Goody Magic Academy, Year Three

Chapter 26

Chapter

Twenty-Six

A s we stepped into the sanctuary, a harsh white light suddenly flooded the space, momentarily blinding us. The abrupt illumination was jarring, like a spotlight suddenly thrown onto a scene too horrific for mortal eyes, and I threw up a hand to shield my face, blinking rapidly as my vision adjusted.

As the spots cleared from my vision, the full extent of the sanctuary’s desecration revealed itself. My breath caught in my throat and the insistent drumbeat of my heart stuttered to a shocked halt before resuming at a frantic pace. Every corner, every surface, every shadow looked to have been torn from the depths of a nightmare made horrifyingly real.

Thick, ropey vines drooped from the ceiling like diseased arteries, their leaves a sickly yellow. Clumps of Spanish moss hung in grotesque parodies of funeral shrouds, swaying slightly in a breeze I couldn’t feel. The musty, dank smell of decay was everywhere, mixed with an underlying metallic tang that made my stomach churn.

My gaze was drawn to the walls where the crosses that had once symbolized hope and salvation now hung inverted, an obscene mockery of faith. Each one leered at us, the shadows cast by the harsh light creating the illusion of twisted, grinning faces. A whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Broken religious statues littered the floor, their once serene faces now shattered and defaced. Strange symbols, eerily familiar from my dreams, were smeared across them in what looked disturbingly like blood.

I stumbled slightly, my foot catching on a warped floorboard. The wooden pews that lined the aisle were barely recognizable, twisted and cracked from years of neglect. Some had collapsed entirely, creating a maze of splintered wood that would be difficult to navigate.

But it was the altar that truly captured the full horror of this desecrated place. I felt Jaxon stiffen beside me as we both laid eyes on it simultaneously. The once-pristine white marble was now a canvas for blasphemy, covered in graffiti so vile it made my eyes water to look at it. Symbols and words in languages I didn’t recognize—and some I wished I didn’t—crawled across its surface like armies of malevolent insects. What remained of the altar curtains fluttered weakly, the tattered velvet looking like strips of flayed skin in the harsh light.

I swallowed hard, tasting bile. This place, once a sanctuary of peace and holiness, had been transformed into a temple of demons.

Jaxon’s hand found mine, his grip warm, steady and reassuring. We exchanged a glance, our faces pale and drawn in the unforgiving light. Then, without a word, we began to move forward, each step carrying us deeper into this twisted mockery of a church, toward whatever awaited us at its heart.

Out of the darkness of the shadows, the high priestess emerged, cloaked in her robe. She wasn’t alone. Five other robed figures stepped out of the shadows. They had to be members of the Bloodborne Brotherhood.

The high priestess’ voice sliced through the horrific silence of the desecrated sanctuary. “Welcome, Peyton, Jaxon,” she purred with malicious satisfaction, the sound sending involuntary shivers down my spine.

I watched as triumph flared in her dark eyes. She pushed back her hood, revealing her raven-black hair that cascaded around her shoulders like a cloak of shadows. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing, and I found myself unable to look away.

“I see my little errand boy delivered my message,” she continued in a mocking tone. Referring to Dimitri so disparagingly sent a jolt of anger through me, making my fists clench at my sides.

She stretched out a hand, her long fingers adorned with rings that glinted wickedly in the light. “Hand over the Dragon Nexus,” she demanded. Her words were pure venom, quick and cruel.

Beside me, I felt Jaxon stiffen. His voice when he spoke was hard as steel. “Not until you let us see Peyton’s parents.” Tension radiated off him, his body coiled like a spring ready to release.

The high priestess’ lips curled into a cruel smile. She gave a peremptory snap of her fingers, the sharp sound echoing through the cavernous space like a gunshot and making me flinch involuntarily.

Two hulking figures I hadn’t even realized were there, doubtless also members of the Brotherhood, emerged from the shadows. My breath caught in my throat as they dragged a man forward—and I got the first glimpse of my father. His long dark hair was matted with blood and grime, his face a cruel map of bruises and cuts. My stomach lurched painfully at the sight of his emaciated frame, the evidence of starvation clear in his sunken cheeks and protruding bones.

“Dad?” I whispered, the word escaping with a choked gasp. I took an involuntary step forward, only to be held back by Jaxon’s steadying hand on my arm.

My heart hammered against my ribs as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over me—rage, disbelief and anguish at his condition…fear for his life…and most of all a desperate, aching need to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real.

Jaxon’s steadying hand on my arm grounded me but couldn’t quell the trembling that had taken hold of my entire body. In that moment, I felt like both my father’s lost child and fierce protector all at once, our shared blood and all the lost years pressing down on me with suffocating intensity.

Before I could fully process the sight of my father, so badly beaten, another Brotherhood member appeared and my eyes widened in horror at what—rather, who—accompanied him. He held my mother dangling in mid-air beside him, her feet several inches above the ground. Her face was a mask of torment, eyes wide and unfocused, mouth open in a silent scream. The devastating sight sent a powerful wave of nausea through me.

“Mom!” I cried out, my voice cracking with emotion. There was no recognition in her eyes or any indication that she had heard me at all.

The high priestess’ laughter, cold and cruel, echoed through the sanctuary. “All right, you’ve seen them. Now,” she said, her voice hardening, “the Dragon Nexus. Unless you’d like to see what other tricks I might have up my sleeve for your dear parents.”

Rage and fear battled within me. The urge to transform, to unleash my dragon form and tear this place apart, was at war with the knowledge that one wrong move could spell doom for my parents. I looked at Jaxon and saw the same conflict mirrored in his eyes.

“Release them. Then I’ll give you the Dragon Nexus.” Jaxon’s voice rang out steady and defiant in the oppressive atmosphere of the desecrated church.

