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Chapter Twenty-Three

R oderick:

“... t heir sacrifices will be remembered for generations to come.”

Dad’s voice carried across the frost-covered grounds of Utrecht Academy.

His breath formed small clouds that dissipated into the pale morning sunlight as he stood before the newly erected memorial.

This was the last of the memorials for all the beings lost. Mages had the highest losses, a fact the other races acknowledged this time.

It would’ve been a lot higher if Malachy, Elspeth, Cinaed, and the guards hadn’t been there to help.

I stood among the mourners, thankful for those close to me who survived.

Grandpa Hollen nearly died taking on three mages to defend a wounded inquisitor.

He won, but it had taken everything he had.

When Malachy arrived, Grandma had already resigned herself to the fact that he wouldn’t make it.

The grateful woman sat next to him in the crowd.

Cinaed sat next to me, his shoulder pressed against mine.

In the sea of formal black attire, his copper hair stood out.

I might be biased, but he was so beautiful, he’d have made an impression even if he wore a hat.

Heat radiated from his naturally warm body, creating a tiny pocket of warmth in the February chill.

Through our connection, I felt his sorrow mingling with my own, a shared ache for those who hadn’t returned.

The stone monument gleamed with a thin sheen of ice.

Names etched with magic spiraled around the surface, in a pattern that would glow with mage fire each night until dawn.

Twenty-seven names. Most had fallen to demons at locations other than the three primary medicine wheels.

Out of necessity, we’d sent our most powerful mages to the sites where Blackstone’s dark magic had been strongest.

It didn’t make it right, but we’d tried our best.

“In their honor, we establish this eternal flame.” Dad’s stone flared, and a golden fire sprang to life around the base of the monument. “May it burn as brightly as their courage.”

Cinaed’s grip tightened on mine. Through our bond, I felt his thoughts drifting to his grandfather and the ultimate sacrifice he’d made.

Ailpein had his own marker inside the phoenix castle courtyard.

His service had been first. At King Malachy’s request, Cinaed and I shaped the obelisk with fire and magic.

Every race held a commemoration for their fallen. Cinaed and I, along with all the other guardians, attended every one. Those beings needed to see we didn’t count their sacrifices as any less than ours. It was also the right thing to do. Linked to the Earth, we felt the loss on a deeper level.

“He would be proud we didn’t waste his gift,” I said through our link. Cinaed’s smile felt sad, but grateful.

The speeches ended, and representatives from each species placed a flower in front of the flames. I scanned the crowd, noting the faces of those who’d survived. Aunt Gretchen sat with Mom. She’d barely recovered from her injuries, but had attended to honor friends who had died.

Surprisingly, none of the faculty or staff of the university or high school had joined Blackstone. Clearly, the schools had chosen their teachers wisely.

The crowd dispersed in small groups, their voices hushed out of respect. Cinaed and I remained in front of the memorial. This being the last ceremony, it felt like the war was finally over. Soon we could enjoy the freedom all the sacrifices had bought.

“It’s strange how close we came to your name being on the stone,” Cinaed said softly. “Seeing the families of those who didn’t survive gives me a different outlook on life.”

I nodded, sharing the sense of awe I felt standing here when we’d been so certain we wouldn’t survive. The weight of Ailpein’s sacrifice pressed against my chest like a physical thing.

“Come on,” I said finally. “The others will be waiting for us to start the meeting.”

Walking across campus, I took in the familiar sights of Utrecht Academy.

So much felt the same as when I was a student here for those few short years.

But it had also changed in subtle ways since Blackstone’s defeat.

The fond memories of friendships and carefree days were still there, but the shadow of the man who led the school had forever tainted those moments.

New wards guarded the grounds, procedures updated, and trusts shattered. There was also a lighter feeling, as if the place breathed more freely now.

Darius’s appointment as dean of the University had brought changes.

Where Blackstone had been a towering figure in academia, Darius was a legend come to life.

He brought a gravitas no one else could match.

More importantly, he maintained trust in the institution that Blackstone’s betrayal threatened to destroy.

