Page 47 of Faeheart (Widdershins Supernatural Academy #2)

Elias

D espite all odds, we’d survived.

And for the past week, all four of us had been living in the Widdershins Academy infirmary, recovering from our battle with the Purity Front.

The infirmary had become our temporary home, with four beds arranged in a square so we could always see each other.

Professor Blackwood had made sure we weren’t separated, understanding that our tetrad bond needed proximity to properly heal.

The clerics had worked around the clock to repair the damage.

Wild had several broken ribs and internal injuries from his mother’s torture, Atlas’s concussion from being thrown against the wall, while Caden and I were recovering from magical exhaustion.

But the physical wounds were healing faster than the emotional ones.

Wild had barely spoken about his mother since we’d returned.

I could feel his conflicted emotions through our bond.

He was relieved that she was gone, but there was also a deep grief that surprised him.

Despite everything she’d done, she’d still been the woman who’d raised him, who’d taught him his first spells, who’d once read him bedtime stories.

The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound.

Despite her cold demeanor, she had still been family that Wild trusted once.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not sad,” I said quietly, reaching across the space between our beds to take his hand. “She was still your mother, regardless of what she became.”

Wild’s emerald eyes met mine, raw with pain he’d been trying to hide.

“I know I should hate her. After what she did to us, to you...” His voice cracked.

“But I keep remembering when I was little, before the politics consumed everything. She used to take me to the gardens and teach me how to make flowers bloom out of season.”

Through our bond, I felt Atlas and Caden’s gentle support flowing toward Wild, their love wrapping around him like a protective embrace.

We’d all lost something in that mansion.

Wild lost his mother, me, my father, and all of us the naivety that our tetrad bond made us invincible.

If anything, our fight with the Purity Front had proven quite the opposite. We were in more danger than ever.

“I had no idea my father was even part of the Purity Front,” I admitted, my thumb tracing circles on Wild’s palm.

“Before this, he used to help me with my homework. He’d get so excited when I mastered a new spell structure.

” I swallowed hard. “In the end, he tried to save us. That has to count for something.”

A soft knock interrupted our conversation. Professor Blackwood entered, carrying a tea service that smelled of healing herbs and something else, something that made my magic hum with recognition.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, setting the tray on a side table before moving to check each of us in turn.

“Better,” Atlas replied, though his golden eyes remained troubled. “The headaches are mostly gone.”

“And the tetrad bond?” Professor Blackwood asked, her gaze moving between us with professional interest. “Any lingering effects from the artifact?”

I exchanged glances with my mates, feeling the steady pulse of our connection. If anything, the bond felt stronger than before, tempered by the crucible of our shared trauma and survival.

“It’s stable,” I said. “More than stable, actually. The experience seems to have deepened our connection.”

Professor Blackwood nodded, satisfaction evident in her expression. “That’s precisely what I hoped to hear. Bonds like yours grow stronger through adversity. It’s one of the fundamental principles of magical theory that’s often overlooked in academic settings.”

She poured four cups of the fragrant tea, adding a drop of golden liquid from a small vial into each. The scent intensified, reminding me of sunshine on fresh moss and something ancient I couldn’t quite place.

“Drink,” she instructed, handing each of us a cup. “It’s a restorative blend with a couple drops of powered unicorn horn. Extremely rare, but the Council deemed your recovery... priority.”

Wild raised an eyebrow, accepting his cup with suspicion. “The Council? The same people who’ve been questioning us daily about what happened? Since when do they care about our wellbeing? They didn’t even come check on us at the mansion.”

“Since you four became the first documented tetrad bond in over three centuries to survive a direct magical assault,” Professor Blackwood replied matter-of-factly.

“And since you destroyed an artifact that, by all accounts, should have been impossible to defeat.” She paused for a moment, looking him over.

“But you’re right. They should’ve checked on you.

I can understand your frustration. I myself expected you to be better looked after by the Elder Council. ”

I sipped the tea, feeling immediate warmth spreading through my limbs.

The magic in the unicorn horn resonated with our bond, strengthening the connections between us.

