Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

42. Kaia

The others settle in, forming a careful semicircle. Aspen’s expression is a blend of quiet determination and unease, his shoulders tense as he sets the drinks down. Torric’s brows are furrowed, and his fire rune flickers faintly like it’s mirroring his agitation. Malrik’s silver eyes remain unreadable, but his deliberate movements and the way he takes a seat with precision suggest he’s bracing for something. Even Finn, usually relaxed, settles in with a slight edge to his grin, his hands quick as he passes out snacks, like he’s trying to fill the silence. Close enough to talk, but giving me space.

"We should have told you sooner," Aspen says quietly, breaking the tension. "About our suspicions."

"You think?" The words come out sharper than I intend, but I can't quite help it. "How long have you all been... what? Coordinating? Spying?"

"Since the training accident," Torric admits, his rune flickering faintly. "When Darian conveniently showed up and was suddenly inserted into your life."

"He was helping me," I protest, but it sounds weak even to my ears.

"Was he?" Malrik's voice is soft but intent. "Or was he studying you?"

I open my mouth to argue, then close it as memories surface. The way Darian always seemed to know when my shadows were acting up. His carefully worded questions about their behavior. The calculating look in his eyes when he thought I wasn't watching.

"Start from the beginning," I say finally. "I want to know everything."

They exchange glances, having one of those silent conversations that should irritate me but instead makes something in my chest ache. It’s the kind of ache that comes from watching people care—because that’s what this is. And from realizing, despite all my efforts to push everyone away, they’ve stayed. It’s unfamiliar and raw, a strange mix of gratitude and fear.

Finally, Finn speaks up.

"It started with Bob, actually," he says, grinning when Malrik rolls his eyes at the name. "Your shadows have been trying to warn you for weeks. But only a few of us could see them."

"What do you mean, see them?" I look between him and Malrik.

"Most can see the effects," Malrik corrects. "The way they move things or create patterns with actual shadows. But the shadows themselves?" He gestures to where Bob is currently trying to steal another cookie. "Most people just see disturbances in the light."

"But you can see them clearly," I say slowly. "Both of you."

Finn nods. "In living color. Or, well, living darkness. Whatever. Point is, they've been putting on quite a show trying to get your attention."

"They were especially dramatic around Darian," Malrik adds dryly. "Though subtlety isn't exactly their strong suit."

As if to prove his point, my shadows start reenacting what looks like an interpretive dance of their dislike for Darian. Mouse watches with what I swear is amusement.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why you were all at the ball tonight," I press. "Or what happened with the constellations."

"That was my fault," Malrik says, surprising me. "I caught Darian researching soul bonds in the library. He didn’t want me to know what he was looking at and seemed a little too calm for it to just be nothing.” He takes a breath, like this is hard for him to admit. “The things he was researching… it wasn’t just soul bonds, but honestly I’m not sure what to make of it yet.”

"Which is why we were watching tonight," Finn adds. "Though I still say my chaos distraction plan would have worked better."

"Your plan involved releasing enchanted origami birds into the punch bowl," Malrik reminds him.

"Exactly! Pure genius."

Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. "You're all ridiculous," I mutter, but there's no heat in it. "So let me get this straight," I say, picking at a cookie. "You've all been secretly coordinating to protect me because my shadows told you Darian was suspicious?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous," Finn grins, then yelps as Bob swats him with a shadowy tendril. "But you have to admit, they’ve been acting weird.”

I look down, a little ashamed because I know he’s right and I chose to ignore it.

"It wasn't just the shadows," Malrik says quietly. His silver eyes catch mine, and something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. "There are... patterns, in shadow magic. Rules. The way Darian watched you—studied you—it felt wrong."

"And the way Thorne kept pushing you in training," Aspen adds. "Always testing your limits, but never explaining why."

Torric's rune flares briefly. "Plus, Darian's a creepy bastard."

"Very diplomatic, brother," Aspen sighs.

"What? Am I wrong?"

I almost smile, but then another thought hits me. "Wait. Is this why you've all been... you know..."

"Charming? Devastatingly handsome? Excellent dance partners?" Finn suggests innocently.

"Around," I finish, ignoring the way my cheeks heat. "Always showing up when I'm training or studying or—"

"No," Malrik cuts in, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "That was..." he pauses, looking almost uncomfortable.

"That was just us wanting to be around you," Finn finishes simply. "The protective stuff came later."

"Oh." I look down, watching my shadows swirl gently around everyone's feet. They seem completely at ease, especially with Finn and Malrik. Even Mouse has abandoned his usual alertness to sprawl across Finn's lap.

"We should have told you sooner," Aspen says again. "But we were worried—"

"That I wouldn't believe you?"

"That you'd pull away," Malrik corrects softly. "You've spent so long trying to handle everything alone."

"Yeah, well, look how well that turned out," I mutter, but there's less bitterness in it now.

"Hey." Finn leans forward, his usual playful demeanor gone serious. "You handled yourself pretty well tonight. Mouse going full battle-panther? That was badass."

"Indeed," Malrik agrees, his lip twitching. "Though perhaps next time we could avoid the dramatic blackout."

"That wasn't me," I protest. Then pause. "Was it?"

"Your shadows," Malrik explains. "They were protecting you. From whatever Darian and Thorne were trying to do with the alignment."

"Which was what, exactly?"

