Wrath of the Gods (Magic Blessed Academy 3)

Without another word, Omari turned and strode toward the portal—the rift they had torn in the ether. Having spent most of the summer practicing shifting back and forth between the godly realm and earth, I knew that shit wasn’t necessary. They had done it as a demonstration of power.

To show off. To scare us.

The other gods followed in Omari’s wake. The last one through the rift was Ryker, and he stared at me for just another moment before disappearing. I didn’t move a muscle until the rift closed with another loud clap, like thunder breaking over a plain.

When they disappeared, I let out a long, deep breath as everyone in the stands began to talk loudly and wildly.

The school staff and admins moved quickly, trying to herd everyone back to the main building. But before I could step off the stairs, Dean Frost marched over to me and grabbed me by the arm.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Miss Banks?” she hissed. “That was reckless and foolhardy. Next time—if they allow you to have a next time—you might want to think your decisions through beforehand. Whatever idiotic pride makes you think you can go up against the gods, it’s just put all of your classmates in a war against them too. All of these people?” She gestured to the crowd. “Their blood will be on your hands.”

“My hands?” Fury bubbled up, and I slapped her hand away. Fuck decorum. We were way beyond that at this point. “You want to see blood on someone’s hands? Take a look at your own.”

Her eyes widened, and she drew in a sharp breath. But before she could reply, I continued.

“And if you think I’m doing this out of pride, you’re insane. I’m not trying to prove a damn point, and I’m not doing this for glory or a godsdamn medal. I’m doing it because it gives all of these people the best chance they have of surviving.”

“She’s right.”

The voice beside me made me jump, and when I looked over, I saw Professor Wist regarding me with a serious expression. The Power and Precision teacher turned to face Dean Frost, her expression serious.

“What are you talking about, Wist?” the dean demanded, looking irritated and still slightly shaken. She obviously hadn’t known I was aware of her complicity in Omari’s plan to cull the numbers of wild magic users.

“The students are all being forced to compete in the Gods’ Challenge,” Wist said, squaring her shoulders. “They should have the right to face those who are putting them in this situation. And the gods should fight their own battles.”

For a moment, Dean Frost stared at Wist as if the professor had grown a second head. I got the feeling it was the first time Wist—or anyone, really—had stood up to Frost, and a little swell of satisfaction rose up in me.

It was far from a mass mutiny, but if Wist still supported me, then there had to be other people at the school who would too, and those people could make the difference. I needed to rally people—both students and teachers. I needed to make them see the truth of what was going on, and drive home the fact that the only chance we really had to survive this was to band together against the gods.

They had never planned to let us win this challenge.

But now, we could at least fight on our terms.

And maybe, just maybe, we could win.

Wist and Dean Frost held each other’s gazes in a long, tense, and completely silent battle of wills. Then Frost finally looked away, her lip curling in disgust. She shot me one more scathing look. “Play the martyr and the hero all you like, Miss Banks. You’re not fooling me.”

“Okay, whatever,” I muttered as she swept down the stairs, shoving her way between me and Professor Wist.

Students were filing back toward the school, a loud murmur of confused conversation rising up in their midst. Wist watched the crowd begin to disperse, then turned to me, shaking her head.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Aria.”

With that, she was gone too.

I stared at her retreating back, agitation churning in my stomach.

Well, that makes two of us.

It wasn’t exactly the most shining endorsement of my action, but at least Wist had stood up to Dean Frost. It gave me hope that I would be able to win more people to my side. Because just like Eden had said, that’s what we needed.

An army.

The sky crackled above. Clouds began rolling in, and a few fat drops of rain hit my face. The storm gathering on the horizon moved quickly, and the remaining students begin hurrying toward the school.

My three men all looked at me, and Lachlan extended a hand as I stepped down the stairs. Eden had approached too, and I tried to ignore the worry in four sets of eyes as my friend and my boyfriends all regarded me with serious expressions.

Truthfully, no one was more worried about this than me. Fear that I might’ve made the wrong choice twisted in my gut. But it was too late to take it back. And there hadn’t been any other options.