Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

18. Flint

18

FLINT

The scent of approaching battle fills the air. Magick, fear, and determination all mingle into a heady cocktail that sets my Dragon instincts on edge. My newly acquired fire magick burns beneath my skin, eager to be unleashed, while my natural snow powers war with it for dominance.

“To the Vault,” I bellow at a member of staff who appears to be well out of their depth. She is trying to get the first-year students to remain calm, but they are anything but. “First years to the Vault,” I pant as I draw to a stop.

The professor nods once with a grateful smile at being told she has something effective to get on with. She leads them away, and they scramble to keep up.

“Mr Flint,” Professor Blackthorn says, appearing at my side with his usual silent grace.

Turning to him, I notice how tired he looks. The constant assault on the wards must be taking its toll on him. I just hope Caine is reinforcing the wards as best he can to take some of the pressure off him.

“I’ve discovered something,” he says without preamble. “The academy has defences even I didn’t know about until now. When Ellis abandoned his post and left me in charge, there was a definite vacuum in information being passed along. This appears to be one of those gaping points.”

That gets my attention. “What kind of defences?”

“Ancient ones. Built into the foundations of MistHallow.” He produces an old tome, its pages yellowed with age. “The founders weren’t just powerful, they were paranoid. They built in layers of protection that could be activated in times of dire need.”

“And this qualifies?”

His expression is grim. “Beyond question. But there’s a catch.”

Of course there is. There’s always a catch.

“The defences require significant power to activate. Dragon power, specifically.”

I feel my stomach drop. “You mean me.”

He nods slowly. “You’re uniquely suited for this, Mr Flint. Your natural snow abilities combined with your new fire magick is exactly the kind of power we need.”

“But?” I prompt, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“But it will take everything you have. And with the academy under attack...”

“You’re worried I won’t have enough left to fight.”

“Precisely.”

I meet his gaze. “We need every advantage we can get. Show me what needs to be done.”

Before he can respond, Caine bursts into the hall, frost spreading from his feet. “I’ve done what I can, but the wards are failing faster than expected. We have maybe an hour, tops. Is there anyone in this place with more power than that of a hellfly?”

Blackthorn snorts and tries to hide his smile behind the book. But I saw it, and he knows it. He rearranges his face into something more suitably stern. “Mr Caine. Some respect for your elders.”

“Whatever,” Caine grouses. “You know I’m right.”

He sighs. “Sadly, yes, I do. But that’s why we need to do this. Mr Flint? Are you up for it?”

“Show me these defences.”

“What defences?” Caine asks with interest.

“Something ancient and powerful,” I reply as Blackthorn strides off, fully expecting us to follow. We race to keep up.

Following Blackthorn through the academy’s winding, back corridors, I can’t help but worry about Violet. She and Thorne are dealing with the traitors while I’m here, trying to protect everyone else. It feels wrong to be separated, but I know MistHallow needs me here.

Blackthorn stops before a seemingly ordinary wall. He presses his hand against the stone, muttering an incantation. The wall shimmers and vanishes, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.

“Where does this lead?”

“To the heart of MistHallow’s defences.” He starts down the stairs. “Watch your step. It’s been centuries since anyone’s been down here, it appears.”

The staircase seems endless, winding deeper beneath the academy than I thought possible. The atmosphere becomes heavy with ancient magick, causing my double abilities to stir restlessly.

Finally, we emerge into a vast circular chamber. Runes cover every surface, glowing faintly with dormant power. In the centre stands a crystalline structure that reminds me of Caine’s ice formations, but this one is older and more primal.

“The Founder’s Heart,” Blackthorn explains, his voice reverent. “The source of MistHallow’s original defences. It was designed to channel Dragon magick specifically.”

“Why Dragons?”

“Because the original founder of MistHallow was a Dragon,” he says, giving me an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you know anything about this place?”

I snicker. “I know of the founding members. There were several.”

“No, there was one . The rest were brought on after the fact and claimed foundership as they added their strength to the institution. But the very first…” He moves to the crystal. “… was a Dragon called Thraxus. Place your hands here, Mr Flint. Let your power flow into it naturally.”

