When I was a little girl, I'd always wanted to find a genie in a lantern, perhaps buried beneath the soil in one of our paddocks. I'd spend afternoons digging for treasure, covered in dirt and overjoyed when I found random lumps of rock. I knew what I would wish for, and it was much more than a signed soccer ball from Cristiano Ronaldo like my little brother had suggested. It was the art of using magic, to have the ability to be talented at whatever I wanted to be. That, and to push my curfew back an hour.

I didn't realise that maybe magic had been flooding through my veins already somehow, without the aid of a magical lamp. It wasn't the fairytale magic seen in Disney movies or the kind that could be catalysed with a wand and broomstick. It was a dark magic.

A black magic. Thick, and oily, and smelling of decay, tainting my body and ensuring I was destined for evil.

I set out to find Isaac during psychology.

The chill had been melted away with a bright morning sun, and though the sing-song of the birds in the forest was not enough to shake me of the nightmares from the night just past, they hinted optimism. I couldn't afford to take it.

I figured the safest time to find Isaac would be when I knew Conrad was busy doing God-knows-what with the psychology class. Though I no longer attended after the terrors I'd witnessed, I had no doubt he was still using the time to send off his unknowing assassins.

After sneaking into his building and knocking on his door multiple times, a sleepy looking Isaac opened the door. His chest was bare, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, revealing creamy skin and broad shoulders, and beneath his eyes were heavy bags. I wouldn't be surprised if he tossed and turned in fear all night. I was doing the same.

"He knows," I said in lieu of a greeting, "He knows I stopped them from seeing him. Isobel and Gia. They went to his lecture this morning and I couldn't do anything about it."

His magic was stronger than mine, a child with a magic kit and a professional illusionist.

Isaac looked at me hesitantly, blinking for a moment before his mind seemed to process my words. "Shit. Come in."

He opened the door wide enough for me to slide in. In light, the apartment was a little more lively, sun filtering through the curtains, a contrast to the cold and silent room it had become last night. 

"I know it's not really time for stuff like coffee, but I need a coffee. Want one?"

The fact he was acting so nonchalant had me on guard. "Sure."

He walked over to the kitchen, his sweatpants scuffing against the floor. Along the way, he picked up a shirt that had been flung over the back of a seat and slid it over his head.

"He came to our flat last night," I said. "He threatened to kill them."

Isaac paused, his face contorted in fear. I could tell he was trying to keep it together for me, and I appreciated it. I missed the comfort of being a child, when everything was filtered to make sure you were okay. 

"How did he know?"

"I don't know," I said, running a hand through my hair. The memory of Blackwood's face so close to mine--his touch across my skin--had haunted me all night. "I think it's because he has such a powerful control over them. I just... I don't know how to free them."

"Maybe it's not about taking them away from him," he said after a brief hesitation, fiddling with a large appliance on the counter. Gia was the coffee expert in our apartment, I was barely able to run the machine by myself.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Every moment they were still under his control had me on edge. But, at the same time, removing them from it was almost as terrifying.

"Maybe it's about giving them freedom by... removing their capture," he said.

"Are you suggesting we kill him?" I asked. I humoured the idea. I didn't know enough about his power and just how many people he controlled, and the unknown made me wary. I wasn't sure if killing him would actually work, and how exactly I could do so. 

"I think the idea is worth considering."

Murder. It was exactly what he had done to countless others.

I pictured it. I pictured somehow concocting up a plan that led to his death. Maybe a knife to the throat or a bullet, though God knows how I'd get a gun. Ending a life. 

"But, killing someone, even someone completely evil..." he continued, his gaze far away. He continued debating aloud. "I mean, he's killed people, Aspen, multiple people. And he's probably going to kill a lot more, us included."

I found myself falling into one of the wooden seats, my fingers falling to the bridge of my nose, eyes screwed shut in thought.

I mean, it was something I'd glossed over subconsciously many times. It was instinct, the fight or flight kicking in again. I couldn't flee, it wouldn't solve the problem. But maybe, just maybe we could fight. I could give thought to the idea. I mean, what other option did we have here?

"He wants you to cooperate, right?" Isaac asked, pulling two mugs from a cupboard.

I nodded, biting my lip. The skin had recently become dry and chapped from tugging it with thought, it was joining my ragged nails and haunted eyes.

"And humouring him is dangerous?" he continued.

I thought of Evan, about Conrad's point to prove. "He is dangerous."

"I still can't believe how fucked up this is," he murmured, his eyes clouded. I got it. I still couldn't comprehend how he was standing there, listening to all of this, believing my every word despite how absurd it was.

"Neither can I," I murmured, and he pushed a boiling hot mug into my hands. I wrapped my fingers around the warmth, not noticing how cold my bones had grown.

It couldn't be as easy as killing him. The way Conrad spoke, it was as if everything was fragile, like our existence depended on balance. It would be too much of a risk. I needed to find out more.

"Why don't we go to classes today?" I asked, the words sounding unusual. Though I yearned for normality, it wasn't my priority. "To see them. Everyone. And make sure they're still... normal."

The last time I had joined my new group of friends I had been oblivious to the happenings of psychology class. Then, they had been just as oblivious, laughing and chatting as if nothing were out of place. Maybe seeing them that way could reassure me a little, that at least they were all okay.

