Abaddon's Gift

Chapter Thirty-Three

Graydon's eyes opened at the first prickle. Before he was fully awake, he was halfway to the door. The world could have been on fire and he would have remained just as calm despite having been deeply asleep moments before.

Instinctive prickling woke him, but Graydon couldn't figure out what was wrong.

Until he strode out of his dorm, and Nafe AfLugh ran by muttering under his breath.

The panicked, "no, no, no, no," put Graydon into a run.

He easily overtook the shorter-legged young man, taking on the lead and putting himself between the secondary family member and whatever they might be running toward.

Getting the door open barely slowed him, though he banged it open out of habit and heard a startled sound from Nafe as the door bounced back and caught him. But then wasn't the time to stop and ask if everything was all right.

The cold night air hit his lungs like an old friend.

Full moon shining overhead, cloudless night, cold temperature. Stars prickled the blackened sky overhead, flickering only as stars did.

Dragons couldn't fly.

Small blessings.

Graydon cut across the university lawns, following his instincts rather than a path carved by mages. The grass underfoot was wet with dew, which clung to his feet and soaked the cuffs of his pyjama bottoms as he sprinted toward unknown danger.

He ran past a ghostly figure standing in a nightdress, the hem soaked with dew, pale flesh prickled with goosebumps.

He looked back.

And fell flat on his face.

Naena stared forward, her eyes wide, hands trembling and clutched into the skirt of her nightdress as she stared ahead.

Graydon felt caught between helping Naena and investigating.

Nafe passed him, still muttering under his breath as he made his way toward the drive of the university. With another glance to Naena, and knowing she wasn't about to move, Graydon pushed off the ground and chased after Nafe.

He passed the younger man again and hit the edge of the drive, where he came to a complete stop.

Instinct again, this time a throbbing, boiling, oh so angry flame that danced across his nerves as he turned with the flow of magic, toward the buildings.

Theon strolled out of the main building, eyes glinting in the moonlight as his hands slipped into his pockets. He wore pyjama bottoms and nothing else, his ink sparkling in threat as he soaked in the moonlight, the cold, and the starlight.

Where dragons did not fly, Theon excelled.

Graydon's heart thundered in his ears as Nafe caught up to him. He reached out, pulling Nafe back as a word grew louder, almost shrieking out of the smaller body.

Behind Theon came Luren, tugging a night coat around him, breath coming in little puffs as he rushed forward with small steps. The healer wanted to get to the wave of threat he felt but also didn't want to pass Theon, wanting the war mage to deal with any threats before he stepped into the fray.

Across the drive, Graydon spotted a student, a second-year who shook all down his being, vibrating from the pain that washed across the land.

A healer.

Naena.

Graydon turned, Nafe still grasped firmly in his arm. He was aware, at the periphery of his consciousness, that Nafe was beating at him, trying to get away, but he ignored the motion as he might have the wings of a fly