Chapter 12
The next morning, I woke to find Brooke sitting on her bed, staring at me with an expression somewhere between concern and exasperation.
"You talked in your sleep again," she said before I could even sit up. "But this time it was different. You kept saying 'I'm still here' and 'you matter.' Want to explain that?"
I rubbed my eyes, my head still foggy. "The shadows came. Last night. Even after everything Kairen said."
"So his control is still breaking."
"Completely." I swung my legs out of bed, testing my strength. My chest felt clearer than it had in days—the shadow's brief visit had helped, even if it hadn't lasted long. "He's trying to suppress them, but they keep defying him."
"Good." Brooke's voice was fierce. "Let them. Maybe his magic is smarter than he is."
"Or maybe it's just making everything worse." I pulled on my uniform, my fingers clumsy with exhaustion. "I don't know what to do, Brooke. He doesn't want this. Doesn't want me. But his shadows—"
"Screw what he wants." She stood, planting her hands on her hips. "He's being a coward. And you're being too understanding about it."
"What am I supposed to do? Force him to acknowledge something he's clearly terrified of?"
"Maybe." She grabbed her bag. "Or maybe you stop waiting for him to make a decision and start living your own life. Focus on training, on the Maze, on figuring out what you're meant to bond with. Let him figure his shit out on his own time."
She was right. I knew she was right.
But knowing and doing were two different things.
The week that followed was brutal in ways that had nothing to do with Kairen.
Master Wren had apparently decided that we were "getting soft" and increased the training intensity to levels that had students collapsing regularly. Two more first-years withdrew, bringing the total to fifteen who'd quit in just two weeks.
"Ninety-seven percent of you won't survive to graduation," Master Wren announced cheerfully as we dragged ourselves through another impossible conditioning routine. "Might as well find out now which of you are in that majority."
I survived through spite alone. Every time my body screamed to stop, every time my lungs seized and my vision swam, I thought about Kairen's words: Too weak for anything else to choose you.
And I kept going.
Professor Kaelith's Mental Defense classes became increasingly sadistic. She trapped us in longer illusions, more complex scenarios, situations designed to break us psychologically rather than just scare us.
One session, she made us experience the Wilderness trial in fast-forward—seven days of isolation, cold, hunger, and the growing certainty that no creature would choose us. The illusion was so vivid that three students had panic attacks severe enough to require the infirmary.
I broke through it in under an hour.
"Impressive, Miss Vale," Professor Kaelith said, her pale eyes assessing. "You have an unusually strong sense of self. Most students your age are still defining their identity. You seem to already know exactly who you are."
"I've had a lot of time to figure it out," I said quietly.
"Indeed." She studied me for a moment longer. "The Maze will try to convince you that who you are isn't enough. Don't let it."
Creature Taxonomy continued to fascinate and terrify in equal measure.
Professor Veyra spent an entire week on phoenix trials specifically—the kinds of tests fire-bonded creatures put candidates through, the ways they measured passion and will.
"Phoenixes will lead you into fire," she explained, gesturing as an illusory phoenix dove into flames above her desk. "Literally. They want to see if you'll follow. If you'll walk through pain and fear because your will is strong enough to overcome survival instinct."
A boy raised his hand. "What if we're not passionate enough? What if a phoenix observes us and decides we're not worth testing?"
"Then it leaves. Simple as that." Professor Veyra's voice was matter-of-fact.
"Phoenixes don't waste time on candidates they know won't bond.
They observe for perhaps a day, test once if they see potential, and move on if you fail.
Griffin trials are longer—they test honor and loyalty through complex scenarios.
Basilisk trials are the longest of all, sometimes lasting the full seven days.
They test patience and endurance through sheer attrition. "
She paused, then added, "Dragon trials, for the record, are completely unpredictable. We only have documentation of one in the past three hundred years, and even that is incomplete. Dragons test what they want to test, when they want to test it, in ways we still don't fully understand."
My eyes flickered to the dragon emblem sketched on the board beside the other creatures. Shadow dragon. The only one that existed.
Bonded to someone who was slowly being consumed by void because he refused to accept help.
I forced my attention back to the lecture.
By the end of the week, something had shifted.
Other students had started looking at me differently. Not with pity or contempt, but with something that might have been respect.
It started small—a first-year I didn't know nodding at me in the corridor. A second-year stepping aside to let me pass without the usual sneering comment about scholarship students. Petra, the anxious girl from breakfast, asking if I'd study Mental Defense techniques with her.
"You're good at breaking illusions," she explained when I looked surprised. "Better than almost anyone. I thought maybe you could show me how you do it?"
We studied together in the library that evening, along with two other first-years who seemed equally desperate for an edge in the upcoming Maze trial.
I showed them the techniques I'd developed—focusing on what I knew was real rather than what I saw, acknowledging the truth in every lie before rejecting it, using physical sensations to anchor myself when reality got slippery.
"That actually helps," one of the boys said, his voice tinged with surprise. "I've been trying to just force my way through illusions, but your way is more... subtle."
"Forcing doesn't work with Mental Defense," I said, remembering Professor Kaelith's teachings. "You have to understand the illusion before you can break it. Has to acknowledge why it's affecting you."
Word spread.
By the time the week ended, I'd become something unexpected: a resource. Students sought me out for Mental Defense advice, asked me questions about Professor Kaelith's techniques, wanted to study together.
I didn't know what to do with it.
"Embrace it," Brooke said when I expressed confusion. "You're good at something. People recognize that. This is what belonging looks like."
"I thought belonging looked like... I don't know. Being strong. Being healthy."
