Page 69 of Shadows of Change

"We should go," Malrik says again, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. "Before we wake her up."

We start to tiptoe towards the door, but I can't resist one last look back. The sight of Kaia, curled up and peaceful, hits me like a punch to the gut. It's not just that she looks vulnerable—though she does, her usual sharp edges softened by sleep. I’d do anything for her. The thought hits me like a sucker punch, unexpected but undeniable. I’m not the guy who gets attached, who sticks around. But with Kaia... it’s different. She’s different. She’s like a storm—messy, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. But she’s also the calm after it, the part that makes you want to stay, even when you’re used to running. And for the first time, I don’t want to run from it.

But as I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her shadows curl protectively around her like a living blanket, I can't bring myself to be scared. Instead, I'm filled with a warmth thatspreads from my chest to my fingertips, leaving me feeling both grounded and lighter than air.

I think about how far we've come since that first day, when Kaia stormed into our lives like a hurricane of sarcasm and poorly concealed pain. I remember the walls she put up, the way she'd flinch at unexpected touches or kind words. She’s not the same person now, and I hope I had something to do with that.

I sigh, a bit lost in my thoughts. I'm about to turn away when I notice something odd. The amethyst necklace, usually hidden beneath Kaia's clothes, has slipped free. The glow pulses softly, sending ripples through the shadows like a stone dropped into a still pond. As the light spreads, the patterns shift—stars blooming into constellations, their edges shimmering with a faint violet glow that feels almost alive.

"Uh, guys?" I whisper, nudging Malrik. "Is it just me, or is her necklace doing the magical nightlight thing again?"

Malrik turns, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. "It's reacting to her shadows," he murmurs, a note of fascination in his voice. "Look how they're moving."

He's right. The shadows aren't just swirling randomly anymore. The patterns shift and reform, their lines weaving together like an ancient map. For a moment, they seem to pulse in time with Kaia’s breathing, as though tied to her heartbeat.

"Constellations," Aspen breathes, coming to stand beside us. "They look like the star charts from the ball."

"Okay, that's officially weird," I declare. "Cool, but weird. Should we wake her up?"

Malrik shakes his head. "No. Let her rest. We'll ask her about it in the morning."

"If she remembers," Torric points out. "You know how dreams can be."

I nod reluctantly, but I can't shake the feeling that we're witnessing something important—a quiet but powerful moment that ties Kaia’s magic, her shadows, and that mysterious necklace together. It’s as if the pieces of a puzzle are shifting into place, promising answers just out of reach. Something that could be a key to understanding all of this.

As we watch, one of the shadow-constellations seems to detach itself from the others. The shadow bobs hesitantly toward me, its movements jerky, like it’s still figuring out how to exist on its own. Its edges flicker like a faint flame, struggling to hold its shape.

"Hello, little star buddy," I whisper, holding out my hand. The shadow pauses, then gently brushes against my fingers. It feels... warm. Alive. Like touching starlight, if starlight was made of shadows. It sparks a flicker of awe in me, a reminder of how uniquely Kaia's magic threads the extraordinary into the everyday—a mystery I can’t help but want to unravel.

"Finn," Malrik warns, but I can hear the curiosity in his voice.

"It's okay," I assure him, though I'm not entirely sure why I feel so certain. "They're just saying hello."

The shadow constellation twirls around my hand once more before drifting back to rejoin its fellows. As it settles back into place, I swear I hear a faint melody. Like windchimes made of stardust.

"Did you guys hear that?" I ask, but the others are already shaking their heads.

"We should go," Aspen says again, tugging gently at my sleeve. "Before we wake her."

I let Aspen pull me toward the door, but the shadow’s warmth lingers on my hand. Things are about to get interesting—I can feel it.

44. Darian

Dawn bleeds through the classroom windows, casting long shadows that seem to shift unnaturally, like they know what I’ve done—or failed to do. The weight of last night’s failure settles heavily on my shoulders. I keep my hands clasped behind my back, hiding the slight tremor as I meet Thorne’s unrelenting gaze. His silence feels sharper than words.

"You’ve embarrassed me," Thorne finally says, his tone deceptively calm. "You were entrusted with a task, and you failed spectacularly."

"I tried—" I start, but he slashes a hand through the air, silencing me.

"You failed," he repeats coldly. "Worse, you’ve wasted the power I gave you. Thegift of shadowwithin you wasn’t for you to squander. Use it, Darian."

The words cut deeper than they should. I clench my fists at my sides, the familiar burn of resentment flickering to life in my chest. "Her shadows overwhelmed mine," I admit, forcing myself to remain steady. "They’re... different. Stronger. I couldn’t hold them back."

"Excuses," Thorne snaps, the word cracking like a whip. "Do you think I gave you the shadows for their strength alone? They are a tool. You’ve allowed them to become a crutch."

A leash is what he truly means and I flinch at the rebuke, even as I feel the corrupted magic within me stir, an almost sentient force that I’ve never fully understood. It coils uneasily, more restless than usual after last night’s failure.

"I’ll fix it," I say, though the words sound hollow. "I can still—"

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