59. Kaia
The library is mercifully empty this early, though I suspect Finn's theatrical warnings to other students about "highly contagious shadow plague" on our way here might have something to do with that.
"Was that really necessary?" Malrik asks as we claim a secluded table near the restricted section.
"Absolutely," Finn says cheerfully. "Bob agreed with my tactical decision."
Bob, who's currently arranging other shadows into a perimeter guard, gives what might be a thumbs up.
"Focus," Aspen says, already spreading out several ancient texts. "Malrik, what exactly is Absentia? You’ve been a little vague on the details."
"A realm between realms," Malrik says, his voice dropping lower. "Think of it as a bridge—not just between places, but between life and death itself. But it was never meant to exist that way," Malrik adds, his voice growing heavier. "Absentia was... designed. A construct with a purpose long forgotten by most."
"Was?" I catch his use of past tense.
"Before its corruption." His finger traces the symbol slowly. "Before Alekir began working to shatter its purpose."
"They say his goal was not just power but freedom—freedom for something locked within Absentia itself." Aspen adds, and the room seems to grow colder. Malrik's expression darkens further, his jaw tightening. Even Finn, normally quick with a joke, is uncharacteristically silent, his gaze fixed on the table as if trying to process the weight of what we've just heard. Malrik nods grimly. "A sorcerer who tried to claim dominion over death itself. The stories say he nearly succeeded, but the Valkyries stopped him."
My heart skips. "The Valkyries?"
“Ancient warriors who maintained the balance between realms." His silver eyes meet mine. "They were wiped out many generations ago."
"By this sorcerer?"
"By Alekir," Malrik says quietly. "The Soulbinder."
A chill runs through me every time I hear the name. My shadows press closer, and Mouse's fur stands on end.
"Okay, creepy history lesson aside," Finn interrupts, "what does this have to do with Thorne?"
"Here." Aspen turns one of the books around. "Look at this illustration."
We crowd around the page. It shows the same symbol, but with annotations in a spidery script.
"Can anyone read that?" I ask.
"It's Ancient Shadowtongue," Malrik says. "It describes the ritual Alekir used to try to bind souls to his will. He needed three things: a corrupted shadow realm, a powerful artifact, and—" He breaks off, staring at the page.
"And what?"
"A Valkyrie's heart."
The silence that follows feels like ice in my lungs. My hand goes instinctively to the amethyst necklace I always wear—the one I've had since before I can remember.
Patricia suddenly starts frantically pointing at something on the next page. It's another illustration, this one showing a familiar-looking pendant.
"The Heart of Eternity," Malrik breathes, his voice laced with reverence and unease. His silver eyes darken, lingering on the pendant as if drawn to it by some unseen force. "The Valkyries' most powerful artifact. It was lost when they fell," he continues, his fingers brushing the edge of the illustration with a mix of awe and trepidation.
"Lost," Torric says slowly, "or hidden?"
Everyone looks at my necklace.
"No," I say, backing away. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and my fingers curl into fists as if I can physically hold onto the denial. "No, that's not—it can't be—" My voice cracks under the weight of the truth threatening to swallow me whole, my shadows shifting erratically around me like they share my panic.
Malrik’s expression tightens, and I see the conflict etched into every line of his face. He’s hesitating—something I’m not used to seeing from him.
"Malrik," Aspen says softly, breaking the silence. "You need to tell her. She deserves to know."
My breath hitches, Aspen's words pulling at the loose threads in my mind. "Tell me what?"
Malrik exhales slowly, his silver eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. "I’ve suspected for a while," he admits. "Your necklace... it’s more than a trinket. I didn’t know for sure until now, but..." He gestures toward the illustration in the book. "It matches. Perfectly."
"You suspected?" My voice is a mix of disbelief and hurt. "And you didn’t think to tell me?"
"I wasn’t sure," Malrik says, his tone steady but edged with regret. "And I didn’t want to add to your burdens without proof. You’ve had enough to deal with, Kaia. But seeing this... it confirms what I hoped wasn’t true."
My stomach churns as I try to reconcile his words. He’d suspected all along? And kept it from me? Part of me wants to lash out, to demand why he thought it wasn’t my right to know. But another part—the part that knows he’s right—makes the words stick in my throat. I could hold onto the hurt, let it fester—but what good would that do? There was too much at stake, and we didn’t have the luxury of indulging in my pride. Not now.
The weight of everything is too much, threatening to crack the fragile equilibrium I’ve found. Then Finn’s voice cut through the silence, unexpectedly gentle.
"Kaia." His tone carried no humor, just quiet sincerity. "Your shadows. They've always been different. Special."
"And Thorne's been obsessed with training you specifically," Aspen adds.
"But that would mean..." I can't finish the thought.
"It would mean," Malrik says grimly, "that Thorne isn't just training you. He's preparing you for something."
A sound from deeper in the stacks makes us freeze. Bob and Finnick move in perfect sync toward the noise, while Patricia's notes dissolve into defensive shadows.
"We need somewhere secure," Malrik says, already gathering the most crucial texts. "Somewhere warded."
"Your room?" Finn suggests, then adds quickly at our looks: "What? Everyone knows he's paranoid about security. Probably has more protective spells than the treasury."
"He's not wrong," Malrik admits reluctantly. "And I have resources we can't access here."
"Fine," I sigh. "Let's move before we attract more attention."
As we hurry from the library, I notice my shadows are unusually coordinated, moving with purpose rather than their usual chaos. Even Finnick seems to understand the gravity of the situation.
"Hey." Finn bumps my shoulder gently. "Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Together."
"Besides," Torric adds with a grim smile, "if anyone tries to take your heart, they'll have to go through us first."
"Technically," Malrik drawls, "they'd have to go through Bob first. And he takes his job very seriously."
Bob straightens proudly while Patricia nods in emphatic agreement.
“Yes!” Finn whispers not so quietly, pumping a fist in the air. “Bob’s MVP material. I’ve been saying it for weeks,” Finn adds, winking at the shadow, who nods solemnly.
I want to believe it’s that simple. But deep down, I know this is something far darker than I want to imagine.