LOGINIsadora didn’t want to come to Ashwyck Academy. It wasn’t the haunting towers or the iron gates that unnerved her. It wasn’t the students—dark, beautiful, terrifying things cloaked in magic and menace. It was what it meant. Coming here was a last resort. A whispered admission from her parents that something was wrong with her. That despite being born of a temptress and a mind-bending killer, despite all the bloodlines and rituals and whispered prophecies—Isadora was still painfully, tragically human. She was quiet, clever, and careful. Not powerful. Not wicked. Not like the others. Her parents called it “late blooming.” The High Table called it “defective.” But no one said it out loud. Instead, they tucked her into Ashwyck like a final gamble and hoped the academy could awaken whatever dark inheritance slumbered beneath her skin. She hadn’t wanted to come. She still doesn’t belong. But Ashwyck has its own secrets. And Isadora is about to discover that the parts of her she’s most afraid of are the ones they’ve been waiting for.
View MoreEpilogue: Isadora:The Academy breathes again.It smells of rain and ink, candle smoke and salt. The ruins have been rebuilt, though the ghosts still linger in the stones — I feel them when the wind moves through the arches, when lightning stains the sky violet.Ashwyck has changed. So have we.The halls that once trembled under Maldric’s curse now glow faintly with sigils of protection carved into the walls — not to keep students in, but to keep the world’s cruelty out. The outcasts, the broken, the wild — they come here now. No more locked dungeons, no more punishment for being different.We teach them control, not shame. We teach them to own their shadows and pain.The old headmistress’s portrait has been replaced with a painting Kai made — a sweeping image of the five of us beneath a storm sky, the academy rising like a cathedral behind. I don’t recognize the version of me he painted. She’s fiercer, taller somehow, her hair ink-black and wild, her gaze carved from fire. Maybe it’
Lucian:The smell of rot and blood clung to the catacombs like a second skin, thick and choking. I moved through it with practiced ease, the shadows parting at my touch. Every step echoed against the stone walls, each echo a drumbeat marking the approach of something ancient, cruel, and foolish.Maldric crouched ahead, dark as the soil beneath us, his claws dripping shadow and ichor, body trembling. Weak. Too weak. I could feel the tremors in the air, the wavering pulse of his magic struggling to hold form. He knew it too, which is why his eyes, those luminescent, demonic orbs, were fixed on me with a mixture of hate and terrified anticipation.“You shouldn’t have come,” he hissed, voice cracked like old leather. “You—this little girl—”I laughed, low and savage, teeth bared in the dim light, my own pulse thrumming with bloodlust and fury. “She’s the reason I’m here, incubus. Weak as you are, I could crush you with a thought. But I want to see you squirm. I want you to know what she c
Silas:The scream wasn’t human.It tore through my sleep like a blade through silk—raw, primal, and endless. I jolted upright, heart slamming into my ribs. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The dormitory was cold, soaked in moonlight and shadow. The candles had all burned out, the air still, as though the Academy itself had stopped breathing.Then I heard them.The whispers.The shadows.They curled up the walls, hissing her name, their voices a thousand soft knives against my mind. Isadora. The sound was not gentle. It was terrified. Reverent. Desperate.“What happened?” I rasped, throwing the sheets aside. But I already knew. I could feel it in my bones, in the tether that linked my soul to hers. Pain. Power. And sacrifice. Too much of all three.She’s bleeding, the shadows whispered. She’s done it.I didn’t stop to think. I ran.I shook Kai first. “Get up.”He blinked awake, golden light already flickering at his fingertips. “Silas—what—”“She’s done something,” I snapped. “
Maldric:The walls of the ruined catacombs pressed in on me like the chest of a coffin, claustrophobic and suffocating. The faint echo of Isadora’s power pulsed through the stones—a tremor that made the ground beneath me vibrate. I should have been in control. I was ancient. I was eternal. I was Maldric. And yet… every instinct told me I was walking into a trap.“Maldric.” The voice was soft but commanding, cutting through the chaos of the collapsing catacombs, carrying a weight I could not deny.“Demon.” I responded, every syllable rolling with centuries of arrogance and cruelty. But my heart—well, not my literal heart, but the dark pulse of my being—stirred with unease.She was offering me something unexpected. A truce. The word itself should have tasted like ashes on my tongue, but curiosity pricked through my caution.“A truce?” I hissed, circling the ruined chamber, shadow tendrils lashing at the stone floor, reacting to my unease. “Why would a devourer, the Tamer of the High, of






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