Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter~40

Nora's POV 20 mins prior in the grad parlor

The softness of the pillows cushions my body, and the warmth of the wool blanket wrapped around me creates a false sense of comfort. My head aches, a dull throb pulsing in the back of my skull, but the pain is nothing compared to the strange stillness in the air.

I open my eyes slowly, unsure of what I'll find. At first, everything seems normal. The room is dim, the scent of dust and the faint trace of lavender in the air, as though everything is just... peaceful. But as my mind clears and my senses sharpen, I notice something is terribly wrong.

The silence. It's thick and suffocating. It's wrong. It presses down on me like a weight I can't escape.

And then—the blood.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight around me. Guards, their once-white uniforms drenched in blood, are sprawled across the floor in unnatural positions. Their bodies twisted, arms and legs splayed out at odd angles. Some lie face down, others on their backs, their eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, lifeless. The sight is enough to make my stomach churn, bile rising in my throat.

I blink, my vision swimming, trying to make sense of the nightmare in front of me.

"What the hell?" I whisper, my voice shaking, barely more than a rasp. Panic claws at me, rising like a tidal wave. My heart slams in my chest as I try to push myself up, but my body is heavy, sluggish, like I'm moving through water.

My gaze darts across the room, landing on a figure in the far corner. Gerard. His lifeless body slumps against the table, his head resting on its surface as though he'd simply fallen asleep. But it's the blood—soaked into the fabric of his uniform, pooling beneath him—that tells me this is no peaceful slumber. His eyes are wide open, staring into nothingness. His expression is frozen in shock, the final flicker of surprise still on his face.

I feel my pulse skip a beat as a chill crawls up my spine.

No. This isn't real. This can't be real the hallucinations are back.

I push myself up from the pillows, my legs shaky beneath me. The pounding in my head spikes, the world tilting like I'm caught in some half-formed dream. I brace myself against the side of the table, trying to steady my breath, my heartbeat. But I can't stop looking at the bodies, the blood, the carnage that fills every corner of the room.

What happened here? How did this happen?

And then, a name cuts through the fog of my thoughts.

Xaden.

It's sharp and familiar, like a thread tying all of this together. My thoughts go wild, spiraling, as I try to remember—try to understand what happened, how I ended up here.

Where is he?

I start to remember everything. The memories crash into me, a flood of confusion and chaos. The blood, the pain, the fear, all swirling together until nothing seems real anymore. My head is pounding as if the room itself is collapsing around me, and it takes everything I have to keep myself upright.

Then, I hear it—the voice.

"Good morning, sunshine."

I whip around, my heart leaping into my throat. There, sitting casually in a chair in the corner, is Imogran. She looks so unfazed, almost serene, as she lazily sharpens her dagger against a stone, the rhythmic scraping sound cutting through the air. Her posture is relaxed, almost amused, like this blood-soaked room is just another Tuesday for her.

"What the hell..." I whisper to myself, my hands trembling as I push myself upright. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind.

Imogran's gaze flicks up from the blade to meet mine, a slow, mocking smile stretching across her face.