28. Violet

28

VIOLET

The sun has finally set by the time I reach the library, and my skin is still tingling from my forest adventure. The memory of the entity's words echoes in my mind, mixing with everything else that has happened over the last few weeks. The massive stone building of the academy looms before me, its gothic architecture somehow more menacing in the growing darkness.

Thorne, Flint, and Caine are already waiting outside, huddled together near the entrance of the library in what looks like an intense discussion. Their breath forms little clouds in the cold evening air, and they're all wearing expressions that make my stomach drop.

Thorne notices me first, his dark eyes widening slightly. He nudges the others, and they all turn to look at me with varying degrees of concern.

"What?" I ask, immediately suspicious, slowing my approach. "What's happened? "

"Where have you been?" Thorne asks, his voice tight with worry as his eyes scan me for injury. "We checked your room earlier..."

"Forest," I say shortly, tugging at my sleeve where a branch had caught it. "It was calling again."

"Tell us," Caine states, making it sound like an order. "For all we knew, that prick had taken you away."

Instantly, I feel bad for going off on my own, and I nod. "Yeah, sorry. It was spontaneous and during the day. I've been out for hours."

"Day?" Flint asks and comes closer. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, when I was in the forest, the sunlight didn't hurt me, but I'm not willing to test that again anytime soon. It might have just been the magick at play."

"Well, you can tell us all about that?—"

"Wait. It can wait. I found something in the restricted section," Thorne blurts out. "A book about Morgan's heirs. But not just any book - this one was different."

My heart skips a beat, my adventure momentarily forgotten. "What kind of different?"

"It was written in the old Fae language," he explains, running a hand through his already messy dark hair. The gesture leaves it standing up in ways that would be adorable if I wasn't so focused on his words. "But I could read it, well, mostly. It talked about these beings called the Guardians of the Veil. "

"Do I want to know?" I ask, though something in my gut tells me I already know.

"Beings that exist between realms," he says, his voice dropping even lower. We all lean in closer, forming a tight circle that blocks the growing bitter wind. "They're meant to test and prepare potential heirs. The book said they appear throughout an heir's life, watching and waiting, judging their worthiness."

I think of the creature I've spent years fearing, its cryptic warnings, and then that strange, almost parental tone earlier. "Let me guess - they show up at significant moments, speaking in riddles and making cryptic comments about destiny?"

Thorne frowns. "I guess. Did you see it again?" His tone is cautious.

"Yep. I had a lovely chat in the forest," I say dryly, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Though ‘chat' might be generous. It was more like a cryptic fortune cookie having a seizure."

"What exactly did it say?" Caine asks, leaning forward on his cane. Ice crystals form where the tip touches the ground, spreading in delicate patterns.

I launch into my tale about the forest calling me, seeing the stone circle, the purple and silver tree with its shifting symbols, the entity's warnings about Nathaniel. I describe the vision I had when touching the stone, the glimpses of Morgan walking the same paths.

"It was trying to show me something," I explain, frustrated by my inability to properly understand what I'd experienced. "But every time I got close to understanding, it would slip away, like trying to remember a dream."

"The book mentioned something similar," Thorne says, his expression thoughtful. "About how the knowledge comes in pieces, revealed only when the heir is ready to receive it. But there was something else, something about trials?—"

"What kind of trials?" I interrupt, though I'm not sure I want to know.

He hesitates, glancing at the others before continuing. "It said no heir has ever fully claimed their inheritance. They either failed the tests or chose to reject the power."

"Reject it?" Flint frowns. "Why would they do that? Isn't this what they were born for?"

"Because accepting it means becoming like Morgan," Thorne explains, his voice gentle as he looks at me. "A bridge between worlds, never fully belonging to either realm. The book said it's a lonely existence, being caught between light and shadow."

Well, that's just fantastic. Add it to the list of ways my life has become the exact opposite of what I'd envisioned. "Where's this book now? I'd like to read it myself."

Thorne grimaces, looking genuinely apologetic. "Professor Graves confiscated it. She said it wasn't part of my cataloguing duties, and I shouldn't be reading the texts I was meant to be organising."

"Brilliant," I mutter, kicking at a loose stone. "Any other good news? "

"Actually, yeah," Thorne glances at Caine. "Zephyr stopped by while I was working. He had some interesting information about the underground chambers."

"Interesting how?" I ask, not liking his tone.

"The chambers change," Thorne explains. "Every time someone enters, the tunnels shift and rearrange themselves. There's no way to map them or predict what we'll find. According to Zephyr, it's a total crapshoot what you will come up against. It's like the space itself is alive, constantly evolving."

I think about this for a moment, then shrug. "Well, let's go then."

They all stare at me like I've grown a second head. The expressions would be comical if they weren't so serious.

"Did you miss the part about the constantly changing death maze?" Flint asks, his voice rising slightly.

"No, but think about it," I say, warming to my idea. "If the chambers change every time, then planning is pointless anyway. We might as well just go and deal with whatever we find. Besides, after what I saw in the forest, I know I have to go back down there. We can't just sit around waiting for Nathaniel to show up again with his own brand of cryptic bullshit and everything else, the forest, the Guardians, that hidden library, it's all connected somehow. We need answers."

They exchange looks, but I can see they're considering it. After all, what's the alternative?

"If we're doing this," Caine says finally, his voice carrying that tone of resigned acceptance I'm starting to recognise, "we need to be smarter about it than last time. We know we start with magick, and it disappears when we need it the most. So we have to rely on our wits once we get down there."

"Agreed," Thorne nods.

"Let's go then," Flint says, sighing heavily but moving forward anyway.

The library is mercifully empty at this hour. Our footsteps echo off the high ceiling as we make our way to the statue of Morgan. At the far end, she stands as imperiously as ever, her stone eyes seeming to follow our movement.

"Anyone else getting second thoughts?" Flint mutters as we approach.

"Only about a thousand," I reply cheerfully, reaching for the hidden button. "But when has that ever stopped us?"

I press it before they can answer, and the grinding sound fills the air as the passage opens. The sound seems different somehow, almost eager like the chambers have been waiting for us.

"Just so we're clear," Flint says, "I want it on the record that I think this is a terrible idea."

"Noted," I mutter, trying to ignore my mounting anxiety. "But terrible ideas are kind of becoming our specialty, aren't they?"

The passage seals behind us with a final click, plunging us into darkness, broken only by the magical lights that spring to life along the walls. They seem dimmer than last time, more ominous somehow, casting long shadows that seem to move when we're not looking directly at them.

"Right then," I say, squaring my shoulders and trying to project more confidence than I feel. "Let's go see what other delightful surprises Morgan left for us, shall we?"

Thorne pulls something out of the back pocket of his cargo pants and flicks on a torch.

I giggle. "Old school. Nice."

"I am prepared this time to do this without magick. As Caine said, we have to be smart about this."

"And you are the brainbox of the group," I murmur, pressing closer to him and stealing a quick kiss. He grins but then turns serious as we head down the passageway.

We descend into the shifting darkness below MistHallow, where answers, and probably more questions, await. The air grows cooler with each step, heavy with the weight of ancient magick and secrets yet to be revealed.

At least this time, we know we're walking into a trap. That's progress, right?

Right?

The silence that follows my thought is anything but reassuring.