Thraxus. I’ve heard that name before. I can see his form in my mind’s eyes, weaved into an old tapestry in the fortress at home. He wasn’t just the original founder of MistHallow; he was the original Dragon.

I approach cautiously, feeling the magick of my ancestor react to my presence. “So that’s why my dad is such an integral part of this academy,” I murmur.

“Indeed,” Blackthorn murmurs back.

As soon as my hands touch the crystal, power surges through me. It’s like nothing else on this earth or the next. It is raw, primal energy that resonates with both aspects of my power.

“Fucking hell,” I gasp as the runes around us flare to life. The entire chamber beats with light that spreads upward through the walls.

“It’s working,” Blackthorn says, watching as lines of power trace through the academy’s structure. “The ancient wards are awakening.”

“Why were they dormant?” Caine breathes, taking in the intense atmosphere with a respected reverence.

“It appears the power source was switched off,” Blackthorn whispers.

“How?” I ask.

“Good question,” he growls. “It appears since Ellis left, we have been running at less than full strength. It explains… a lot.”

I want to ask more, but the drain on my power is immediate and brutal. It’s like trying to fill an ocean with a teacup. The defences are so vast, so hungry for energy. “How long do I need to maintain this?”

“Until the defences are fully charged. Minutes, maybe hours.”

“Hours?” I grunt, already feeling the strain. “We don’t have hours.”

“Then we’ll have to make do with what we can get. Hold on as long as you can.”

Through my connection to the crystal, I can feel the academy’s defences strengthening. Stone walls are becoming harder than steel, windows are turning impenetrable, and hidden traps are activating in strategic locations. But it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. The gauge on the crystal is rising but too slowly. I need to hurry this up somehow. I bear down, and the partial shift ripples over me. My hands turn to claws; scales ripple over my skin, and my sharp fangs rip through my gums and lips, making me bleed.

“Mr Flint. Don’t push yourself too far. We need you conscious.”

I nod and pour more power into the crystal, watching through my slitted Dragon eyes as the defences continue to build. The strain is immense, but I can’t stop. Not yet. Not while there’s still more to do.

Time becomes meaningless as I channel power into MistHallow’s ancient heart. My ice and fire magick work in perfect harmony for once, feeding the defences in ways I don’t fully understand.

A distant explosion snaps me back to reality. The wards - what’s left of them - shudder under another assault, but they hold. I can feel every single molecule of them, beating in time with my heart. I grunt and pour everything I’ve got into the crystal.

“Flint!” Caine’s voice echoes around the chamber.

I don’t reply. I need all of my strength.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and it’s like a scrying glass is reflected in my mind. I can see… everything. “They’re at the gates! The wards are holding.”

“Keep going,” Blackthorn mutters. “You’ve nearly got it.”

My eyes fly open, and I look at the gauge. It’s inching higher up, faster now. It’s nearing the top. The urgency to get it there slams into me, and I grit my teeth, clenching my jaw so tight it aches. My legs wobble, and my knees give way. I drop to the ground, my hands still clutching the crystal, desperately pouring everything I’ve got into it.

“It is done,” Blackthorn says. “Well done, Mr Flint.”

Panting heavily, I watch as the gauge bounces to the top and hovers. Slowly, I pull my hands from the crystal. The connection breaks with a snap that leaves me gasping for breath. My powers feel drained but not completely depleted. “How long will it last?”

“That’s the question worth a trunk full of gold coins,” Blackthorn replies. “We will have to see.”

Almost reluctantly, I nod and follow him and Caine out of the chamber. I want to stay and soak in the magick around me that feels like it’s mine.

But reality awaits.

Racing back up the stairs, I emerge into chaos. Students are running to their designated safe zones, and teachers are directing traffic with grim efficiency.

“The outer wards in the forest are gone,” I say tersely. “I’m not sure how we get those back. They’re testing the gates now.”

“It will hold,” Blackthorn says confidently.

A massive boom echoes across the grounds as something hits the gates. They remain steady, reinforced by the ancient magick I’ve awakened,

“We need to find Violet and Thorne. They are still dealing with internal threats.”

Blackthorn nods. “Go.”

Another boom, louder this time. The gates shudder but hold.

Caine and I take off in a sprint down the corridors. The only thing that matters now is getting to Violet.