"I'm already dead," he said. "What could I possibly do with that information?"
That seemed to decide it for her. Exhaling loudly, she began to answer—
—but was cut off by a bark loud enough to startle Marvel's bones out of his skin.
Marvel twisted around to see that the terrifying hound had come out of the hut. It gave another sharp, urgent bark in the girl's direction.
"Really?" The girl threw up her hands.
The dog gave another deep bark that made the leaves of the forest shiver and immediately dove into the thick of the trees.
"Come on," she urged Marvel, following the black hound. "We have to stop it."
"Stop what?"
No answer. The girl had vanished. It seemed even in the afterlife—or whatever this was—Marvel couldn't escape weirdness.
He pushed into the dense trees after her. They grew so close together that he quickly lost sight of her jacket. When he looked back, the path he'd taken was gone. Dammit, how had he managed to get lost so quickly?
The girl's head appeared between two trunks to his left. "What are you waiting for? Come on."
He hurried after her, determined not to get lost again in the Death Forest.
Suddenly, he found himself in a clearing overlooking a cliff. The grass was colourless. Beyond it lay an endless drop. Over the edge, Marvel saw nothingness. He felt sure anyone who fell off the cliff might fall forever.
"Marvel!"
He tore his gaze from the abyss to where the girl stood, the hound beside her. It held something dark and shapeless in its teeth— a mass of shadows, struggling futilely to escape.
"What is that?" Marvel asked, jogging up.
The girl glanced up at him. "Can't you tell? It's the athar. He thought we'd be distracted by his show in the sky, so he tried to carry out their master's instructions to take you back."
"What?" It was irritating, Marvel thought, to have to keep asking questions like an idiot.
"He's trying to bring you back to life," the girl clarified. She gave the struggling mass of shadows a patronising smile. "Poor thing really wants to obey his master, even now."
Marvel watched in shock as the girl bent down to pet the shadows, cooing to it like she would a puppy. His chest swelled with hope. He could go back to his life. All he had to do was somehow get rid of the girl and the hound.
Then he'd return to Aisling, to the dream that had finally been coming true.
"The goddess won't let you," the girl said. He stilled. Could she read his thoughts? "Her will controls this forest and everything in it, including the athar. Your athar can't be commanded now except by someone as powerful as her."
"And why can't I go back?" he demanded, stubborn fury surging through him. "If I can't go to Paradise, and I can't go to hell, why won't you let me go back?"
The girl regarded him with eyes that suddenly seemed older than any mage he'd ever met. They were strange in her youthful face.
"You wouldn't want to go back either if you knew," she said.
"Knew what?" he pressed, digging in his heels.
"If you return to life," she said, her tone suddenly serious, "you're going to end the world."
…
Halfway up the path to the Academy, it began to rain.
Aisling barely noticed. She didn't feel the discomfort of wet fabric clinging to her skin or the cold wrapping around her. Some Apprentices were so powerful they no longer felt the elements—not cold, heat, or pain. She wasn't one of them yet, but she imagined this must be what it felt like.
If only she could numb the feelings that came with thinking of Marvel in the same way.
She pushed away the voice in her head warning her about what she was about to do. Marvel was dead. Bringing him back might require the kind of magic she was sworn to oppose. If caught, she would likely be arrested for not turning Grimm in as well. She steadfastly refused to think of that.
Baylin was the answer. The Master Magus knew more about magic than anyone. No scholar possessed more knowledge than she. If anyone could help, it would be her.
She also never passed on curiosity. Whatever had been happening to Marvel all week, Baylin was aware of it. Aisling was going to get that information out of her.
Soaked through, she finally reached the Castle. It rose high against the night sky, the walls seeming to go on forever. She remembered coming here as a maverick, eighteen years old and terrified of the intimidating stone walls. Even then, she'd felt the Castle's magic acutely, understanding why it was named the greatest seat of power on the Continent.
The urge to flee had seized her, but she'd stood her ground, driven by the desire to find the woman who had ruined her life and make her pay.
Now, the same fear pressed against her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Funny how she was more or less on the same mission. Finding Baylin.
The gate-opening spell was known only to the Academy's mages, kept so secret none of them remembered it until they needed it. She spoke the words and the gate opened for her. She skipped her usual greeting of the guards. There was no time. Marvel needed her.
She had no idea where Baylin was, but her blood did. Once inside the castle doors, she felt a pull toward one of the observation towers. There, she would find Baylin.
The ability to locate Baylin whenever Aisling needed her was part of the bargain they'd made after her first failed attempt to kill the woman.
Decades had passed since then. Aisling still wasn't sure why the crazy old hag had agreed to her terms.
Aisling moved through soullit hallways, passing rooms and familiar faces without stopping. She rushed up staircases, knocking people over and ignoring their shouts.
Finally, she arrived at a pair of doors she knew nobody but she could find and shoved them open.
The bang of wood against stone drew Baylin's attention from where she stood over a table, her hands glowing blue. Some poor creature wriggled on the table's surface, no doubt one of Baylin's experiments. Green light filled the room, and thousands of tall shelves cast twisted shadows over the stone floor.
Baylin only needed to glance at Aisling to know what had happened—Aisling's telepathy skills were underdeveloped for a mage at her level, and she was fairly certain Baylin could shred a Grandmaster's mind.
Just like the last time Aisling had come running, Baylin rubbed her forehead and sighed. "So he's managed to get himself killed this time."
Aisling darted forward, her hands itching to go around Baylin's throat. "What do you know?"
"I've never come across a golem like that snake thing before," Baylin said, rifling through Aisling's memories of the night. "I take it your lover is responsible for unleashing it on poor Marvel?"