Thornhill Academy. Chapter 182

**Allison**

By the time Cassian and I push through the last stretch of trees and the cabin comes back into view, the sun has shifted again—angled lower, harsher, casting long spears of gold across the clearing. My shoulders sag the moment I see it. Cassian must notice because his hand brushes mine—not touching completely, just a presence—guiding me the last few steps as exhaustion drags at my limbs like wet sand. The door is already cracked open, and shadows curl lazily beneath it, a sure sign Rhaziel has been pacing inside, caging his worry in broad, looping arcs. When we step through the threshold, the room is dim but warm, heavy golden light slanting through two broken windowpanes, dust suspended in the beams like floating ash. Kael is propped against a stack of old crates, shirtless and bruised, but awake. Evander is stretched out on a thin bedroll beside him, one leg wrapped from thigh to calf in strips of fabric that definitely didn’t exist in this cabin an hour ago. Rhaziel must’ve ripped up something to bind it. His shadows flicker protectively along Evander’s side, reinforcing what cloth can’t. Both boys look up when we enter. Kael’s whole face brightens, relief cracking across it like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Evander’s eyes soften, warm and aching and gentle in a way that steals my breath for a moment. Rhaziel stands behind them, massive, steady, arms crossed, but the moment he sees me, those arms fall. Cassian slips past me, already drifting toward the broken kitchenette. He rummages through warped drawers and cabinets, moving with the same quiet efficiency he used when he dismantled minds on the battlefield. There's a clatter, then a muttered, “This will do,” and he pulls a battered pot from a shelf.

“Give me the bag,” he says without looking back.

I hand it over and he kneels on the floor, legs folding gracefully beneath him as he begins lining ingredients in neat rows. He works with delicate precision, fingers sure, movements controlled. His magic is silent but present, like a hum beneath my skin.

I let myself be pulled toward the boys. Kael reaches for me first, arm trembling but determined. I drop to my knees beside him, brushing hair from his forehead. His cheek is swollen, his ribs mottled in deep bruises, and yet—he purrs the second my lips touch the corner of his mouth.

“You scared me,” I whisper.

He smirks, even though the motion clearly hurts. “Yeah well, demon daddy’s been taking care of us. Very nurturing. Would’ve braided my hair if I asked nicely.”

Rhaziel makes a low noise behind us. Something between a warning and a scoff. Evander chuckles softly, though pain catches the end of the sound. I shift to him immediately, my palm gliding over his thigh, checking the bandages and the swelling.

“Ev,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” His fingers lift, brushing my cheek. “Now that you’re here, I’m fine.”

I swallow around the knot in my throat. My shadows curl around my ankles, pulling me gently toward safety—toward him—toward home. Then Rhaziel is suddenly there, towering at my side, and before I can turn, he pulls me into him with one arm, burying his face in the curve of my neck. His exhale is long, ragged, almost broken.

“I need,” he murmurs against my skin, “to return to the kingdom soon.” He pauses, grip tightening. “I have been gone far too long.”

Guilt slices through me like a blade. “Rhaziel… I’m sorry—”

“No.” He lifts his head, eyes burning with molten certainty. “Do not apologise for surviving. Do not apologise for needing me here. I will always come when you call, Hummingbird.”

My throat aches and my chest hurts.

“I just need to know,” he continues, voice softer than shadowsmoke, “where you’ll be, where I should return when I’m done. What path do you intend to take?”

I inhale slowly. “Right. The plan.”

Cassian doesn’t look up from the pot, but his voice drifts across the room like silk.

“There’s a map,” he says, pulling a rolled parchment from his coat and holding it out toward me without turning. “Mark it. Anywhere you intend to stop. Any place you consider safe. Any route you might take if the main one becomes compromised.”

I blink, stunned by the thoughtfulness of it—no, not thoughtfulness. Preparedness. Consideration. The quiet brilliance of someone who refuses to be separated from us again. Rhaziel releases me just enough to let me move. I kneel beside Cassian, who sets the potion mixture aside temporarily and unrolls the map across the floor. The parchment is old, with edges frayed and ink faded in places—but usable.

Kael slumps forward a little, squinting. “Ooh. Strategy time.”

Evander nudges him. “Sit back. You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah,” Kael mutters, “but if I pass out during a meeting, I’ll look very dramatic, and Trouble will come to me, so honestly? Worth it.”

Rhaziel growls, Cassian doesn’t react and I almost smile.

Cassian hands me a charcoal stick, his fingers brushing mine. “Show us.”

And I do.

I mark:

\-the ridge we’ll avoid

\-the river trail we’ll use

\-the two hideouts I know carved into stone

\-the abandoned watchtower

\-the underpass beneath the ridge road

\-the safehouse tucked in the roots of the old oak

Places only someone who lived this life would know. Places only someone who endured the things I did could navigate. Cassian watches every stroke with quiet intensity, memorising not just the map but the meaning behind each mark. I push the charcoal farther north… to the last stretch I’ve ever dared approach. A crooked line ending several miles short of the Wall—the place the world always warned children not to wander toward.

“That’s as far as I know,” I murmur. “I never went any further.”

Cassian reaches out then, fingers brushing mine as he takes the charcoal with quiet certainty. He doesn’t hesitate. He draws clean, sharp marks across terrain I’ve never stepped foot on. I watch him, feeling the question rise unspoken between us. He feels it.

“When I finished at Thornhill,” he says, still marking routes with practiced ease, “they sent me straight to the Wall. My power was considered too rare not to use in the war.”

He meets my eyes briefly, something shadowed and ancient flickering there.

“I know that place like the back of my hand.”

Rhaziel leans in, nodding occasionally, shadows coiling like attentive serpents. When Cassian finishes, the map is a web of routes and possibilities. Real and tangible. We have a plan.

Cassian’s voice slips into the space between us, low and certain. “This will get us through,” he murmurs. “No matter what comes next.”

I sit back on my heels, breath unsteady. Rhaziel places a warm hand on my back. Evander gives me the softest smile. Kael winks through a half bruise. I give the map one last glance before I hand it to Rhaziel. He folds it carefully, and nods once at Cassian, "Take care of them."

Cassian nods in return, "With my life."

And with that once sentence I know and I fear...He will do just that.