Page 66 of Shadows of Change

"That I wouldn't believe you?"

"That you'd pull away," Malrik corrects softly. "You've spent so long trying to handle everything alone."

"Yeah, well, look how well that turned out," I mutter, but there's less bitterness in it now.

"Hey." Finn leans forward, his usual playful demeanor gone serious. "You handled yourself pretty well tonight. Mouse going full battle-panther? That was badass."

"Indeed," Malrik agrees, his lip twitching. "Though perhaps next time we could avoid the dramatic blackout."

"That wasn't me," I protest. Then pause. "Was it?"

"Your shadows," Malrik explains. "They were protecting you. From whatever Darian and Thorne were trying to do with the alignment."

"Which was what, exactly?"

The others exchange glances again. Finally, Aspen speaks. "We're not entirely sure. But it had something to do with your necklace. The way it reacted to the magical convergence..."

"It's not just a normal piece of jewelry, is it?" I touch the stone again, feeling its steady warmth.

"No," Malrik says quietly. "I don't think it is."

A comfortable silence falls as we all process that. My shadows continue their lazy patterns, occasionally stealing snacks or nudging someone affectionately. It should feel strange, sitting here with them like this. Instead, it feels... right.

"So what now?" I ask finally.

"Now," Finn says, reaching for more cookies, "we figure it out together. No more secrets."

"Except for Bob's secret cookie stash," Torric adds dryly. "That's sacred."

I laugh despite myself, and the last of the tension drains away. My shadows settle contentedly, and Mouse starts purring.

"Together," I repeat softly. Testing how the word feels.

My necklace pulses once, warm and sure, like an answer to a question I wasn’t sure how to ask.

"Speaking of secrets," Finn says, sprawling back against a cushion, "can we talk about how Malrik has apparently been holding out on us? Mr. 'I understand shadow magic' better than anyone over here."

Malrik stiffens slightly. "I never claimed—"

"No, you just casually read magical alignments and speak fluent shadow-ese." Finn grins. "Very mysterious. Very broody prince."

I sit up straighter. "Wait, prince?"

"Former prince," Malrik corrects sharply, shooting Finn a look that could freeze fire. "Of a realm that no longer really exists. It's not relevant."

"Seems pretty relevant to me," I counter. "Especially if it helps explain what's happening with my shadows."

Malrik is quiet for a long moment, his shoulders stiff and his gaze fixed on the floor as though weighing his words. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled, each word deliberate, as if he fears the weight of what he’s about to reveal. "Absentia—my realm—was once a bridge between worlds. Between light and shadow, life and death. The magic there... it was different. Deeper."

"Like my shadows," I say softly.

He meets my eyes. "Similar, yes. But yours are..." he pauses, searching for words. "Purer, somehow. Less corrupted."

"Corrupted by what?"

Another loaded glance passes between the others.

"There are stories," Aspen says carefully, "about an ancient power that tried to harness shadow magic. To control death itself."

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