As he spoke, I felt subtle movement beside me as something small and velvety brushed against my hand. Without glancing down, I felt my fingers close around a familiar object—the purple pouch containing the Dragon Nexus. It felt warm against my skin, pulsing faintly with the power contained within it.

I fought to keep my expression neutral, acutely aware of the weight of the artifact in my hand, but my heart raced, each beat echoing its thrumming energy, and my breath caught in my throat as I realized that Jaxon must have used his vampire speed to slip the pouch into my hand. The action had been so swift that even with my enhanced senses, I hadn’t seen him move.

I risked a glance at the high priestess. Had she noticed the exchange? The air around her shimmered with malevolent energy, making it difficult to focus on her features, but I could see that her dark eyes remained fixed on Jaxon, narrowed in suspicion and barely contained greed.

Suddenly a realization hit me—she couldn’t take the Dragon Nexus from us. That’s why she needed us to bring it to her, why she was demanding we hand it over instead of simply taking it by force.

The purple pouch grew warmer in my grasp, as if responding to my realization. I curled my fingers tighter around it, careful not to draw attention to the movement. Whatever Jaxon’s plan was, I knew this artifact was the key.

As the tension in the room mounted, I became acutely aware of every sensation. The soft texture of the velvet against my palm. The slight tremor in my fingers as I fought to keep them still. The acrid taste of fear in my mouth. The musty, oppressive air in the desecrated church.

I steeled myself for whatever was to come next. Jaxon had entrusted me with the Dragon Nexus at this crucial moment and our next move would be decisive. The high priestess might think she held all the cards, but I knew we had an ace up our sleeve—or rather, in my hand.

I was wrong.

The air in the desecrated church suddenly crackled with tension and before I could even blink one of the robed figures blurred into motion, moving with inhuman speed.

A sickening thud echoed through the sanctuary as the figure ploughed into Jaxon. Long, curved fingernails, more like talons or claws, dug deep into Jaxon’s flesh. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, making my stomach heave.

Jaxon’s cry of pain pierced the air, raw and agonized, as crimson rivulets snaked down his arm and hit the floor with a sound that made my very bones shake.

The attacker’s hood fell back, revealing a face that sent ice-cold fear coursing through my veins. Long black hair framed a face that might have been handsome if not for his eyes—blood-red orbs filled with hatred so intense it was almost palpable.

“Hello, Peyton,” the man sneered, his voice grating like nails on a chalkboard. “So glad we can meet again.”

My lungs constricted as recognition hit me like a physical blow. Those eyes... I knew those eyes. They were the same terrifying red eyes that had haunted my nightmares, the eyes of the man who had grabbed me in the courtyard back at Goody Magic Academy.

The high priestess’ voice cut through my panic gleefully. “Ah, Peyton, I don’t think you two were ever properly introduced.” She stretched out her hand in a mockery of politeness. “Allow me to present Balthazar, a demon. He’s part of the Bloodborne Brotherhood.”

As if choreographed, the remaining members of the Bloodborne Brotherhood lowered their hoods in unison, the soft rustle of fabric unnaturally loud in the tense silence of the desecrated church. My eyes darted from one face to another, sending wave after wave of dread through my body.

My gaze latched onto one figure in particular. Long, golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, shimmering like spun sunlight. But his beauty ended there. Blue eyes, cold as arctic ice, held the same intense hatred I had seen in Balthazar’s red ones. The contrast between his angelic appearance and the malevolence emanating from him was truly startling, and it made my skin crawl.

The high priestess’ voice cut through my rising panic. “And this is Ari, a Dark Demon,” she purred, her tone filled with twisted pride as she clasped his arm possessively. “He’s Valentin’s father.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, causing a strangled gasp to escape my lips. Really? Valentin—my friend and ally—the son of this...monster?

Ari’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. With exaggerated slowness, he blew a kiss in my direction. “Do tell my son,” he drawled, his voice as smooth and cold as polished ice, “that I’ll see him soon.” The threat in those words was unmistakable, freezing my blood and bones.

The high priestess continued her “introductions”, gesturing to the other four figures and rattling off their names, but her words faded to a distant buzz in my ears. The world tilted and spun, my reality warping, and my focus narrowed to just the two demons standing before me.

Terror clawed at my insides, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, each rapid beat echoing the word— demon, demon, demon .

Balthazar’s lips curled into a cruel smile, revealing teeth that were just that bit too sharp to be human. “You’re not fooling anyone with that whole bravery act, pretty witch,” he snarled. He swung Jaxon around as if he weighed no more than a rag doll in a casual display of superhuman strength.

I watched in horror as Balthazar positioned one long, deadly nail at Jaxon’s throat and pressed until a bead of blood welled up, trickling down Jaxon’s neck in a thin crimson line.

“Now.” Balthazar’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper that somehow managed to fill the entire church. “Hand the Dragon Nexus over to the high priestess, or your pretty little boyfriend dies.”

“Don’t do it, Peyton!” Jaxon’s voice was strained as his eyes met mine, filled with both fear and determination.

Balthazar’s response was swift. He pressed his nail deeper into Jaxon’s throat, eliciting a pained gasp that echoed in the cavernous space.

My entire world had narrowed down to this moment. My mind raced, searching desperately for a solution, but finding none. I had no choice. If I didn’t hand over the Dragon Nexus, everyone I loved would die.

Checkmate.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, blurring my vision. Each step I took toward the high priestess felt like I was moving through molasses, my body rebelling against what my mind knew I had to do. The triumphant gleam in her eyes grew brighter with each step I took.

As I stretched out my hand, the purple pouch dangling from my trembling fingers, the Dragon Nexus within it feeling impossibly heavy, a sense of utter defeat hit me like a physical blow, stealing what little breath I had left.

We had lost.