Page 42 of Shadows Rising

I don't breathe.

My hands curl into fists against the stone floor, anger burning hotter than the pain of the bonds.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the pain fades.

Not completely, not all at once, but enough that I can take a breath without feeling like my ribs might shatter. The rage, though—that doesn't fade at all.

My hands are still shaking as I push myself up, but now it's as much from anger as from the aftermath of what just happened. I barely register the way Finn moves forward like he's debating whether or not to help me, my glare fixed on Kieran.

Torric takes a step back, his expression carefully blank. Aspen is looking anywhere but at me.

No one speaks.

No one knows what to say.

And then, as I force myself to my feet, my body stiffens.

Because something is still missing.

The ache that should be gone isn't.

It's less, but it's not fixed.

And I know, deep down, why.

Because one of them isn't here.

Revna exhales quietly, rubbing her temple. "There's another."

The weight of those words settles over the room like a heavy stone.

Kieran doesn't move, doesn't blink, but I feel the sharp pulse of his magic. "No," he says, but this time it's not denial—it's dread.

I want to feel satisfied at his obvious discomfort, at this unexpected complication to whatever he planned. But I'm too angry, too overwhelmed by everything that's just been forced upon us.

The Hall didn't just confirm the bonds that were here.

It confirmed the one that's missing.

And I think, wherever they are—

They just felt it too.

Walter drifts silently between us, his strange purplish light pulsing faster than usual. He seems drawn to the empty space where something—someone—should be, hovering there like he's trying to fill it. But he can't. None of us can.

The rage builds inside me like a gathering storm. My shadows respond, their edges becoming razor-sharp, coiling tighter with each breath I take.Mouse presses against my leg, a silent guardian as my fury threatens to spill over.

The Hall of Echoes suddenly feels too small, too confining, the ancient magic pressing against my skin like an unwelcome touch. I force myself to stand straighter despite the trembling in my limbs.

Kieran takes a step toward me, his golden eyes unreadable. "Kaia—"

I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I don't trust myself to speak. The bonds pulse inside me, unwanted and forced into place by his machinations. If I open my mouth now, I might unleash something we can't take back.

Instead, I turn away, every muscle in my body rigid with restraint. My shadows lash in tight, controlled spirals—betraying the chaos I refuse to show. Bob moves ahead of me, clearing a path to the door, while Patricia's frantically writing shadow follows at my heels.

The others watch me go, their newly forged bonds to me vibrating with tension. I can feel their confusion, their concern, their uncertainty.

Let them feel it.

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