Page 26 of Every Shade of Shadow

I think back to his praise yesterday, such a reward, each word of approval setting me aflame.

He singles me out during class, shifting around me to adjust my stance and the position of my wand (a generic given I didn’t bring my own). Again, this proximity goes largely unnoticed by my classmates, many of whom receive the same treatment—a hot flare of jealousy burning within me.

He stalks between us. “Sanctum Wardrius creates a protective barrier around the caster or a designated area, guarding against dark magic, curses, and general negative energy. The spell draws upon the caster's positive intentions and inner strength to create a shield that repels and dissipates harmful magic. You speak the incantation Ardor Custos and focus those intentions, tracing the warding symbol with your wand. But remember purity of purpose. That is essential.”

Shame wars with longing whenever those thoughts arise, yet I cannot deny their truth. My attraction to him is juvenile, childish, but I know that if I lean into it, I will be swallowed whole.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe I want to be eaten, to be devoured.

The best I can manage is a shimmering glow from the tip of my wand, but looking around the classroom, this is more than most.

Training wand, my ass, I think, smiling to myself.

The class finishes and students begin filing out, but I wait, near thrumming with need and nerves.

The door closes, muffling out the larger world.

We’re alone once more.

The Professor takes his time, busying himself with his laptop and papers, paying me not a shred of attention.

I wait there, silent, for ten minutes before he finally turns to me.

"You seem distracted today, little lamb," Darkwood comments, rising and pacing toward me. It’s only when he’s close enough for physical contact that I turn to stone. I blush under the scrutiny of his gaze, wondering if he can sense the scandalous direction of my thoughts.

"Is there something on your mind?" he queries.

I swallow hard, avoiding his gaze. "My apologies, Professor. I will try to focus."

He studies me a moment longer before nodding. "See that you do. What I will teach you today is a complex spell—a test, if you will. But know any misstep could have unfortunate consequences. Is that understood?

I nod.

“Follow me.”

I follow the Professor to the back of the room. He lifts his hand and the stone separates, a darker, smaller room beyond lit only by candlelight.

The fuck.

The bricks are mottled and worn with age, hinting at a far more ancient part of the castle. There is a small library to the left, the scent of books mixing with the smell of molten wax. Four candlesticks along the far wall provide the only illumination to the secret room beyond.

We move into it and the stone closes behind us again, the room sealed completely.

I do my best to listen as the Professor paces, a diagram beginning to glow from the floor. This isn’t some cotton candy beginner spell. No, this is something else.

“Focus,” he commands.

I return my attention to the intricate diagram sketched on the floor.

“Have you ever summoned something from the Nether, my pet?”

I shake my head.

“And yet you know how it is performed?”

“I…think,” I offer, but it’s weak. Summoning spells seem universal, as far as I can ascertain. But the Nether? I recall Gran saying it was a dimension parallel to our own, home only to dark entities shrouded in perpetual twilight. You could harness this power, but it came at a price, corrupting those who delve too deeply and turning them into dark reflections of their former selves. But sure, let’s summon something from it.

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