“You will be,” Jeff cut him off cleanly, eyes locking onto Malachi’s with practiced precision. Then his face cracked into that familiar wounded look—the one that he had perfected. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”
“I’m not going, sorry mate.” Malachi didn’t dress it up to placate him. “We’ll see you loads before you leave. We’ve still got a few weeks.”
“No need to hang around now,” Jeff shrugged, already pulling away. “I’ve been packed for ages.”
“What about your exam results?”
“Who cares?” Jeff kicked a stone, sending it skittering down the path. “I don’t need them.”
Malachi watched him without speaking. Something inside him settled—not relief, exactly, but clarity. In his nightmare, Jeff had dragged him off the wall. Here, in daylight, Malachi stayed exactly where he was.
Ally suckedin a breath, sharp and small.
Malachi understood Ally’s reaction. Exams weren’t just results—they had been everything. Years of pressure, revision timetables pinned to bedroom walls, students holding their breath for envelopes that decided who you became next. The end of school. The last summer before real life began. It should’ve felt huge. Instead, it felt oddly flat. Dulled by knowing what else existed, hidden in the shadows of Latharna.
“I’m sure your mum will let you know how you got on.” Ally’s eyes fixed on the scuffed toes of his trainers.
Jeff didn’t look at him. His fists clenched again, knuckles whitening as his stare stayed locked on Malachi. Expecting him to look away, to give Jeff the dominance he craved. For once, Malachi didn’t look away. He held the gaze, steady as the wall beneath him. Jeff scoffed and turned away.
In that moment something shifted. The grip that Jeff always had—the unspoken authority, the expectation that Malachi would always bend—cracked and fell away.
A friendship that had shaped most of his childhood hovered on the brink of ending. Something old and familiar loosened its grip. Malachi’s shoulders eased. The tension he’d carried for years drained away, as if he’d finally set something heavy down.
He wasn’t relieved, but he understood Jeff’s desperation. There was nothing for him here. No safety net, no plan beyond leaving. Jeff hadn’t applied to college or any trade school on Latharna or the mainland. He was running, full tilt, and Malachi had finally stopped trying to keep up.
Ally had never needed to run. He’d been in the kitchen learning a baker’s trade since he was old enough to hold a wooden spoon and recently joined the local rugby club,pushing himself out of his comfort zone. He’d naturally carved a place for himself—baking at dawn, rugby bruises worn like badges of honour. He was growing into himself, solid and unashamed. Proof that staying didn’t mean stagnating.
Malachi had worked summers inThe Wolf’s Denfor years, enduring Nomi’s sharp tongue, knowing it was temporary even when he didn’t know what came next. His predicted exam results opened doors at all the universities he applied to.
After last night, the choice was simple. Journalism at Latharna University. A last minute application submitted just before the cut off.
A shiver ran through him—not fear this time, but something close to excitement. He stood, stretching to his full height. Jeff took a step back.
The realisation landed softly. Malachi felt a flicker of guilt—he’d let Jeff down. He was sorry for that. But beneath it was something lighter, cleaner.
Freedom. The chance to be more than the sidekick role Jeff had pressed into him years ago.
“What about one last night out before you go?” Malachi forced a grin, nudging Ally with his elbow. “We could camp at the Maidens. See if we can find the banshee?”
His stomach soured, the joke landing wrong inside him. The Otherworld wasn’t a story anymore. Joking about the dark felt careless, especially when it had already shown its teeth.
Ally’s eyes lit up. The Maidens were sacred ground to the Banshee Brigade. Spotting one would buy him weeks of reverence from its members at their next meeting. His dad founded the group years ago, and they’d poured countless evenings into the hunt—all enthusiasm, zero results.
“Maybe,” Jeff fumbled in his pocket, keys clinking as he dragged them free. He smiled, but his eyes were empty. They always were. There would be no final camping trip. “I’ll text you and we can sort it.” He turned before Malachi could respond and jogged towards his car.
Malachi watched him leave. In the nightmare, Jeff pulled him off the wall. Here, Jeff walked away—and Malachi stayed standing.
Gravel spat beneath spinning tyres as the car tore out of the car park.
“When d’you think we’ll get to the Maidens?” Ally flinched as the engine roared into the distance.
“I don’t think we will.” Malachi eased himself back onto the wall hard, pressing to his torso, waiting for the sharp bite in his ribs. It never came. Ina was right, Wolfendens do heal quickly. “But we could plan something ourselves.”
Ally nodded, eyes still tracking the empty road before turning back to him. Steady as always. “What do we do now?”
“Lunch?” Malachi grinned. “I owe you for cancelling yesterday.”
The conversation with Jeff hadn’t exploded the way he’d expected. No shouting. No final blow-up. Just… distance. Jeff had always been controlling and louder than he needed to be. For a long time, it had been easier to follow Jeff rather than figure out who he was without him.
