Page 61 of Shadowed Whispers

Djinn.

Demons.

Ghouls.

Shades.

Wraiths.

The list goes on and on. We are none of these. We are human, and we are shadows, but more than that, we alone have the ability to slip into a shadow and move from one to the next.

It’s disorienting at first, walking a straight line and then choosing to enter the shadow veil. As my shoes crunch on gravel, I do just that.

My body falls forward, my face heading toward the pavement at a rapid pace, and then I slip. As my body continues to move, darkness engulfs my vision, and then I’m past the veil where I enter the true Shadow Locke University.

Just as it is in the world of humans, it stands as a stronghold on an island just off the coast of the States.

The ocean sits before me in complete stillness. No stars twinkle in the sky. No owls hoot and no bugs chirp. The world sits in utter silence.

The biggest difference, however, are the shadows that roam free.

We are the shadows. It’s something I know Frankie is going to have a hard time understanding. In her mind, she believes she’s alone, but she isn’t. Unfortunately, until she slips through the veil, there is nothing I can do or say to her.

I’m bound by the law set upon us all eons ago. Even if I wanted to tell her, I can’t.

The moon’s light dims. Looking up, I see a large, black body in the shape of a dragon dive for the island. This is who and what we are.

Shadow shifters.

It’s a world set inside another—one that is dying.

The large, black dragon morphs into a man who lands in a crouch at the center of the courtyard. He is but one of the few out here. Many are fast asleep through the veil, waiting to wake for tomorrow’s classes.

The rest of us don’t sleep.

The shadow looks up at me, his ice-cold eyes piercing as he takes me in and slowly rises. “What?” he questions harshly, not that it isn’t deserved.

“I want to speak with you,” I call out, my steps quickening as I try to close the distance between us. Dorian, sensing my approach, flips his hair off his forehead with a defiant gesture and pivots sharply, striding away with the intent to avoid the conversation.

“Dorian.” I run to catch up with him. “Stop.”

“No,” he mutters.

Annoyed at him, I grab his bicep and turn him around.

One brow rises in challenge, and he looks pointedly at where I grip his bicep.

“For fuck’s sake, Dorian. We need to speak,” I state firmly.

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you.” He sniffs at me, crossing his arms. One long finger taps his bicep where I grabbed him.

“Well, that’s unfortunate because I have plenty to say to you.” Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Both of us look out to the horizon, where red lightning jumps from one cloud to another before a crack reverberates.

“Make it quick,” he mutters, giving in. The lightning had perfect timing.

“Frankie.”

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