.
She scans the huddled students and finds me. There’s a faint spark of recognition in her dull eyes, and she shoves past desks, coming straight toward me.
I clutch my scribe tightly as hexes whiz past me. One strikes Marcus in the shoulder, sizzling against his skin, and he lets out an audible grimace before shooting a spell back at the attacking omega.
It bounces off of her harmlessly.
Sigils glow around her neck, flashing along the metal collar that rests at the hollow of her throat.
Saints, I have to do something!
Can I overcome the collar’s magic like I overcame the blood magic mind control Rad put Trinity under? I reach out with my affinity as Marcus defends me, my honor guard casting stunning spell after stunning spell.
Not one lands.
I slip past the chaos, sinking into her innermost thoughts.
She’s terrified, aware of every single spell she casts, weeping for every student she strikes with her hexes. She fights, trying to shake off the collar’s control, but she can’t stop. The weight of her orders is crushing, and she can’t fight against it much longer…
“Don’t hurt her! She’s being controlled!” I shout, but my voice is lost in the chaos.
A spell sails past Marcus and strikes my forearm, burning me. I let out a cry of pain and sink to my knees behind my honor guard.
It’s okay, I try to tell her, clutching my arm tight to my chest, trying to ignore the pain of the burn.I’m going to stop this.
She hears me. I feel her attention as she seeks me out, her eyes narrowing when she finds me behind Marcus.
Nothing can stop this, she sobs, but saints above, does shehope. She prays for someone to rescue her, to free her from her waking nightmares and end her anguish.
