Every year, hundreds die within the walls of Basgiath War College. It's no surprise that many are those who choose the Riders Quadrant. Dragons do not tolerate much, but neither do the ruthless gryphons on the outside of the wards.
At least...
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His glacier blue eyes immediately search out mine, sweeping down my row as a chill of breezy energy traces my scalp. Eventually, his gaze lands on Sawyer, then beyond until he's looking at me, almost through me. For just a second, Jack's head tilts ever so slightly. Caroline grabs his arm with a level of comfort that tells me they must be involved, and she begins dragging him down the stairs. All the while, he keeps glancing my way with some kind of perplexed expression on his face. Maybe he's mocking mine, something that surely depicts horror. What are the chances I'd see a dead man walking twice now?
I suppose Nolon's mending won't make history, considering Brennan did the same thing, only six years earlier and on himself while dying. And, considering how he implied Naolin forcing some magic back into his body was a necessary part to even start the process, he actually had it harder. Though, that would mean they excavated Jack out of the mountain's rumble before he actually died. There's no way they managed that, not even if they began immediately. Not from what I heard of the aftermath. How the hell did he get any magic back in him? Did they call in a siphon? But I don't think they would, because I don't think they know he'd need one. Where did he get the magic from?
"It's him," Rhiannon mutters, shock making her jaw slack. "It's really him." "You brought down an entire cliff on his unhinged ass," Sawyer gawks. He claps slowly, no focus paid to the movement he's only making so focus doesn't turn on him. It won't, because I'm not moving at all, and everyone is looking at me. Sawyer turns his head to do the same just as the cold energy dissipates. His mouth is open like he's going to say something, but instead, he blinks with scrunched brows. "How the fuck was there anything left to mend?" Violet questions.
Barlowe looks almost... humble. It seems he's taken his second life as a gift bestowed by the gods—which he should, but he's never seemed to revere them before—and he's ready to make it his best. "Maybe he learned his lesson?" Rhiannon's voice pitches high with artificial hope. "No," Ridoc dismisses. He pinches his lips and shakes his head, letting his unclapping hands fall into his lap. Then he looks over toward me. "He's definitely going to try to kill you. Again."
"Not helping!" Rhiannon hisses as she smacks his arm with the back of her hand. Barlowe smiles, and I wait with an uneasy anticipation for it to turn sinister, but it doesn't. I might even dare say it's gentle. Despite the confusion still lining his face, he dips his head toward me like I'm the god that bestowed him. Then he turns around and takes his seat. "It's him," Tairn growls, rumbling my head with power my shields struggle to keep out. "Baide has kept the truth hidden for these months. Be aware of him at all times." My brows furrow still, and despite the confirmation, I ask, "Are you sure?" I think he hated Violet more than me before I bonded, but he'd never looked at me with anything that could be mistaken for pleasantries. "Unfortunately."
