THIRTY-THREE
SHADOWED HAND
The wily and clever corvid is hard to capture.
It requires complicated traps, specific bait, and carefully placed decoys.
It watches from afar, learns from failure, and grows suspicious of anything too obvious.
A hunter who relies on force or haste will never catch it; success comes only through patience, preparation, and an understanding of the bird’s nature.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Valen exhales. “Not just any traitor. Someone with enough influence to have access to the inner workings of our defenses.”
It’s Garrick who says what we are all thinking. “The Shadowed Hand is here.”
The words settle over the chamber like an omen.
My stomach tightens at the name. Thane mentioned them after the attack at the ball. My thoughts turn, sorting through what little I know. The pieces aren’t complete, but they are there.
Around the table, the council falls silent, each person considering the implications. I straighten, squaring my shoulders.
“I’ve only heard a little of them,” I say, my voice steady even as my pulse quickens. My gaze moves from Sienna to Edric, meeting each of theirs without hesitation. “How do we know who they are? How do they operate? What do we actually know?”
The questions hang in the air. Edric is the one who answers.
“They began as Selene’s spies during the Shadow Wars. When she retreated into the Shadow Realm, they remained behind.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach.
Sienna picks up where he left off.
“They operate in the shadows, hiding in plain sight. There is no formal hierarchy. No public leaders. No banners.” Her voice remains calm, the way still water remains calm before revealing its depth. “Most people will go their entire lives without realizing they’ve encountered one.”
“They are everywhere,” Master Orlon says. “Merchants. Advisors. Courtiers. Messengers. Scholars. Anyone could be one.”
I frown. “How long have they existed?”
Edric folds his arms. “The oldest records describe a network devoted to preserving Selene’s influence after the Shadow Wars. While the rest of the realm buried her history, they protected it.”
“And while the kingdoms rebuilt,” Orlon adds, “the Shadowed Hand worked to ensure she was never forgotten.”
I frown. “But if Selene has been trapped in the Shadow Realm all this time—”
“She isn’t trapped,” Thane says.
The words cut through the room. Every eye turns toward him. His expression is hard as stone.
“The Shadow Realm became her kingdom. She chose it.”
“So the wards keep her out, not in?” I offer, trying to make sense of it all.
The revelation sits uneasily in my chest.
All this darkness. All these secrets.
They’ve existed for centuries, hidden beneath the surface of the realm while most people went about their lives unaware.
I think of my years on the farm. Life had been simple there.
Predictable. I tended the fields beside my parents.
We planted crops. We prayed for rain. We harvested what the land provided.
Our worries were harsh winters, sick livestock, and whether our neighbors needed help bringing in a harvest before a storm.
I never questioned the world beyond our farm or the village. Never imagined ancient enemies were moving unseen through the realm, shaping events from the shadows while people like us carried on with our lives.
Until I became the Spiritborn.
Thane nods.
“The stronger the power attempting to cross, the stronger the wards resist. A few shadow creatures can slip through fractured sections. Fellborn can force their way across since the wards have been weakening.” His jaw tightens.
“But the Shadeheart carries too much power. Crossing the wards would drain her.”
“Perhaps fatally,” Orlon says.
“So instead,” Sienna continues, “she built her strength elsewhere.”
“In the Shadow Realm,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
I feel Valen’s eyes on me and turn toward him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” I try to keep my voice light, but the accusation lands anyway.
Valen sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. My mentor looks older than he did an hour ago.
“Because, girl, there’s only so much one person can carry at a time.”
I open my mouth, but he lifts a hand.
“You awakened your magics. Lost your anonymity. Learned you’re the Spiritborn.
Bonded a dragon. Became the center of a prophecy over half the realm wants to control since its inception.
” His expression softens. “I was trying to give you time to find your footing before handing you another piece of the world’s darkness. ”
The frustration inside me falters. It doesn’t disappear, but it does soften.
I glance at Rowena. Her eyes meet mine, full of understanding.
A caress slips through the bond, Thane trying to ease the tension coiling inside me. I look at him. His hand remains on my leg.
Still here.
Still beside me.
I take a breath and turn back to the council. “How long?”
Edric gestures toward the map. “For centuries, the Shadowed Hand has been weakening the foundations of the realm. Influencing nobles. Acquiring wealth. Infiltrating governments. Spreading unrest.”
“Preparing the way,” I murmur.
