Chapter 19: Silas - Twisted Vows

The girl had knocked on his office door late into the night. Headmaster Silas had sensed her arrival, of course—he could feel all the souls that resided at Blackwood, but Wren Loughty’s soul was special. She was special.

He’d felt it the moment he’d chosen her.

And he’d been certain of it the moment he killed her.

He’d been so certain, so utterly transfixed by the power in her soul, that he’d even hesitated to take it. It had never happened to him before. Ripping souls from the plane of the living and into Blackwood had become as mundane—and boring—as breathing. The criteria were always the same.

1. A soul that had dipped into the Other Side momentarily, through a near-death experience.

2. A young soul, as younger souls had a far easier time connecting to their nexus of magic, given how greedily they tended to cling to their humanity.

3. And lastly, but most importantly, a soul who Silas found . . . interesting.

The last criterion was his favorite, because it allowed for his creativity to flourish. There were so many different types of souls. Souls with a feverish anger burning inside them. Souls with defiance coursing through them. Souls with a thirst for vengeance. Souls who were desperate for attention. Souls who were, whether they knew it or not, aching for purpose.

But Wren Loughty’s soul was so much more than that. When he’d found her, when he’d chosen her for Blackwood and caused the accident that took her life, Silas had felt what her soul really was.

It was . . . uncertainty. Possibility.

“Come in, Ms. Loughty.”

Wren walked into the room, face puffy and eyes red rimmed. She’d been crying, that much was clear. Her hands were clasped in front of her, but even so, Silas could see her fingers trembling.

“I know I messed up,” Wren began, crossing the office. She made her way slowly to where Silas was sitting behind his desk. “I didn’t open my letters. I missed class. But I swear, this time it wasn’t my fault. It was . . . it was August—”

“Ms. Loughty,” Silas interjected softly, raising a hand. “It’s quite all right. I’m aware of what happened.” He gestured to the chair across from him and it slid backward, making space for her. “Please. Take a seat.”

Wren hesitated, staring down at the chair, teeth worrying at her bottom lip, before she conceded with a sigh and sat down. She shifted in her seat, pulling at the hem of her tartan skirt. Finally, after a few seconds, she peeled her gaze up to Silas, meeting his eyes. It was clear to him what had happened to her. He recognized the pain in her stare. It was a pain he was all too familiar with.

“You were betrayed,” he said simply.

Wren swallowed. “Yes.”

Silas nodded. “Good.”

Wren’s brow furrowed in a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “Good?”

“Betrayal is a necessary lesson here at Blackwood,” Silas explained, leaning toward her. “It will forge you into the person you must become in order to flourish here. It will help you find the power you will need to survive.” Silas paused, eyes roving across Wren’s face. “But I already see it in you . . . that power. You were born for greatness, Ms. Loughty, and it is through death that you will finally achieve that greatness.”

Something in Silas’s words must have stirred a prickle of recognition inside Wren, because her expression shifted. The betrayal glistening in her eyes melted a fraction, washed away by a sudden burning resolve.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Silas asked in a gentle whisper.

Wren’s answer slipped out of her in the form of a question. “Why me?”

Silas hummed. “There’s no point in asking why, Ms. Loughty. Your fate is your fate. It is now up to you to either turn away from that fate—to fight it—or to claim it.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “The choice is yours.”

Wren considered his words. She paused, fidgeting with the end of her braid. “What about my punishment?”

“There will be no punishment,” Silas replied simply. When he saw the surprise flash across her face, he continued. “Think of it as a clean slate. Though, you would do well to remember that my generosity only stretches so far. If you build a list of infractions, I will be forced to mete out the consequences.”

Wren nodded fervently. “Of course.”

“Now go.” Silas gestured to the office door and it swung open. “Get some rest. Prepare for your classes tomorrow.”

Wren blinked, taken aback. “That’s it?”

Silas nodded. “That’s it.”

Wren stood, smoothing her skirt. There was clearly something else on her mind, something she wanted to ask him, but she must have decided it was not worth it, because she swiveled on her heels and walked toward the door. No matter. They had an eternity between them. An eternity of opportunities to speak together. She’d come to him when she was ready.

Silas called out to her one last time. “I expect great things from you, Wren Loughty.” As the words left his lips, Wren paused at the doorway, shoulders rigid. “I hope you’ll prove me right.”

Wren glanced over her shoulder. Gone was the sadness that had been plaguing her when she first entered the office. Gone were the heartache and pain and loss. Blazing behind her storm-blue eyes now was something far more magnificent. Something radiant. Something Silas recognized.

Ambition.

“Don’t worry, Headmaster.” Wren Loughty smiled, and Blackwood Academy hummed in satisfaction. “I intend to.”