53. Kaia
The dining hall is packed when we arrive, the air thick with magic and chatter. Seren leads me to our usual table, but before we can sit, Alenya's voice cuts through the noise.
"Well, if it isn't the shadow witch and her pet chaos mage." She stands with Rynessa at her side, both of them radiating disdain. "Quite the show in training today. Though I noticed you needed quite a bit of... hands-on instruction."
Heat creeps up my neck, but before I can respond, a warm presence appears behind me.
"Jealous, Alenya?" Torric's voice rumbles, deep and dangerous. "I don't see anyone lining up to help with your form."
Alenya's perfect features twist into a scowl. "As if I'd want—"
"Is there a problem here?" Aspen appears at my other side, his tone deceptively mild. But I feel the subtle shift in temperature as his water magic responds to his mood.
"No problem," Rynessa says quickly, tugging at Alenya's arm. "We were just leaving."
As they retreat, Finn materializes with a dramatic sigh. "Aw, and here I was hoping to show them my new trick. Finnick’s been practicing his interpretive dance."
Finnick swirls dramatically at our feet.
"Would you stop encouraging them?" I groan, but I'm fighting a smile.
"Never," Finn declares, dropping into the seat beside me. "They're artists, Kaia. Artists!"
Torric and Aspen take seats across from us, and I try not to think about how natural this feels—being surrounded by them, their presence both comforting and confusing.
Aspen leans forward slightly, his blue eyes thoughtful as they meet mine. "You seemed more confident today," he says. "Your magic—it's different now, isn’t it?"
Torric nods, biting into a roll. "Yeah, like it’s more in sync with you. Less... reactive and more deliberate."
I blink, startled by their observations. I know they can’t see my shadows the way Finn or Malrik can, but they’ve noticed the shift in how I wield them. It’s subtle, but it means something—that even without seeing the shadows, they can sense the changes in me.
"Maybe I’m just getting better at it," I say, trying to downplay the significance.
"Or maybe," Torric smirks, "you’ve been holding back until now."
Aspen glances at me, a flicker of curiosity in his expression. "Whatever the reason, it’s clear you’re finding your footing." He smiles faintly. "It’s good to see."
The warmth in his tone catches me off guard. Before I can respond, Torric leans forward, the mischievous glint in his golden eyes impossible to ignore.
"Though if it’s Finn inspiring this new confidence, I don’t think I want to know how."
His gaze darts meaningfully to Finn, who waggles his eyebrows in response. I groan, covering my face with one hand.
"Please stop," I mutter. "This is not a group therapy session."
"What can I say?" Finn interjects, grinning. "Bob and I have been bonding."
"Bob is not—" a smooth voice cuts in, making us all turn. Malrik stands at the end of our table, looking somehow both annoyed and amused. "Never mind. I'm not encouraging this madness."
But he sits down anyway, deliberately not looking at Finn, though I notice his shadows reach out to brush against Finn's sleeve when he thinks no one's watching.
Mouse, curled under the table, lets out a huff that sounds suspiciously like laughter.
"Traitor," I mutter to him, but he just blinks innocently up at me.
The conversation flows easily after that, but I’m acutely aware of every interaction—the way Torric’s knee presses against mine under the table, how Aspen’s hand brushes mine when he passes the salt, Finn’s constant commentary that makes even Malrik’s lips twitch with suppressed smiles.
"You know," Seren whispers in my ear, "for someone who claims not to have a fan club, you're doing a pretty good impression of holding court right now."
I elbow her sharply, but I can't deny the warm feeling in my chest as I look around at these impossible, infuriating, wonderful people who have somehow become mine.
Even if I'm not quite ready to examine exactly what that means.
The peaceful moment shatters when Darian sweeps into the dining hall, his presence sending an immediate chill through me. Mouse tenses under the table, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"Kaia." He stops beside our table, that perfect smile in place. "Professor Thorne would like to see you. About your... performance today."
My stomach drops. Across the table, Torric half-rises, but Aspen's hand on his arm stops him.
"I'll walk with you," Malrik says suddenly, his silver eyes fixed on Darian. "I need to discuss something with Thorne anyway."
"That won't be necessary," Darian says smoothly. "The Professor was quite specific—"
"Wasn't asking permission," Malrik cuts in, his tone leaving no room for argument. For a moment, something dark flashes across Darian's perfect features.
Finn stands too, his usual playful demeanor gone. "Actually, I think we could all use a walk. Work off lunch and all that."
"Guys, I can handle—" I start, but Seren kicks me under the table.
"Let them come," she mutters. "There's strength in numbers Kaia."
As we leave the dining hall, I find myself surrounded—Malrik and Finn on either side, Torric and Aspen following close behind. My shadows seem to draw strength from their presence, swirling more confidently around us all, as if feeding on the unspoken bond we share. Each tendril moves with purpose, reflecting the steady reassurance their company brings, wrapping me in a tangible sense of unity and resolve.
At my feet, Mouse pads silently, his violet eyes fixed on Darian's back. Even Finnick, usually the most dramatic of my shadows, moves with purpose, his tendrils gliding with an almost solemn precision. He darts ahead briefly, scanning the path as if ensuring our safety, then loops back, his movements steady and deliberate, a stark contrast to his usual flair for theatrics.
"Your shadows are awfully coordinated today," Darian observes, glancing back. "Almost as if they're responding to something. Or someone."
I feel Finn and Malrik exchange a look over my head, some silent communication passing between them.
"Maybe they just don't like your cologne," Finn quips, but there's an edge to his voice I've never heard before.
We reach Thorne's office too quickly. Before Darian can protest, Malrik steps forward.
"We'll wait," he says simply. It's not a request.
Darian's smile tightens. "Suit yourself."
Inside, Thorne's office is dark and cold, the air thick with the faint metallic tang of old magic. Shadows cling to the corners like living things, their shapes shifting just enough to make my heart race. The faint creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet and the oppressive silence amplify the unease that crawls up my spine. He looks up from his desk, eyes gleaming.
"Miss Draven," he says smoothly. "Let's discuss your control issues, shall we?"
My shadows coil closer, responding to the threat I can't quite name. Outside, I know they're waiting—my impossible, unexpected protectors. The thought gives me strength. The oppressive weight of his gaze bears down on me, daring me to falter. But I’m done playing the game by his rules. Done being the frightened girl who gets pushed around.
Fuck this.
"Actually, Professor," I say, straightening my spine, "I'd love to discuss your teaching methods first."
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, but I stand my ground. I'm done being afraid of my own power.
Let him try his worst. The fear that once gripped me is gone, replaced by a steady resolve. I'm not alone anymore, and the strength of my shadows mirrors the confidence building inside me. For the first time, I feel ready to face whatever comes.