Chapter 7: Crossing the Threshold
The grandfather clock in Headmaster Caine's antechamber ticked unnaturally loud, each second stretching like taffy as Evan waited. Moonlight bled through the stained glass windows, painting his hands in fractured colors—crimson, indigo, gold. The same hues as the bruises Mira had left on his ribs.
At precisely midnight, the double doors swung open without a sound.
Caine's office was not what Evan expected. No stern portraits of previous headmasters, no shelves groaning with trophies. Just an expanse of polished black marble and a single piece of furniture—a chair carved from what looked like petrified lightning. The headmaster lounged in it like a king on a throne of bones.
"Evan Drayce." His voice slithered across the room. "How kind of you to join me."
Evan's storm magic prickled beneath his skin, sensing the wrongness in the air. The room smelled of burnt sugar and wet earth after a grave's been opened.
Caine steepled his fingers. "You've been asking dangerous questions."
"I—"
"About the mirror." The headmaster's pale eyes gleamed. "About dear Selene's unfortunate family history. About the offerings." He spat the last word like a curse.
A bead of sweat traced Evan's spine. "If you're going to kill me, just—"
"Kill you?" Caine threw back his head and laughed, the sound jagged as broken glass. "My boy, we don't kill the offerings. We honor them." He rose, his shadow stretching impossibly long across the floor. "Come. Let me show you true magic."
The hidden door behind Caine's chair led to a spiral staircase plunging into the earth. The air grew thick with each step, pressing against Evan's eardrums like deep water. Somewhere below, something hummed—a tune that made his teeth ache.
The chamber at the bottom stole his breath.
Seven pillars formed a perfect circle, each carved with different symbols—flames, waves, lightning bolts. At their center floated a mass of swirling darkness, its surface occasionally resolving into screaming faces before dissolving again.
"The Binding," Caine whispered reverently. "Our great work."
Evan's pulse hammered. "That's not magic. That's—"
"Power?" The headmaster smiled. "Yes." He gestured to the pillars. "Each represents one of the seven disciplines. Each requires... renewal." His gaze lingered on the storm-carved pillar, where cracks spiderwebbed through the stone. "Your predecessor lasted fifty years. Impressive, for a stormcaller."
The humming grew louder. The darkness pulsed.
Evan stumbled back. "You're insane."
Caine's smile never wavered. "And you're predictable." He snapped his fingers.
The chamber doors burst open.
Mira Solene strode in, flanked by two faculty members Evan didn't recognize. Her crimson hair seemed to burn in the eerie light, her lips curled in triumph.
"I told you he'd break the rules," she purred.
Caine sighed. "Indeed. Pity." He turned to Evan with something almost like regret. "The ritual isn't for another fortnight, but needs must..."
Mira's fingers ignited.
Evan reached for his magic—
Nothing answered.
The realization hit like a physical blow. The chamber, the pillars, the humming... it was all designed to suppress his power.
Mira's flames reflected in Caine's eyes as she advanced. "Don't worry, stormcaller. You'll—"
A explosion rocked the chamber.
Dust rained from the ceiling as Aria Vance tumbled through a newly-made hole in the wall, her jacket smoking. "Oops," she coughed, grinning wildly. "Did I interrupt something?"
Behind her, Rowan Vale and Isolde Renard stood ready—Rowan's hands already sinking into the earth, Isolde's fingers tracing glowing sigils in the air.
Caine's composure cracked. "How—?"
Aria tossed Evan a familiar silver-tipped dagger—Selene's. "We had help."
Chaos erupted.
Rowan's terramancy sent stone spikes erupting between Evan and Mira. Isolde's whispered spell made the very air resist the faculty members' movements. Aria, somehow, had gotten hold of an alchemy flask that spewed purple smoke when shattered.
Evan lunged for the stairs.
"Stop him!" Caine roared.
Mira's fireball grazed Evan's shoulder as he stumbled upward, the pain white-hot. He didn't dare look back. The dagger in his hand thrummed with strange energy, its blade drinking in the torchlight as he ran.
The office door loomed. Freedom—
A figure stepped into his path.
Selene Arkwright barred the way, her gray eyes glowing faintly. For a heartbeat, Evan thought she'd strike him down.
Instead, she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed.
Evan fell through the window in a shower of glass, the night air rushing past his ears. He had just enough time to see Selene's lips form two words—
"Find Vera."
Then the ground rose to meet him.