Page 22 of Shadows of Change

“I beg to differ!” I hear Finn yell from somewhere behind me. The snickers that follow will only encourage him.

I try again, focusing on pulling shadow magic from the darkness around me rather than using my personal shadows, which are still writhing unhappily at my feet. This time, the construct holds its shape better, though it's not nearly as precise as Thorne's.

"Better," he says, but his eyes are fixed on my personal shadows with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "Though you have... additional resources at your disposal. Consider using them."

"Raw talent is rare," Thorne continues, pitching his voice so only I can hear. "But without proper guidance, it can be... dangerous. Both to yourself and others."

Something in his tone makes me think he's not just talking about standard shadow magic anymore. I force myself to meet his gaze, though my shadows quiver with unease. "I'm learning control."

"Are you?" His eyes flick meaningfully to where one of my shadows has started creeping toward him again. I hadn't even noticed. "Perhaps you could benefit from some additional instruction. Private lessons, to help you... focus your gifts."

Before I can respond, I feel a steadying presence beside me. Aspen. The air around him seems cooler, calming. "Professor," he says smoothly, "should we practice the defensive formations next?"

Thorne's expression shifts, becoming more distant. "Indeed. Everyone pair up. Ms. Draven, work with Mr. Agere. His control might prove... instructive."

As we move into position, Aspen murmurs, "You okay?"

I nod, though my shadows are still agitated. "Yeah. Thanks."

"The key," Aspen says as we square off, "is to work with the magic, not against it." His voice is calm, steadying. "Shadow magic responds to intention as much as will."

Easy for him to say. His shadow construct flows like water, forming a perfect shield. Mine still feels raw, unfinished, like trying to sculpt with smoke.

"Intention, not force," he reminds me gently.

“How do you even know all this?” I ask because seriously Aspen is like a professor with how much he knows.

His eyes darken “My father taught Torric and I everything long before we should have known.” He pauses, “Abilities are supposed to manifest and become stronger with age, but it can be forced.” I notice his eyes flick to his water ruin and I have so many questions. But I don’t press, not with the topic dulling the light in his blue eyes.

I take a breath, trying to focus. This time, instead of forcing the shadow magic into shape, I let myself feel the darkness around us. It's different from my personal shadows - cooler, less alive, but still responsive. My necklace warms slightly against my skin, as if encouraging this approach.

"Hey," Aspen says softly, stepping closer. "You're thinking too hard. Let it flow naturally."

He reaches out, his hand hovering just above my arm. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and my shadows respond, reaching out to brush against him. The contact sends a jolt through me, and suddenly my magic snaps into focus.

The shadows coalesce into a perfect replica of Aspen's blade, its edge gleaming wickedly in the low light of the arena. My personal shadows dance with excitement, and I feel a surge of pride mingled with surprise.

"Whoa," I breathe, staring at the construct in amazement.

Aspen grins, looking impressed. "See? You've got this."

"Adequate," Thorne's voice cuts through our moment of triumph. He's been circling the room, but seems to hover near our station more than others. "Though unconventional. Mr. Agere, demonstrate the standard form again."

I catch the slight tightening around Aspen's eyes, though his voice remains perfectly respectful. "Of course, Professor."

As Aspen demonstrates, I notice something odd. While everyone else's shadow constructs are uniform - precise, rigid things - his have a subtle fluidity to them, like he's adapted the standard forms to work better with his natural magic. My shadows reach out curiously, drawn to the grace of his movements.

"Your turn, Ms. Draven," Thorne commands.

My construct wavers as his attention fixes on me again. Through the window, Mouse is a dark blur of motion, and my personal shadows twist anxiously around my feet.

"Focus," Thorne snaps. "Control your... distractions."

Something in his tone makes my shadows bristle. The construct I'm trying to form suddenly warps, sprouting jagged edges before dissolving completely. The ambient shadows in the room seem to pulse in response to my agitation.

"I see we have much to work on," Thorne says silkily. "Perhaps those private lessons would be beneficial after all."

"I-" I begin, but he's already moving away, calling the class to attention for the next exercise.

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