Page 44 of Shadebound
Something about her made me pause. It wasn’t pity—not quite. But there was a weight in her posture, a brittleness in the way she held herself. Like a shard of glass already half-cracked. I recognised it. That quiet, exhausted ache of surviving things no one saw. Of being a ghost in your own skin. I didn’t feel sorry for her. But I understood her far too well.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Eris. Eris Morana.” She smiled. A tiny smile, but one all the same. “I know your name already. Not in a stalker way. Everyone knows who you are. We don’t really get shadebounds here. Or at all.”
“That’s convenient. Introductions are an annoying form of pleasantries I bore of.” I looked her over properly now, slower this time. Thin frame, jumpy posture, still trembling like she hadn’t caught up to the fact that she was safe—for now. Shelooked like someone who knew how it felt to be in the way and apologised for it before anyone could ask. And her dark, wary eyes darted around the room as if she expected something else to come flying at her.
Oh, she was a delightful thing to take under my wing. I enjoyed helping broken things get worse. But in a good way.
In a way that would mean nobody would mess with her again.
“No offence,” I cocked my head as I debated just how much I was getting myself into by inevitably offering her help, “but how did a bad seer end up at Mors Academy?”
Eris huffed out a sound that might’ve been a laugh as she tucked a lock of short hair behind her almost pointed ears. “I volunteered.”
My first thought was whether she was mentally ill. The second was why the fuck anyone wouldvolunteerfor Mors? She couldn’t even use her magic properly. Her body looked like it might have bruised from a breeze. She was skittish, visibly uncomfortable in her own skin. Not the type they usually dragged in here kicking and screaming—let alone someone who signed up willingly. I couldn’t help wondering just how awful her life on the outside must’ve been to make this place feel like a better option.
But I didn’t care enough to dig yet. “Fair enough.”
“What about you?” she asked. “How come you’re here?”
I smirked even though my fingers tensed on my tray. “I did lots of fun things to some bad people. But they weren’t the right bad people, so our lecherous overlords sent me here to prove a point.”
She looked like she wanted to ask more. I didn’t offer her a chance. Especially when thinking of my trial made me think of my father, and I was doing my best not to do that unless it was to do with my brother.
“Come,” I said, nodding towards where Maya had gone to sit with Zayden and some others I didn’t know. “Sit with us.”
Eris hesitated, then followed, keeping her eyes low. I walked just ahead, enough to clear a path without making a scene.
About halfway to the table, I spotted Draven. He was sitting at another table across the hall, surrounded by a few other students—kids his age, like Luna and Kalamity. He smiled when he saw me. A small wave. I lifted my chin slightly in return.
He looked alright. He looked... like he was trying. Like he wanted to talk to them instead of me, and I understood that completely. Even though the protective part of me itched to check in, he was doing okay. And Silkwasstill there, hovering like a shadow right behind him. That was enough for now. Even if her presence was making my head throb with effort.
I reached our table, and after nuzzling Eris into a chair, I sat beside Zayden. He was in the middle of an animated story with two sirens with razor-cut blue hair, matching sneers, and glinting jewellery made from tiny bones. They looked me over with interest but didn’t comment. Though the girl checked me out and nodded like she appreciated the view. It made up for her companion scowling in disgust when he saw me.
Zayden turned to me with a lazy grin. “Don’t worry, Heartache. Nerida only eats boys.”
The siren girl raised a brow. “For violence, sure. But I prefer women for fun.” She bared her razor-sharp teeth for a second before returning them to normal and carrying on her conversation with her friend.
I didn’t look at Zayden as he tried to make small talk again. I was too busy stirring the sludge on my plate, watching it shift with the consistency of regret. It didn’t taste like anything, which I was grateful for. Better bland than actively revolting. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d survive a hundred years of this—three meals a day, forever. Would this be the thing that killed mein the end? Not the monsters, or the curses, or the ghosts. Just... cafeteria paste.
I sighed, poking at it again. And of course, right on cue, I found myself craving chocolate cake. Moist, rich, deliciously flavoured chocolate cake. Which, obviously, I would never have again. For the next century. Typical.
“And here I thought you’d be thrilled to have breakfast with me,” Zayden said, leaning in close like proximity might sweeten the mood.
I finally looked up. “Thrilled in the way one is when stepping on a nail, sure.”
His mouth twitched. “I fucking missed you. Nobody else hates me the same way.”
I opened my mouth to hand him another insult, but a voice across the room called his name. One of his packmates. He glanced over his shoulder and groaned. “They’ve probably set something on fire. Again.”
He stood, stretching with zero urgency, then tossed me a wink I ignored entirely, and ambled off like chaos waited politely for him to arrive. Maya vanished a second later to grab another bowl of lifeless mush she apparently enjoyed.
I turned to Eris, who was hunched over beside me, quietly pulling a napkin into shreds. I enjoyed ripping things apart, but she didn’t seem entertained.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked, a little softer than usual.
She gave a quick nod, eyes still on the table. “Yeah. Just... not great with crowds.”
