Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

20. Darian

I arrive early to Professor Thorne's classroom, positioning myself where the shadows are deepest. Perfect vantage point to watch Kaia arrive—not that I should care about seeing her expression when she walks in. My fingers drum against my thigh as I wait, Thorne's earlier words echoing: "Get close to her. Gain her trust. Whatever it takes."

The problem is, after yesterday's encounter in the training arena, I'm starting to think it won't take much acting at all.

I can still feel the electricity that sparked through me when I stepped between her and her wild magic, the way her violet eyes had widened when she looked up at me. Her shadows had been everywhere, raw power unlike anything I'd seen in my years of training. Even after Thorne pulled me away for my "official introduction" to the academy, I'd found myself watching her from the shadows, unable to look away. There was something about her that drew me in—fierce and beautiful, even as she struggled to contain her magic.

When Kaia enters the classroom now, her presence fills the room like a storm rolling in. Her shadows coil around her feet, more alive than any I've ever seen. Even Thorne looks at them as if they're something that puzzles him. She carries herself with forced confidence, but I catch the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes dart to the corners of the room as if expecting an attack.

"Ms. Draven," Thorne's voice carries that perfect blend of authority and warmth I've spent years learning to recognize as artificial. "I trust you've considered my offer?"

Her shadows ripple as she shifts her weight. "I have, but—"

"Excellent." Thorne doesn't let her finish. Classic. "Then allow me to introduce you to one of our most promising advanced students. Darian?"

I see her body tense, her eyes go wide and her shadows dance like anxiety now flows through them.

That's my cue. I step from the shadows, offering what I hope passes for a disarming smile. "Kaia. A pleasure to see you again." Thorne's eyebrow lifts slightly—I probably should have mentioned our earlier encounter. Too late now.

She startles, her shadows flaring before settling into defensive coils. The way they move is mesmerizing—nothing like the rigid, controlled shadows Thorne has taught me to manipulate. These are wild, responsive. Real.

"Darian will be assisting with your training," Thorne continues. "He has a particular talent for shadow manipulation that I believe will complement your... unique abilities."

I watch emotions flicker across her face: surprise, suspicion, reluctant interest. She's sharp—she knows there's more happening here than Thorne is saying. But I also see the loneliness etched in the corners of her eyes, the desperate need to understand her powers. To belong somewhere.

"And if I say no?" She lifts her chin, defiant.

Thorne's smile doesn't waver. "My dear, you've already demonstrated that your powers require guidance. The question isn't if you'll train, but how difficult you choose to make it."

Her shadows lash out briefly before she reins them in. The display sends an unexpected thrill through me—so much raw potential, so much power just waiting to be unleashed. I step forward, deliberately softening my voice.

"I know it seems overwhelming," I say, meaning it more than I should. "But you don't have to figure this out alone."

Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. Her shadows actually settle slightly, which catches us both off guard. I shouldn't feel this pull toward her. This wasn't part of the plan.

"Fine," she finally says, though her tone suggests she's far from happy about it. "When do we start?"

"Now," Thorne answers, but I barely hear him. I'm too focused on the way her shadows reach toward me curiously before she pulls them back. There's something pure about their response, something that makes my carefully constructed walls waver.

This is going to be more complicated than I thought.

"Let's start with something simple," I suggest, moving closer. "Show me how you typically call your shadows."

As Kaia begins to demonstrate, I catch Thorne's approving nod from the corner of my eye. He thinks everything is proceeding according to plan. He doesn't realize that the rapid beating of my heart, the way my breath catches when Kaia's shadows brush against mine—none of that is an act.

I'm supposed to be her downfall. But as I watch her struggle with a basic shadow manipulation, her frustration evident but her determination unwavering, I wonder if she might end up being mine instead.

Focus, I remind myself. Remember why you're here. Remember what Alekir promised.

But as her shadows dance around her, reflecting her every emotion with stunning clarity, I'm finding it harder to remember why those promises seemed so important in the first place.

"Here," I say, stepping behind her to adjust her stance. "Try it like this."

Her shadows curl around both of us, and for a moment, I forget everything else. Forget Thorne watching from his desk, forget Alekir's plans, forget my own carefully crafted facade. For just a moment, I let myself feel the truth of my attraction to her, the genuine desire to help her understand her power.

The lesson continues, and I can't help but marvel at her raw talent. Her shadows respond with an instinctive grace that puts years of technical training to shame. It's breathtaking. And dangerous.

"You're doing well," I say, carefully modulating my voice. "But I think you're only scratching the surface of what you're capable of."

Her violet eyes narrow, suspicion and curiosity warring in their depths. "What do you mean?"

I glance at Thorne, receiving his subtle nod. "Your power feels... constrained. As if you're holding back. Possibly out of fear?"

Her shadows curl tighter around her ankles. "Maybe I have good reason to be afraid," she says, her voice low.

"Or maybe," I step closer, ignoring the way her shadows shift between us, "you've just never had the right guidance."

Thorne moves from his desk, his presence a sharp reminder of reality. "Darian has a unique understanding of shadow magic," he says smoothly. "He can help you reach your full potential."

I watch conflict play across Kaia's face—the desperate desire to understand her powers warring with years of learned caution. If only she knew how right she was to be suspicious.

"Try reaching beyond what feels safe," I encourage, pushing aside my guilt. "Your power is waiting for you to embrace it fully."

Kaia closes her eyes, concentration furrowing her brow. The air thickens with potential energy. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, ever so slowly, her shadows begin to expand, reaching further than before.

I catch my breath, both thrilled and terrified by what I'm witnessing. Because in this moment, watching her begin to explore her true power, I realize just how much damage I'm about to do.

And how much I wish I didn't have to.

As the lesson ends, Kaia's shadows retreat to their usual restless dance around her feet. She looks drained but there's a new light in her eyes—pride, maybe, or the first glimpse of what she could become. It makes my chest ache.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asks, trying to sound casual, but there's an eagerness in her voice she can’t quite hide.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Her shadows ripple around her, their edges less restless now, brushing against my ankle as she turns to leave. The touch feels deliberate, almost like recognition, and it sends a jolt through me.

Thorne’s hand lands heavy on my shoulder. “Well done,” he says, his voice low with satisfaction. “She’s beginning to trust you.”

“Yes,” I reply, the word tasting like ash. Trust I don’t deserve. Trust I’m tasked to betray.

I follow her out, and as Kaia disappears down the hallway, her shadows trailing her like an afterthought, the ache in my chest sharpens. Thorne’s praise feels hollow against the memory of her power unfurling, raw and untamed. Watching her step closer to that potential was thrilling, yes—but terrifying in equal measure.

Because in that moment, I wasn’t just watching the birth of a weapon.

I was watching the woman who might one day turn that weapon on me.