Page 17 of Shadows of Change

"Are you kidding? They're the best entertainment I've had in years." Finn stands beside me, grinning as Patricia attempts what looks suspiciously like an interpretive dance. "Pretty sure they've been trying to get my attention since day one."

I think back to the times my shadows have acted up around him, how they seem to perform specifically for his amusement. They’ve never responded to anyone else like this. It’s like they know something I don’t, and the way Finn interacts with them—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—makes me question everything I thought I knew about them. "Is that why you're always..." I wave my hand vaguely, "...like this?"

"Like what?" His innocent expression isn't fooling anyone, especially not when Finnick chooses that moment to try stealing Torric's water bottle.

"Hey!" Torric snaps as the bottle mysteriously tips over. "What the—"

"Gravitational anomaly," Finn says seriously. "Very common in these parts. Right, Bob?"

Bob, to my eternal mortification, actually nods.

My gaze drifts to where Malrik still lurks in the shadows, his silver eyes unreadable. Something about his presence makes my shadows stir restlessly, though whether in warning or recognition, I can't tell.

"Don't mind mister brooding, dark and handsome," Finn says, following my gaze. "He's allergic to fun. Unlike Patricia here, who clearly has excellent taste in entertainment."

Patricia preens, and I have to bite back a laugh.

"You're going to make them impossible to deal with, you know that?" I mutter, though my shadows ripple with something dangerously close to pride. Finn just grins.

“Trouble, they were impossible long before I got here. I just gave them permission to own it.”

10. Aspen

There's something about the way Kaia moves that I can't look away from—like she's not just learning magic but remembering it. Maybe it's the fierce determination in her violet eyes, or how her wild blonde hair catches the morning light as she dodges. Or maybe it's the way the shadows in the space respond to her, protecting her with an instinctive grace that makes my breath catch.

I force myself to focus on the training aspect, not on how my heart races when she smiles. I'm supposed to be teaching her, not getting lost in the way she makes the darkness bend to her will. But gods, it's mesmerizing. Her progress defies everything I know about magical development, and I find myself watching her hands, her form, the fluid way she transitions between defense and attack.

The air ripples with heat as Torric's fireball surges forward, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows against the courtyard's ancient pillars. Kaia's barrier hisses as it absorbs the attack, the sound sharp and satisfying. Every movement she makes feels both unpracticed and impossibly natural, like she's rediscovering something buried deep within her bones.

"Again," Torric growls, eyes blazing. He launches another fireball, larger this time. I tense, ready to intervene—not just because it's my job, but because something in me needs to keep her safe. But Kaia's ready. Her shadow magic surges upward, forming a shield that not only blocks the attack but seems to absorb it, growing stronger.

Her instincts are remarkable. Most students take months to develop this level of reactive control. Yet here she is, first day of training, already adapting and improvising like she was born to do it. I find myself studying her form, telling myself it's purely professional interest that makes me notice how the academy uniform hugs her curves, how her eyes flash with determination, how her smile grows wider with each successful block.

Torric takes it as a challenge, naturally. His next attack comes faster, hotter, a barrage of flame that would overwhelm most seasoned fighters. I step forward to call him off, my protective instincts flaring, but Kaia laughs—actually laughs—a sound of pure exhilaration that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine as her shadow magic whirls around her protectively.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunts, and I catch Torric's surprised expression before it splits into a fierce grin. My brother's always been drawn to power, and Kaia radiates it like a storm waiting to break.

I should stop this. It's beyond the scope of a normal training session. But I can't deny the raw potential unfolding before me, or how she commands the shadows with innate grace. She moves as if her body remembers skills her mind has forgotten. And more than that, I can't deny how watching her ignites something in me—a need to understand her, to protect her, to...

I cut that thought off quickly. She's my responsibility. Nothing more.

I might not be a professor, but Torric and I both know enough, and the school faculty are well acquainted with our father that they have us training students when professors are unavailable.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Malrik lurks at the edge of the courtyard, half-hidden in shadow. He stands motionless, his silver eyes fixed on Kaia as they follow her every move with calculating intensity. What game is he playing? More importantly, why does his obvious interest make something twist uncomfortably in my chest?

"Torric," I call out, finally intervening as I see him gathering an alarming amount of fire. "That's enough. Let's give Kaia a break before you burn down half the academy."

My brother shoots me an annoyed look, but I can see the flush of exertion on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his hands. He's pushed himself harder than intended, caught up in the thrill of a worthy opponent. I can't blame him—there's something magnetic about Kaia, something that draws you in despite your best intentions.

I need to be careful. Whatever this pull is, whatever makes my heart race when she smiles or my magic respond to hers, I can't act on it. But as I watch her catch her breath while she banters with Finn, I know I'm already in trouble.

11. Torric

I watch as the last of the students file out, my gaze lingering on Kaia's retreating form. She's talking animatedly with Finn, who's still gesturing at empty air and making her laugh. The sound hits me in an unexpected place—a mixture of admiration and something else I'm not about to examine too closely.

"Well," I say, turning to Aspen, "that was... unexpected."

My brother nods, his blue eyes thoughtful as ever. "She's a natural. I've never seen anyone pick up shadow manipulation so quickly."

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