Page 62 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Irene

Irene was beginning to think she might freeze to death before the Decennial had any chance of destroying her.

She’d stumbled into a never-ending tundra, nothing but snow and ice and jagged mountains dotting the horizon.

It was a startling transition—so much open space after years and years of nothing but Blackwood.

She wasn’t sure how to wrap her head around it.

Knowing there was more to purgatory than just the walls of the academy.

It was daunting. Thrilling.

She needed to know more.

Her fingers absentmindedly fussed with the locket as she walked.

She’d already tried calling Mateo, but it seemed that whatever connection they shared no longer worked, now that she had crossed Blackwood’s perimeter.

But she needed to speak with him. To ask if he had known the truth about the Decennial.

Something in the distance caught her attention. An object pressed into the snow. It glinted against the silver glow of the sky, though she didn’t realize what it was until she was standing directly over it.

A teacup.

She picked it up off the ground and inspected it carefully. The handle was made from polished silver and adorned with glittering rubies, a familiar black liquid lying at the bottom of the cup.

The elixir.

Irene didn’t waste any time, chugging it back in one gulp.

The illusion spread over her eyes like warm water. She blinked, a grogginess seeping through her limbs, and opened her eyes to find herself standing in a glass cage, a spotlight illuminating her body from above.

Darkness stretched out on all sides, an eerie nothingness hovering beyond the glass walls.

She was alone.

Or so she thought.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of a bind.”

Irene would never forget that face. Sharp cheekbones. Raven-black hair. A set of eyes as dark as her own. She wore the same red lipstick she’d worn every day of Irene’s short life, a deep cherry color that made it look like her lips were painted with dried blood.

“Mom?”

Her mother pressed her hands against the glass. “Irene.”

No.

Irene staggered backward, colliding with the glass wall. A rush of terror crawled up her throat, constricting her lungs, seizing her chest.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But the panic coursing through her was. The terror rooting her to the ground. Those feelings were real. They spread through her like a raging fire, consuming every inch of her body.

Get a grip, Irene berated herself. This was just an illusion. Something meant to distract her from the task at hand. But when she tried to summon the magic, it didn’t come, a hollow emptiness flowing through her.

“Something bothering you, dear?”

Irene jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. “You’re not real. You’re—you’re just an illusion.”

“My Irene…always so defiant. So headstrong.” Her mom chuckled, the sound echoing with a dreamlike reverberation. “And look at you now. Trapped. Nothing but a stubborn little girl stuck in the confines of her own mind.”

“I’m here because of you,” Irene spat. “You’re the reason I’m dead.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You abandoned me.” The edges of the memory threatened to leak back into Irene’s mind, but she pushed it away, biting back a swell of angry tears. “You could have sent me away somewhere. You were selfish.”

“This isn’t about the past, Irene.”

“Then what?”

Her mom’s eyes drifted lower, toward the ground. Irene followed her gaze.

A shiver coursed through her body.

Dark water had begun to rise from the ground, covering her ankles and calves. Irene’s breath hitched in her throat, her chest twisting with panic. She pounded her fists against the glass wall, slamming them as hard as she could.

“Please! Let me out!”

Her mom cocked her head to the side. “Can’t you see? All you’ve ever done is push people away. Even the people you call friends. Nobody did this to you.” She tapped the glass wall and smiled. “This, my dear girl, is a cage of your own making.”

“No.” Irene gritted her teeth, summoning the violet runes of illusionary magic into her hands. “None of this is real. It’s just an illusion. And I’m going to get rid of you.”

The water rushed beneath her at a terrifying speed, rising above her knees and up her thighs and toward her waist. A horrifying coldness seeped into her bones, the ice paralyzing her limbs.

“Better hurry,” her mom mused. “Time’s running out.”

She could do it. She’d dismantled illusions like this before.

The violet runes sprouted from her fingertips, hovering in the air as she moved them around and tried to find the right pattern.

But the water was rising faster than she could work.

Onto her waist. Over her chest. Up toward her neck. Ice-cold water devouring her.

Consuming her.

She gasped as the water sloshed against her chin. Her hands continued to produce the runes underneath the water, but she couldn’t see them anymore. The water was too dark, almost black, completely obstructing her vision.

Somewhere in the distance, her mother laughed. The cruel sound shot a wave of panic through her body.

And then the water rose past her mouth, swallowing her completely. Everything seemed to slow down. Her lungs ached. Her throat stung. She wanted to breathe. To let the water rush in. To let herself go.

It was an illusion, which meant that even though the water wasn’t real, the potential of being consumed still was. Her body went numb as the impenetrable darkness of the water clouded her vision. The piercing silence pressed against her skull.

This couldn’t be her ending. Nothing but a sacrifice. If she was destroyed, what would wait for her in the end? If not the Other Side…then what? An empty nothingness? She refused. A girl who had clawed her way through life only to be thrown into the bowels of purgatory deserved a better fate.

No. This wasn’t her ending.

She’d survived worse. She’d endured far greater suffering than this.

Irene’s lungs began to give out. Her mind wandered to Masika. Her friend. Could she even still call her that? After the way she had treated her. The secrets she’d kept from her. She thought of Masika looking back at her in the clearing, the silent plea written in her eyes.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

But she’d left.

Because that was the kind of person Irene was. She survived, even if it was at the expense of others. She’d destroy those around her if it meant preserving everything she’d fought for. And even as the illusion threatened to consume her, to take her under, she knew there was only one option left.

She’d fight.

And she would win.