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“Enough stalling,” Aven said, as if they’d asked questions. “Gerald?”

As the menacing lackey started towards them, Alex looked at D.C. and yelled out, “Now!”

D.C. caught her meaning, and both girls jumped at Gerald, with D.C. going for his legs while Alex grabbed his tattooed arm to steady the knife. Gerald stumbled when they collided with him but he didn’t go down, solid as he was. He used his free arm to backhand Alex painfully across the face, but she refused to loosen her grip on the knife even when the effort jarred her injured shoulder. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, causing Alex to see that D.C. wasn’t faring much better with him kicking out violently at her.

Suddenly, Alex was pulled away from Gerald, her grip wrenched from his arm by one much stronger.

“Enough,” Aven said, holding Alex still as she struggled in vain against his unnatural Meyarin strength.

In the blink of an eye he pulled a dagger from his belt, its blade the colour of blue ice. In a single motion he sliced it across his own palm and silver-coloured blood began to flow out of the wound. Alex was so shocked that she failed to stop him when he pulled her left wrist forward and ripped the bloody dagger across her open hand.

“Eugh!” she cried in disgust and pain as he forced her bleeding palm towards his own, pressing both their wounds together. She felt her stomach lurch when their bloodied hands joined with a sickeningly wetsquelch.

Alex ripped her hand out of his grasp, surprised when he let her go.

“That. Was.Disgusting,” she said, in a near hysterical pitch. The wound throbbed in time with her shoulder, but then the pain in her hand began to ease and she looked down in shock as it started to heal before her eyes. After only a few seconds, all that was left was a light scar across her palm which was splashed with their mixed blood—silver blending with red.

Alex watched the dripping colours with a morbid sense of horror. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to scream out her fear and anger. “What the—”

“Be silent!” Aven shouted, ending her rant before she could even begin.

His order caused a burning feeling to pulse through her palm until her mouth closed of its own accord, completely against her will. As she tried to open it—without success—she noticed that Gerald had overcome D.C. and was once again restraining her.

“Now, follow me,” Aven ordered, and her left hand burned again with his command.

No way, she tried to say, but the words wouldn’t form. Her mouth wouldn’t open. She looked at her friend with terrified eyes and saw that D.C. was just as scared as she was. They were in real trouble now, and they both knew it.

Alex’s fear escalated when her feet started moving, and she found herself following Aven as he walked through the doorway and back into the brightly lit corridor of doors.

Something must have happened when he’d cut her palm, because all of a sudden she was like a puppet on a string, obedient to his command. She heard D.C. struggling behind her but there was nothing she could do to help. Her body was completely outside of her control.

“There now, that’s much better,” Aven said.

Alex tried to scream at him, but her mouth wouldn’t open. All she could do was trail mechanically after him, step for step.

She followed him through a doorway which led to another corridor of doors, and then through a second doorway with the same results.

It was like a maze, Alex realised, and she desperately hoped he would lose his bearings. She couldn’t stand the idea that he’d only have to order her to open the right doorway and her traitorous body would comply, allowing him to step through to Meya unhindered. If Sir Camden didn’t find the headmaster soon, they were all going to die.

I’m not ready to die, Alex’s thoughts screamed. She was meant to have decades of life left—time enough to grow old, surrounded by loved ones. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, not here, not now. What about her parents? They would never find out what happened to her. Would they think she’d run away? Would they spend the rest of their lives searching for her, wondering where she was and if she was okay? Just the thought of them, worried and grieving, pierced Alex’s heart with agony. She wanted to wrap her arms around her torso to ward off the pain, but her limbs continued to ignore her commands. All she could do was place one foot in front of the other, with each step moving her closer towards her impending execution.

When Aven eventually came to a stop, Alex’s body halted directly behind him.

“It’s time,” he said, looking at the door in front of him with longing. “I can finally end what I started all those years ago.”

No, Alex tried to say. She thought she might have broken through his control when she heard the word echo out loud, but then she realised it hadn’t been her voice, but D.C.’s.

Alex turned her head—she could do that at least, since she hadn’t been ordered not to—and watched as her roommate sliced her nails across Gerald’s face, sending the larger man staggering sideways and clutching at his torn skin. D.C. managed to leap forward and place her body between Aven and the doorway before Gerald was up and restraining her once more.

“You’re beginning to annoy me, Princess,” Aven hissed. “I was going to wait until we had a larger audience, but I think this will be much more satisfying. Alexandra?”

Alex’s palm tingled and she was forced to step closer to him. When she was by his side, Aven held out his hand and offered her his ice-like dagger.

Alex was repulsed by the blade, which still gleamed with their mixed blood, and she could only watch as her non-scarred hand reached out and grabbed the hilt. Everything in her wanted to flinch away, but instead her fingers wrapped around the dagger and drew it close, waiting for Aven’s next instructions.

“Kill her.”

Alex sucked in a sharp breath at his words. Her left palm burned like fire and she stepped forward, watching as her body moved closer to its target.