“How much farther?”
“The Witches should be near,” she said, “but we cannot risk bringing attention to them or ourselves. Not right now. Especially not if the Witches have moved on...that would leave us too vulnerable. We must find a place that is safe and let Matthias pass us by.”
They passed another road sign.
Silveron
Left Ahead
“No,” Tenn muttered, but Dreya cut him off.
“You say Matthias has been in your dreams, yes?” she asked. She looked back to him. “Then he knows you would avoid this place. He knows how much it pains you. It is the last place he would expect you to go.”
Tenn didn’t want to stop again. He didn’t want to have time to think about what had happened. He didn’t want to see the halls that he and Jarrett had walked down, the place that marked both the beginning and the end of their future. But he knew from the look in Dreya’s eyes that he wasn’t being asked his opinion.
Dreya turned back to the front and Devon turned the car up the drive. Tenn wrapped himself tighter in his coat. He wanted to feel bad about pushing the two of them away, but that would require feeling something.
Right then, he felt nothing at all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE ROAD THAT led to Silveron quickly changed from concrete to gravel, the grit crunching like snapped bones beneath the snow. Branches stretched overhead like black veins, pulsing memories into the twilight and bleeding through his mind. How often had this path haunted him? All the dreams of death and destruction, the final flight from this place. All the times he returned in his sleep, drifting like a ghost through the rooms of his past. And now, here he was, driving that very path. It didn’t feel any more real than the dreams.
They rounded the corner and there it was: Silveron spread out before them like an admissions photograph, everything snow-covered and pristine in the dying winter light. The buildings were the typical New England flair, everything wooden and white. Long two-story buildings for classrooms, a steepled clock tower jutting from the central library, wide swathes of open lawns dotted with benches and shrubs. Charming. Unassuming. As though looking like any small college was a part of its defense.
Before it all stood the great wrought-iron gates that barbed up like talons through the white. “Silveron Academy” wove itself through the top arch, gilded in chipped gold. He’d passed through those gates twice during his time as a student. Once, when his parents dropped him off, and last, when the school was evacuated mere hours after the Resurrection was televised.
His gut turned over as they passed under the arch.
He hated how much it felt like coming home. It just made the empty backseat seem emptier. He’d never considered coming back here with Jarrett, but coming back here without Jarrett felt like torture.
He bit his lip and tried to keep from breaking down.
Somehow, the school was still immaculate, as impressive and imposing as the first day he’d stepped foot there. The lawns were clean and blanketed with fluffy snow, the windows intact and the roofs perfectly dusted with frost. All that was missing was the warmth of inner fires and lights. But there was an emptiness to the place, too. A hunger. It drew them in and promised to never let go.
Devon parked just inside the gate and the three of them got out. Tenn stared up at the sky, a few stray flecks of snow falling on his face.
“I am sorry,” Dreya said. She stood beside him, so pale in this light that she could fade out against the snow.
He didn’t know what she was apologizing for. Whether over Jarrett or bringing him here, it didn’t really matter.
“Why can’t we just go to them?” Tenn asked. “The Witches. If they’re close, why do we have to stay here?”
“Because they might be dead,” Devon said. He walked over to them, snowflakes catching on the fibers of his scarf, making him look festive despite his words. “Witches keep to the wilderness, which means we have to go to the wilderness to find them. That means we would be in the open at night. It could be a trap.” He stepped closer, and Fire flickered in his chest, sending a small shiver through Tenn; just knowing Devon was under Fire’s spell made him nervous. “I am too drained to fight off Matthias. As is my sister. And you cannot control your own powers. So we will stay here. Where it is safe. Where we can rest. And when we are ready to move on, we will.”
Dreya didn’t seem to breathe. She stared at her brother with a slight part to her lips.
“I didn’t ask you to get involved,” Tenn said. It was barely a whisper—Devon’s words cut deeper than they should have. Devon was right: Tenn was a burden. If the two of them couldn’t fight, he had no chance. “I didn’t want anyone to die.”
“But they did,” Devon said. He looked Tenn right in the eyes when he said it. “Many people have died. Some to keep you safe, others as part of this unending war. If there is a chance—any chance—that you can end it, or make their lives worth something, you will see it out. To do anything less would be a disgrace.” He wrapped the scarf tighter around his neck. “Now. Lead on.”
Dreya looked from her brother to Tenn and shrugged.
Tenn thought she might come to his aid, but her silence said it all. Devon was right. Tenn had to keep moving forward. There was never time for weakness, and now least of all. He shoved his doubts down and led them toward the dorms. If they expected a vocal tour, they would be disappointed.
The only consolation Tenn could find as they made their way through the maze of sidewalks was that his classmates had all gotten out. There was no sign of battle here, no sign of bloodshed. There had never been any victims here to devour. But it also put him on edge: nowhere else in the world was a landscape so untouched, especially not one inhabited by humans. Why had the Howls—or, hell, the Church—avoided this place?
Behind the beautiful facade of normal buildings were the true structures that set Silveron apart. He led them toward his dorm, past the field of stones used for Earth practice, around a tall stone tower that had been reserved for Air. The Fire bunker was farther down the path, near the lake where he’d spent the vast majority of his time. Tenn nearly jumped when something shifted on one of the benches. Then the light caught, and he realized it was just a fox, ribs pronounced and eyes wide.
“She watches,” Dreya whispered.
Tenn’s heart leaped into his chest.
“Who?”
The fox stared at them, its eyes seemingly too intelligent.
“The Violet Sage,” she whispered.