Page 11 of Shadows of Change

“Perfect.” I can’t help but snark back.

His eyes narrow at my word but he stalks past us, radiating heat and barely contained power. I try not to watch him go. I fail spectacularly.

Aspen waits until Torric's heavy footsteps fade before turning to me with a knowing smile. "Don't mind him. He's all fire and no filter. He doesn’t trust easily, but once he does, he’s fiercely loyal. Just... try not to take his attitude personally. He’s like that with everyone at first."

"Sounds like I'd just miss his delightful personality then," I mutter, forcing sarcasm to mask how flustered I feel. My shadows swirl agitatedly, betraying my attempt at nonchalance.

Aspen chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Give it time. We're here, by the way."

I look up, grateful for the distraction, and find we've stopped before an ancient wooden door carved with intricate shadow runes. The door seems to drink in the surrounding light, and my shadows reach for it instinctively, like they've found a long-lost friend.

"Home sweet home," Aspen says, stepping aside. "At least for now. Your room is on the third floor, but first—" He pushes the door open, revealing a space that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

The Shadow Wing's common room is massive, with soaring vaulted ceilings and walls draped in deep purples and silvers that shimmer in the light of shadow-flame sconces. Plush armchairs and low tables scatter throughout, their surfaces covered in forgotten books, magical artifacts, and the occasional abandoned teacup. The room feels alive—shadows coil and shift along the walls as though welcoming newcomers, and the very air hums with ancient magic.

My shadows dart across the floor and walls, merging seamlessly with the ancient darkness as though testing its boundaries—or greeting an old friend. Mouse leaps gracefully from my shoulder to claim a particularly comfortable-looking armchair, his violet eyes scanning our surroundings with careful attention.

Aspen watches me with that same calm, assessing expression, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "Torric and I are one floor up," he says, breaking the moment. "Along with Finn and a few others that aren't here often. Malrik's quarters are... somewhere. He tends to move around."

"How mysterious," I murmur, letting my fingers brush against the cool stone wall. The shadows here feel different—older, more aware somehow, like they've been waiting for someone who could truly see them.

“Wait, Finn, as in the Chaos guy?” I ask genuinely curious.

Not that I’m thinking about him or anything.

Aspen's lips quirk up in a half-smile, but it fades as he studies me more closely. "That’s the one.” He pauses, “Are you alright? It's been quite a day."

I open my mouth to deflect with something sarcastic, but the words stick in my throat. Maybe it's the genuine concern in his eyes, or the way he hasn't pushed me to talk about things I'm notready to share. Whatever the reason, I find myself admitting, "I don't know what I'm doing here."

His expression softens, and for a moment, I think he might reach out to touch my shoulder. Instead, he gestures to a nearby chair, his water rune catching the light. "None of us did, at first," he says gently. "Want to talk about it? I make a decent listener, and I promise not to tell Torric about any of it."

The joke startles a laugh from me, and some of the tension I've been carrying since arriving finally eases. My shadows settle into more relaxed patterns, curling lazily around my ankles instead of coiling like springs ready to snap.

I sink into the plush armchair, exhaling slowly as the cushions seem to mold around me. My shadows stretch out lazily again, exploring the nooks and crannies of this new space with growing confidence.

Aspen takes the seat across from me, his movements fluid and graceful and it makes me wonder how he handles himself in other ways. I mentally roll my eyes at myself and tell my libido to calm the hell down. The flickering light from the shadow-sconces plays across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the gentle curve of his lips. We sit in companionable silence, broken only by the soft crackle of magical energy in the air.

Suddenly, Aspen's eyes flick to a darkened corner of the room. His lips quirk up in a knowing smile. "Want to come out and say hello?" he calls out, voice tinged with amusement. "Or are we sticking to shadows today, Malrik?"

My heart leaps into my throat. I whip around, scanning the shadows, but see nothing. My own shadows bristle protectively, finally sensing something—or someone—watching.

Took you long enough.

7. Kaia

For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then, like ink bleeding through parchment, a figure materializes from the darkness.

If Aspen is the calm before the storm and Torric is the raging inferno, then Malrik is the seductive whisper of danger in the dark. He steps forward with predatory grace, all lean muscle and coiled power beneath perfectly tailored clothes. His jet-black hair is artfully styled, a stark contrast to his porcelain skin that seems to shimmer with an otherworldly light. But it's his eyes that capture me—silver-gray and piercing, like he can see straight through to all the secrets I've tried so desperately to keep hidden.

Those eyes lock onto mine, and the intensity in them makes my stomach do things I’m not ready to think about. "My apologies," he says, his voice a low, silky purr that sends shivers down my spine. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was merely... curious about our new arrival."

While I’m fixated on this man, I swear I hear Aspen chuckle.

He moves closer, and I catch his scent—dark spices and sweet shadows, an intoxicating combination that makes me want to lean in despite myself. My shadows stretch toward him likecurious children, brushing against his sleeve before recoiling as though unsure. His silver-gray eyes narrow slightly, and I swear I see a flicker of recognition—or hunger. But it’s gone before I can be sure.

Malrik's eyes widen fractionally, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face before it's replaced by a slow, dangerous smile. "Fascinating," he murmurs, voice dropping lower. "What exactly are you?"

My heart races as his intense gaze pins me in place. The question hangs in the air, loaded with curiosity and something darker, more hungry. I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet those mesmerizing eyes.

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