The others exchange glances again. Finally, Aspen speaks. "We're not entirely sure. But it had something to do with your necklace. The way it reacted to the magical convergence..."

"It's not just a normal piece of jewelry, is it?" I touch the stone again, feeling its steady warmth.

"No," Malrik says quietly. "I don't think it is."

A comfortable silence falls as we all process that. My shadows continue their lazy patterns, occasionally stealing snacks or nudging someone affectionately. It should feel strange, sitting here with them like this. Instead, it feels... right.

"So what now?" I ask finally.

"Now," Finn says, reaching for more cookies, "we figure it out together. No more secrets."

"Except for Bob's secret cookie stash," Torric adds dryly. "That's sacred."

I laugh despite myself, and the last of the tension drains away. My shadows settle contentedly, and Mouse starts purring.

"Together," I repeat softly. Testing how the word feels.

My necklace pulses once, warm and sure, like an answer to a question I wasn’t sure how to ask.

"Speaking of secrets," Finn says, sprawling back against a cushion, "can we talk about how Malrik has apparently been holding out on us? Mr. 'I understand shadow magic' better than anyone over here."

Malrik stiffens slightly. "I never claimed—"

"No, you just casually read magical alignments and speak fluent shadow-ese." Finn grins. "Very mysterious. Very broody prince."

I sit up straighter. "Wait, prince?"

"Former prince," Malrik corrects sharply, shooting Finn a look that could freeze fire. "Of a realm that no longer really exists. It's not relevant."

"Seems pretty relevant to me," I counter. "Especially if it helps explain what's happening with my shadows."

Malrik is quiet for a long moment, his shoulders stiff and his gaze fixed on the floor as though weighing his words. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled, each word deliberate, as if he fears the weight of what he’s about to reveal. "Absentia—my realm—was once a bridge between worlds. Between light and shadow, life and death. The magic there... it was different. Deeper."

"Like my shadows," I say softly.

He meets my eyes. "Similar, yes. But yours are..." he pauses, searching for words. "Purer, somehow. Less corrupted."

"Corrupted by what?"

Another loaded glance passes between the others.

"There are stories," Aspen says carefully, "about an ancient power that tried to harness shadow magic. To control death itself."

"Alekir," Malrik says, the name falling like stone. "The Soulbinder."

My necklace flares sharply, and my shadows coil tight. Even Mouse lifts his head, suddenly alert.

"Easy," Finn murmurs, reaching out to steady me as the room seems to tilt. His hand finds mine, warm and grounding. "Maybe we should save the spooky history lesson for tomorrow."

"No," I manage. "I need to know. Everything you know about this Alekir, about my shadows, about the necklace—all of it."

"Not everything tonight," Malrik says firmly. "Some knowledge needs... context."

"Then give me context," I challenge. "Because right now, all I know is that my magic attracts dangerous attention, my necklace reacts to weird alignments, and apparently there's some ancient shadow-binding guy who might be relevant to all this."

"Don't forget your grumpy shadow army," Finn adds helpfully. "And their cookie addiction."

As if on cue, Bob swipes another treat. Finnick is buried in a pile of them and Patricia is daintily nibbling on one.

"The point is," Torric cuts in, "you're not facing this alone anymore. Whatever's coming—whether it's Darian, Thorne, or something bigger—we've got your back."

"Whether you want us or not," Aspen adds with a faint smile.

"Very reassuring," I mutter, but I'm fighting a smile too.

"Oh please, you love us," Finn declares. "Even Bob agrees. Look at him nodding."

"Bob is eating another cookie."

"Multitasking!"

I laugh, and some of the heaviness lifts.

"We'll figure it out," Malrik says quietly. When I look at him, his expression is intent. "All of it. Just... trust us?"

The question hangs in the air, weighted with more than just tonight's revelations.

"I do," I realize, surprising myself with how true it is. "I trust you. All of you. Even if you're terrible at sharing important information."

"In our defense," Finn says, "we were going to tell you everything tonight. You know, after the ball. Preferably over snacks and with less magical drama."

"Since when do our plans ever work out that smoothly?" Aspen asks dryly.

"Fair point. New plan: expect chaos, bring snacks."

"That's your plan for everything," Malrik points out.

"And has it ever failed?"

"Constantly."

"But entertainingly!"

As they bicker, I lean back against my cushions, letting their familiar voices wash over me. My shadows have settled into comfortable patterns: one draped across Finn's shoulders, another curled near Malrik's feet, the rest scattered among the twins like lazy cats.

Mouse, still in Finn's lap, catches my eye and lets out a quiet chirp that somehow manages to sound smug. It’s a sound that seems to say, “See? Trust isn’t so hard.” For a moment, I let myself wonder if Mouse understands more than he lets on—a tiny, furry reminder that letting others in might not be the worst thing.

"Yeah, yeah," I whisper. "You were right."

The necklace glows warmly, like a gentle laugh, as if it’s offering comfort in its own mysterious way. It feels almost alive, a steady presence grounding me in the midst of all the chaos. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if it’s telling me I’m not alone. And for the first time in a long time, I believe it. I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I don’t need anyone, that it’s safer to keep people at arm’s length. But tonight, with all their ridiculousness and chaos, they didn’t leave. They stayed, even when I pushed them away. Maybe... maybe they’re not like the others.

Even if my allies are ridiculous, shadow-seeing, snack-stealing idiots.

My idiots.