"Belonging looks like being valued for what you contribute. You contribute mental resilience and strategic thinking. That's worth something here." She grinned. "Plus, it's driving Marcus insane that the 'ghost girl' he tried to humiliate is now more respected than him."
She wasn't wrong. I'd noticed Marcus watching me in the dining hall, his expression somewhere between disbelief and fury. The boy who'd beaten me in our combat trial was now watching me help other students prepare for the Maze, and the cognitive dissonance seemed to be breaking his brain.
Small victories.
The shadows continued their nightly visits.
Not every night—Kairen managed to suppress them sometimes, especially after what must have been particularly brutal training sessions where he exhausted himself into temporary control. But more nights than not, they came.
Always hesitant now. Always uncertain.
Like they were afraid I'd finally given up and wouldn't welcome them anymore.
I always did.
Each time they wrapped around my wrist, I sent back the same message: I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere. Tell him I'm not giving up.
I didn't know if Kairen understood what I was trying to communicate through his own magic. Didn't know if the shadows could convey complex thoughts or just vague emotions.
But I kept trying anyway.
And through the connection, I felt him. Still fighting. Still terrified. Still in pain.
But something was changing. Slowly, subtly, like ice beginning to crack.
The pain was becoming less sharp, more resigned. Like he was starting to accept that this battle might be one he couldn't win.
Whether that would lead to surrender or something darker, I didn't know.
Two weeks after my confrontation with Kairen in the North Tower, Professor Veyra asked me to stay after Creature Taxonomy.
I approached her desk warily, wondering if she'd discovered I was still researching light dragons, still holding onto impossible hope.
"Miss Vale." She studied me with those sharp eyes.
"I've been monitoring your progress. Professor Kaelith speaks highly of your Mental Defense abilities.
Master Wren says you're the most stubborn first-year she's encountered in years.
And several students have mentioned you're helping them prepare for the Maze. "
"I'm just... sharing what works for me."
"Don't diminish your contributions." Her voice was firm. "You've become a valued member of your cohort. That's significant."
"Thank you, Professor."
"However." She leaned forward slightly. "I've also noticed that you look progressively more exhausted each week. Your hands shake more than they did when you arrived. And you're coughing more frequently, even when you think no one's watching."
My stomach dropped. "I'm fine—"
"You're not fine. And we both know it." Her expression softened marginally.
"I'm not going to force you to the infirmary.
You're an adult, and your health is your choice.
But I want you to understand something: the Maze trial is in one week.
If you enter it in your current condition, severely sleep-deprived and physically deteriorating, you may not survive it. "
"I'll survive."
"Why are you so certain?"
"Because I have to." The words came out more forcefully than I intended. "Because if I can't even survive a mental trial, what hope do I have in the Wilderness? What hope do I have of bonding with anything?"
Professor Veyra was quiet for a long moment. "The Maze doesn't care about your determination. It cares about your mental stability, your ability to differentiate reality from illusion under extreme stress. Physical weakness can make that harder. Exhaustion clouds judgment."
"I know."
"Do you?" She stood, walking around the desk to face me directly. "Miss Vale, I don't know what's happening between you and Kairen Draxen. But I know something is. The entire faculty knows. And I know that whatever it is, it's affecting your sleep, your health, your focus."
I opened my mouth to deny it, but she held up a hand.
"I'm not asking for details. I'm simply telling you: one week. You have one week to get whatever this is under control before the Maze. Because if you enter that trial compromised, you will fail. And failure means the end of your bonding candidacy."
She returned to her desk, her tone shifting back to professional. "That's all. You're dismissed."
I left the classroom on shaking legs.
One week.
Seven days to somehow resolve a situation that felt impossibly tangled. Seven days to convince my body to cooperate, to get enough sleep despite the shadows' erratic visits, to prepare mentally for a trial that Professor Veyra clearly thought I might not survive.
Seven days.
I made it halfway back to the dormitory before I had to stop, leaning against a wall, fighting the urge to cough.
Professor Veyra was right. I was deteriorating. The combination of brutal training, sleepless nights, and the constant emotional strain of the situation with Kairen was taking a toll my weak body couldn't sustain.
Something had to change.
The question was what.
That night, when the shadows came, I made a decision.
Instead of just accepting their presence, instead of just sending vague reassurance, I tried something different.
I focused on the connection—really focused, the way Professor Kaelith had taught us to focus on reality beneath illusion—and pushed a clear, specific thought through it:
We can't keep doing this. You know that, right? This push and pull, this nightly battle you keep losing, it's destroying him. And it's destroying me too.
The shadow stilled around my wrist.
I meant what I told him. I'm not giving up. But something has to change before the Maze, or we're both going to break.
The shadow pulsed—question, uncertainty.
Tell him I'll be in the North Tower observation room tomorrow night.
After dinner. If he wants to actually talk instead of just fighting and running, I'll be there.
If not... I paused, swallowing hard.
If not, then maybe Professor Veyra is right.
Maybe we need to stop this until after the bonding trial. For both our sakes.
The shadow tightened almost painfully—protest, refusal.
I know you don't want that. But I can't keep going like this. Tell him. Tomorrow night. North Tower. His choice.
The shadow held on for another moment, like it was trying to memorize the feel of my skin, then slowly retreated.
I lay in the dark, my heart pounding, wondering if I'd just made the bravest or stupidest decision of my life.
Probably both.
But at least I'd done something. Taken action instead of just passively accepting whatever Kairen decided.
Now I just had to wait and see if he'd actually show up.
Or if he'd finally found the strength to keep his shadows—and himself—away for good.