Page 8 of Shadows of Change

Fair.

Before she can say anything else, I crouch down to get a closer look at her shadows. They flinch back for half a second, then one of the smaller ones wriggles forward, sniffing at my boot like it’s inquisitive as the big one tries to pull it back.

“And who are these lovely void creatures?” I ask, smirking. “The big guy here’s got CEO energy. Definitely a ‘Bob from accounting’ vibe, if Bob was made of living darkness.”

The big shadow seems to straighten, and I almost laugh.

Bob it is.

“Bob?” the girl asks, her voice flat but with a hint of something—curiosity? Amusement?

“Yeah, look at him!” I gesture. “He’s clearly running this operation.” I glance at the smaller shadow investigating myboot. “And this one? Definitely a Finnick. Trouble written all over him.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile, and I take that as a win.

Thorne clears his throat behind us, and I reluctantly stand.

“If you’re quite finished, Mr. Veylan,” he says in that clipped tone that makes everything sound like a scolding, “Miss Draven has an orientation to attend.”

“Orientation?” I make a face. “Boring. I could give you the real tour. Best hiding spots, where the kitchen imps stash the good snacks, which professors you can prank without getting expelled...”

Her lips twitch again, and her shadows wriggle like they’re excited. Even Bob looks like he’s considering my offer.

“Mr. Veylan,” Thorne snaps, his patience clearly running thin.

“Fine, fine,” I say, backing away with my hands raised. I turn to her one last time, smirking. “But seriously. When you’re done with Thorne’s snooze-fest, come find me. The shadows will know.”

Bob straightens again, and I wink at him.

“Keep them in line, big guy.”

As I walk away, I hear her ask, “Is he always like that?”

“Mr. Veylan,” Thorne replies dryly, “is a perfect example of why chaos magic is strictly regulated.”

I grin to myself, already making mental notes.

Bob needs his own spreadsheet. For organizational purposes, of course.

5. Kaia

The hall smells faintly of old parchment and ozone, the kind of scent that clings to places steeped in magic. Students’ voices bounce off the high ceilings, and the light filtering through enchanted windows shifts like a kaleidoscope. Shadows twist uneasily around my legs, brushing against the marble floor like restless waves. Four massive banners dominate the walls, each representing a faction: Light's radiant sunburst on white, Shadow's crescent moon wrapped in darkness, Elements' intertwined elemental symbols, and Sorcery's tome surrounded by glowing runes. The banners seem alive with magic—Light's cloth shimmers with inner radiance, Shadow's ripples like liquid night, Elements' symbols pulse with raw power, and Sorcery's runes shift and change as I watch.

Mouse stays perched on my shoulder, his glowing violet eyes scanning the crowd. The energy in the air is overwhelming—too many people, too many bright lights and flashes of magic sparking in the corners of my vision.

It reminds me of the diner only everyone here is dressed much nicer, the air isn’t filled with the aroma of greasy food and dayold coffee, and my shadows aren’t trying to actively steal from anyone for once.

At the front of the hall stands Professor Thorne, flanked by a handful of other professors who exude an air of power. Their robes shimmer with faintly glowing runes, and I can feel the magic thrumming around them like a low hum. Thorne’s presence dominates, his sharp gaze scanning the students with calculated precision. Even without speaking, he holds the room in thrall.

The Light students cluster near the center of the room, glowing with quiet confidence, while the shadow mages stick to the edges, their gazes wary. Element users move between them easily, their energy crackling like a barely restrained storm.

I slide into a seat near the edge of the hall, preferring the illusion of escape. A group of older students sit nearby, their whispers just loud enough to overhear.

“You know Thorne’s been here forever, right?” one of them says, a tall girl with fire-red hair. “My brother said he’s been a professor since before the last Headmaster. People say he’s got connections with… darker elements.”

The others snicker, but one boy leans forward. “My dad told me he’s worked with Alekir before. That’s why he gets away with so much.”

“Alekir?” the fire-haired girl rolls her eyes. “That’s a bedtime story for toddlers. No one even knows if he’s real.”

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