21. Kaia
My shadows are in a mood this morning.
For the third time, they send my books flying off the desk, scattering notes across the floor like confetti. Mouse lounges on my bed, watching with undisguised amusement as I crawl around collecting pages.
"Really?" I mutter, snatching a sheet from under his paw. "Is this about yesterday's training with Darian? Because I thought we agreed to—"
A sharp knock cuts me off. "Having a heart-to-heart with your shadows again?" Finn's voice carries through the door, honey-sweet with mockery. "Bob's been extra dramatic this morning. Even Patricia's concerned."
I yank the door open to find him lounging against the frame, all messy auburn hair and knowing smirk. The words die in my throat as his expression shifts, playfulness bleeding into something harder as he takes in the chaos of my room.
"What?" I demand.
"Nothing." But his usual lightness has an edge, like a knife wrapped in silk. "Just making sure you're ready for group training. Torric's already threatened to set something on fire if you're late again."
"When is Torric not threatening to set something on fire?"
"Fair point." Finn pushes off the doorframe but doesn't step back. His closeness feels deliberate. "So... how was yesterday's special training session?"
Something in his tone makes my skin prickle. "Fine. Darian's actually quite helpful."
"Hmm." That single syllable holds volumes of doubt.
Before I can press him on it, my shadows surge between us like a living wall, shoving a book into his chest with enough force to make him stumble.
"Ow! Okay, okay, message received," he laughs, but his eyes stay serious. There's something almost protective in the way he watches me. "Come on, Trouble. The twins are waiting."
◆◆◆
The training yard crackles with tension when we arrive. Aspen and Torric are sparring, their magic colliding in spectacular bursts—fire and ice meeting in violent hisses of steam. At the edges of the yard, Malrik lurks in the shadows of a stone column, pretending not to watch while I pretend not to know he’s here. But it's Professor Thorne's presence that makes my stomach twist—he rarely observes group sessions from what I’ve been told.
"Ah, Ms. Draven." His voice slides across the yard like oil on water. "I thought we might demonstrate what you learned yesterday. Darian?"
As if conjured by his name, Darian emerges from the shadows. Something flickers across Malrik's face—recognition? Warning?—but it vanishes before I can read it.
"Let's show them your progress," Darian suggests. His smile is warm, but his eyes calculate.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” I try, pushing all the confidence I can muster into the words.
“Nonsense,” Thorne chimes in, all but ignoring my request.
The twins halt their sparring, steam still coiling around them like restless spirits. Torric's expression darkens as Darian moves closer to me. Aspen's hand finds his brother's arm—a silent warning.
"Perhaps a practical demonstration?" Thorne's suggestion carries the weight of a command. "Mr. Agere, if you'd assist?"
Torric steps forward, eager as always for a fight, but Thorne gestures to Aspen instead. The calmer twin moves with fluid grace, though I catch the tension riding his shoulders.
"The objective is simple," Thorne continues, pacing the edge of our impromptu arena. "Kaia will attempt to breach Aspen's defenses using what she's learned. Darian will... guide her technique."
My shadows coil tight around my ankles as Darian steps behind me. His hands ghost over my shoulders, adjusting my stance. "Remember what we practiced," he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck. "Reach for the deeper shadows."
A shiver runs through me—from his touch or something else, I'm not sure. But the moment his hands settle, a subtle pulse runs through me, like my shadows are being pulled or stretched in ways they’ve never moved before. My skin prickles as a strange, unwelcome sensation crawls up my spine.
From the corner of my eye, I catch it—a fleeting nod from Thorne to Darian. My chest tightens.
Darian’s voice remains soft, soothing. "You feel that? That connection to something deeper? Focus on it."
But it feels wrong. The shadows don't react like they normally do—they hesitate, jitter, as if uncertain. Even Bob, my steady presence, flickers uneasily near my ankle.
Aspen raises his hands, and a wall of crystalline water shimmers into existence. Behind it, his face distorts, but I read concern in the set of his jaw.
