บททั้งหมดของ ALPHA ACADEMY:MARKED BY FOUR: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The storm broke before sunrise. Wind tore through the courtyard, howling like the wolves below. Every bell in Blackthorne rang at once — not in rhythm, not in warning, but in panic. I woke to chaos. Students poured into the halls, half-dressed, whispering, shouting. Lanterns flickered as though the air itself had gone wrong again. My door rattled against its hinges, and through the noise, I heard fragments of what everyone was saying. “The wards broke—” “Someone flared the circle—” “It came from the East Wing—” From me. I shoved out of bed, the cold floor shocking me awake. My hands were trembling again, faint lines of light still visible beneath the skin. I pulled my sleeve down quickly and stepped into the hall. The air was thick, humming with leftover power. The walls themselves seemed to pulse — alive, almost breathing. Vale was waiting for me. He stood near the stairwell, coat half-buttoned, hair damp with sweat. His expression wasn’t anger this time. It was something

The rain hadn’t stopped. By dawn, the courtyard was a ruin of smoke and cracked stone. The scent of burned metal clung to the air, thick enough to taste. What had once been the southern gate was now a heap of molten iron. I stood in the middle of it, barefoot and trembling, the golden light finally dimmed from my hands. The world felt hollow after what I’d done. The silence was louder than the storm. Vale moved like a shadow through the wreckage, scanning for movement, his expression a perfect mask of calm. Cassian sat against a fallen column, whistling softly, though his shirt was torn and one hand pressed against a bleeding cut on his jaw. Malachai was quiet, eyes narrowed, watching the treeline beyond the broken walls. We hadn’t spoken since the last of the Hunters fell. None of us knew what to say. Then the air shifted. It wasn’t the wind this time. It was heavier—ancient. Malachai stiffened first. “They’re here.” Vale turned slowly toward the forest. The mist beyond the g

The light from the pool twisted upward like liquid fire. It wasn’t gold anymore — it was black and violet, alive and shifting, each wave pulsing to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I stumbled back as the air thickened, the scent of metal and smoke filling my lungs. Vale’s claws glinted faintly in the glow. Cassian drew a blade from nowhere — curved and sleek, silver catching the edges of the light. Malachai didn’t move; his eyes had gone an unnatural shade of blue, reflecting the runes that burned across the walls. “What is that?” I whispered. No one answered. The water convulsed once — and then a hand broke the surface. Pale as bone, long-fingered, and dripping with light that wasn’t water at all. It clawed at the air, searching, stretching, until the rest of the body followed. A figure rose slowly from the pool — woman-shaped, but not human. Her hair moved like ink in water, her skin etched with glowing marks that matched mine, only darker, corrupted. Her eyes opened last. They w

The tunnels beneath Blackthorne were never meant to feel like safety. They smelled of old stone and iron, a mix of damp air and burnt dust that clung to the skin. The further we went, the fainter the sound of the world above became — until even the heartbeat of the Academy vanished. Cassian led the way, a flickering torch in hand. “Just for the record,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, “next time we piss off a Council full of homicidal wolves, can we maybe not do it under a giant magic chandelier?” Vale ignored him. His stride never faltered, his jaw locked tight, his silence heavier than the air. Malachai followed close behind, fingers tracing the tunnel walls as though reading the stone itself. “They’ve sealed the north gates already,” he murmured. “We’ll have to move through the old catacombs.” Cassian grimaced. “Wonderful. Dead wolves and bad ventilation. My favorite combination.” I barely heard them. My pulse still hadn’t steadied. The mark on my hand throbbe

The air grew colder the deeper we went. The tunnels narrowed until the walls brushed my shoulders, slick with condensation. Water dripped steadily from above, the sound echoing in strange rhythms — too steady to be natural. Cassian was in front, his blades drawn, moving with an alertness that didn’t match his usual swagger. Vale followed behind me, silent and watchful, every sense tuned to danger. Malachai brought up the rear, his power a low hum beneath the surface of the dark. We’d been walking for hours, though time had begun to blur — broken only by the whisper of running water and the occasional groan of stone shifting above us. I tried not to think about the mark pulsing faintly under my skin. Or the way the air itself seemed to tremble when I breathed too deeply. Finally, the tunnel widened. The river. It wasn’t a river in the usual sense — not water, not really.It shimmered like molten glass, light rippling just beneath the surface. The current moved in silence, casting