His father. The traitor.
The unhinged man who was never satisfied. Did he find what he looking for? That would make him feel fulfilled in his life? If he would make the world bow to his rage, would he look back and feel happy? Knowing that he had filled his years, breaking him with his anger and his violence. That he had left his best friends, forcing their world back into a split balance. To choose sides.
What side would he be on?
He was an outcast in the Academy. He was torn in his family. When the time came, where would his allegiances lie?
“Hey! Adair.” Marquis was practically chasing him, grabbing his shoulder and making him stop. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m sorry.”
Chewing his lip, Adair looked up at the sky, where the golden hues spread across the clouds like gold flecks, dusting and shaping the sky. His anger, his confusion, his hurt rushed up to him.
“Adair.”
With burning eyes, he snapped, “Look, it’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just get back, okay? I have a lot to do.”
“Adair!” Marquis cried behind him.
He didn’t stop, didn’t turn back. This prince was just like everyone else, using him to get what he wanted. All this time, he was a fool, believing that maybe, just maybe, they had more in common than they had both thought.
He had no one. Emory turned to her family and now claimed her birthright - her father, making her choose. Adair was alone in this.
Roque feared him and his ability. He had been delusional to think that he ever had a place in the Academy. He had always been kept on a leash, entertained because of Cesan’s relationship.
But now?
Now, it was time he accepted that his future was in his hands. And it started by finding out why Roque was hiding this so-called Book of Old. And why he needed access to the ancient power. Pulling his jacket closer, he nestled into the darkness curling around his heart and the echoes of those soft voices coursing through him.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Marquis followed beside him, shooting glances every now and then out of the corner of his eyes. Adair never faltered, staring straight ahead and falling into his silence. With each passing second, with each footfall, his certainty grew into a concrete form, small at first, but then it exploded through him, sharp and consuming.
He knew where his alliances lay. He had always known it; he just wasn’t able to face his own truth. They lay with him. Not with the Academy. Or the Faes. Or his parents.
What were his best interests in a world that was being ripped apart by the politics of kings? The thought grew and grew, and as Adair walked, for the first time in his life, he envisioned a different future.
***
Hours bled away as they walked in silence. The afternoon grew hot and heavy, both boys having to tie their jackets around their waists. The sun soaked into their skin, Adair’s neck becoming hot and itchy. The towering trees had begun to thin, leaving the memories of Gortach deep within the forest, locked away.
“It feels so much longer walking back to our reality than escaping it,” Marquis stated.
Adair raised his eyebrow at the prince, not replying. Deeper and deeper, his thoughts ran into those hidden crooks and crannies of his heart, into places he fortified with a barrier. Preparing for his reality. One where it wouldn’t involve him and Emory as a team, preparing for a future where the Academy would have been theirs. One where his small reprieve of friends wouldn’t exist.
There was a murmur of sighs on the wind as it ruffled through the leaves, making Adair’s heart beat a little faster. Looking around, nothing seemed amiss or different. The overlaying songs of the forest were in full play, from the gurgling streams to the small animals running in the distance.
Adair stopped, his blood turning to ice. He whispered, “Marquis.”
The prince stopped, huffing. “Oh, he does exist. Welcome back to the land of living.”
“Something is wrong.”
Narrowing his gaze slightly, Marquis’s deep green eyes reflected flecks of gold in the afternoon light. Looking around, he shrugged. “I don’t see anything. What do you mean?”
Adair wiped his clammy palms on his pants, trying to steady his nerves.
Everything looked normal, but there again, on the wind, the whispers became clear—and sharp. Filling with screams. They shivered down his spine, clambered into the walls of his consciousness. They were the piercing pain through his body, the agony in his heart. His feet carried him, even though every fiber of his core was ignited.
He heard Marquis cursing behind him, following closely, their pounding footsteps charging across the forest floor. He ran so hard, the trees blurred around him, and his tunnel vision overwhelmed him. Again, those screams echoed all around him on the wind, in his mind. The once calmness of the forest seemed to ripple, and flickers of nightmares ignited around him. The daylight was gone. And the darkness awaited him.
Vicious claws grabbed at him. Within the forest, luminous eyes blinked from behind the tree trunks and brambles, Adair caught glimpses of huge serpentine bodies and hairless skin. The monsters snapped their teeth, jumping from their hiding spots, wanting to capture him. To tear, to rip, to consume him.
Running harder, his chest burning, his breath coming out in wheezes. He was running blindly into the night, his arms hitting the trees, fresh blood running down them. There was only him, Marquis disappearing on a distant memory. He was alone.
“Adair.”
Shuddering to a stop, he grabbed his temples, shutting his eyes quickly, not wanting to see them. Willing them away.
“Adair, you are almost home.”
Tears streamed down his face at the cool touch, and he was frozen. Cool fingers tipped his chin, and his eyes opened. Their pale arms, their elongated limbs. Their empty sockets, their pinned back smiles. Their long black hair blended into the night as they circled around him, murmuring in hushed tones.
“Who are you?” Adair asked.
The
