The Enchanted Inn and the Cursed Owl

Chapter 4

Ragna

Vane’s hand shot forward, and with a brutal yank, he ripped the silver Alberich insignia straight off my chest.

The heavy fabric tore; the sound was as loud as a gunshot in the silent office.

"Expelled in disgrace," Vane growled. He dropped the ruined silver crest onto the floorboards, right next to Brynjar’s talons.

"Two hours and fifty-eight minutes,

Fjellström. Move."

I scrambled for the leather pouch of coins he had thrown at me, my hands shaking so badly I almost fumbled it. The reality of the banishment was crashing over me like freezing water. Trollheimen. The shifting inn. The hounds.

I spun toward the door, then stopped. Brynjar was still on the floor, staring at the academy crest. Then he turned toward the door, his talons clicking uselessly against the polished wood. He was entirely too slow. A Great Grey Owl couldn't outrun the academy's hunting hounds on foot.

"Professor," I said, my voice cracking. "We have to go."

He didn't look at me. He just hopped forward, his wings trembling slightly. It was pathetic and heartbreaking to see.

"I'm not leaving you," I snapped, closing the distance between us. "But you can't walk, and you clearly don't know how to fly yet. I have to carry you."

Brynjar looked up. His golden eyes narrowed into slits. He let out a sharp, warning hiss, puffing his feathers out to make himself look twice as large. A wave of pure, blistering indignation rolled across the silver tether into my chest.

Absolutely not.

"I don't care about your pride right now!" I yelled, dropping to my knees right in front of him. I reached out, ignoring the furious snap of his beak. "Bite me if you want, but if we stay here, Vane kills us both!"

I shoved my arms under his wings and hauled him against my chest.

The second my hands buried into his silver-grey feathers, the tether between us sparked like a struck flint. A jolt of raw heat slammed into my ribs. I gasped, stumbling backward as I stood up.

Brynjar went completely rigid against me. I could feel his frantic heartbeat drumming against my own collarbone. The proximity was overwhelming, stripping away the hostility and leaving only the terrifying, fused pulse of our magic.

He didn't bite me. He just let out a low, defeated trill and buried his beak into the crook of my neck, hiding his face as I turned and sprinted out of the headmaster's office.

The corridors were a gauntlet. The news had already spread. Students lined the stone walls, their faces pale and horrified, watching the disgraced outcast sprint past with the ruined remnants of their top instructor clutched in her arms. Nobody offered to help. Nobody even called my name. They stepped back, pressing themselves against the wall as if my chaotic magic were contagious.

I felt Brynjar shrink against me, the humiliation radiating off him in suffocating waves. I tightened my grip on him, a fierce, unexpected surge of protectiveness flaring in my chest. Don't look at them, I thought, hoping the tether would carry the intention. Just hold on.

I kicked the door to my dorm room open and slammed it shut behind me.

"Stay there," I ordered, dropping him not too gently onto the edge of my unmade bed.

Brynjar let out an offended squawk, scrambling to balance himself on the mattress.

I didn't have time to apologize. I tore my trunk open and began hurling things across the room. Winter boots, wool tunics, water, my hunting knife, and a coil of rope. I grabbed a heavy canvas rucksack and started shoving the gear inside with zero organization. I had minutes. If the hounds caught our scent before we hit the frozen fjords, we were dead.

I reached for a stack of dried rations on my desk, sweeping them blindly into the bag. A sharp, rhythmic clicking sound interrupted me.

I spun around. Brynjar was standing on the edge of the bed, staring at my frantic packing. His head was tilted sideways. His eyes were wide with sheer, unadulterated judgment.

Disgust! Disapproval!

"Are you seriously criticizing my packing method right now?" I demanded, shoving a pair of thick gloves into the bag. "We are about to be hunted down like animals!"

He clicked his beak again, gesturing with one wing toward the jumbled mess inside my bag, then toward a heavy, fur-lined cloak I had tossed onto the floor. The message was clear. You are going to freeze to death if you don't roll your clothes properly.

"I don't have time to fold!" I yelled, yanking the heavy cloak up and throwing it over my shoulders. I grabbed my singed leather traveling cloak and shoved it to the bottom of the sack. "And unless you can magically conjure a perfectly packed rucksack with those talons, keep your opinions on my side of the tether!"

Brynjar huffed, a very human sound of exasperation escaping his feathered throat. He turned his back to me.

I grabbed the bag, threw it over my shoulder, and marched back over to the bed. "Up."

He didn't argue this time. He awkwardly hopped onto my outstretched forearm. His talons pierced through the thick wool of my sleeve, anchoring deeply but carefully enough not to draw blood. The weight of him was substantial, but the sheer heat radiating from his core into mine kept the freezing chill of the room at bay.

We hit the outer courtyard at a dead sprint.

The heavy iron gates of the academy loomed ahead, a towering monstrosity of black metal separating the safety of the school from the brutal Norwegian wilderness.

My lungs burned. Every step in the deep snow drained my energy, my chaotic magic flickering uselessly in my chest. I couldn't cast a warming charm. I couldn't cast a speed ward. I had nothing left but raw adrenaline.

Hurry.

The word wasn't spoken. It bloomed in my mind.

I pushed harder, my boots slipping on the ice. The massive iron gates were cracked open, unguarded. Vane was making good on his promise. He was giving us the exit, but the second we crossed that threshold, we were dead to the world.

Suddenly, a deep, bone-rattling howl shattered the sound of the wind.

I froze. The sound came from the kennels behind the main keep. It wasn't the howl of a normal wolf. It was the jagged, metallic screech of a magical hound catching a scent.

"He didn't give us three hours," I gasped, the cold air tearing at my throat. "He released them early."

Brynjar’s talons tightened painfully on my arm. He let out a frantic, high-pitched click, flapping his massive wings once to urge me forward.

I ran as fast as my body could carry me and plunged through the narrow gap in the iron gates. The moment my boots cleared the threshold and hit the untouched snow of the wilderness, the magic of the academy violently snapped shut.

With a deafening crash, the heavy iron gates slammed together behind us. The locking runes flared bright red, sealing us out.

We were banished.

I collapsed against the icy metal of the gates, gasping for air, clutching Brynjar to my chest. The wind outside was a physical force, tearing at my cloak, instantly freezing the sweat on my forehead. We were standing at the edge of the black pine forest.

Another howl erupted from behind the gates, closer this time.

"We need to move into the trees," I choked out, pushing myself off the gate. "The snow will cover our tracks; we just need to…”

I stopped.

Brynjar went completely rigid in my arms, his feathers standing completely on end. A wave of pure, paralyzing terror shot through the silver thread connecting us, hitting me so hard my knees almost buckled.

I slowly turned my head toward the tree line.

The snow was falling so thickly it was hard to see, but the shadows between the massive pines weren't just shifting with the wind. They were moving deliberately.

Fifty yards away, the silhouette of a massive, hulking creature stepped out from behind a tree. It didn't walk on four legs. It stood on two. It was easily nine feet tall, covered in matted, frost-bitten fur, with elongated, jagged claws that dragged through the snow.

And it was staring directly at us.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the frozen ground, traveling up through my boots and settling deep into my bones.

The hounds were behind the gate. But the Trollheimen woods were already hunting us.

The creature took a slow, deliberate step forward, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of jagged, ice-coated teeth.

I took a step backward, my back hitting the locked iron gates. There was nowhere to run.

Brynjar let out a sharp, desperate shriek, spreading his wings wide over my chest as the massive beast lunged, an intense and terrifying sprint towards us.