"Begin," Thorne commands.
I try to push my unease aside, reaching for the shadows like I always do. But instead of responding with their usual fluidity, they jerk and pull in strange, erratic movements. My heart pounds as Darian’s hands press lightly against my back, guiding me, but it feels invasive, like someone reaching into a part of me they shouldn’t.
"Let it flow," Darian murmurs, but his voice sounds distant now, layered with something sharper, darker. My shadows lash out, not at Aspen’s barrier but in wild arcs that scrape across the ground, uncontrollable.
A gasp escapes me as the necklace against my skin grows warm—no, searing. The amethyst glows faintly, and my shadows snap back to me, tearing away from whatever influence they were under. Darian stumbles back slightly, his hand withdrawing as if burned.
"Enough!" Malrik's voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding. He steps into the arena before Thorne can speak, his silver eyes blazing. My shadows rush to him, clinging like frightened children.
Aspen lowers his barrier, his gaze locked on Thorne. "What the hell was that?" he demands, his calm veneer cracking.
Thorne’s expression is smooth, unreadable. "A momentary lapse in control, nothing more. Ms. Draven has much to learn."
But I know better. The crawling sensation, the tug on my magic—it wasn’t mine. And the way Darian avoids meeting my gaze tells me he knows it too.
"That's enough." Thorne cuts through the tension with practiced ease, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the group. "This session is concluded. Kaia, remember what we discussed about control. The rest of you... I'm sure you have other matters to attend to."
As the group disperses, I feel the weight of unspoken words pressing in. Torric looks ready to argue, his hands twitching like they’re itching for a fight, but Aspen steers him away with quiet murmurs, his calm demeanor masking something stormy beneath. Malrik vanishes into the shadows without a backward glance, but the chill he leaves behind lingers, settling uneasily in my chest.
Finn lingers, though. Of course he does.
"Hey." His hand catches my arm, his touch grounding me when I feel like I might float away on the tide of unease. His green eyes meet mine, searching. "Just... be careful, okay? Some shadows hide sharper teeth than others."
His voice is low, meant for me alone, but there’s something in his tone—a warning, a plea—that makes my heart stutter. He's gone before I can ask what he means, vanishing in a blur of fire and mischief, leaving me with nothing but questions and the unsettling feeling that I’m missing something vital.
Darian appears at my side, smooth as ever, his smile soft, almost apologetic. "They’re just protective. It’s sweet, really."
"Yeah," I mutter, my gaze fixed on the space Finn just vacated. "Sweet."
But as I look down, my shadows twist restlessly around my ankles, their movements jagged, uneasy. Bob brushes against my calf, his form flickering with something like agitation. Even Patricia, usually preoccupied with her endless shadow tasks, hovers close, almost wary.
Darian notices, of course he does. "Your shadows have a life of their own," he says, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp, watching every flicker and curl. "It's fascinating, really. You don’t see that level of instinctive magic very often."
I force a smile, but it feels thin. "I guess they like to keep things interesting."
"They certainly do," he agrees, his gaze lingering on the amethyst pendant at my throat. "You’re full of surprises, Kaia."
There’s something in the way he says my name that makes my shadows ripple—not in the usual playful way, but like they’re bristling. I take a step back, creating just enough space to feel like I can breathe again.
"Well, I should get to class," I say, my tone clipped. "Thanks for the, uh... guidance."
Darian’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—disappointment, maybe? Annoyance?—that I catch before he schools it into something more polite. "Of course. We’ll continue tomorrow. Usual time."
I nod, but as I walk away, I can feel his eyes on my back, and I don’t know what to make of it. My shadows tighten around me like a protective shield, and I clutch the amethyst pendant against my chest, its warmth a small comfort against the growing cold in my gut.
My insides feel at war with each other. My feelings a jumbled mess right up there with Finn’s chaos. And don’t even get me started on that mage. I’ve got too much to worry about without these men getting into my head.