14. Kaia
The arena is arranged in a semicircle, with students positioned at intervals marked by glowing runes. Black marble pillars rise around us this time, their surfaces carved with ancient symbols that seem to writhe in the flickering light. My shadows reach out curiously toward the nearest rune, only to recoil as if stung.
"Combat magic requires precision," Thorne announces, his voice echoing off the stone. "Shadow manipulation in battle can mean the difference between life and death. There is no room for... improvisation."
His gaze settles on me as he says the last word, and I feel my shadows bristle, one tendril slinking toward him before I can rein it in. Through the high windows, I glimpse Mouse's form darting past, checking on me. His violet eyes gleam with concern.
"Today, we'll practice offensive constructs," Thorne continues. "Watch carefully."
He raises one hand, and shadows coalesce into a perfect blade, its edge sharp enough to slice through the demonstration dummy without touching it. The control is impressive, but something about it feels wrong - too rigid, too forced. My own shadows shrink away from his demonstration, as if sensing something unnatural in his technique.
"Ms. Draven." Thorne's voice snaps me back to attention. "Demonstrate."
“I’m good.” I manage, because no way do I want to do this.
He sneers, “It wasn’t a request.” Irritation visible on his face.
I reluctantly step forward, uncomfortably aware of everyone watching. My shadows swirl around my feet, agitated by the pressure. I try to shape my shadow magic as Thorne did, but it resists, wanting to move in its own way. The jewel around my neck seems to glow, its rhythm slightly erratic.
Control,” Thorne snaps, like the word itself is a weapon. My jaw tightens, but I feel the cracks forming—his disdain hitting where I’m already weak. My shadows twist tighter, confused by my anger, or maybe reflecting it. I can’t even tell anymore.
Thorne steps closer, adjusting my stance with precise movements that make my shadows recoil. "Again. Power without control is chaos, and chaos has no place in combat."
“I beg to differ!” I hear Finn yell from somewhere behind me. The snickers that follow will only encourage him.
I try again, focusing on pulling shadow magic from the darkness around me rather than using my personal shadows, which are still writhing unhappily at my feet. This time, the construct holds its shape better, though it's not nearly as precise as Thorne's.
"Better," he says, but his eyes are fixed on my personal shadows with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "Though you have... additional resources at your disposal. Consider using them."
"Raw talent is rare," Thorne continues, pitching his voice so only I can hear. "But without proper guidance, it can be... dangerous. Both to yourself and others."
Something in his tone makes me think he's not just talking about standard shadow magic anymore. I force myself to meet his gaze, though my shadows quiver with unease. "I'm learning control."
"Are you?" His eyes flick meaningfully to where one of my shadows has started creeping toward him again. I hadn't even noticed. "Perhaps you could benefit from some additional instruction. Private lessons, to help you... focus your gifts."
Before I can respond, I feel a steadying presence beside me. Aspen. The air around him seems cooler, calming. "Professor," he says smoothly, "should we practice the defensive formations next?"
Thorne's expression shifts, becoming more distant. "Indeed. Everyone pair up. Ms. Draven, work with Mr. Agere. His control might prove... instructive."
As we move into position, Aspen murmurs, "You okay?"
I nod, though my shadows are still agitated. "Yeah. Thanks."
"The key," Aspen says as we square off, "is to work with the magic, not against it." His voice is calm, steadying. "Shadow magic responds to intention as much as will."
Easy for him to say. His shadow construct flows like water, forming a perfect shield. Mine still feels raw, unfinished, like trying to sculpt with smoke.
"Intention, not force," he reminds me gently.
“How do you even know all this?” I ask because seriously Aspen is like a professor with how much he knows.
His eyes darken “My father taught Torric and I everything long before we should have known.” He pauses, “Abilities are supposed to manifest and become stronger with age, but it can be forced.” I notice his eyes flick to his water ruin and I have so many questions. But I don’t press, not with the topic dulling the light in his blue eyes.
