Page 51 of Shadows of Change

"The dance," Aspen repeats carefully. "How... convenient."

I bristle at his tone. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem," Darian says, squeezing my hand. "They're just concerned, as always." He turns to me with another heart-stopping smile. "I'll pick you up on Saturday at eight?"

I nod, ignoring the way my shadows twist unhappily around our joined hands. As Darian walks away, I face my friends' worried expressions with a lifted chin.

"Don't," I say, the warning in my voice sharper than intended. "Just... don't."

32. Darian

The corridor is dark when I reach Thorne's office, but I know he's waiting. He always is.

Thorne's shadows aren’t like Kaia's. Hers pulse with life, reflecting her emotions. His are cold, oppressive—more guards than companions. They don't dance or play; they watch, unnervingly still.

"Well?" His voice emerges from the darkness.

I force a smile, though something in my chest twinges uncomfortably. "It's done. She trusts me completely now."

"And the dance?"

"She said yes. Just as you planned." I try not to think about how her shadows had recoiled when I asked her, their sharp, frantic movements striking like alarm bells in a silent room. Even that ridiculous one had twisted itself into warning shapes, spelling out desperate pleas she refused to see, as if they were fighting to save her from something only they could understand.

Thorne steps into the dim light, his satisfaction palpable, etched into the faint smirk curling his lips and the sharp gleam in his eyes. Every movement exudes a calculated confidence, as thoughthe entire room bends to his will, shadows included. His shadow stretches behind him, too sharp and angular to be natural. "Excellent. And her... companions?"

"Suspicious, but powerless to stop it. The more they protest, the more she pulls away from them." The words taste bitter. I've seen how they look at her—especially that chaos mage, Finn, and the brooding prince, Malrik. They see her shadows for what they are. They understand.

"You've done well." Thorne's praise feels like ice down my spine. He pauses, studying me with those piercing eyes. "You're not... attached, are you?"

I think of Kaia's smile, bright and unguarded. Of her shadows, wild and playful, trying desperately to protect her. Of the way her friends looked at me, knowing but unable to prove anything. Of how the amethyst necklace reacts with warning whenever I'm near, a power that even Thorne doesn't fully comprehend. Its pulse isn’t random; it’s precise, almost deliberate, as if the relic itself recognizes my intent. I can’t shake the feeling it’s not just reacting—it’s judging.

"Of course not," I lie smoothly, my years of training making the words flow easily. "She's just another piece in the game."

"See that it stays that way." Thorne's voice drops to a whisper, but the threat is clear. "We can't afford any... complications. Alekir has waited too long for this."

I nod and turn to leave, pushing down the guilt that threatens to rise. Behind me, I hear Thorne mutter an incantation, and the shadows around him writhe in ways that remind me too much of Kaia's—except these shadows scream.

As I walk away, I remember the warmth in Kaia's eyes when she agreed to the dance, the trust I'm about to shatter. But it's too late now.

For both of us.

At the end of the hall, Mouse watches me, his violet eyes burning with quiet judgment. He doesn’t growl anymore. Somehow, the silence is worse—a condemnation I can’t ignore.

I've made my choice. The price of betrayal is steep, but I'll pay it. The weight of it presses against my chest, suffocating, but I push it down. Kaia’s trust, her unguarded smile—they’ve become everything I didn’t know I needed. And yet, I’m the one unraveling it, tearing apart what little good I’ve found in myself. The cost isn't just hers to bear; it's mine, too, though I know she won’t see it that way.

Even if it destroys everything I never knew I needed.

33. Aspen

The tension crackling through our group makes even Arcanum's enchanted staircases shift more erratically than usual. Kaia storms ahead, her shoulders rigid, the shadows on the walls seeming to recoil from her fury, their movements jagged and erratic as if mirroring the storm brewing inside her. It’s not just her anger—they feel it too, feeding off the intensity and heightening the unease that grips the rest of us. I've never seen her like this—her usual warmth replaced by something cold enough to make even a water mage shiver.

We pass through the great hall, its enchanted ceiling a mass of roiling storm clouds. The few students lingering there avert their eyes, sensing the discord radiating from our group. Our reflections catch in the towering windows—four dark figures following Kaia's beacon of blonde hair, moving in tense silence.

The portraits in the Shadow wing huddle together, whispering as we approach the common room. The massive obsidian door, etched with ever-shifting runes, swings open at Kaia's touch. Inside, plush velvet couches in deep purples and midnight blues stand in pools of silvery light from floating orbs. Shadow vinescreep up the walls, their delicate leaves seeming to absorb what little illumination remains.

The moment the door closes, Kaia whirls to face us. Her eyes, usually soft lavender, now blaze with an inner fire that makes me step back. Even her hair seems to move in a nonexistent breeze.

"What the hell is going on with you all?" Her voice could cut glass. The room itself reacts, shadows in the corners growing deeper, more menacing.

---