Chapter 8
Islink my way up the stairs, weaving over piles of vomit from the dwindling pub crowd, who are blissfully obliterated. I creak open the door that leads to the hallway of rooms, finding it darker than I remember.
All the candles that previously lit the hall have been snuffed out. My hackles rise on the back of my neck. Attention narrowing on twirling shadows at the end of the hall, revealing two pure white eyes fixed on me.
I quickly reach for my poison dagger, still sheathed along my ribs, and shift my stance with a slight bend in my legs, poised to strike.
“Woah. Woah. Woah. Settle down there, savage.” A smoky voice breaks through the darkness as the candles ignite once more. Shadows melt away, revealing a tall figure, arms crossed, with one leg kicked up, bracing his weight.
It’s him.
He’s much taller now that I’m not above him.
I guesstimate about 6’4” of sculpted muscle resting up against the wall, with a not-so-subtle confidence to him.
He has that stupid half-smirk on his gorgeously carved face, framed by soft black waves dancing in the candlelight.
His icy eyes are transfixed on mine, the hairs along my neck instinctively prickling under the intensity.
Being only a few feet in front of me, I can see his arctic blue eyes, splattered by flecks of crimson, swirling with smoke-like shadows.
I look away, afraid I might fall into them and never escape.
My gaze drifts over his muscles, barely contained in his black leather outfit, which is newly adorned with thick leather stitches, fixing the rip on his side from his battle earlier today.
“What are you doing here? I could have killed you,” I hiss.
“I highly doubt that.” He arches a brow, to which I raise my chin, beckoning him to test his theory of who would win.
He lifts his hand, gazing over his tattooed knuckles as he continues, “Yet it does appear you’re working hard to be on someone’s death list. I saw you walk out of here in a heated hurry with the Chancellor’s daughter after embarrassing Commander Bragen’s son.
A ballsy move, especially considering the rumors they are a Bloodline pairing. ”
His voice is smoky and smooth, like fine Smokewhisper libation. He lowers his knuckles, rubbing at his heart like it’s hurting for some reason.
An exasperated, “Fuck me,” leaves my lips as I rub the bridge of my nose, comprehending how much trouble I’ve managed to get myself into in a single evening. So much for treading lightly.
“That’s a little forward, but I wouldn’t say I am totally opposed to the idea.” A devilish twist curls at his lips.
“Ugh. I wasn’t talking to you,” I growl. Fucking males.
“I don’t see anyone else in the hallway.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
“Celestials, you know what I mean,” I snap, debating if I should slit his throat and be done with this ridiculous conversation.
“Oh, do I?” he purrs with a feline grin curling up on his full lips.
“Shut up, before I smack that stupid grin off your face.” My blood boils in aggravation. Yep, slitting his throat is looking more appealing by the moment.
“Fun. I like it rough.” His eyes darken as the shadows pulse within them, cracking something deep within my darkness. I refuse to explore it, instead slinging verbal daggers his way.
“Trust me, whatever your name is, you couldn’t handle me. Even in your wildest dreams.”
“S?las Zyon. I’m a fast learner, if you’re offering to teach,” he muses with a fucking wink.
The blood boiling in my veins shifts into a different heat as my breath catches on the glimpse of our bodies colliding in my mind.
Fucking lovely. Now, my mind is joining my traitorous body.
No one has ever affected me like this, mincing my mind into a useless slurry.
Just one more reason to be all the more wary.
I shake my head, flinging the delusions from it.
“I’m not on the class schedule for today,” I sneer, but my body has an agenda all its own. I screech internally as I watch myself unwillingly stepping closer to him. What the actual fuck is going on with me? Sweat beads my brow as I regain control, halting myself before I take another step.
“What are you even doing here?” I snip, hoping my advance appears threatening, rather than revealing my clearly unsatiated hormones. Yes, that has to be it, although they’ve never been this difficult to control.
“Waiting for you, of course,” he purrs. My gaze snaps to his, wishing my eyes could burn him to ash on the spot.
The thick air between us freezes. I don’t like the idea of anyone waiting for me in the shadows, no matter how fucking jaw-droppingly handsome they are.
“Choose your next words carefully, or you won’t be surviving to the next trial,” I purr right back, lethality dripping from every word.
“Bloodthirsty, are we? Don’t worry. I would have kept the element of surprise in the shadows if I planned on picking a fight with you.
I just wanted to meet the mysterious female who no one has ever heard of.
Savaé Entropaé. Who, I might add, took down a Celestial-damned Ritherin today.
Let’s just say curiosity got the best of me.
Plus, I didn’t mind how you looked at me in the pit today. ”
I debate kicking myself for ignorantly hoping he was looking at the pretty blonde behind me. Things would be so much easier if he had been. Things would make sense, instead of this snowballing mess bludgeoning in my chest.
I chew on my bottom lip; the way he says my name in that smoky voice echoes in my head.
He pronounces it properly, holding the ‘ay’ of Sa-vay, which is how my name is said in old tongue.
Most people just pronounced my name Savae, Sa-veh.
My reckless heart skips a beat at the taste of my name on his tongue.
A primal urge courses through me, craving something more, like an invisible tether pulling us together.
I take another step closer, as if to fight the challenge in his eyes… those mesmerizing shadows swirling within, pulling at something deep inside me, grasping hold of my body once more, willing another step closer to him.
I should gut him for the control he wields over me, or at the very least turn and run.
Those would be the logical things to do.
Instead, my breath quickens, sinking further into the quicksand I’ve found myself in.
My lips part as if I can’t get enough air, a response that could kill me as I drown in the invisible ocean he pulls me under.