Through our shared awareness, I could feel the others experiencing the same sensation, like sunshine flowing through veins that had been filled with ice.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” Atlas said, his golden eyes studying Professor Blackwood with the intensity of his werewolf nature. “You’ve been visiting us every day, bringing special remedies, keeping the Council from interrogating us too harshly. Why?”

Professor Blackwood sighed, pulling up a chair between our beds. For a moment, she looked older, the lines around her eyes deepening with memories I couldn’t read.

“Because I’ve seen what happens when a powerful bond is left vulnerable after trauma,” she said quietly. “And because I made a promise to someone very dear to me that I would protect the next generation that found themselves in this position.”

“Lydia,” I whispered, understanding dawning. “You knew her.”

Professor Blackwood’s eyes widened slightly. “How did you?—”

“I met Thorne,” I interjected, sitting up straighter despite the looks from the others. I hadn’t told them about him yet. “Well, what was left of him, anyway. He helped me rewire the mansion’s defenses.”

The professor’s teacup clattered against its saucer. “Thorne? But that’s impossible. He died decades ago.”

“Not completely,” I said softly. “A fragment of him remained bound to the mansion. He sacrificed what was left of himself to help us.”

Tears gathered in Professor Blackwood’s eyes before she blinked them away with practiced composure.

“I see. That... explains much about how you managed to survive.” She took a steadying breath.

“Lydia was my mentor. After she lost both her bond mates, she dedicated her life to teaching others in secret about the power and vulnerability of magical bonds. She made me promise that if I ever encountered another group like yours, I would do everything in my power to protect them from the forces that destroyed her happiness.”

Through our tetrad bond, I felt Wild’s curiosity spike alongside my own. The pieces were finally falling into place. It explained why Professor Blackwood had been so invested in our success, why she’d pushed us together despite the academy’s policies, and why she’d fought so hard to keep us safe.

“She trained you,” Caden said, his gentle voice carrying certainty. “That’s why you understand our bond so well.”

“She did more than train me,” Professor Blackwood replied, her composed mask slipping to reveal deep affection.

“She saved my life. I was a scholarship student from the human world with very little power and completely overwhelmed by the magical world. Lydia took me under her wing, taught me not just magic but how to navigate the politics that could destroy someone like me. It’s because of her that I’ve become a great witch. "

Wild leaned forward, wincing slightly as his ribs protested the movement. “Someone like you?”

“A half-blood,” she said simply. “My father was human, my mother a witch. In those days, that made me an outcast in both worlds. The Purity Front’s ideology isn’t new, Wild. They’ve been spreading their poison for generations.”

The weight of her words settled over us like a shroud. Through our bond, I felt Atlas’s protective instincts flare at the thought of anyone persecuting Professor Blackwood for something she couldn’t control.

“But you became a professor,” I pointed out. “You achieved everything despite their prejudice.”

“Because Lydia fought for me,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

“She used her family’s influence to get me accepted into advanced programs, vouched for my character when others questioned my loyalty, and tried to teach me to be proud of what I was rather than ashamed.

I’m sorry to say that I forgot her teachings and became mired in my self-loathing. ”

She stood, smoothing her robes with hands that trembled slightly. “When she died, I lost my way completely. As Mr. Cromwell well knows, I was preaching ideals of the Purity Front in my classes at the beginning of the term last year.”

The entire room took in a sharp breath.

“But you figured it out in the end,” Caden said. “And you helped us survive this year.”

Blackwood nodded. “I’m glad I found my way back to the light, away from the self-loathing.

After the incident with your father last year, I knew I had to do better, to put a stop to all this.

So, when I sensed the formation of your tetrad bond, I knew fate had given me the chance to fulfill that promise. ”

“The Council doesn’t know about your connection to her, do they?” Atlas asked, his tactical mind working through the implications.

“They know I studied under her, but not the extent of our relationship or the promises I made.” Professor Blackwood’s expression grew serious. “Which brings me to why I’m really here today. The Council has made a decision about your future.”