I take a breath, trying to focus. This time, instead of forcing the shadow magic into shape, I let myself feel the darkness around us. It's different from my personal shadows - cooler, less alive, but still responsive. My necklace warms slightly against my skin, as if encouraging this approach.
"Hey," Aspen says softly, stepping closer. "You're thinking too hard. Let it flow naturally."
He reaches out, his hand hovering just above my arm. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and my shadows respond, reaching out to brush against him. The contact sends a jolt through me, and suddenly my magic snaps into focus.
The shadows coalesce into a perfect replica of Aspen's blade, its edge gleaming wickedly in the low light of the arena. My personal shadows dance with excitement, and I feel a surge of pride mingled with surprise.
"Whoa," I breathe, staring at the construct in amazement.
Aspen grins, looking impressed. "See? You've got this."
"Adequate," Thorne's voice cuts through our moment of triumph. He's been circling the room, but seems to hover near our station more than others. "Though unconventional. Mr. Agere, demonstrate the standard form again."
I catch the slight tightening around Aspen's eyes, though his voice remains perfectly respectful. "Of course, Professor."
As Aspen demonstrates, I notice something odd. While everyone else's shadow constructs are uniform - precise, rigid things - his have a subtle fluidity to them, like he's adapted the standard forms to work better with his natural magic. My shadows reach out curiously, drawn to the grace of his movements.
"Your turn, Ms. Draven," Thorne commands.
My construct wavers as his attention fixes on me again. Through the window, Mouse is a dark blur of motion, and my personal shadows twist anxiously around my feet.
"Focus," Thorne snaps. "Control your... distractions."
Something in his tone makes my shadows bristle. The construct I'm trying to form suddenly warps, sprouting jagged edges before dissolving completely. The ambient shadows in the room seem to pulse in response to my agitation.
"I see we have much to work on," Thorne says silkily. "Perhaps those private lessons would be beneficial after all."
"I-" I begin, but he's already moving away, calling the class to attention for the next exercise.
Aspen catches my eye, his expression concerned. "You don't have to accept, you know."
"What?"
"The private lessons. Thorne offers them sometimes, not always for the reasons he says. Just... be sure it’s what you want."
Before I can ask what he means, Thorne's voice rings out again. "Next, we'll practice offensive applications. Everyone find a new partner."
My shadows curl uneasily as I watch Aspen move away. Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a very long class?
I'm still trying to process Aspen's warning when a familiar drawling voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Partner up with me, shadow girl?" Finn materializes beside me, grinning like this is all terribly amusing. "Promise I'll go easy on you."
My shadows perk up at his presence, and I swear one of them actually waves.
Traitors.
"Remind me again why I'd want you to go easy on me?" I ask, but I'm already moving into position across from him. My shadows trail after me like eager puppies.
Finn's grin widens. "Because otherwise I might have to actually try, and then where would we be?"
Before I can retort, Thorne's voice cuts through the chatter. "Begin. Remember - precision. Control. No... improvisations."
That last word is definitely aimed at Finn, who responds with an impossibly innocent expression that wouldn't fool a blind troll. My shadows quiver with what feels suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
We square off. Finn's shadow construct forms with surprising grace - all flowing lines and deadly edges.
Show-off.
"Come on, Trouble," he taunts playfully. "Show me what you've got."
I reach for the shadow magic again, trying to remember how it felt with Aspen. My personal shadows are practically bouncing with excitement, making it hard to concentrate on forming a proper construct.
"Focus, Ms. Draven," Thorne calls out. He's watching us intently, his dark eyes narrowed. "Control those... distractions."
Something in his tone makes my shadows bristle again. The construct I'm trying to form wavers, then suddenly snaps into perfect clarity - a wickedly sharp blade that would make Thorne proud.
Except...
"Um, Kaia?" Finn's voice is filled with barely suppressed laughter. "Your shadows are giving you a standing ovation."
I glance down to see my personal shadows doing exactly that - complete with tiny clapping motions and what appears to be an enthusiastic wave. Mortified, I try to rein them in, but they seem determined to express their appreciation for my success.
Thorne's expression could curdle milk. "Ms. Draven. A word after class."