They’d also removed Blackstone’s portrait and replaced it with a painting of Katarina and Adelais.

A gift from King Malachy and his family.

We passed students hurrying between classes, their faces bright with youth and purpose.

I’d turned off the anonymity spell for the service, and a few of the kids recognized us.

Some pointed, others waved, and a few said thank you.

Neither of us were comfortable with hero worship, but most days we were invisible, so we didn’t get it often.

“I hope this meeting doesn’t run long,” Cinaed said as we turned down the corridor leading to the administrative wing. “Father wants a full report, and you know my focus wavers after too many speeches.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand once. “Translation, you’re going to be thinking about the rose garden we’re planning and which of your mother’s plants you want clippings from.”

“All of them, of course.” He pulled our hands to his lips for a kiss. “Yes, but that will only happen if this gets to be a long, boring meeting.”

My tolerance for boring was better than Cinaed’s, but not by much. This meeting wouldn’t tax the limits of our concentration. “There won’t be a lot of boring speeches, love. Dad promised we’ll finish before lunch, so we can go shopping before dinner.”

“Seriously?” Cinaed whispered loudly. “Is that what he thinks I do all day? Shop?”

I raised my eyebrows to call him out. “As if you’d care if it got us out of an all-day meeting?”

“Fair point,” he said. “And you need new sweatpants. Two pairs are not enough. I do laundry every day.”

Three months together had taught us the rhythms of shared life denied us for decades.

Laundry, shopping, cooking—or my attempt to cook at least—the mundane things others had done for us in the past, we learned to do together.

I expected it would get old soon without something more challenging to occupy our time, but for now, it was exactly what we needed.

The door to the University Board Room was partially open, and voices spilled into the hallway. I took a breath before pushing it open. We were the last to arrive, and the group fell silent when we entered.

The room itself breathed history. Ancient oak panels brought over from the original school centuries ago.

Portraits of past deans hung in chronological order, with an empty space where Blackstone’s used to occupy.

The eyes of previous heads seemed to follow our movements as we made our way to our seats.

A massive mahogany table dominated the room and bore the scars of magical “accidents” from angry directors.

It had witnessed the mage wars, the reforms following those dark days, and the transformation of the university into its current status.

Now it would bear witness to this new chapter.

Dad sat at the head of the table, the place Grandpa Hollen usually occupied when the school’s board of directors met.

This time, he sat to Dad’s right. Avie was on his left, a clear signal she would be the next Mage Chancellor.

The Guardians, old and new, took up most of the chairs, with ard ri Tadgán of the Elven Conclave, and Elowen Sage, a moose shifter and first female president of the Shifter Assembly, making up the last two guests.

No one seemed annoyed at our being the last to arrive. Grandpa winked at us, a sign his injuries hadn’t dampened his spirits.

“Now that we’re all present, let’s get started,” Dad said. “Avie, can you bring us up to date?”

This was the pattern after every memorial service. Avie filled us in on what progress the Inquisitor General’s office had made uncovering Blackstone’s network.

“The new prisoners continue to give us intelligence, but as with the others we’ve interrogated, they only knew fragments of the larger operation.

Blackstone used a cell structure. No one outside his inner circle knew more than a few details.

We’re still learning new names, so we’ll continue our search. ”

Her green mage stone pulsed, and a map of Earth appeared above the table. Red and yellow dots were sprinkled across the world.

“These are confirmed sites of Blackstone’s influence. Red indicates locations we’ve neutralized. Yellow ones are still under investigation. We’re making progress, but each new person we capture gives up more places to investigate.”

“What about his inner circle?” Tadgán asked.

“Most were killed or captured during the fight,” Avie replied.

“We’re tracking down the survivors we know about as fast as we can.

It’s not all good news, however. Through our interrogation, we’ve learned Blackstone’s plans included a contingency in case he lost. Certain of his followers remained hidden during the war.

They were told to reveal themselves only once the war ended.

If he won, they joined him, if he lost, they were supposed to take up the fight.

We intercepted one of these sleeper agents when he attempted to access a cache of magic near one of the unused medicine wheels. ”