Page 64 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Masika

Masika landed at the foot of a mountain. She blinked through the snow as she tried to regain her senses, hands reaching out toward the sheer wall. The face of the mountain seemed to stretch up into the heavens, the ground beneath her a treacherous landscape of snow and ice.

Flakes of snow melted on her lips as she gathered herself, spinning on her heels to get a complete look at her surroundings.

She thought there might be an obvious path, a signal pointing her in the right direction, but there was nothing.

She braced herself and began to walk along the perimeter of the mountain.

Sharp shards of ice and snow pelted her skin, flurries clouding her eyes. The howling wind echoed all around her, a resounding shriek that filled her skull.

After what felt like an eternity of trekking through the dense snow, Masika saw a faint glimmer in the distance. It hovered against the flurry of snow blurring her vision, a distant orange light rocking back and forth.

As she approached the light, her vision cleared. It was a lantern. It hung from a wooden post, swaying in the wind, the rusted metal creaking with every sharp movement. Masika grabbed the lantern, grateful for the warmth radiating from its single flame, and shined it toward the mountain.

And that was when she spotted the arched door carved into the rock.

A flood of relief rushed through her.

Luckily, the door wasn’t locked and she was able to swing it open, stumbling inside the base of the mountain as a gust of wind propelled her forward.

The more she peered around the unfamiliar corridor, the more it became apparent that the lantern wasn’t just an aid but a necessity.

It was nearly pitch-black, nothing but the light from the flame to break apart the darkness.

The space smelled faintly of burning wood, of a fire burning nearby, which encouraged her to move forward.

As the path in front of her began to widen, hope sprang up inside her. At the end of the corridor sat a large, circular room carved into the base of the mountain.

The walls shot up straight toward the sky, appearing to be as tall as the mountain itself.

A roaring fire burned at the center of the room, the snap of embers crackling through the silence.

In front of the fire were a tattered red rug and a leather couch, chunks of ice and rock scattered across the floor.

She scurried to the fire and knelt down, extending her hands toward it. Relief instantly washed over her.

Once she had been sufficiently warmed up, she began to inspect her surroundings, eyes carefully scanning the room. Seconds later, she spotted the teacup placed in the center of the rug.

The illusionary elixir.

Masika jolted onto her feet and grabbed the teacup. She was pressing it against her lips when a voice rang out behind her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A teasing glint. A familiar Texan twang.

Masika’s entire body went rigid as she glanced over her shoulder. Birdie and Russo stood side by side, only a few yards away from her.

Except something was different.

They weren’t wearing their usual Housemasters’ cloaks.

In fact, they weren’t wearing any of their usual clothes.

They each wore black pants with knee-high leather boots, a crimson tunic tied around their torso.

Birdie had a leather harness strapped around her waist, silver daggers dangling by her side.

Russo had a long saber strapped against her shoulder and a glittering emerald dangling from a silver chain around her neck.

Had Masika already drunk the elixir? Was this the illusion? But when she glanced down at the teacup, the black liquid remained.

Birdie stepped closer.

“This is very much real, Ms.Sallow.”

Panic shot through Masika as the words left Birdie’s lips. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about the Housemaster’s voice that unnerved her, but it was clear that something wasn’t right.

Masika looked between them. “Is this part of the Decennial?”

“No,” Russo replied, the word laced with disgust. “We’re not part of that sadistic competition.”

“We’re here to help you,” Birdie explained softly. “We have a way to break the soul vow. A way for you to get out of the competition with your soul still intact.”

Her words echoed against the walls of the mountain. Masika’s stomach churned with apprehension. A way out of the soul vow. It was too good to be true. And anything that good came with its fair share of conditions.

“How?” she asked.

It was Russo who answered.

“You’ll need to leave Blackwood. For good.”

Masika turned the words over in her mind. “And do what exactly? Go hide in the outskirts of purgatory and wait for the Demien Order to find me?”

The pair exchanged a knowing glance. Masika surveyed the silent communication. Unspoken words simmered in their eyes, a flicker of hesitance marred by secrets. It was the kind of look shared between two people who knew that what they were about to say would change everything.

“Are you two”—Masika’s voice shook as the realization washed over her—“part of the Demien Order?”

