Page 101 of Foresyth Conservatory
“That’s why I have a plan. But I need all of you. If you want to leave before the Symposium, I’ll understand. But if you want to stay to incriminate the Meister, we have the chance to end this cycle tonight.”
“I’m in,” Aspen said. “I won’t let Julian’s sacrifice be wasted.”
Sequoia’s brow furrowed. “If we stop the Meister, who’ll lead the school?”
“The Council would likely appoint someone new through a vote,” Leone answered. “The House won’t vanish—it seems like it’s been resisting the magick with growth and life, even as it decays from the blood rituals.”
The Council had turned a blind eye for decades, allowing the Meister’s unchecked power to fester like rot. He hadn’t just inherited his position—he had cultivated it, embedding himself within Foresyth’s foundations, protected by politics and tradition. Even Julian, despite his mother’s position as an Advisor, hadn’t realized how tainted Foresyth had become until the very end.
Destroying the ceremony wouldn’t be enough. If we wanted to end this cycle for good, we had to strike at the source—The Book of Skornitself.
“We have to destroy the Book,” I said, “so no one on the Council can use it.”
“And neither can we,” Nina noted. “We’ll remain powerless.” Nina’s words threatened to stifle the air in the room as I noticed the others’ shoulders drop. Of course, they all cared about the power. That’s what’d driven them to go along with the Meister, with the sacrifices, for this long.
“You don’t need it,” I said, my voice growing with conviction. “Nina, you can transform corpses into art, recall the histories of hundreds of mythical creatures. Sequoia, you can light up the whole room from your presence alone and bring people to tears with your voice. Leone is the most erudite person I’ve ever met, and Aspen’s sculptures belong in a museum. Each of you has incredible power already. You don’t need the Meister’s false promises.”
Leone’s face hardened, his voice resolute. “I don’t take kindly to liars, especially ones who deceive so arrogantly.”
Nina hesitated but then nodded. “No one sacrifices me without my knowing.”
Relief washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, I had allies.
“What’s the plan?” Nina asked.
“We’ll go through with the ceremony. But this time, no one dies.”
Chapter 33: Spring Symposium
Admittedly, the Blackburne line didn’t have the best track record for survival. Evolutionarily speaking, we were losing—and badly. But I still had my mother’s blood, and I clung to the hope that it might be enough to tip the scales in my favor. I pieced together the cold facts, stitching them together with something far older and wilder than logic. The magick I no longer doubted—my own intuition.
Magick was ceremonial. And so too should be the destruction of the Book, in the eyes of the person who gave its power life. It was through this ceremonial burning that we could put to rest what my father started all those years ago. He would be free to move on, and so would I.
The plan was simple. We would arrange ourselves as the Meister has orchestrated many times before. Nina would be assigned potion maker—she’d make the vial concoction and include the poisonous nightshade such as the Meister would see it.
For this, I gave everyone a generous wad of cotton to place in their cheeks to soak up the liquid (this time not sourced from the dining room furniture). It wouldn’t be enough to completely eliminate the side effects, but the dosage would be diluted such that we wouldn’t die. And that was the goal.
When the Meister himself was disarmed, that would be the time to strike. Aspen would be the one to fend off the Meister as Leone and I would handle getting a hold of the Book, and Nina and Sequoia would kindle the fire so that we could burn it then and there.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
But the plan was contingent on one crucial detail: everyone’s trustworthiness. If even one person decided to sabotage the plan, it could risk everything. I wasn’t just betting on myself anymore. I was betting on myfriends. And whether or not I trusted them.
I was in my room, going over the plan and preparing to take my work down to the Symposium. The House was buzzing with activity in preparations for opening it to the Council and the Advisors. This was the time all the students had been waiting for to dazzle and impress everyone. The Council members would each come around to our stations and evaluate our work, deciding if it was worthy enough to grant us another year at Foresyth. I had unfortunately been too preoccupied the last few weeks to make an impressive presentation, but I had scraped together something passable. After tonight, I could walk away from Foresyth, content that my role had been fulfilled.
But wouldIbe fulfilled?
The thought was interrupted by knocking at my door. Aspen walked in with a sheepish grin and a flower in his hands. I recognized it instantly. It was a gorgeous bright blue Dahlia, fresh-picked.
“These are harder to find than you know, despite the sea of florals downstairs,” he said admiring the petals. “They require a lot of sunlight—not something this place is known for.” He stepped closer to where I was standing. “I just came to wish you good luck tonight. With everything,” he said with one hand threaded through his hair and the other extended across to me. He was nervous. But about which part? The ceremony, orus?
But there was no us. There was onlythem, the Trees. I was a flower at the base of their trunk, never to reach their heights. Hadn’t he implied as much the first time I met them?
“Thank you,” I said, taking the stem.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes scanning the bed where I had laid out my supplies.
“I’m sure.” But I wasn’t.
