Page 82 of Shadows of Change

I blink at him, caught off guard by the abrupt shift. "What?"

"Bob," Finn repeats, gesturing toward the shadow in question, who promptly puffs into a perfect heart shape between me and Malrik. "See? Matchmaker extraordinaire."

Malrik’s expression tightens, his jaw working as he levels a glare at the shadow. "I will end you," he mutters darkly.

The sudden absurdity of it all—Malrik’s death glare at a shadow, Bob’s unapologetic showmanship, and Finn’s unrelenting grin—snaps the last of the tension in the room. A laugh bubbles out of me, unbidden and unstoppable, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like I can breathe again.

Bob responds by pushing me forward, sending me stumbling against Malrik's chest. Heat blooms under my skin where his hands steady me, and the closeness sends my heart racing. For a moment, I freeze, caught between the surge of embarrassment and the unspoken tension crackling between us. His gaze holds mine, unreadable yet magnetic, and I feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me.

"Subtle, Bob," Finn comments, but his voice has dropped to a register I've never heard before.

"I hate you all," I mutter, but I don't move away from Malrik's grip.

"No, you don't," Finn says softly, sliding off the desk to approach us. "That's kind of the problem, isn't it?"

The air in the room feels charged, electric with unspoken words. Malrik's hands are still on my arms, his warmth seeping throughmy skin like a salve. Finn stands close, his usual mischief replaced by an intensity that makes my breath catch. We're frozen in this moment, the three of us, and I can feel the weight of our shared history pressing down on us like a physical thing.

My shadows curl around our feet, intertwining with Malrik's darker ones, creating intricate patterns on the stone floor. The classroom feels both too small and infinitely vast, as if the rest of the world has fallen away, leaving just us and this crackling tension.

Finn's eyes flick between Malrik and me, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by a softness I rarely see. Malrik's grip tightens almost imperceptibly, and I find myself leaning into him, drawn by some invisible force.

The silence stretches, filled with the sound of our breathing and the faint whisper of shadows moving against stone. I open my mouth, though I'm not sure what I'm about to say, when a deep, amused voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

"Well, don't let me interrupt. Though if this is turning into some kind of group hug, I'd like to be included."

We all startle, breaking apart as if burned. Torric stands in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It's so uncharacteristic of him to joke—especially about something like this—that for a moment, I can only stare.

The spell broken, Finn recovers first, his trademark grin sliding back into place. "Torric, my man! Didn't know you had it in you. Come on in, the water's fine."

Malrik mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse, his hands falling away from my arms.The loss of contact leaves me feeling strangely bereft, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to recapture some of that warmth.

As if on cue, Seren bursts into the room, her lavender hair wild and her arms full of crumpled papers. Her wide eyes and quick movements radiate a frantic energy. "Found something," she announces, dropping the papers onto a nearby desk. "You're not going to believe what our dear friend Darian's been throwing away."

Aspen follows close behind as Seren spreads out torn pages that look like they've been rescued from trash bins. Objects start sliding into place seemingly on their own—Patricia helping, though only Finn, Malrik, and I can see her doing it.

Torric's eyes widen at the moving papers. "Okay, that's creepy. I know your shadows are doing that, but seeing things float around..."

"You get used to it," Aspen says calmly, though he keeps glancing at the spaces where he thinks the shadows might be. He's not quite right—Bob is actually three feet to his left, looking amused.

"Look at this," Seren says, smoothing out a particularly worn page. "These are notes about some kind of ritual. And this symbol keeps showing up." She points to a mark that makes my shadows violently recoil—Bob abandoning his post to surge protectively in front of me, Patricia's usually neat form fragmenting with distress, while Finnick's playful energy turns sharp and defensive. The newer shadows dart behind the older ones, like frightened children seeking shelter.

The temperature in the room plummets as they all press closer to me, their usual fluid movements turned jerky and panicked.

And I just calmed them down. Fantastic.

Malrik and Finn both tense, seeing their violent reaction. The others only notice when several books go flying off the shelves.

"Sorry," I mutter, trying to calm my shadows. "They don't like that symbol."

"They're terrified of it," Malrik says quietly, his eyes tracking their agitated movements. "I've never seen them react like this."

"Maybe because it looks like this," Seren says grimly, flipping through an ancient text she's pulled from her bag. The same symbol appears on a page about binding shadows—trapping them, controlling them. "Looks like our new friend's been studying up on shadow imprisonment."

My shadows cluster around me protectively. Mouse growls, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent room.

"We need a plan," Aspen says, ever practical. "If Darian's researching this kind of magic..."

"We spring his trap," Malrik says immediately, his eyes meeting mine. Without thinking, he reaches out to steady one of my more panicked shadows—something that makes Torric and Aspen exchange confused looks, since to them he's just reaching into empty air.

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