Page 123 of Black Wing and Shadows
Whispers broke like cracks in ice.
“Another one.”
“Infantry this time.”
“She deserved it.”
“No one’s safe.”
My skin crawled, every hair prickling. The shimmering cords that held Harlyn flickered faintly, not rope or chain but something conjured—something wrong.
Esme’s voice slid through my mind, colder than I’d ever felt her.“This is deliberate. Calculated. Whoever did this wants you all to watch.”
Boots thundered behind us—professors and lieutenants sweeping in, shouting orders, throwing up wards to shove cadets back. A shimmering barrier sealed the courtyard in moments, cutting us off from the body, but the sight of it was already burned into our eyes.
I couldn’t breathe.
Because this wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a warning gone wrong. It was a choice. And whoever picked Harlyn Cowens had done it in the open, daring the rest of us to wonder—Who was next?
The courtyard filled fast, cadets pouring in from every wing and floor, their boots thundering across the cobblestones. Voices rose, high and panicked, whispers turning sharp as blades.
“Who is it?”
“Infantry—look, it’s Harlyn Cowens.”
“She’s strung like a trophy.”
“Gods, how didn’t the towers or patrol see this?”
The press of bodies made it hard to breathe. Some craned their necks for a better look, others shoved forward as if daring the barrier to let them through. The wards shimmered brighter with every cadet that pressed close, humming with restrained force.
“Back to your chambers!” Lieutenant Gray’s voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip. Professors fanned out behind him, their faces grim, their gestures sharp as they forced the crowd back. “Move! Lockdown until further notice. No exceptions.”
The orders rippled outward, swallowed by a tide of cadets resisting. Fear made them stubborn. Nobody wanted to turn their back on the sight of Harlyn hanging limp against the stone.
Professor Melamora strode forward, eyes flashing, her tone colder than the night air. “Do as you’re told, or I’ll have you dragged there myself.”
That broke the standoff. Reluctantly, cadets shuffled back, peeling away in stiff, uneasy lines. The barrier shimmered one last time before sealing tight, cutting off even the faintest glimpse of Harlyn’s dangling form.
The walk to my chamber was a blur. My body moved, but my mind stayed rooted in the courtyard, in the steady drip of blood on stone. By the time I reached my hall, the smell of food clashed harshly with the memory. Mess stewards had been ordered into the halls, dropping canvas sacks onto tables for cadets to snatch on their way to their rooms.
I pulled mine open and blinked. Inside was a hunk of hard bread, a wedge of cheese, and a tin cup already half full of watered juice. Simple. Practical. The kind of thing you’d hand a soldier on campaign in the last century. It tasted like ash in my mouth.
Around me, cadets grumbled as they accepted their rations, the noise a low, restless growl. A few cracked bitter jokes—about prison fare, about the professors chaining us in our rooms next—but none of it stuck.
Not with the image of Harlyn burned into our eyes.
Esme’s voice brushed the back of my mind, quieter than usual.“Eat, little Rider. You’ll need your strength. Whoever strung her there… they’re not finished.”
And I knew she was right.
The canvas sack sat forgotten at the edge of my desk, its contents—bread and cheese—untouched. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at the wall. The image of Harlyn strung against Alpha Wing burned so deep it pulsed behind my eyes every time I blinked.
“Zane?”
His voice slid in, low and steady, like dark water.“I’m here. I’m always here.”
I hesitated, fingers knotting in my blanket.“She wasn’t just killed. She was on display. Whoever this is, they’re… escalating. First, the courtyard. Then the classroom. Now strung up like a warning sign. They’re not hiding anymore.”
