Page 5

A hiss carried each word. “Six Serpents will mentor you. They’ll hand-pick you based on tests and trials over the next three days.

A map will be placed in your dorms. There are aides to care for, cook, and mend you.

When the lanterns turn on, it’s lights out.

You may not enter other trails or realms without permission.

Leave campus without it being a holiday, and you’ll be expelled.

Now, I’ll introduce the Serpents who volunteered their time to mentor you.

Do not disturb them unless they approach you. ”

They were beasts in my eyes, untamed wild snakes, sensing blood and fear as all six flicked their gazes among us.

The headmaster gestured. “Monty Garcia, Serpent of Bright Day.” A male stepped forward, black hair slicked to show off his angular jaw. He waved with a smirk, bowing smugly.

Monty’s name was plastered in the papers every other week. Last year alone, three mistresses.

“Jenessa Link, Serpent of Winter.” My heart skipped as Jenessa stepped forward. Her dark complexion glinted in the lantern light, her skin as smooth as ice. She looked around Charles’s age, possibly the Serpent of Winborrow.

“Saani Kaur, Serpent of Summer.” Saani didn’t step forward, but brushed a pin-straight strand of black hair behind her ear, the tail end of her whip slashing the stone. She was draped in gold: hoops, bangles, and a golden cape that swayed with her slender frame.

“Tydon Braie, Serpent of Autumn.” A fire-headed male bowed, one hand behind him.

“Archer Lynch, Serpent of the last standing Night.” Archer furrowed his brow, a cocky grin forming on his lips. Dark hair shaved at the sides, with a wave swooping above his brow. Tall, fearsome, cruel—a man rarely seen in the press, even when we needed more cinder .

“Levisly Bloom, Serpent of Spring.” A pixie-like woman twirled forward, vines wrapping around her petite figure. Her fingers curled into a wave.

The headmaster let the room settle, waiting for the students to stop whispering about Archer and Monty. Even Knox’s lips parted in awe—hard to believe it came from him.

“Some of you may not survive your first night. Leaders are not born. Half of those who received letters will die or be sentenced to the Malvoria Institute before the year ends,” he continued. “So, I ask you all: Who does not wish to be here?”

The room stirred as students turned to watch for those brave enough to raise their hands.

Knox pinned my wrist down, eyes forward. “Don’t you dare think about raising your fucking hand,” he hissed.

A shuffle went through the crowd as a dozen raised their hands. A familiar voice cleared his throat, stepping out of the shadows.

“Malvoria welcomes you. You’ll all make great guards.” Charles stood beside a black column, his Malvoria suit pressed perfectly.

He didn’t fly us here out of kindness. He came to recruit the dropouts. He knew better than to glance our way. He knew all he’d see was the pulsing anger in his youngest sibling’s eyes. Perhaps he knew his vow of protection to the Continent was more than clipped words—it was entrapment.

What happened next was more or less a nightmare.

Screams echoed. A girl fell to her knees, dragged toward Charles by a guard gripping her hair and wrist. Her hands flailed like a griffin caught in a trap.

Six more students walked over, knowing their fate as they whimpered in fear .

A few tried to barter with the headmaster. “It was a mistake, sir. I want to continue with the academy.” Tears stained the stone as their cries consumed the air.

I whispered to Knox, “They should have known there’s only one way out of here.”

“There’s always death.” Surprisingly, I didn’t shudder at his words, but an awful ache rolled in my chest, knowing those twelve wouldn’t make it a year in Malvoria until they were left with half a soul and a crippled body.

The headmaster glared at a male student whose hand went above his heart. “Forgive me,” he whispered, eyes on my eldest brother.

Professor Mundair offered no remorse.

“There are no second chances. Your heart does not lie with Galthyn, but you will spend the rest of your life protecting our land.”

Distorted shrieks sounded from that male student. His hands bent, palms flat as he collapsed to his knees.

“What is that sound?” I asked Knox, nearly wincing in pain from the screech.

“It’s a screamer quell,” he said with a grunt. “Rare but deadly.”

A few ears bled, silenced to their buckled knees. Charles closed his eyes and walked toward the male, then wrapped his hands around the boy’s neck and… Oh. He snapped it.

I stifled my scream as a deafening crack went through the hall as the male’s body hit the stone.

Charles… how could he?

How could he?

A part of me never believed that cruelty spored within him. And perhaps power and protection were molds, slowly growing until they infected his mind .

I buried my face in Knox’s leather jacket. “Is it over?” I asked and felt Knox nod. “Knox? Charles… he…” I gripped his elbow, and he shrugged me off.

“You look weak, Severyn. Control it,” he snapped, eyes glazed on the still body below Charles. “We can’t allow anyone to view us as weak.”

Another first-year snickered beside us. “And that is why they teach you how to control your quell here. He would never have made it, even in Malvoria. Screamers aren’t someone you want living beside you.

Albeit their voices are deadly, there isn’t much sense when everyone around you is in pain, even your fellow guards. ”

And he was killed without even possessing a forbidden quell. Charles killed someone. He killed a student. In front of me. Us.