LOGINCASSIANI followed Miyori out of her office and down the corridor. Our footsteps echoed off the polished floors. Students rushed past us in both directions, chattering about dinner and homework. None of them knew what was about to happen."Has your father come for you yet?" Miyori asked.I glanced at her. "No."She made a small noise in the back of her throat. "That's odd, don't you think?"I didn't answer. We turned down another hallway. The one that led to the main hall."Before all the spells you cast on yourself," she continued. "Before the several layers of protection woven into Nocturne's groundwork. Before you learned to conceal your talents and keep your power outbursts from gaining his attention." She paused. "I know Asmodeus scoured several realms to claim his favorite son."My jaw tightened. I hated being claimed as the favorite son because of a random number."He tore through dimensions looking for you," Miyori said. "Before he figured out you meant business about Elena. B
CONRADI woke up screaming.My hands clawed at my chest, at my arms, searching for the marks. The bruises. The proof. There had to be proof. There had to be something left behind from what they'd done to me.But in place of everything that was done to me, there was nothing.My skin was smooth. Clean. Not even a scratch.I sat up fast enough to make the room tilt. My door was intact. There was no splintered wood. No broken frame. The bed was against the wall where it belonged, not shoved up as a barricade. The floor was clean. No blood. No torn towel. No evidence of the violation that was still playing behind my eyelids every time I blinked.I touched my throat. The place where fingers had dug in hard enough to cut off my air. Nothing hurt.My thighs. My hips. The places where hands had grabbed and held me down while I thrashed and begged. There was no pain or tenderness. There was nothing at all."What the fuck," I whispered.The room stayed quiet. Too quiet. Like it was holding its b
RAEBut that worried me even more."Self-inflicted?" The words came out sharper than I meant them to.Cornelius settled back on his perch. His stone wings folded against his body with a sound like rocks sliding into place."Magic affects things," he said. "White magic. Green magic. Infernal magic. They all leave marks on the world. On people, especially."I stayed quiet. Waited for him to continue."When magic affects a person, it leaves a wound." He gestured with one clawed hand toward the door. Toward the school beyond. "Memory magic has ravaged the minds of plenty in this institution now. They all have wounds in their mind. Festering things that will ache and throb."My stomach twisted."Over time," Cornelius continued, "if they ascend in power beyond whatever demon cast the spell, the wounds become scars. They will remember what happened here." He paused. Those amber eyes glowed brighter. "By then, it will probably be too late.""Too late for what?"He didn't answer. Instead, he l
RAEI didn't remember deciding to run. One second, I was standing in the hallway, the basket cutting into my palms. Next, my feet were pounding against pavement and then stone, and I was moving.The library. I needed to get to the library.My vision blurred. Tears kept coming, and I couldn't stop them. I didn't try to. Students scattered out of my way. I heard voices. Someone calling my name maybe. But I didn't stop.The giant oak doors loomed ahead. They were older than the rest of the school. Darker. The wood was carved with symbols I'd never bothered to look the first time around. Not that anything changed, the second time around. My hands hit them and they swung open with a groan.Cool, ventilated air wrapped around me. The smell of old paper and dust filled my nose simultaneously. I stumbled inside and the doors closed behind me with a soft thud that seemed to seal me away from everything outside.I set the basket down. It hit the floor harder than I meant it to. The bottles cli
LUCAThis scene includes physical abuse, homophobia, emotional trauma, internalized shame, and psychological repression. It portrays childhood violence and familial manipulation, as well as a non-consensual outing that results in fear and long-term trauma. Readers sensitive to themes of sexual identity repression or abusive parental behavior should approach with care.I was drowning.Not in water, but in memory.I was fifteen again, standing barefoot on the white sands of our private island. The sun was sharp enough to burn my skin, the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at. The island was supposed to be paradise. For me, it was a prison dressed in beauty. My father loved to parade us here, his perfect sons, his living trophies.My brothers couldn’t hide how much they hated me. I was the favorite, the special one. Joseph with his coat of many colors. The chosen son. Except I had never asked to be chosen.Trevor showed up one afternoon while I sat alone on the dock, watching the tide p
CASSIANI walked past the secretary's desk without slowing down. She called after me, something about appointments and schedules, but I ignored her. Some things couldn't wait.The door to Miyori's office swung open before I reached it. Gregory Whitmore stepped out in his pressed suit and polished red-bottom Italian leather shoes. He smiled at me. That easy, practiced smile that probably worked on everyone else.I smiled back. Wondered if he'd even noticed his tie was a different shade of blue than it was hours ago. Probably not. Men like him didn't notice details unless they affected their image.I slipped past him and shut the door behind me.Miyori was already looking at me. She leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath."Well," she said. "That settles it. Annalise's death will be taken care of."She rubbed her temples. The gesture made her look older than usual. Tired."I'm thinking about just pulling out now." Her voice was flat. "I just have this fear it's going to get w







