Page 72 of Immortal Consequences (The Souls of Blackwood Academy #1)

Olivier

He woke up gasping for air.

Next to him, Emilio was still. Cold. Seemingly lifeless. But not gone. If the wound had destroyed him, then he would have disintegrated into particles by now, consumed by the Ether. But he was still here, lying next to Olivier, flesh and bone, shallow breaths slipping from his lips.

There must be something Olivier could do. If he couldn’t heal the wound with a needle and thread, then maybe he needed to think beyond the physical world.

An idea emerged.

Just because they no longer held the ability to heal themselves with magic didn’t mean others couldn’t heal them. It was a possibility. Hope. And that was enough to jolt Olivier out of the bed and onto his feet.

He knew where he needed to go, though he didn’t like the idea of leaving Emilio by himself. But if anybody had a plethora of useful magical information stored in their room, it was Emilio. His room was a couple of doors away. It would only be a few seconds.

Olivier glanced at Emilio, memorizing every tiny detail of hisface.

“Hold on,” he whispered. “Please.”

And then he ran out into the corridor.

He began rifling through Emilio’s desk the moment he stumbled into the room.

As he suspected, there were dozens of textbooks and notes stuffed into his drawers and scattered over the wooden surface.

There had to be something he wasn’t seeing.

Anything. A spell that could help mend the wound. That could slow down the bleeding.

Something caught his eye. It was the book they’d stolen from the Housemasters’ section of the library. The book on shadow magic.

He didn’t think. He grabbed the book and darted back toward his room, skidding to a halt in his doorway.

Emilio was still there. His breaths shallow, rapid. His usually warm brown skin a sickly white.

Olivier darted to the bed and began frantically flipping through the pages. It was mainly unintelligible—pages and pages on soul curses and shadow portals. None of it was useful. None of it was what he needed.

Until he came across a page on rejuvenation spells. On mending and healing souls.

But there was a caveat he hadn’t considered. A requirement he wouldn’t satisfy.

He needed to remove his own humanity.

“No,” Olivier whispered, a sob rattling in his chest. “No, no, no. ”

There had to be a way around it. A way to bypass that rule.

But the more Olivier read, the more he understood that there was nothing he could do.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to remove his own humanity to save Emilio—he would do it in a heartbeat—but he didn’t know how. The text didn’t explain the process.

Beside him, Emilio moaned. It was the softest noise, barely audible. His eyes moved beneath his closed lids.

“I’m sorry,” Olivier whimpered. He pressed a kiss onto Emilio’s forehead as a sob racked his body.

If Emilio wasn’t going to make it, then Olivier was going to stay with him. Until the very end. Even if that meant relinquishing his spot in the final trial and damning his soul for all eternity. He didn’t care anymore.

But then Emilio’s eyes fluttered open slightly. He was whispering something.

“What did you say?” Olivier said, leaning in closer.

“The…page…,” Emilio breathed out, dipping in and out of consciousness.

“What page?”

Emilio coughed and blood spluttered onto his lips. “The…page…four hundred thirty-nine…look at…the theory…”

Olivier frantically scanned the pages of the old text until he found page439.

But it didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t helpful.

It was some ancient shadow magic spell known as soul infiltration.

Based on Emilio’s notes in the margin, it seemed to be a spell that allowed one person to inhabit the soul of another. Almost like possession.

Olivier squinted when he spotted something scribbled in red.

It was Emilio’s handwriting. He had written, clear as day, six simple words. A question.

COULD SOMEONE ELSE BE INSIDE LOUISE?

But before Olivier could ask Emilio what he meant, how this information was helpful, the door of the room flew open.

It took him a moment to register what he was looking at.

Housemaster Birdie and Housemaster Russo stood in the doorway. They were both out of breath, as though they’d been running.

“Quickly,” Russo gasped. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Olivier shook his head. “I don’t understand—”

“We can try to save him,” Birdie interjected with a quick glance over her shoulder. “But you both need to leave with us. Now.”