Page 56 of Shadows of Change

I want to freeze the smirk off his face, but I force myself to stay still. "Indeed. Funny how things work out."

"Well, I should go. Big day tomorrow." He pauses at the end of the aisle. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."

Only when his footsteps fade do I let my careful control slip. The shadows around me writhe in response to my anger, and I have to take several deep breaths before they settle.

"What are you planning?" I murmur, running my fingers over the spine of the book he left behind. The leather is cold to the touch, unnaturally so. When I open it, the pages fall to a detailed description of binding shadows to one's will.

"I know you're there," I say softly to the shadows in the corner. They've been watching me all evening, more agitated than usual. Bob shifts forward slightly. The others hover behind, waiting.

"Show me," I whisper. "Show me what you've seen."

The shadows coalesce into scenes that make my heart race: Darian and Thorne in hushed conversation, the professor's hand tight on his student's shoulder. The necklace pulses with violet light whenever Kaia's shadows draw near, as if sensing something more profound than proximity. It feels almost alive, its reaction a deliberate warning to anyone paying attention. Darian practices something in an empty classroom, his own shadows twisting in ways that seem... wrong.

But it's the final scene that makes my blood run cold. Darian at the edge of the academy grounds, kneeling before a figure cloaked in darkness. The air around them crackles with an oppressive energy, shadows swirling like a living storm. Though the figure’s face remains hidden, its presence radiates a chilling authority, the kind that bends the world around it to its will. The shadows can't—or won't—show me the figure's face, but the aura of wrongness is unmistakable.

"When?" I ask sharply. The shadows ripple in response—last night.

Footsteps echo from the other end of the library. The shadows immediately scatter, returning to their usual patterns. Bob brushes against my hand, his edges rippling with agitation. It feels like urgency, a wordless plea to act before it’s too late.

"Still lurking in dark corners, your highness?" Finn emerges from between the stacks, his usual grin in place, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Some of us actually study, chaos mage," I reply drily. But there's something off about his casual stance, a tension in his shoulders that betrays his light tone.

"You saw something," I say quietly.

Finn's smile fades. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just spreading chaos and rumors like always." He picks up a book, flipping through it without really looking at the pages. "But hypothetically, if someone had seen our newest student practicing some very questionable magic in the east tower at midnight..."

"Hypothetically," I drawl, "that someone might want to share what they saw with someone else who's been having similar concerns."

Finn meets my eyes, all pretense of humor gone. "He's going to hurt her, isn't he?"

I think of the shadows' warning, of the dark figure and Darian's desperate research. "Yes. The question is: what are we going to do about it?"

A slow, decidedly wicked grin spreads across Finn's face. "Well, as it happens, I have a few ideas about that. How do you feel about crashing a dance?"

Despite myself, I feel my lips twitch. "I thought you'd never ask."

As we begin plotting, I notice Bob has returned, joined by the other shadows. They hover around us like eager conspirators, and I'm reminded that we're not the only ones who want to protect Kaia. Whatever Darian and Thorne are planning, they're about to learn a crucial lesson about the nature of shadows—they're not just extensions of darkness.

They're family.

And no one messes with our family.

36. Finn

"All right, people," I announce, dramatically flicking open a scroll Bob insists is the latest tactical plan. "The shadows have their orders. Every exit covered, patrols rotating on the half-hour. If Darian so much as breathes wrong, we’ll know."

Bob flickers proudly at the center of the room, while Patricia demonstrates what looks like a salute. Malrik watches with an expression I can only describe as begrudging respect.

"This is absurd," Torric mutters, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "They're shadows, not soldiers."

"Bob disagrees," I say, pointing to where Bob appears to be drafting a new set of patrol routes. "And personally, I think we should be a little worried about how good they’re getting at this."

Malrik sighs, running a hand through his hair. "They’re better organized than half the academy’s guards."

"Thank you!" I exclaim. "Finally, some appreciation for Bob’s hard work. Next, we’re moving on to shadow merit badges—"

Torric growls. "We don’t have time for this, Finn."

---