Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(55)

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.

“Who?” Tenn repeated.

But Dreya shook her head, and he knew that he would get no more from her. The dorm, one of only four on campus, housed the underclassmen. It was stone and wood and two stories tall, flanked by massive oaks that had long since lost their leaves. Like the other buildings, the windows here were intact. The glass front door was closed and whole, the lawn in front devoid of the clutter and chaos he’d grown so used to seeing. He gripped his staff tighter and walked up the front steps. A twist of Earth and the lock broke. The door creaked open, the noise far too loud in the otherwise-silent air. More chills curled down his spine. Everything about this place felt haunted, and it wasn’t just the memories warring behind his thoughts.

Ghosts of history swirled inside the lobby. He saw the vending machine that had saved him on more than one early morning of skipped breakfast and sleeping in. Over there, the wooden cubbies that had served as their mailboxes. And in front of them, the front desk he’d lingered by more nights than not, hoping to catch sight of Jarrett on his way back to his room. Tenn nearly dropped to his knees as the full weight of his past slugged him in the stomach.

If not for this place, he never would have learned magic. He never would have met Jarrett. He probably wouldn’t have survived the first few days of the Resurrection.

He owed this place everything.

Yet he also felt like this place had taken everything away. And here it was again.

“This was my dorm,” he said. His words echoed in the lobby. “The last time I was here...”