3. Professor Thorne
I watch Kaia's retreating form from the shadows, noting how her darkness trails after her like loyal pets. The Nightwraith's attack went exactly as planned—though its fascination with the Heart of Eternity was unexpected. Her shadows didn’t just defend—they anticipated. They lashed out like living things, each strike guided by an intelligence that shouldn’t exist. And that panther construct... its eyes held an awareness that no mere shadow should possess.
Fascinating.
That particular detail will require a report to Alekir.
As if I have nothing better to do.
My fingers trace the runes on my staff, still warm from the blast that drove the creature away. The timing had to be perfect. Too soon, and she wouldn't have felt truly threatened. Too late, and we might have lost our most valuable prospect in decades. Now, though, she’s seen what’s hunting her. Now she knows she needs protection.
I pull out my communication crystal, watching it swirl with stored magic as I review the recordings of her fight. Such raw, untamed power. Her shadows don’t just react—they anticipate, forming barriers and weapons with an intelligence I’ve never seen before. Most inquisitive is that shadow-panther. Its violet eyes hold too much awareness for a mere construct.
A few humans pass by, giving me a wide birth, deterred by the shadow magic that surrounds me, if they even notice at all.
The crystal warms in my palm, signaling an incoming call. Earlier than expected. Interesting.
"Ah, Kaia," I answer, masking my satisfaction at hearing her uneven breathing. "I’ve been expecting your call."
“Yeah, well, turns out my social calendar was looking a bit sparse. Thought I might pencil in ‘learn not to accidentally destroy the world with my freaky shadow powers’ between ‘laundry day’ and ‘existential crisis.’”
Her attempt at bravado would be amusing if it weren’t so useful. Every crack in her voice, every pause between words, reveals another vulnerability to exploit.
I allow myself a small chuckle. Her humor is a mask for fear—useful information. “Your humor will serve you well at Arcanum, Kaia. It’s not an easy path you’re choosing.”
“Who said anything about choosing?” she retorts. “This is clearly a last resort. My shadows are—” She stops abruptly, and I can practically hear the realization dawning. “How exactly can you see my shadows?”
Finally. The right question. I let the silence stretch, her unease growing with every second as a smile creeps across my face. “There are more people in this world who can see what you are than you realize, Kaia. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Pack light—shadows prefer to travel unburdened.”
I end the connection, pulling out my other crystal—the one keyed to Alekir's frequency. This developmental phase requires a delicate touch. Alekir demands progress, but rushing her could jeopardize everything—and I’m not interested in his wrath. Push too hard, and she’ll retreat further into herself. Not hard enough, and those shadows might actually succeed in protecting her.
◆◆◆
The next morning is gloomy, perfect for viewing the gothic architecture of the academy for the first time. I arrive in my rune-carved carriage in front of an apartment building that can only be described as derelict. How anyone can actually live in this filth is beyond me. Yet Kaia stands on the curb with a single bag, her shadows more agitated than ever. That silly cat winds around her ankles, violet eyes fixed on me with unsettling intensity.
As I step out of the carriage in from of her, I notice just how sunk in her cheeks are, and the dark circles under her eyes. This may be easier than I thought.
“Your chariot awaits,” I say dryly, noting how she flinches when I raise my hand to motion toward the open door. “Unless you’ve reconsidered?”
Her chin lifts defiantly. “Little late for second thoughts, isn’t it?”
“It’s never too late to choose a simpler path.” I gesture to her rundown apartment building. “The café would surely take you back. Though I doubt they offer much protection against Nightwraiths.”
Her shadows twist tighter around her legs as she visibly rejects the idea. “Just… tell me one thing. Why me? Really?”
I study her for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “Because power like yours doesn’t appear by accident. You’re a threat, Kaia, whether you realize it or not. And threats always attract predators.”
It’s not technically a lie. The best manipulations never are.
She climbs into the carriage, Mouse jumping up beside her. As we pull away from her old life, I observe her in the golden morning light. The Heart of Eternity glows faintly at her throat, and her shadows dance across the carriage’s enchanted interior, investigating every rune and sigil.
“The academy will be… challenging,” I say, watching her reaction carefully. “Not everyone appreciates the gifts of shadow magic. Some fear it. Others will seek to use it for their own ends.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asks sharply.
Clever girl.
I smile. “I’m offering you knowledge. What you do with it is entirely your choice.”
Another half-truth. But she doesn’t need to know that yet. She doesn’t need to know about Alekir’s plans, or the true purpose of the Heart of Eternity. She certainly doesn’t need to know about the Valkyries.
All she needs to know is that she’s special. Powerful. And completely out of her depth.
The rest will come in time. And once he arrives we’ll have no reason not to move forward for Alekir as quickly as possible.
As the spires of Arcanum Academy pierce the morning mist ahead of us, I allow myself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The pieces are falling into place, and not even Kaia’s shadows can warn her of what’s to come.