61. Kaia
I wake to warmth and whispers.
"—can't just tell her," Malrik's voice, unusually soft.
"Why not?" Finn. "Bob agrees with me."
"Bob is not a relationship counselor." My lips twitch despite myself. Of course Finn would drag my shadow into his matchmaking schemes. I can’t decide whether to laugh or roll my eyes.
"Have you met Bob? He's very wise."
I keep my eyes closed, partly to gather my thoughts and partly because I'm suddenly aware of my position. Somehow in my sleep, I've ended up with my head in Finn's lap while my legs stretch across Malrik's. I can feel my shadows draped around all of us like a contented blanket, and Mouse is purring somewhere above my head.
"She needs to focus on surviving," Malrik continues. His hand rests lightly on my ankle, thumb tracing absent patterns that send shivers up my spine. The touch is gentle, almost thoughtless, but it sets every nerve alight. I can't tell if the warmth pooling in my chest is from his touch or the realization that even subconsciously, he can't seem to stop protecting me.
"Pretty sure that's easier with people you trust at your back." Finn's fingers card through my hair. "People who care about you."
"It's not that simple."
"It could be." Finn's voice turns serious. "We could make it simple."
The air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. I should move. Should let them know I'm awake. Instead, I lie perfectly still, my heart thundering.
"Finn..." Malrik's voice carries a warning, but something else too.
"Tell me you haven't thought about it," Finn challenges. "Both of us. All of us." The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. I feel my shadows ripple with tension, their movements mirroring the nervous flutter in my chest. It feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for an answer no one is ready to give.
A sharp intake of breath. "That's not—"
The door bursts open with a bang. I bolt upright, nearly cracking my head against Finn's chin as Torric stumbles in, out of breath and wild-eyed.
"We have a problem," he gasps. "A big one."
"We found something else in the restricted archives," Aspen says, holding up what looks like a student record book, old and covered in dust. "Remember those records Seren found about Thorne? We kept digging."
"What did you find?" Malrik demands, on his feet in an instant.
"Look at this faculty photo," Aspen says, opening to a yellowed page. "It's from twenty years ago."
We crowd around as he reveals the image. My blood runs cold.
There, in the old, fading photo, standing among much younger versions of our professors, is Thorne.
Looking exactly the same as he does now.
"That's impossible," I breathe.
"It gets worse," Torric says grimly. "The name listed isn't Thorne. It's Mikhael Aldrich."
Malrik goes very still. "Are you sure?"
"Look at the signature."
The spidery script matches the annotations in the book about Alekir perfectly.
"I don't understand," I say. "Who is Mikhael Aldrich?"
"Alekir's right hand," Malrik says quietly. "His most loyal follower. He disappeared after Alekir's defeat and was presumed dead."
"That’s why he’s been teaching here," Aspen says, flipping through more pages of the dusty book. "Waiting for the right moment. The right person."
"Kaia," Torric mutters. His hands clench into fists, his usual calm replaced by a simmering anger. "He’s been playing the long game, hasn’t he?"
Malrik nods grimly. "Decades of patience for one shot at fulfilling Alekir’s goal. The trials were always about control, about finding the right Valkyrie to wield the Heart."
"But if Thorne—or Aldrich—is running this show, where does that leave Darian?" Finn asks, his voice sharper than usual. "He’s the one who’s been all over Kaia, playing the charming villain. What’s his angle?"
Malrik’s jaw tightens. "Aldrich doesn’t share power. If Darian thinks he’s an equal in this, he’s a fool. He’s being used, whether he realizes it or not."
"But that doesn’t add up," I say, the weight of my necklace heavy against my chest. "Darian’s not stupid. He must know something’s off."
"Maybe not everything," Aspen says, thoughtful. "If he knew the full plan, he’d already be a liability. Aldrich keeps him in line by letting him think he’s in control. But he’s just a pawn."
"And his shadows," I add, my voice faltering as I recall both the unnatural tension I felt in the courtyard and that binding symbol from Seren's research. "There's something wrong with them. They don't feel… alive. They're rigid, like they're being forced into place. It's like they're more chains than companions—just like that imprisonment ritual we found."
Malrik's jaw tightens. "That would fit. The symbol in those pages Seren found, the binding magic—Aldrich doesn't share power willingly, but he does bind it. If Darian's shadows are controlled like that, it's another leash Aldrich has on him."
"And what happens when he realizes that?" Torric’s voice is low, dangerous. "If Thorne—or Aldrich—has been keeping him in the dark, that’s going to blow up in all our faces."
"Or it could turn him against Thorne," Finn suggests. "If Darian’s not completely on board, we might have an edge."
"That’s a risky gamble," Malrik says, his silver eyes narrowing. "Darian’s not trustworthy. Even if he turns on Aldrich, it doesn’t mean he’ll side with us."
I bite my lip, my mind racing. "Wait," I say, the memory of that day in the courtyard suddenly vivid. "When Finn found me with Darian, something was... off."
All eyes turn to me, and I feel a flush creep up my neck. But this is important. I push on.
"Darian was... different. Softer, almost. He gave me information about the shadow faction, warned me about things to come. And he apologized." I shake my head, still confused by the memory. "It wasn't like him at all."
Finn's brow furrows. "I remember. He looked... conflicted when I showed up."
"Maybe he's not as on board with Thorne—Aldrich—as we thought," I muse, the pieces slowly clicking into place. "What if he's starting to have doubts?"
Malrik's expression is skeptical, but there's a glimmer of consideration in his eyes. "It's possible," he admits reluctantly. "Darian seems ambitious, but I don’t think he's cruel for cruelty's sake. If he's realized the full extent of Aldrich's plans..."
