Page 55 of Heir of Shadows

With love and hope,

Father

The words blurred as I reread them, my heart hammering. Poisoned channels.

I thought of Keane’s magic, of the way the shadows in his portals had spread. The way my own magic had pushed back against the wrongness in him.

This wasn’t just about my father.

This was about the Council’s fear of our magic. The fear of what happened when our power worked together.

I flipped through the pages and the writing looked like mundane records at first—dates, meeting notes, adjustments to warding spells—but the patterns were wrong. Too structured. As if they weren’t notes at all, but something hidden within them.

Scout leaned against my wrist as I turned the pages, while the dead things whispered hints I couldn’t quite catch. Between the lines of dry political proceedings, I caught glimpses of another story—one about questioned loyalties, dangerous discoveries, and a man desperately trying to protect something precious.

Dawn found me still reading, my mind spinning with half-formed theories. This book held answers. The truth about Keane’s magic and what was wrong with him—or maybe what was being done to him.

The sound of movement in the hall made me close the journal, tucking it safely away. But its weight remained, pressing against my ribs like a question I wasn’t yet ready to answer.

The dead things stirred uneasily, shifting at the edges of my awareness. Scout let out a sharp, urgent chitter, his tiny bones clicking in agitation.

The key to understanding all of it lay in my father’s careful notes.

But first, I had to learn how to read them. Because whatever had started eighteen years ago was still in motion. And I was already part of it.

27

Marigold

I arrived earlyto Basic Magical Theory, using the quiet time to practice modulating my magic. After several evenings in the library with Keane—and after what happened in Combat Class—I was finally starting to get it. But using necromancy for delicate magic still felt like trying to water a garden with a fire hose.

On the desk in front of me, Scout puffed up like a tiny skeletal coach, tail curling dramatically as if bracing for either triumph or disaster as I attempted the levitation charm.

The trick, according to Dr. Reyes, was learning to access basic magical currents without letting your primary power overwhelm them. Like turning down the volume on one instrument so you could hear the rest of the orchestra.

“Just like Keane said,” I muttered, making notes. “Keep it simple.”

Ancient runes carved into the walls pulsed with soft light as other students filed in. I traced the diagrams I’d drawn in my notebook—careful notes about different types of basic magic and how they should feel when performed correctly. The technical terms still tangled in my mind, but at least now I understood what I was trying to achieve.

“Now then,” Professor Cribley said, her silver-beaded braids catching the light as she gestured. “Who can explain the fundamental principle of magical adaptation? How do we adjust our innate powers to perform standard spells?”

Hands shot up around me. Even Raven, who’d been doodling skeleton designs in her notebook, straightened with enthusiasm. I slid lower in my seat, cheeks burning. This was exactly what I’d been struggling with.

“Miss Grimley?” Professor Cribley’s kind smile did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. “Perhaps you’d like to try? I noticed you’ve been putting in extra hours with Dr. Reyes.”

Scout leaned against my neck, responding to my anxiety. A few students shifted away, but Raven just grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

“I…” I swallowed hard, glancing at my carefully organized notes. “Something about… adjusting power levels?” The definition I’d memorized slipped away under the pressure.

Snickers rippled through the room. Lucas shot me a sympathetic look while frantically trying to send me signals with his hands. He’d spent time helping me study, and I was already letting him down.

“Not quite.” Professor Cribley’s smile dimmed slightly. “The fundamental principle states that every witch must learn to—”

A knock interrupted her. The door opened to reveal Keane, looking somehow both awkward and devastatingly gorgeous.

My heart did a traitorous little flip.

We had been meeting for tutoring on and off, and even though I was getting better at sorting magical energies, I was nowhere near getting better at sorting him. Some days, he seemed like a friend—a quiet, intense presence who made things easier to understand. Other days, he was distant, unreadable, barely acknowledging me outside our library sessions.

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