Page 33 of Midnight Reign
The last three words sends a bolt of lust shooting through me. “Oh?” I croak. I glance between him and Zephyr, torn between a sense of responsibility and the allure of rebellion.
"Come on, Little Dollie," Zephyr purrs, his purple eyes glinting with mischief. "Live a little dangerously."
I bite my lip, wavering. "But what if we get caught?"
Corvus chuckles, the sound low and seductive. "That's half the fun, isn't it?"
Before I can protest further, Corvus leads me down a side corridor, away from the bustling main hallways. Zephyr falls into step next to me.
“We’ll get the others and go do some hunting,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I whisper back, suddenly excited. “Let’s do it.”
14
ADELAIDE
The thrillof rebellion courses through me as we make our way through MistHallow’s winding corridors. Corvus leads the way, his steps confident and purposeful, while Zephyr brings up the rear, his shadows dancing around us to conceal our movements. The excitement of skipping class mingles with the nervousness of our upcoming adventure.
“Where are Ignatius and Zaiah?” I whisper as we duck into an empty classroom to avoid an oncoming professor.
“Ignatius, Zaiah. Come to us,” Zephyr murmurs, then squeezes my hand. “On their way.”
We move silently through the lesser-used passages of MistHallow, the ancient stones seeming to whisper secrets with every step. The air grows cooler as we descend, the scent of old magick and forgotten knowledge growing stronger.
Ignatius and Zaiah appear in front of us, looking ready for this adventure.
“We’re going exploring,” Zephyr says, producing the leather-bound book he’d brought back from the Dark Fae Kingdom out of thin air. The book pulses with a magickal energy, and I findmyself drawn to it. “This map shows hidden passages beneath MistHallow. We’re going to see what we can find.”
Ignatius’s eyes light up, quite literally, sparks dancing in his irises. “Wicked ditching. Let’s go.” His enthusiasm is infectious, and I return his grin.
Zaiah steps into my space and gives me a quick kiss. “That orb is a giant pain in my arse,” he growls.
“Tell me about it,” I reply with a snicker. “Where is he?”
“Back in your room, I guess. He got annoyed with me and left.”
I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the burst of laughter. “Okay,” I say, removing it. “We will work on him in my room later.”
He nods in agreement, and with our group complete, we make our way to a secluded corner. Zephyr holds out the book in one hand and spreads the pages, his fingers tracing the intricate lines and symbols. The parchment crackles softly under his touch, and I lean in closer, fascinated by the complex network of tunnels and chambers depicted.
“Here,” he says, pointing to a faded mark near the bottom of the page. “This looks like an entrance to the tunnels. It should be behind the statue of Morgana the Wise in the library.”
We move cautiously through the library, on the lookout for the librarian. She is busy behind the front desk, so we move cautiously and quietly to the back. The statue of Morgana looms before us, her stone eyes seeming to follow our movements. The marble is cold under my fingertips as I run my hands along the base of the statue, searching for any sign of a hidden mechanism.
“Now what?” I whisper.
Zephyr consults the map again, his brow furrowed in concentration. “There should be a hidden switch... ah, here.” He presses a small, unassuming knot in the stone. For a moment,nothing happens. The silence stretches, tight with suspense. Then, I wince at the grinding sound that seems impossibly loud in the quiet library, as the statue begins to rotate.
“Quickly,” Corvus hisses, ushering us into the dark opening revealed behind Morgana.
The passage seals behind us, plunging us into darkness so complete I feel a sense of panic descend. But then my vampire eyes adjust to the pitch black, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Ignatius summons a small flame on his palm, casting a warm glow over our faces.
“Well,” he grins, his eyes reflecting the flame, “this is exciting.”
I giggle with nerves and move in closer to him. His heat is comforting. I remember his touch scorching my skin earlier, and I shiver as my insides heat up at the memory.
The tunnel stretches before us, ancient stone walls, damp and musty. The smell around us is thick with the scent of earth and old magick, making my skin tingle. Each breath feels heavy with potential, as if we’re inhaling the essence of MistHallow’s secrets. We move forward cautiously, Zephyr consulting the map at regular intervals. The parchment seems to glow faintly in the light of Ignatius’s flame, the ink shifting and changing. “Why is it moving?”