Finn winces sympathetically. "Sorry about that. Though you have to admit, they've got great comedic timing."
I'm about to respond when Mouse appears at one of the high windows, his violet eyes fixed on something - or someone - behind me. I turn to find Malrik watching our practice session, his expression unreadable. His silver eyes seem to track the movement of my shadows, but that's impossible. Right?
Great. Just great. Because this day needed more complications.
"Again," Thorne commands, and I force myself to focus on the shadow magic, trying to ignore my personal shadows' continuing performance art.
As the other students file out after class, I stay behind, my heart hammering against my ribs. Finn squeezes my shoulder as he passes. "Want me to wait?"
I shake my head, though I appreciate the offer. "I'll be fine."
"If you're sure..." He hesitates, then adds quietly, "Find me after?"
I manage a nod, and he reluctantly leaves, though not before casting one last concerned look over his shoulder. My shadows reach after him briefly before curling back around my feet.
My personal shadows curl closer as Thorne approaches, their usual playfulness replaced by something almost protective. Through the window, Mouse has gone completely still, watching with an intensity that makes me nervous.
"Ms. Draven." Thorne's voice is silk over steel. "Your raw talent is... remarkable. But your lack of discipline is becoming a problem."
I straighten my spine, trying to dismiss feeling like a child under his gaze. "I told you, I'm learning control."
"Are you?" His eyes fix on my shadows. "Because what I witnessed today was not control. It was chaos. And chaos..." He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, "chaos gets people killed."
"I wouldn't-" I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
"You don't know what you would or wouldn't do, because you don't understand your own power." His tone softens slightly. "That's why you need guidance. Proper guidance."
My shadows twist uneasily. "Professor Lira-"
"Professor Aevorin," he interrupts smoothly, "is an excellent teacher of theory. But combat magic requires a firmer hand." He pauses, studying me. "I could help you master this power. Private lessons, twice a week. We'll start with the basics of control."
Everything in me wants to refuse, but I remember how my shadows reacted during class, how easily they got away from me. What if he's right? What if I really am dangerous?
"I..." I hesitate, and his eyes gleam with something like triumph but it’s quickly hidden behind his typically stoic mask.
"Think about it," he says. "But don't take too long. Power like yours," his voice low and deliberate, "has a way of drawing attention. Untrained magic invites... complications. Ones you may not be ready to face alone."
As if to prove his point, one of my shadows lashes out, curling aggressively toward him before I can stop it. Thorne doesn't flinch, just raises an eyebrow. “Predictable," Thorne murmurs, his gaze flicking to my shadows. "Chaos always seeks control, whether it knows it or not."
He turns away, dismissing me but not before I catch the smirk playing on his lips. "Let me know your decision by tomorrow."
I practically flee the arena, my shadows swirling agitatedly around me. Mouse materializes at my side the moment I clear the doorway, pressing against my legs in silent comfort.
"There you are!" Finn's voice makes me jump. He's lounging against the wall, clearly having ignored my dismissal. "That bad, huh?"
"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter, but I'm pathetically grateful he waited. My shadows stretch toward him, seeking comfort. I don’t want him to notice my hands trembling in a way I can’t control. That isn’t me, that isn’t how I work and I’m not about to start now. I steel my resolve in hopes of making it through the rest of the day.
"Fair enough." He falls into step beside me. "Want to grab food instead? I hear they're serving mystery meat in the dining hall. Ten gold says it's actually transmuted troll toes."
Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. "You're disgusting."
"You love it." He grins, then sobers slightly. "Seriously though, you okay?"
I think about Thorne's words, about control and chaos and power that needs containing. About private lessons and firm hands and proper guidance. The amethyst thrums against my skin, as if trying to tell me something.
"I don't know," I admit quietly.
Mouse bumps my hand with his head, and my shadows curl around us both like a protective cocoon. At least I'm not facing this alone.
"Screw it," I mutter suddenly. "Mouse, you're staying in my room tonight. House rules be damned."
Finn's grin widens. "Now that's the chaos I like to see."