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Poisoned Offerings
Last Updated:
2025-10-08 07:38:16
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Ashwyck Academy for the Damned The Five Immortals
Epilogue: 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’
Ashwyck Academy for the Damned The Heart That Binds
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
Ashwyck Academy for the Damned The Price of Her Blood
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. “
Ashwyck Academy for the Damned Blood and Betrayal
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
Ashwyck Academy for the Damned The Heart of Shadows
Isadora:Every breath I drew was thick with smoke and the residue of Maldric’s magic, a metallic tang that made my teeth ache. Shadows stretched long and crooked, lashing along the walls like living serpents. The chamber ahead pulsed with his power: a low, resonant vibration that made the stones themselves quiver. I felt it in my chest, in my bones. This was his throne room, his sanctum, the heart of every corruption seeping into Ashwyck Academy.I gritted my teeth. Every step I took carried the weight of the Academy’s survival, the lives of the boys I loved, the ghosts of every creature and student who had been lost to the storm he’d orchestrated. I could feel them all in me, a trembling chorus of fear and fury, whispering, Do not fail.I called on the wolf.The blood in my veins roared, primal, feral, twisting and reshaping me from the inside. My senses sharpened: the scent of Maldric’s magic, the scrape of his shadow-formed guardians, the whisper of air currents in the cracks of th
Ashwyck Academy for the Damned Beneath the Academy
Isadora:I took one last look at the boys, so soft and warm in slumber, then I ventured out into the halls. The corridors of Ashwyck Academy had never felt so… hollow. Each step echoed like a death knell, swallowed by shadows that twisted in corners like living things. My candlelight flickered along the walls, but the light seemed fragile, trembling, as if they feared what walked with it.The storm had passed—or at least, the wind had stilled—but a low hum lingered, almost mechanical in its persistence. I could feel it in my bones, a pulse from deep below, a heartbeat of the academy itself. The wards were competely shattered; I knew it because the magic that usually guarded the halls throbbed weakly, like a dying pulse, and I sensed Maldric’s essence slithering through the cracks in the stones.I pressed my palm to the cold brick of the wall, seeking guidance from the stones. My fingertips tingled with static; the broken spells spoke in whispers too faint for anyone but me. “He waits,
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