Page 149 of Architecti
I close my eyes and push the magic out, my muscles burn as the slice reaches the height of Arcadius’s head.I dig deep and fling the magic the rest of the way, and the cut rips with a foot of space above his head.
I baulk when a wraith slips into view.But Arcadius flings his hand out and the wraith is thrown back, rolling and tumbling at least fifty feet away from the tear.
He steps through and glares at me.“I prefer it this side, so make sure you get me back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I bring my hands together, stitching and threading the Veil and sealing him inside.
Alistair steps in to check my stitching.When the scar vanishes, he says, “Seal complete.Begin cutting.”
This time, I decide to show off a little, I draw more magic than necessary from the walls until my arms are coated in throbbing black ribbons all the way up to my shoulders, and then I fling the lot at the sealed cut.
It slices in one very neat, very complete cut all the way to the same height as before.
Alistair lets out a whistle as the Chancellor steps back into the room.
“Impressive,” he whispers.
I restitch the cut and the assessment finishes, my confidence sky high.
They allow me a few minutes of breathing space before the final assessment.Lex had told me about this one—her sister had to do it as well.She said the best emotions to use were the negative ones.Grief was particularly effective.
I hated hearing that.Of course, it would be fucking grief.Grief is what drove me to Finis in the first place.
What better memory to use than the grief of what happened to me?
“Midnight, when you’re ready,” Alistair says and guides me to the centre of the circle.
He squeezes my shoulder and whispers, “You’re killing it, keep going.”
He draws a sequence of patterns over my chest and the scar that sits on my sternum.There’s a white light, a searing heat and then an emptiness like nothing I’ve ever felt.It’s awful.I hadn’t realised how deep the campus has crawled into my mind and body.
“Begin,” Alistair says.
I draw the memory of Aurelia into sharp focus.Her open legs.That woman.The cold press of tiles against my cheek as I laid there all night.The seething hatred.I play the memory over and over until my lids sting with unshed tears and a furnace burns in my chest.
Magic pools around my fists.Slow at first and then faster and thicker, billowing the same way the campus’s magic does.
My magic smells different, as it should, since the source isn’t Finis.It’s darker, bitter, it smells stale and sharp, like mildew exposed to winter.Is that what grief smells like?
I take one last glance at the room and then I sweep my hands open in a severing motion and cut a hole in the Veil large enough for me to step through.
I throw Alistair one last glance.He nods at me, and it’s comforting.Then I step into the Veil.
My breath is stolen as soon as I’m inside, the arid air is hot and billowy like the first waft of an open oven.
It sits heavy in my chest, smoky and clogged with decay.
I stitch the Veil shut, waiting for the scar to disappear.As the last stitch fades, my vision whites.
Midnight, at last.a voice says, both a whisper and a shout.
Architecti.
I can’t see anything.Everything is white and blinding, the Veil has vanished and been replaced with a white room.
“You have to let me go, I’ll die inside the Veil.”