There’s the softest of velvet whispering a caress along my cheek, whispering a promise that rattles the walls of my glacial heart palace. The danger finally snaps my mind from its trance as I realize it was a smoky tendril of one of his shadows.
I move like lightning, my dagger poised at his throat.
He’s a Shadowmancer. An extremely rare power.
One that hasn’t been seen in the last fifty years, though there had been one in the last generation of Wuvon.
He had died in the battle of Sternma—Sully killed him and his Crowven before their horde descended on him, when Xeno sacrificed himself so Sully could live.
I recall the icy fear in Sully’s voice as he recounted the eerie description of the Shadowmancer consuming all light around him, nothing reflecting off. The only way he was able to see him was the faint hue of garnet that outlined his body—and the crimson-drenched night sky of his eyes.
This must be why Sully warned me to stay away from him and his bloodline. I should fear S?las, but why is my body unsettlingly at ease so close to him?
The shadows in his eyes whip violently now, becoming darker. His emotions are harder to read than most. Typical for a Shadowmancer, exceptionally good at hiding things, including their own mind.
His skin radiates heat, despite his cool demeanor. I’m now only inches from him, allowing me to glimpse the shadows swirling beneath his skin: a moving tattoo, tracing from his steady pulse below my dagger, down to his knuckles. A subtle aroma of amber and spruce trickles into my lungs.
An electricity builds in the air between us, like right before lightning strikes. I don’t understand how I can be so close, yet long to be closer.
He is absolutely trouble.
“Shadowmancer,” I hiss.
He swallows. His shadows swell, darkening the space around us, like when I first entered the hallway. His eyes turn ice white, no pupils or irises, reminding me of moonlight peeking through stormy night skies.
Chilling.
Spellbinding.
His power envelopes me, all at once, coating all of me in a sea of velvet.
I steady myself in the odd comfort of his darkness.
I suppose it makes sense; I’ve always felt safe in the shadows.
A part of me knows I need to break free of the darkness consuming my body, but I savor the serenity, craving to hold on to this foreign energy between us just a little longer.
Although I should be dissecting it with my dagger, finding a way to slice myself free of it.
Power like I’ve never felt before crackles beneath my skin, reaching for him, splitting my ribs to escape. In total darkness, I notice a light coming off my body—before I can investigate, I’m jolted by his words.
“Has anyone ever told you, you have the most breathtaking eyes?”
What the fuck did he just say to me? My eyes mark me as cursed, warning of the darkness within, something he’s failing miserably at heeding. Fucking shadow prick.
I shove my body off his, sheathing my dagger. I need to get away from him and his strange fucking antics. The lights return to the room once again as the shadows retreat back into his chest.
“I need to go to sleep.” I turn towards the door of my room before I scoff under my breath, “Hope I was worth the wait.”
“You most certainly were.”
There’s a chill in the air. I look back over my shoulder, and he’s already gone.
I close the door behind me. Open the door to Sully’s room, pull the blanket up around him before closing the window I’d left ajar earlier.
In my room, I lie in bed, replaying the day in my head. The fiery pleasure with Winx that was apparently not so secret, according to S?las. The Chancellor’s words hit me, reminding me he’s already planning his next challenge.
I appreciate the heads-up from Winx. It gives me time to prepare.
But seducing the Chancellor’s manic daughter and pissing off a Commander’s son will likely make getting into Universitás even more difficult.
I have a feeling it won’t get any easier after I arrive if my debut with my future classmates is any indicator.
I’m at a loss to describe what happened between me and S?las in the hallway.
I roll the syllables on my tongue, soul-luss.
His name means darkness in the old tongue—a forgotten language from before the Eclipse War.
I wince at how I lost control near him tonight.
I never lose control like that. Okay, maybe I do, when my temper boils over, or I let my darkness out to play.
This was different, though. There was a tingling energy twirling inside, drawing me closer; an inescapable gravity, longing to explore every inch of his shadows. Then there’s the matter of figuring out where that glow came from when I was with him, cloaked in his shadows.
In all my life spent in the familiarity of shadows, they have always hidden me, kept me safe, the companion to the darkness of my soul.
I have never experienced a light like that from within.
Was it something about him that made me glow?
Or was it something about my body in his shadows, almost resisting his darkness with my own light?
Although I wouldn’t say that I found myself resisting anything about his darkness.
Savoring it is, unfortunately, more accurate.
And that’s precisely the problem: the way his presence commanded my traitorous body. I need to steer clear from his chaos.
I’m likely overthinking the strange light thing. The glow is, most logically, from his moonlit eyes when they went all eerily white. That has to be it. Or maybe it’s my Celestial Gift finally manifesting… No, it wasn’t anything like casting elemental magic.
This whole losing control gnaws at my brain, making it a stringy mess.
Why had it been so much harder with him?
What makes him so different? Unlike with Winx, when I’d been in total control and only giving in when I wanted to.
Something about him riles me up in all the wrong ways, distracting me—more than the endless ocean of shadows in his eyes that seek to drown me.
Sully’s wretched cough fillets me from my thoughts, flooding me with the image of blood-speckled snow, frost spreading across me, casting a chill deep into my marrow.
Maybe in the next city, we can find a Mycelium Nymph.
They’re a mushroom-Faeanoid species, having two arms and legs with various species of mushrooms growing from their skin, their hair, a mix of lichen and fungi.
Mycelium Nymphs are naturally strong healers, especially Helios, who can wield the mycelium network to mend just about anything organic.
Sadly, few Helios exist. Even fewer reside in the cold Highlands.
Hopeful thoughts of finding a Helios wisp through my mind as weariness weighs on my eyelids. A tidal wave of exhaustion consumes me as all of the tiredness of the day hits me at once, and I am out like a faerie light.