Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

4. Finn

I’m perfectly balanced on the edge of the academy’s western tower—which, let’s be honest, is basically the most comfortable seat on campus. Alenya keeps telling me it’s “completely inappropriate behavior for a mage,” but really, what does she know about gargoyle seating ergonomics? If the architects didn’t want people sitting here, they wouldn’t have made them so inviting.

Besides, where else would I get a view like this?

My gaze sweeps over the forest-lined road winding up to the academy, and I spot it: Thorne’s obnoxiously fancy carriage, rolling up like it owns the place. Normally, I’d find a snack or a nap more appealing than watching one of his dramatic recruit parades, but this time, something’s… different.

Shadows.

Not just boring, stick-to-your-heels shadows, either. Not even your typical magical ones. These things move like they’ve got a pulse, darting and weaving behind the carriage like hyper puppies who can’t decide where they’re supposed to be.

I sit up straighter, my curiosity hooked.

“Interesting,” I murmur, leaning forward. “What are you bringing me today, Thorne?”

The carriage stops at the front entrance directly below where my gargoyle friend and I are sitting. The door swings open, and I see her.

Oh .

My balance shifts dangerously as my breath catches. I barely manage to stop myself from tumbling off my stone buddy entirely.

She steps out of the carriage like she owns it—lean muscle, all fluid motion and sharp edges. Her skin’s so pale it catches the morning light which doesn’t really exist, but she’s practically glowing, and her hair looks like it’s permanently wind-swept, in a way that should be impossible after a carriage ride. But it’s her eyes that lock me in place.

Violet. Deep, sharp, and way too guarded for someone her age. There’s something wild behind them, too—a spark, like a hidden fire she’s carefully controlling.

And then I realize the shadows are hers.

Oh, hell.

They’re alive in a way I’ve never seen before, curling and twisting around her legs with minds of their own. One of them, a bigger one that looks like it runs the show, is actively herding the smaller ones away from Thorne’s boots.

A born leader, that one.

I can’t help the grin tugging at my face.

“Look at you, shadow mom,” I murmur, watching as her chaotic shadows move around her. They make her look like she’s at the center of a wild, beautiful dance only she knows the steps to. My heart does this stupid little flip thing, and I roll my eyes at myself.

This is not fair.

I’m about to dismiss it as no big deal—just another recruit (yeah right)—but then a sleek black panther hops out of the carriage after her. Not a real panther, obviously. Its body shifts like liquid smoke, violet eyes glowing as it scans the grounds. When it looks up at me, I swear it rolls its eyes.

“What’s your problem?” I mutter.

The panther ignores me.

Rude.

Now, I should probably go down there and introduce myself like a normal person. You know, on the ground, through the door, like a perfectly respectable mage.

But where’s the fun in that?

Instead, I let myself fall forward off the tower.

Halfway down, her shadows surge up like a tidal wave, and for a second, I think she’s going to obliterate me.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” I call, catching myself on a ripple of chaos magic before I hit the ground. I float the last few feet, landing lightly in front of her.

Show-off? Me?

Always.

Her shadows pull back, swirling protectively around her feet, but I’m too busy trying to keep my grin in check. Up close, she’s even more striking, all sharp edges and tightly reined-in power.

And boy what power she has. If I can feel it now, just imagine if she lets go. I mean, I’d like to be there when it happens for sure. And I mean that in only the best possible way. A shiver zips down my spine at the thought.

“Hi there!” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets like I didn’t just dramatically fall out of the sky or think some rather delicious thoughts. “I’m Finn. Welcome to Hogwarts for problem children. You must be the new shadow girl everyone’s been whispering about.”

She blinks at me, her gaze darting between me and the tower. “Did you just… jump off a fucking building?”

“More like a controlled fall. With style.” I wink, but she’s still staring at me like I might be insane.

Fair.

Before she can say anything else, I crouch down to get a closer look at her shadows. They flinch back for half a second, then one of the smaller ones wriggles forward, sniffing at my boot like it’s inquisitive as the big one tries to pull it back.

“And who are these lovely void creatures?” I ask, smirking. “The big guy here’s got CEO energy. Definitely a ‘Bob from accounting’ vibe, if Bob was made of living darkness.”

The big shadow seems to straighten, and I almost laugh.

Bob it is.

“Bob?” the girl asks, her voice flat but with a hint of something—curiosity? Amusement?

“Yeah, look at him!” I gesture. “He’s clearly running this operation.” I glance at the smaller shadow investigating my boot. “And this one? Definitely a Finnick. Trouble written all over him.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile, and I take that as a win.

Thorne clears his throat behind us, and I reluctantly stand.

“If you’re quite finished, Mr. Veylan,” he says in that clipped tone that makes everything sound like a scolding, “Miss Draven has an orientation to attend.”

“Orientation?” I make a face. “Boring. I could give you the real tour. Best hiding spots, where the kitchen imps stash the good snacks, which professors you can prank without getting expelled...”

Her lips twitch again, and her shadows wriggle like they’re excited. Even Bob looks like he’s considering my offer.

“Mr. Veylan,” Thorne snaps, his patience clearly running thin.

“Fine, fine,” I say, backing away with my hands raised. I turn to her one last time, smirking. “But seriously. When you’re done with Thorne’s snooze-fest, come find me. The shadows will know.”

Bob straightens again, and I wink at him.

“Keep them in line, big guy.”

As I walk away, I hear her ask, “Is he always like that?”

“Mr. Veylan,” Thorne replies dryly, “is a perfect example of why chaos magic is strictly regulated.”

I grin to myself, already making mental notes.

Bob needs his own spreadsheet. For organizational purposes, of course.