35. Thorne

35

THORNE

Living with shadow magick means understanding darkness isn't empty - it's alive, aware, and hungry. But the shadows gathering around us now are different. Ancient. Wild. The forest itself is leaking into our world through every dark corner.

"We need to ward the room," I say, already moving to the windows. My shadows respond sluggishly, still drained from earlier, but they're enough to create basic barriers.

"The whole academy needs warding," Caine counters, frost spreading from where he stands. "If the forest's magick is truly awakening, we need to tell Blackthorne."

Another howl cuts through the night, closer this time. Through the window, I see movement among the trees - shapes that shouldn't exist, shadows that move against the wind.

"Yeah, I'm guessing he already fucking knows. "

Violet shivers, and my magick reacts instinctively, wanting to shelter her. But she's not just Violet anymore. The power swirling beneath her skin calls to my shadows in ways I don't fully understand yet. It's like she is using my magick, not borrowing it, but it's a part of her, too.

"Who did you see?" she asks suddenly.

"My grandmother."

"She heard it too, didn't she? The forest's call?"

"Same," Flint says when she looks at him.

"Well, now we know why it didn't work for them. This power is exceptional," she whispers. "I'm surprised I'm still alive."

"It needs us working in harmony, like with the ward stone. I would hazard a guess as to suggest that us being your anchors, your lovers, had everything to do with it. Obviously, they weren't in that position. They were four incredibly powerful beings, but they weren't, eww, involved with each other."

Flint shudders as he gives Caine a disgusted look.

I watch Violet carefully. She's still pale, but there's a presence about her that wasn't there before. My shadows recognise it, want to bow to it.

She catches me staring and smiles faintly. "It's strange, isn't it? I can feel all of you now. Your magick, your emotions..." She closes her shifting eyes. "Thorne's shadows want to dance. Flint's new fire wants to soar. Caine's ice wants to crystallise perfect patterns. And I..."

"Want to conduct the symphony," I finish quietly .

"Yes." She opens her eyes again, and for a moment, I see the forest in them - ancient, wild, patient no longer. "But the melody it wants us to play is frightening."

More howls, a chorus now. The shadows in the room writhe, trying to answer some call I can barely hear. Through the window, the forest seems closer than ever.

"We need a plan," Caine says, ever practical. "If Nathaniel's orchestrating all this, then we need to move fast."

"He's not," I say, certainty flooding me as my shadows whisper their secrets. "He's just taking advantage of fate. The forest's awakening was always going to happen. He's just hurrying it along."

"Why?" Flint demands. "What does he get out of it?"

"Power," Violet says simply. "Wild magick would mean no more rules, no more boundaries." She looks at me. "No more shadows being told where they can and can't go, and as my sire, he gets… me."

Caine growls and moves closer to her. "Never. He will never have you."

My magick surges at the thought, and I have to force it back down. The problem is, she's right. A part of me wants this. Wants to let the shadows run free, to stop containing and controlling them.

"It would be chaos," Caine repeats his earlier warning. "The magickal world has rules for a reason."

"Maybe," Violet agrees. "But the forest doesn't care about our rules. It never did. It's why Morgan was so powerful. She wasn't bound by magickal constraints, only her own morality, which I'm starting to feel was various shades of grey, depending on the day and who pissed her off."

"So it's told," I confirm.

"Now the forest wants payback," Flint mutters.

A sound like breaking branches echoes through the night, followed by screams from somewhere in the academy. Violet tries to stand, swaying slightly.

"The barriers between wild magick and regulated magick are breaking down," she says. "What happened in the library, with the ward stone, was just the beginning."

"So what do we do?" I ask though I suspect I know the answer.

She looks at each of us, power swirling in her eyes. "We learn to channel it properly. Learn to direct it rather than control it. Because if we don't..."

There are more screams. Through my shadows, I sense movement in the academy—students running, teachers trying to maintain order, and wild magick seeping through the walls.

"If we don't," she continues, "what happened to your grandmothers, to Caine's grandfather, to all those failed vessels happens to everyone, including us."

The forest howls again, and this time, we all hear the words hidden in that sound:

Free us.

I meet Violet's gaze, seeing my reflection in her ethereal eyes. "How long do we have? "

"Not long enough," she answers. "But we have to try."

Because that's who we are now - vessels of ancient power, conductors of wild magick, protectors of the last barrier between order and chaos.

Somewhere in the darkness, Nathaniel watches, waiting to see if we'll succeed where all others failed.

Or if we'll burn the world down trying.

The sound of breaking glass echoes from somewhere below, followed by more screams. My shadows twist anxiously, reporting chaos spreading through the academy's lower floors.

"Wild magick is seeping in everywhere," I report, interpreting their whispers. "The regular wards are failing."

"Not failing," Violet corrects, her voice carrying that ancient undertone again. "Being unmade. Returning to their original state."

Through the window, we watch as the structured magickal lights in the courtyard begin to warp. Their carefully regulated illumination becomes wild and primal, like stars falling to earth.

The staff are out there trying their damndest to protect the academy and the students, but they can't. Their magick isn't working right. Structured spells dissolve into raw energy. Controlled flames turn feral.

"We need to help them," Flint says, already moving toward the door.

"Their magick is too regulated," Violet observes. "Too tamed. The forest won't answer to that anymore. "

"But it answers to us," I say, understanding dawning. My shadows coil eagerly, already wilder than they've ever been. "Because we've accepted its true nature."

"We need to accept what we've become fully," Violet says.

"Meaning?" Flint asks.

Instead of answering, she holds out her hands. Purple light spills from her palms, carrying echoes of all our magick swirling together.

"The forest chose us for a reason," she says. "Not to control its power, but to channel it. To remember how magick used to be, before it was bound and regulated."

"Feral," I murmur, feeling my shadows stir with ancient memory.

"Free," Flint adds, his flames dancing.

"Pure," Caine finishes, ice crystals forming in the air around him.

She closes her eyes, and I feel her magick reach for ours. Not forcing or controlling, but inviting. Reminding our power of what it once was.

My shadows respond instantly, stretching toward her with joy. They remember this. The time before they were confined to corners and regulated by rules. When they could dance between worlds as they pleased.

Flint's flames roar higher, taking on colours I've never seen before. Not just orange and red, but blues and greens and purples. Dragon fire as it was meant to be.

Caine's ice spreads in impossible patterns, each crystal singing with its own frequency. It is not the structured formations of modern magick but the wild geometries of ancient ice that once tore down the world and covered it.

Violet conducts our power, showing us what we could be. What we were always meant to be.

Our magick transforms, becoming something older and wilder and infinitely more beautiful.

"Now," Violet says, opening her transformed eyes, "let's show them how to remember."

We move as one, following her down to where chaos reigns. But it's not chaos to us anymore. We see the patterns in it, the ancient dance of power returning to its true form.

Teachers and students alike stop to stare as we pass. Our magick flows around us visibly now: shadows that move like living things, flames that sing, and ice that tells stories in its formations. Violet glows with the power of all four aspects, showing everyone what magick could be if they just remembered how to listen.

The forest howls again, but this time, it's not a demand.

It's a celebration.

Because its children are coming home.

Nothing will ever be the same.

My shadows swirl with satisfaction as we show them how to remember. How to let their magick transform back into what it was always meant to be.

But somewhere in the darkness, I sense Nathaniel watching. But he's not smiling anymore.

Because this isn't his plan. This is something else entirely.

This is revolution.