Chapter 5
The nightmares started on the fourth night.
I woke gasping, my hand pressed to my chest where phantom pain still lingered from a dream I couldn't quite remember. Something about drowning. About darkness closing in from all sides. About reaching for light that stayed just out of reach.
The shadows beneath my bed were already moving, stretching toward me like they'd been waiting.
I reached out my hand without hesitation now. The cold silk touch that had terrified me a few days ago had become my only relief-the one thing that made the constant ache in my chest ease enough for me to breathe.
The shadow wrapped around my wrist, and I felt him.
Kairen, somewhere in the Academy. Not sleeping. Never sleeping, I was beginning to suspect. I could feel his presence like winter against my skin-vast, cold, carefully controlled. But tonight there was something else beneath the ice. Something raw and restless.
He felt the shadow touching me. Felt every pulse of it against my skin. And he hated it.
The shadow pulsed again, almost apologetic, before reluctantly retreating as Brooke stirred in her bed.
I pulled my hand back and stared at the ceiling, my heart still racing from the nightmare.
Four days. Four days at Arclight Academy, and I was already unraveling.
Morning came too quickly, announced by Brooke's increasingly creative wake-up methods. Today it was her throwing a pillow at my head with alarming accuracy.
"Up! Master Wren added an extra training session this morning. Something about 'separating the weak from the merely pathetic.'" Brooke was already dressed, her auburn curls pulled back in a messy braid. "Her words, not mine."
I groaned and sat up, every muscle in my body screaming protest. "I hate it here."
"No you don't. You love it here. You're just in denial." She tossed my training clothes at me. "Come on, I promised Caleb we'd meet him at breakfast. He says he has 'vital Academy survival information' to share."
"Why are you spending so much time with Caleb?"
"Because he's funny and knows where all the best training equipment is hidden." She paused, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Also, he's not terrible to look at."
"Brooke-"
"Don't 'Brooke' me. I can appreciate a handsome second-year who makes me laugh. It's not a crime." She threw a boot at me. "Besides, you're one to talk. His brother can't stop staring at you."
"Kairen doesn't stare at me."
"Kairen exclusively stares at you. It's getting weird. Yesterday in the training yard, I counted-he looked over at you seventeen times. Seventeen! While fighting three opponents! He nearly got his head taken off because he was too busy watching you struggle through laps."
"You're exaggerating."
"I'm literally not." She studied me with those sharp green eyes. "Serenya, what's happening between you two?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." But she dropped it, like always. "Get dressed. I'm hungry, and Caleb promised to show me a trick for disarming griffin-bonded opponents."
I dressed slowly, my fingers clumsy with exhaustion. The face that looked back at me from the small mirror was even paler than usual, dark circles carved beneath my eyes, white-blonde hair hanging limp around my shoulders. I looked like a ghost.
What kind of creature would choose someone like this?
The question haunted me as we made our way down to breakfast.
The dining hall was already bustling with students. We found Caleb at a table near the windows, along with Torin and-surprisingly-Terrance. No Kairen, I noticed with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
"Ladies!" Caleb stood, gesturing dramatically. "You grace us with your presence. Please, sit. Torin hoarded extra bacon for you."
"I did not hoard," Torin said mildly. "I simply acquired more than I needed."
"That's literally what hoarding means," Terrance added, his half-smirk in place. "But we appreciate your semantic gymnastics."
Brooke slid into the seat next to Caleb with easy confidence. I took the one next to Torin, grateful to be sitting down.
"No Kairen?" Brooke asked, echoing my thoughts.
"He's training," Caleb said, his usual cheerfulness dimming slightly. "He's been training for three hours already. Ever since dawn."
"That's... excessive," Brooke said.
"That's Kairen." Terrance leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp eyes. "He's been even more intense than usual lately. Wonder why."
The table went quiet. I focused very intently on my plate.
Caleb cleared his throat. "So! Combat training. Brooke, I promised to show you that disarming technique. There's a trick with griffin-bonded fighters-they rely heavily on aerial advantage, so if you can ground them-"
"She knows," Terrance interrupted. "She took down three second-years yesterday by targeting their stance. Girl's a natural."
Brooke flushed slightly. "It was only two. And one of them slipped."
"You made him slip. There's a difference." Caleb's grin returned. "See? I told you she was terrifying. It's extremely attractive."
"Did you just call me terrifying and attractive in the same sentence?"
"I did. I'm very smooth like that."
"You're very something," Brooke muttered, but she was smiling.
I watched them banter, feeling that familiar sensation of being on the outside looking in. Caleb and Brooke had a natural chemistry-all quick wit and easy teasing. Even Terrance and Torin seemed relaxed, trading dry observations that made Brooke laugh.
I was the odd one out. The sick girl. The charity case. The one who didn't belong.
"You're doing it again," Torin said quietly beside me.
"Doing what?"
"Disappearing. Even when you're sitting right here, you make yourself small. Invisible." His voice was kind but firm. "Stop it. You belong here as much as anyone."
"Do I?"
"You passed the entrance exam with the highest theory score in five years. Professor Aldric mentioned it." He pushed his plate toward me. "Eat something. You need strength for what's coming."
"What's coming?"
"This afternoon. The first real combat trial. All first-years, no mercy." He met my eyes. "Master Wren is going to push you until you break or prove you can survive. You need to be ready."
My stomach dropped. "Combat trial? Already?"