"You’re forgetting he one thousand percent has all the feels for Kaia.” Finn smirks, but he doesn’t actually seem happy about it. “Maybe she’s got him questioning things.”
Trying to change the subject “There is definitely something wrong with his shadows. I don’t know what but they’re not normal, but in a bad way.”
"Right now, we don’t have the time," Aspen interjects. "If Darian’s a wildcard, we need to figure out how to use him—or neutralize him—before Aldrich does."
"Well," Finn says with forced lightness, "guess we know what he's been doing for the last twenty years. Teaching shadow magic to teenagers. Totally normal career change for an evil cultist."
My shadows coil anxiously while Mouse growls low in his throat. Bob attempts to herd everyone away from the door while Patricia frantically updates her notes.
"The trial," I realize. "He's been planning this for decades. Waiting for..."
"For you," Aspen finishes. "For someone with the right power. The right connection to the Heart."
"We have to tell someone," Torric insists.
"Who?" Malrik's laugh is bitter. "The Headmaster, who hired him? The other professors, who've worked with him for years? We have no proof beyond an old photo and a signature."
"Then we run," Finn says. "Get Kaia far from here before the new moon."
"He'd find me," I say, certainty settling cold in my chest. "He's been three steps ahead this whole time. Running would just put everyone else in danger."
"So we what?" Torric demands. "Just let you face him alone?"
"No," Malrik says with quiet steel. "We prepare. We train. And we make sure that when he makes his move, he finds out exactly how dangerous shadow magic can be."
Finn's hand finds mine, squeezing. "Well, when you put it that way, it almost sounds fun."
"This isn't a joke—"
"I know." Finn's eyes are fierce. "But if we're going up against an immortal death cultist, I'm doing it with style."
Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. My shadows seem to rally, straightening their posture as Bob starts organizing what appears to be a tactical briefing.
"We need more information," Aspen says. "About Aldrich, the Heart, and the ritual. If there’s anything we’ve missed, we have to find it now."
"Split up," Malrik orders, his tone sharp with resolve. "Twins, back to the archives. Finn and I will take the shadow wing's restricted section. Kaia—"
"Should stay here," Finn interrupts, glancing at me. "We can’t risk Aldrich getting to her."
"I’ll stay with her," Mouse’s voice echoes in our heads, cutting through the tension.
The room goes dead silent. Even my shadows freeze mid-motion, Bob dropping the tactical map he was creating while Patricia's notes scatter like startled birds. The new, smaller shadows seem to reanimate, quickly getting into a formation "WTF?" spelled out with their bodies.
Slowly, as one, we all turn to stare at Mouse, who sits calmly grooming his paw on Malrik's desk.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. My heart soars and shatters at the same time as his voice echoes in my head. My entire body starts to shake.
"What," Torric says faintly, "the actual hell."
"Did everyone else hear..." Finn waves vaguely at his head. "Or am I finally cracking?"
"If you're cracking, we all are," Aspen says, looking as rattled as I've ever seen him.
Malrik's eyes narrow. "You've been able to speak this entire time?"
Mouse fixes him with a violet stare. "Obviously."
"Obviously," Finn repeats in a slightly hysterical voice. "Right. Obviously the shadow panther talks. Why not? Makes perfect sense. Bob, buddy, you got anything to add? A sonnet maybe? A dramatic monologue?"
Bob shakes his head emphatically while Finnick mimes zipping his lips.
"Mouse?" I manage, finding my voice at last. "How... why now?"
He leaps down from the desk, padding over to wind around my legs. "Because now you need to hear me. "Things are worse than you know, little one." Mouse's voice is grave. "That binding symbol you found? It's just the beginning. There are older, darker things than Mikhael Aldrich, and they're all watching you, Kaia. Waiting."
"Worse than our professor being an immortal death cultist?" Finn asks. "Because that feels pretty peak worse."
"There are older, darker things than Mikhael Aldrich," Mouse says, his voice low and almost reverent, like the weight of the knowledge itself presses on him. "And they're all watching you, Kaia. Waiting." The words seep into the air, heavy and inescapable, leaving a chill that makes my shadows tighten protectively around me.
"Right," Torric says after a long moment. "So the cat talks. And knows things. Great. Fantastic. I'm going to need a drink."
"Drinking is not the answer," Aspen reminds him automatically, still staring at Mouse.
"The cat. Is. TALKING."
"Mouse," Malrik says with forced calm, "what exactly are you?"
Those violet eyes meet his. "A guardian. A guide. A piece of the puzzle you're all trying to solve." He pauses, his gaze turning distant. "I’ve seen this cycle before, in shadows cast long before Kaia’s time. Those who reach too far always forget how far shadows stretch. It’s a lesson Aldrich will learn too late."
The cryptic weight of his words settles heavily over the room, leaving a chill that makes my shadows tighten protectively around me.
Finn opens his mouth, probably to ask more questions, but Mouse cuts him off.
"Time is short. Go. I'll explain more when you return."
"He's right," I say, though my head is spinning. "We need those answers."
"We're coming back," Finn says again, squeezing my hand. His eyes flick to Malrik, something heated in his gaze. "And then we're finishing that conversation too."
My shadows flutter despite the tension while Mouse radiates smug approval.
"Go," I manage. "Before I change my mind about letting you all play hero."
I glance at each of them—Finn, with his easy grin masking an unrelenting loyalty; Malrik, with his constant vigilance and quiet strength; Torric, burning with righteous anger; Aspen, always steady, his mind working ten steps ahead. My shadows weave around me, drawn to their resolve like moths to flame.
I might have dragged them into this, but I won’t let them fall for my mistakes. We’ll come through this together. We have to.