“Exactly.” Thane’s gaze remains fixed on the map. “They don’t need Selene inside the realm.”
His voice is grim.
“They only need the wards to fail.”
The implication crashes into me, and I begin to understand the true scale of what we’re facing. The enemy is so much bigger than I thought.
This isn’t a war years in the making—it’s been centuries in the making.
“How do they find members?” I ask.
A look passes between the councilors.
“That,” Garrick says, “is one of the few things we know with some certainty. We’ve captured Shadowed Hand operatives before. Not many. Fewer still willing to speak. But over the centuries, certain patterns have emerged.”
“What kind of patterns?”
“They rarely recruit the content,” Master Orlon says quietly. “They seek out the overlooked. The resentful. The ambitious. Those who believe the realm has failed them.”
“People who feel powerless,” Sienna adds. “People burdened by debt. Grief. Anger. Jealousy. They offer solutions where others offer patience.”
“Or justice where none exists,” Edric says.
I lower my head into my hands. The weight of everything I’ve learned presses down on me, each revelation stacking atop the last until it feels impossible to draw a full breath. For a fleeting moment, I understand why people choose ignorance. It would be easier.
Thane’s hand leaves my leg and settles against the small of my back. His thumb moves in slow circles, grounding me.
Seeing my distress, he straightens. “Why don’t we take a short break and reconvene in twenty minutes?”
Chairs scrape against the floor. Several councilors murmur their agreement. I immediately lift my head.
“No.” My voice comes out stronger than I expect. “Please. I’m fine.”
A lie. Or at least not the whole truth.
“It’s a lot,” I admit. “But I need to know.”
The room stills.
Thane studies me for a moment before giving a single nod. The concern in his expression doesn’t lessen.
“Justice?” I ask.
His expression hardens.
“Not everyone who joins them begins as a villain, Amara. Some are victims. Some have legitimate grievances. Corrupt officials. Noble abuses. Broken promises.” He pauses. “The Shadowed Hand finds those wounds and convinces people that the only way to heal them is through loyalty.”
“They’re patient,” Orlon says. “A potential recruit may be observed for months. Years, in some cases. Relationships are built. Trust is earned. By the time the offer is made, many believe they’re joining a cause rather than an organization.”
“And what cause is that?” I ask.
Sienna’s expression darkens. “That the realm is broken.”
My heart sinks.
“They believe the clans are weak and should never have united. That the council is corrupt and peace has failed.” She folds her hands atop the table. “Every recruit hears a slightly different version. But the message remains the same.”
Edric lets out a humorless laugh. “They don’t recruit followers, Spiritborn.”
His gaze meets mine.
“They recruit believers.”
“And once someone joins?” I ask.
A shadow crosses Garrick’s face. “The few we have interrogated all described the same thing.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach tighten.
“Loyalty is rewarded.”
“And betrayal?” I ask.
No one answers immediately. Then Thane speaks.
“A slow, gruesome death.”
The words slice like a blade.
“And if that isn’t enough, they come after your family. Parents. Siblings. Children.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Once someone swears loyalty to the Shadowed Hand, there is no leaving. The consequences are made very clear.”
I stare at him.
“So they stay.”
“They stay,” Valen confirms.
“Most captured members of the Shadowed Hand never make it to interrogation,” Garrick says grimly. “They carry poison capsules hidden in their mouths. The moment they believe they’ve been compromised, they bite down.”
A chill runs through me.
“We’ve learned to watch for it,” Garrick continues. “The instant one is captured, we secure their jaw and insert a bite stick to keep them from closing their teeth. Then healers put them to sleep while the capsule is removed.”
“And if they succeed?” I ask quietly.
Garrick’s expression darkens. “They die.”
“Many choose that over risking what happens to the people they love,” Sienna says softly.
I sit back in my chair, trying to reconcile the stories I’d grown up with against everything I’d learned today.
An ancient enemy.
A secret network operating in the shadows.
Centuries of planning.
The Shadowed Hand weren’t just spies or assassins.
They were believers. Fanatics. People willing to die before speaking a single name.
The sheer scale of it feels impossible to comprehend.
Rowena leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Then we know what we’re dealing with.”
Several heads turn toward her.
“The Shadowed Hand is dangerous. They’re patient. They’re ruthless.” Her gaze sweeps across the council. “But we’ve spent the last hour talking about who they are and what they’ve done.”