Page 92 of Shadows of Change

Malrik pinches the bridge of his nose. "For the last time, Finn, Absentia is not a vacation spot. It's a corrupted realm of eternal darkness."

"So... perfect for you then. Moody, dark, and dramatic—just like your soul.?"

Before Malrik can retort, Aspen holds up a hand. "There's something else. The ritual needs more than just the Heart and a Valkyrie's power. It needs... consent."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"The bearer has to willingly give up their power," Aspen explains. "It can't be taken by force."

"Which explains why Thorne's been so invested in controlling you," Malrik says, his expression darkening. "He doesn’t need trust. He needs submission."

A chill runs down my spine, my fingers curling protectively around my necklace.Submission.The word echoes in my mind, heavy with implications I’m not ready to confront. But like hell I’m submitting to anyone, let alone him.

"That’s why he’s been keeping you in line," Finn says, unusually serious. "He’s playing the long game."

"Then we’ll break it," Torric growls, the glow of his fire rune faintly visible beneath his shirt. "Whatever Thorne thinks he’s building, it’s not happening."

"Agreed." Aspen flips another page of the tome in front of him, his tone brisk. "But the ritual still needs a specific place—the nexus—and a very specific moment."

"The arena," Malrik says, his voice low. "It’s not just a trial ground. It’s built where the veils between realms are thinnest."

"Of course it is," Finn groans. "Because where else would an evil ritual go down?"

Finn somehow managed to migrate from his pillow fort to sprawl across both the bed and Malrik's lap. Malrik doesn’t move him, which seems significant. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it, like always.

“Maybe that’s why he’s been here, waiting for the right student to come along. It couldn’t have been anywhere else.” Aspen replies thoughtfully.

"Because we couldn't have our dramatic showdown somewhere sensible, like a coffee shop."

"Yes, Finn," I drawl. "Let's invite the evil soul binding madman for scones."

"See? Kaia gets it."

"Kaia needs sleep," Torric mutters without opening his eyes. "She's starting to sound like you."

He's not entirely wrong. The words on the page are starting to blur, and my shadows are getting punchy. Bob's usual military precision has devolved into something more like interpretive dance, and Patricia appears to be doodling little hearts in her shadow notes.

"We should rest," Aspen says, ever practical. "Take shifts watching—Kaia, that wasn't a suggestion." He adds quickly, arching an eyebrow in challenge at me.

I open my mouth to argue, but the weight pressing down on me is undeniable. My limbs feel leaden, and even my shadows are slowing, their usual liveliness dimming. I sigh, the protest dying in my throat, and nod reluctantly. "Fine," I mutter, leaning back and letting exhaustion win.

I realize I'm swaying slightly where I sit cross-legged on the floor. "I'm fine."

"You're exhausted," Malrik says softly. "We all are."

"But—"

"No buts," Finn interrupts, finally extracting himself from Malrik's lap. "Except yours, going to sleep. I'll take first watch."

"Not alone," Malrik says immediately.

Their eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between them. My shadows flutter with interest while Mouse makes a sound suspiciously like a snicker.

"I'll stay too," I say quickly, not sure why my heart is suddenly racing. "Three sets of eyes are better than two."

"Technically, more like twenty," Finn says, grinning. "If we count your shadow squad."

Bob paces a precise perimeter, while Patricia's shadow notes now include detailed diagrams of defensive formations. Finnick, refusing to be completely serious even now, keeps adding artistic flourishes to her work - though even his usual chaos seems more focused and purposeful. Mouse watches them all with ancient eyes, his form seeming to grow more solid as the stakes rise.

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