"You don't think we'll scare them?" he asked, a small smile arising butterflies in my gut. "Look at us."

Anybody could see that we weren't getting any sleep. Again, guilt seeped through my veins like fire, I'd brought this onto him. I'd sacrificed his well-being to drag him into my world of terror.

"I need to understand," I said, "I need to understand before I can act on anything."

Where my left hand had strayed from the coffee cup, Isaac's fingers curled around my own. "Before we can act on anything.

It was strange to be around students. The last time I had navigated through campus I'd been unable to comprehend my surroundings, unable to see the faces around me. I'd forgotten what it was like to be around so much life, and to know so many of them were ending made a surge of determination pass through me.

We made our way to the nook by the stairs, where we'd all been sitting after our morning psychology lectures. My stride matched Isaac's, even though I was at least a third of a foot shorter than him. I didn't want to leave his side, both for his safety and mine.

"Well what do you know?" the booming voice of Aaron, Bel's boyfriend, echoed barely seconds after we'd rounded the corner. "Isaac Mikhailov arrives on campus before 12 p.m."

It was as if nothing had happened between now and the last time I'd sat there. The group of friends was dotted around the wooden table, books spread here and there, some studying and some lounging around. 

But there was something missing, something more than an animated red-head.

"Hey, I'm only half-an-hour early, don't get your hopes up," Isaac said, only missing a beat as he recovered from what was likely the same unease I felt.

And then he took my hand, which was probably for his support as much as mine, and we sat at the end of the table.

"Where've you been, Aspen?" a girl whose name I couldn't remember asked. She was kind looking, her face chubby in a cute way and freckles dotting her nose. Her eyes were framed in black--but not with makeup. deep bruises were engraved beneath them.

"I..." my voice trailed off, my words caught in my throat. She'd tried to cover them with concealer, but they were still obvious.

"She's been homesick," Isobel piped up. I hadn't even noticed her and Gia perched beside me.

"Oh no," the girl said, her brows tilting upwards in sympathy.

It was then that I noticed the bruises beneath Isobel's eyes too, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

"Since when were you two a thing?" Gia asked, her voice so high it was almost a squeal.

And then the attention of the table was on me and Isaac's intertwined hands, not the sleepless features of almost everyone at the table.

I frowned, what was I supposed to do, deny it? Worrying about labels or... feelings for Isaac felt so superficial with everything happening.

We exchanged a look, and it was clear he felt the same. Thankfully, he answered before I had to. "Recently."

My heart thudded a little too hard. But, for once, it wasn't out of panic.

They cooed and asked questions, none of them registering on my mind. Why weren't they worried about Evan? I knew he'd been close with them for as long as Gia and Bel, he was a vital part of the friend group. I shivered at the thought of where he was now, if he was anywhere now.

I could tell Isaac was uneasy. When I'd told him Evan was missing, it had taken a while for him to believe me, and even then it was with the help of whatever power backed up my words. He was already only weakly bound, having escaped while he could by sleeping in and missing lectures. Maybe that made him stronger than the others, to resist the urge to return to class.

Then something struck me. If Isaac was enrolled in the class, wouldn't Blackwood realise if he just stopped going? Wouldn't he be smart enough to take a stock-take of his students, to ensure none had escaped?

Maybe he already knew about Isaac, and maybe he was in more danger than I thought.

"Why do you look so tired?" Isaac said, pulling me from my worry. He was talking to the girl across from us.

"That's a little harsh," she said with a buoyant laugh.

"All of you," he said, and I had to stop myself from hitting him. What was he doing? They'd get suspicious, he'd find out, it would mess up the balance--

"It's the nightmares," the girl answered simply.

The nightmares.

There was a high chance their nightmares were showing them their reality.

There was only so much of their nonchalant laughter we could take, and when the next hour ended and a few of us split off to go to classes, I suggested to Isaac that we leave. Both of us were supposed to be heading to lectures, he and I taking the same path to chemistry and anthropology, but instead we headed off of campus again, out hands linked and our lips pursed shut.

A lot of things went unspoken, like the fact that we were significantly outnumbered by people who were under his control, people who were completely oblivious to what was happening. We were surrounded by the dangerous innocent, the ones who had no choice.

We ended up back in his apartment. Again, I couldn't return to my own. With how easily Conrad had appeared the previous evening, it didn't feel homely anymore. It was supposed to be our haven, for me, Isobel, and Gia. It was supposed to be our big move to independence.

Isaac pulled food from the fridge--remnants of whatever he'd been preparing last night--and we took it into his room and ate it. It was a mirror of mine, a desk and a bed and a window overlooking the forest. Neither of us wanted to face his flatmates by lingering in the kitchen.

Our conversation picked up again after we'd eaten, our knees almost touching from where we sat across from each other on his bed. We were going in circles, a neverending loop. Run away? Set them free? Kill him? And then there were the moments of doom, when our conversation would shift from tumbling sentences to a solemn silence.

We didn't know what to do.

And then, when it was dark, the streetlights below his window casting the only light into his bedroom, we fell asleep. Somehow, being beside someone else and knowing that despite whatever could happen in the night that I would not be alone, I found a peaceful ignorance.

 For now, I was free.