Page 38 of Heir of Shadows

“Why did they even let her in here?”

“Because the wellspring sent for her, or something. Creepy, right?”

The words cut deeper than they should have. After the Cauldron disaster, my defenses were already hanging by a thread. I kept my head down and pushed through the crowd, my stomach twisting with every hushed voice that carried my name. Saturday night had turned me into the latest gossip, like those celebrity meltdowns people share on social media. Now I wasn’t just the cleaning lady’s daughter playing at being an heir—I was a traitor’s daughter who’d totally lost it and ran away. Great. Nothing says “I belong here” like having a magical breakdown in front of everyone. Mom always said “hold your head high,” but right now, I just wanted to disappear.

“Mari! Over here!” Raven’s voice cut through the noise, a lifeline pulling me back. She stood with Lucas by the stairs, her protective charms clinking as she waved me over.

“Thank god,” I breathed, hurrying to them. “I was starting to think I’d never find it.”

“The building’s layout takes some getting used to,” Lucas said, his British accent somehow making everything sound more reasonable. “But there’s actually quite a logical pattern to the room numberings based on historical—”

“Less history, more walking,” Raven interrupted. “We’ve got two minutes before Cribley closes the door.”

We made it with seconds to spare, sliding into seats near the back of the Basic Magical Theory classroom. Lucas immediately pulled out three different notebooks, while Raven’s skeletal beetle Boris scuttled over to greet Scout.

The classroom was overwhelming in ways I hadn’t expected—not just the soaring windows or the ancient runes carved into the stone walls, but the magic itself. It moved through the space like a living current, charged with the lingering presence of generations of witches who’d mastered it.

Professor Cribley swept in, her silver-beaded braids catching the morning light. “Welcome to Basic Magical Theory,” she began, her warm voice carrying effortlessly through the room. “We’ll begin with something fundamental—illumination magic. Please take a few minutes to review the basic forms in chapter one, then we’ll all practice together.”

My stomach dropped.

Illumination magic. The spell Elio had mocked me for in remedial class. The spell I had failed at, over and over, under his careful, amused scrutiny. My fingers curled into fists beneath my desk.

I quickly opened my textbook, flipping to the chapter on basic illumination. The diagrams showed proper hand positions and energy flows, but something about the illustrations caught my eye—there seemed to be a pattern to how the magic moved. I tried to focus on that instead of the memory of Elio’s smirk, of how effortlessly he had conjured perfect spheres of light while I fumbled beside him.

Professor Cribley demonstrated with a casual wave of her hand. A perfect sphere of golden light appeared above her palm. “The light orb is foundational magic,” she explained. “Take a moment to study the energy flow, then try creating your own at your own pace.”

She paused, her expression serious. “And remember, illumination magic is not just about convenience. It is a vital defense against vampires, whose abilities thrive in darkness. Learning to wield light effectively could mean the difference between survival and being caught unprepared.”

All around me, orbs of light bloomed like stars. Lucas produced three at once, setting them spinning in a complex formation while consulting his ever-present notebook. Raven’s glowed with a slightly purple tinge that matched her hair, her magic steady and focused.

“Here,” Raven whispered, tilting her book so I could see her notes. “Try thinking of it like… collecting sunlight in your palm. And not the way Elio was teaching you before. That was all wrong on purpose. This is the right way.”

I tried. I really did. But the moment I reached for power, my magic hesitated.

My father’s ring felt like a weight around my neck, cold against my skin. The dead things stirred, responding to my need—but that wasn’t what I was supposed to be using. I needed warmth. Light. The opposite of what came naturally.

Nothing happened.

“It’s okay,” Lucas murmured, pausing his light show. “Try breaking down the components. Energy gathering first, then containment, then illumination…”

I forced myself to follow his steps, pulling at the magic in the way he suggested. This time, something responded—but not how I intended. The shadows around my desk deepened, pooling unnaturally beneath my fingers as the dead things reached toward me. A chill ran through the room.

“Of course she can’t even manage a light orb,” someone muttered from across the room.

Another voice snickered. “Well, necromancers aren’t exactly known for being warm and fuzzy, are they?”

Scout tensed against my neck. My jaw clenched. I willed the shadows back, forcing my magic into submission, but it was too late. The moment had already passed, and I had failed. Again.

The rest of class passed in a blur of frustrated attempts and careful notes. My hand ached from copying diagrams, and my head throbbed from trying to force my necromantic power into unfamiliar patterns. I hadn’t given up, but I also hadn’t succeeded.

After class, Raven gave me a sympathetic look as we packed up. “Don’t worry. We’ll practice together later. You’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” I managed, grateful for their support but needing some time alone.

Instead of heading to lunch, I slipped away to one of the small courtyards behind the academic building. Ancient trees cast dappled shadows across stone benches, and the dead things whispered quietly in the walls. It felt private enough to practice without an audience—and right now, I couldn’t handle anyone else watching me fail.

I exhaled slowly, holding out my hand. Just light, I told myself. Just warmth. No shadows. No dead things.

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