“We were,” Russo said. “But not anymore.”

Masika didn’t think. She called upon her magic, silver shards crackling in her palms, bracing herself for a fight.

Birdie raised a cautionary hand. “Please. We’re not here to hurtyou.”

“You couldn’t have been Demiens,” Masika seethed, holding her ground. “That’s not possible. You’d have to have given up your humanity. Silas would have noticed. He would have—”

“He didn’t notice because we didn’t give up our humanity,” Russo interjected, a lilt of annoyance in her voice. “We were undercover for the Demien Order. Half Demiens, if you will. We didn’t give up our humanity, but we were still feeding information to the Order.”

“But we’re not anymore,” Birdie added, a pleading look in her eyes. “We haven’t been for a while.”

Panic welled in Masika’s chest. She raised her hands, her magic sparking in warning.

“The girl is too distrustful,” muttered Russo with an exasperated sigh. “I knew she wouldn’t understand. There are others we could have gone to first. We don’t have enough time for this.”

Their words scrambled in Masika’s brain, confusion clouding her mind.

“Stop!” She glanced between the two Housemasters. “Why should I trust you? You were Demiens. Traitors. Not to mention, you’ve known what Silas has been doing to us this whole time. You could have warned us. You could have saved the other nominees.”

“It’s not that simple,” Birdie sighed. “Our alliance with the Demien Order has been severed. And our relationship with Blackwood is…complicated. We couldn’t interfere with the Decennial, not without risking everything we’ve been working toward.”

Masika let out a frustrated groan. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Then give us a moment to explain,” Birdie pleaded.

Masika wanted to listen, but the panic had begun to spread through her limbs like a wildfire. She should strike them down now, while their defenses were low. She had the perfect opportunity. All she had to do was summon the magic and she’d be able to—

“If you don’t want to hear it from us,” Russo cut in, dark eyes blazing, “then perhaps there’s somebody else you’ll listen to.”

Masika tilted her head in confusion. Before she could ask who, a sound reverberated behind her, the familiar swoosh of a relocation spell. Then footsteps. One after the other. Slow and deliberate.

A voice echoed against the walls of the mountain—one Masika thought she’d never hear again.

“My little dove…did you miss me?”

It had been years since she’d seen her. Years since she’d heard her voice.

But there wasn’t a doubt in Masika’s mind that it was really her.

Catherine.

She had the same hazel eyes, the same golden skin and tawny hair.

But something about her was different. There was a hardness in Catherine’s stare that Masika didn’t recognize.

No warmth. No small, knowing smile. She wore the same crimson uniform Birdie and Russo wore, outfitted with an armor corset and a pointed spear clasped in her right hand.

“Is it really you?” Masika heard herself whisper.

Catherine smirked, stepping closer.

“Oh, come on…you don’t recognize me after all this time?”

“But—” Masika inhaled sharply and dug her fingernails into her palms. “Why?”

“What Birdie and Russo told you is true,” Catherine explained, her voice steady and commanding. “We were once part of the Demien Order, but our allegiance is not with them. And it’s not with Blackwood either.”

“Then with who?”

Catherine tightened her grasp on the spear.

“No one.”

It didn’t make sense. There were only two sides—the Demien Order and Blackwood Academy. There was no middle ground. No third party. No escape from the rules that governed their world.

And yet…

The earth seemed to tilt violently beneath her. Masika swayed but regained her composure, inhaling a sharp breath.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“Think of us as a resistance,” Russo chimed in behind her.

Masika glanced over her shoulder. “Against what?”

Catherine’s face softened. She stepped closer, palms up in a gesture of surrender. Even though Masika’s doubt whirred inside her brain like a warning bell, she didn’t stop the other girl. She let her speak.

“Corruption isn’t born,” Catherine began, her voice calm and steady.

“It’s created. This remains true for both sides.

Blackwood Academy was created for good, but in the wrong hands, it became corrupted.

Same goes for the Demien Order. What started as a group of like-minded people bound together by a common goal turned into the Soulless One’s personal pursuit of revenge. ”

The Soulless One. The unknown entity Demiens worshipped. Their leader.

“If either side defeats the other, the afterlife will crumble. It will end in destruction.” Catherine gestured to the three of them. “We want to stop that.”