Page 44 of Shadows of Change

Finn’s voice cuts through the tension as he stands in front of me. "Your shadows are screaming," he says softly. "But you’re not listening."

Something in his tone makes me pause. My shadows twist beneath me, sharp and anxious.

Darian breaks the moment. "We should go," he says. "Thorne doesn’t like to wait."

I glance at the others. Malrik’s expression is unreadable, but his eyes burn with worry. Finn’s usual grin is gone, replaced by something deadly serious. The twins stand close, Aspen calm, Torric bristling.

"Fine," I say. "But this isn’t over."

"No," Malrik replies, his gaze locked on Darian. "It isn’t."

The close the door behind them and I quickly dress for the day. Sometimes uniforms are a godsend, I don’t have to think about what to wear from the few crappy pieces in my wardrobe.

I make my way down to the common room where they’re all waiting, talking in hushed tones but you can still feel the tension radiating through the room. Darian’s hand lands on the small of my back as leads me from the room, and I swear I hear Finn mutter something about Bob being right all along. But that's ridiculous. Isn't it?

28. Kaia

The walk to the training room is silent, weighted with unspoken tension. My shadows stick close, their usual fluidity replaced by something tighter, more wary. Even Mouse, padding along beside me, seems to move with unusual caution, his violet eyes scanning every corner.

"Your friends are very protective," Darian says finally, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth, neutral, but I hear an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe.

"They're not my—" I start, then hesitate. What are they? Friends? Allies? Protectors? The word feels too small for whatever bond has tangled us together.

Darian glances at me, his expression inscrutable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity? Concern? "You know I only want to help you, right?" His words sound sincere, like always. But doubt creeps in, prickling at the edges of my thoughts.

We reach the training room door, and he gestures for me to enter first. As I pass him, my shadows bunch together, forming a barrier between us. The movement feels intentional, as if they're trying to tell me something. Maybe it's time I started listening.

The training room is darker than usual, the sconces along the walls flickering weakly. The air feels heavy, thickened by shadows that seem to pulse in time with my heartbeat. Professor Thorne stands in the center, his tall frame casting long, jagged shapes across the floor.

"You're late," he says, not bothering to turn around.

"My fault," Darian replies smoothly, his voice slipping into its usual practiced charm. "I had trouble finding her." He locks the door behind him and joins me in the center of the room.

Something about the way he says it makes my skin crawl. My shadows press closer, wrapping around my legs like frightened children, and for once, I let them.

"No matter," Thorne says, finally turning. His dark eyes meet mine, and the intensity of his gaze makes my chest tighten. "Today's lesson is about control. Real control."

He raises a hand, and the sconces dim further, plunging the room into near-total darkness. The shadows on the floor twist and writhe like living things, reaching toward the center of the room where Thorne begins to circle slowly.

"Your shadows respond to emotion," he says, his voice a low, even hum. "To instinct. But true power requires discipline."

His gaze shifts to Darian. "Demonstrate."

Before I can react, Darian’s magic surges outward. It hits like a cold wind, sharp and unnatural. My shadows rear up, a reflexive barrier, but his power cuts through them like they’re smoke.

"Stop fighting," he murmurs, stepping closer. His tone is soft, coaxing. "Let me show you how to use them." And I swear for just a moment I see a hint of regret in his eyes.

His magic wraps around my shadows, pulling at them, trying to bend them to his will. The sensation is wrong—cold and invasive, like claws scraping over raw nerves. My shadows writhe in protest, their panic feeding into mine. Like they’re remembering the same feeling I do, how we’ve felt this before that day at training when Darian put his hands on me.

"I said stop fighting," Darian snaps, the warmth in his voice fracturing.

Pain lances through me as his magic digs deeper, and I cry out. My shadows scream—a high, keening sound I didn’t know they could make.

Mouse launches himself at Darian, a streak of fury and claws, but he collides with an invisible barrier and falls back with a yelp. The world tilts, spinning wildly. My legs buckle, but before I can hit the floor, Darian catches me. His grip is gentle, but it feels like a trap.

"Shh," he whispers, his magic shifting, softening. The chill fades, replaced by something warm and heavy, like a blanket pressing down on my mind. "You're just overwhelmed. The shadows are too strong today."

"You—" I try to speak, but the words slip away, scattered and foggy.

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