Page 118 of Savage Torment

Every single student looks as though they’re glowing, a color matching their mood framing them in the light.

It’s beautiful.

It’s also distracting.

Clearing my thoughts, I peer around the room before my gaze flicks up to take another glance at the balcony. The angle looks different from here, the view much clearer, and my throat constricts when my gaze snaps to the man I’m sure I’ve seen in a memory, but doubt settles heavily in my stomach again.

I’m delusional. I have to be. Because in my memory, he was my father, and the one thing Florentine’s was always clear on was the fact that my parents were dead. Right?

Glancing at Bryony, I clear my throat. “Who is that?” I ask, and she follows my line of sight, her eyebrows furrowing as she sees who I’m referring to.

“That’s The Keeper Of the Games,” she explains, and I shake my head, remembering that Blaze had told me the same thing last week.

Rubbing my lips together nervously, I turn away from the balcony and look directly at my friend instead. “What does it mean that he’s here?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Why?”

There’s a slight crinkling at the corners of her eyes, one that leaves me a little uneasy as the aura around her shifts slightly, but I attribute it to the impending news we’re about to receive.

“Because I have a vivid memory of him, and we both know I don't have vivid memories of very much,” I state, and her gaze darts to the balcony, confusion darkening her stare.

Her lips part, but whatever she is about to say is cut off as Professor Whitmore claps his hands, drawing everyone's attention to the center of the room.

“Good morning, students of Trinity Falls Academy. Thank you for gathering before classes today as we embark on the blood kin journey with twelve more students.” His smile is wide, stretching from ear to ear as he adjusts the lapels of his stone-colored blazer.

He feels too bright and cheery to be on the brink of telling me my fate, and I don’t like it. Bryony’s hand tightens around mine and I squeeze back just as hard as Whitmore proceeds.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, so we can all enjoy some breakfast?” My stomach clenches, fear getting the better of me as I consider the fact that I might not make it to breakfast. Despite Lincoln’s words, I can’t control the actions of my blood kin, only myself.

Breakfast may be a gift at this stage.

“Lincoln James, Minnie James, Bianca Diamond, Sian Tillman, Blaze Williams, Benjamin Nichol, Destiny Chambers, Letti Gold, Dylan Daniels, Foster Graham, Bryony Tanner, and Polaris Beauchamp. Please, join me.”

As each name is called, the person stands, and when it’s mine that parts Professor Whitmore’s lips, I find myself on my feet; not by choice, but by magic.

The power in the room is palpable; especially as ithelpsme follow Whitmore’s order. We all move in sync, my heart racing wildly in my chest as I advance to the center of the room with a good portion of my friends, my coven.

With every step I take, I can’t help but remember the last time I was here.

The carnage.

The despair.

The blood.

Krystal.

My heart rate spikes.

Krystal.

My chest tightens until I’m certain my ribcage will collapse.

How is it that I know her, well, her corpse, but she doesn’t remember me?

How could I have felt the dead weight of her body above me, yet the woman I’ve encountered since believes she awakened from a coma with no family and a special coin?

It doesn't add up.

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