Page 25 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Wren

The hedge spat Wren out without warning. Her body hit the ground, hands landing palms down on the dirt. Behind her, the vines slithered away, retreating into the hedge. She gathered herself onto her feet and tried to make sense of where she was.

It was definitely the same maze, but Masika and Liza were nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t even hear them. Just an eerie silence blanketing the air and the rustle of the leaves against the wind.

For a second, Wren found herself rooted to the ground, unsure what to do next.

But then Masika’s words echoed in her mind: We keep moving.

She was right. There was no time to panic. She just had to keep moving.

Wren continued forward. The farther she ventured into the maze, the deeper the darkness around her grew, the silver glow of Blackwood fading as the twisted branches thickened above her, morphing into a canopy of prickly vines and rotten twigs.

With nothing but the eerie silence of the hedges to accompany her, Wren found the reality of the situation dawning on her.

This is the Decennial.

Despite the anger she felt over Silas’s concealing the truth from her, she supposed his promise to nominate her hadn’t entirely been a lie. She had been nominated. Technically speaking. He’d just happened to leave out the fact that there would be others this time around.

The timing of it all felt awfully convenient, and Wren couldn’t shake the feeling that the change in the Decennial was somehow related to Louise’s strange arrival. But she couldn’t focus on that now, not when there were more important things to deal with.

Not when she needed to win.

She had taken a right turn when she saw a shadow shift in front of her. She summoned a sphere of light, illuminating the figure standing a few yards away.

It was August.

But something was…different. He stared blankly at her, as if he couldn’t see her, his hands frozen by his side.

“August?” Wren’s voice wavered as she called out to him.

He blinked, and his eyes morphed from their usual ice-cold gray into a startling bloodred.

Wren gasped, stumbling backward. It must be some sort of illusion. Some sort of trick—

August tilted his head. It was a sharp and sudden movement, far too rigid to appear human-like. And then his mouth curled into a terrifying grin, revealing a set of black, rotten teeth.

No.

This thing, this replica, wasn’t August.

Blood oozed out of its mouth, dark violet streams dripping onto its chin. The replica that looked like August took a single step forward, and then another, that vile, crooked smile still plastered on its face.

The hedge next to her shivered, and then a single dagger slithered out, rolling onto the dirt.

Surprised, Wren blinked at it. Swirling patterns had been engraved in the emerald hilt of the dagger, the silver blade sharpened to a fine point.

She scrambled to pick it up, her hands slick with sweat, and pointed it toward the replica.

“Stay back.” Wren summoned flames, guiding them toward the tip of the dagger, coating its sharp blade in fiery embers.

“There’s no need for that,” the replica practically purred, stepping closer. “I’m just here to talk.”

Wren spun the dagger in her hands, the flames lashing the replica across the shoulder. Its skin sizzled, burning away to reveal ligaments and bone. But the replica barely flinched, merely looking down at the wound with a coy smile.

“Well…” It glanced up at her in amusement. “That wasn’t verynice.”

Wren blew a strand of hair away from her face. “Well…who said I play nice?”

She lunged forward, attempting to jam the blade into the replica’s chest, but it stepped out of the way at the last moment, its movement so fast she barely registered it. Wren swallowed her terror as she spun the dagger between her hands, readying her stance, turning to face the replica once more.

“Enough dancing,” Wren sneered. “Fight me.”

The replica merely laughed. “As amusing as that thought is…I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t play nice either.”

The replica snapped its fingers, and it was like all the air had been sucked out of Wren’s lungs.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her fingers clawed at her throat, desperate for air, desperate for anything. She collapsed onto her knees, wheezing helplessly, choking on the emptiness filling her lungs. Above her, the replica continued to smile.

“Wren Loughty.” Its voice suddenly morphed, no longer taking on that graveled rasp she knew so well. Whoever’s voice this was…it was no longer August. “You aren’t exactly what I had been expecting.”

Confusion clouded Wren’s mind as she continued to suffocate, tears welling in her eyes.

The replica’s smile only widened. “Oh, come now. There’s no need for tears.

You might not realize it, but I’m here to free you.

To save you.” It leaned in closer, red eyes locked on her.

“Don’t you want to be free from your guilt?

The accident haunts you. It plagues your dreams. I can free you from that. I can help you finally let go.”

Terror unfurled its claws in her chest.

The accident.

How? Wren wanted to ask, but her voice was trapped. She could barely see anymore, her vision blurring.

The replica laughed, as though it had heard her question. “I know everything.”

Just as Wren was certain she was seconds away from passing out, the replica let out a sudden gasp, its jaw going slack and eyes widening. Wren glanced up to find the tip of the silver dagger protruding from the replica’s chest, the gleaming blade coated in dark, violet blood.

And then the replica vanished, as if it had been nothing but smoke and ash.

The invisible force tightening around Wren’s neck loosened its grip and she heaved in a choked gasp. A tense moment of silence flooded her ears as she steadied her breathing, inhaling the air around her greedily.

A twig snapped in front of her, and her head shot up.

Standing where the replica of August had been only seconds earlier was… August.

Streaks of violet blood stained his white shirt, some of it even splashed across his cheekbones.

He had a venomous look in his eyes, a wolfish gleam that made Wren’s throat constrict again.

His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his grip on the dagger so tight that his knuckles were bleached white.

“Loughty?” His voice cracked as he spoke her name.

He took a step forward, reaching out toward her, but she cowered backward, scrambling away from him.

Confusion twisted his features. “It’s…me.”

“I don’t—” Wren shook her head. She felt like she was going crazy, her sanity splintering at the edges. “I can’t be sure. How do I know it’s really you?”

August considered her words, fingers flexing by his side. For a few seconds, he said nothing, and then he simply shrugged and said, “I suppose you’ll have to trust me. Though you’ve never been very good about that.”

Relief washed over her, warmth pooling into her chest. Of course it’s him. A part of Wren knew she would always recognize August. No matter where they were, no matter how much time had passed. In this life and the next.

Wren cleared her throat.

“Good timing.”

August’s expression softened a fraction, the concern dissipating from his face. “I turned the corner and saw that… thing. ” He spat the last word out and rubbed a damp curl away from his face. “Figured you could use the help.”

Wren eyed the dagger in his hand. “The maze gave that to me. I don’t get it. One moment it’s helping me, and the next it’s doing everything in its power to make sure I’m eliminated.” She snorted and looked up at him. “Kind of like you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think the words you’re looking for are thank you. ”

“Right.” She fought the unwelcome flush burning against her cheeks. “Thanks.”

She wanted to ask him how much of her conversation with the replica he had heard, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

And before she could muster up the courage, the hedge next to them suddenly began to move, shifting until an opening appeared before them.

On the other side was a new path. Unlike the rest of the maze, this path was lined with bronze streetlamps, the ground filled with lush grass and dotted with tulips.

“Well…” Wren peered through the opening. “That’s new.”

Next to her, August sighed.

“Shall we keep going?”

Wren hesitated before snatching the dagger from his hand.

“Like we have a choice.”