"They like to weed out the weak early," Terrance added. "Last year, twelve first-years quit after the first combat trial. Couldn't handle the reality of what they'd signed up for."
"That's encouraging," I said flatly.
"It's honest." Caleb's cheerfulness had completely vanished now. "Look, Serenya, I'm not going to lie to you. Today is going to be hell. But if you can survive it, you prove you belong here. That you're not just book-smart-you're survivor-smart."
"And if I can't survive it?"
"Then you go home." He said it gently, but the words still hit like blows. "No shame in it. Better to realize now than die in the Wilderness."
The table fell silent again. Brooke reached over and squeezed my hand, her grip fierce.
"She'll survive," she said firmly. "We both will."
Caleb's smile returned, softer this time. "I believe you. You're both too stubborn to quit."
The morning classes crawled by in a haze of anxiety. Magical Theory felt pointless when I knew what was coming that afternoon. Professor Aldric droned on about magical conduits and bond resonance, but all I could think about was the combat trial.
I'd never been in a real fight. Never thrown a punch. Never had to defend myself beyond words and staying invisible.
How was I supposed to survive against trained opponents?
By the time lunch ended and we assembled in the main training yard, my hands were shaking.
Master Wren stood on a raised platform, her griffin perched beside her, golden eyes surveying us with predatory interest. Around the yard, a handful of upperclassmen had gathered to watch-some looking bored, others actively betting on which first-years would break first.
I spotted Caleb in the small crowd, his usual grin absent. Beside him, Torin watched with that patient expression. Terrance was taking bets, because of course he was.
"First-years!" Master Wren's voice cracked across the yard like a whip. "Today you learn what it means to fight for your life. This is not practice. This is not a game. This is survival."
She gestured, and magical barriers sprang up around the yard-containment wards to keep the fighting from spilling into the crowd.
"You will be divided into pairs. You will fight until one of you yields or is physically unable to continue. There are no rules except these: no killing blows, no maiming, and if someone yields, you stop immediately or face expulsion."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
"You have no bonds. No real magic. You will fight with your bodies, your wits, and your will to survive. This is what the Wilderness will demand of you. This is what a creature will judge you on." Her eyes swept across us. "Some of you will fail today. Accept it now, or suffer later."
She began calling out pairs. Brooke was matched with a tall boy who looked like he could break her in half. She grinned anyway, all teeth and confidence.
"Serenya Vale."
I stepped forward on shaking legs.
"Marcus Veyre."
The world tilted.
Marcus stepped out of the crowd, that cruel smile already spreading across his face. His phoenix emblem seemed to pulse with heat. Around us, the upperclassmen murmured-some excited, others disapproving.
"Master Wren," someone called out. "That's not a fair match."
"Life isn't fair," Master Wren replied coldly. "The Wilderness won't care if you're strong or weak. It will only care if you survive."
Marcus and I faced each other across the training ring. He was at least six inches taller, broader, stronger. Everything I wasn't.
"This won't take long," Marcus said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Try to make it entertaining, ghost girl."
Master Wren raised her hand. "Begin."
Marcus moved fast-faster than I expected. His fist came at my face, and I barely twisted away in time. The second blow caught me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs.
I stumbled back, wheezing, tasting blood.
The crowd was making noise. Cheering, jeering. I couldn't tell the difference anymore.
Marcus came at me again, and this time I couldn't dodge. His fist connected with my shoulder, spinning me around. I hit the ground hard, gravel biting into my palms.
"Get up," Marcus taunted. "Come on, charity case. Show us what you've got."
I tried to stand. My legs wouldn't cooperate. Pain radiated through my chest, sharp and familiar-my lungs seizing, my body betraying me like always.
Not now. Please, not now.
Marcus's boot caught me in the side, not hard enough to break anything but enough to send me sprawling again.
"Pathetic," he said. "You don't belong here. You never did."
He was right. I knew he was right. What was I doing here? I couldn't fight. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't-
But I'd survived eighteen years of being sick. Eighteen years of being told I wouldn't make it. Eighteen years of my body trying to kill me, and I'd refused to let it.
I'd walked away from the only home I'd known, climbed a mountain just to get here, passed an exam that ninety-five percent of candidates failed.
I hadn't come this far to quit now.
I pushed myself to my knees, then my feet. Blood dripped from my split lip. My ribs screamed with every breath.
But I stood.
Marcus's smirk faltered. "Stay down, ghost girl. It's embarrassing to watch."
"No."
The word came out stronger than I expected. I wiped blood from my lip and faced him.
I couldn't beat him. We both knew that. But I could refuse to quit.
"Come on then," I said. "Is that all you've got?"
Something flickered in Marcus's eyes-surprise, maybe. Or annoyance that I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an easy victory.
He came at me again, and I didn't try to dodge. Instead, I did something I'd learned from years of being sick, years of being overlooked, years of being invisible.
I waited. Watched. And when he threw his punch-telegraphed, overconfident-I moved.
Not away. Toward him. Inside his guard where his longer reach meant nothing.
I drove my elbow up into his solar plexus with everything I had.
It wasn't much. But it was enough.
Marcus stumbled back, wheezing, looking genuinely shocked.
The crowd roared.
I didn't wait. Didn't think. Just moved forward on instinct and shoved him as hard as I could while he was off-balance.
He went down.
For about three seconds, I'd won.
Then Marcus's face twisted with rage, and he swept my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. He was on top of me instantly, his fist raised.
The blow never came.
"Enough," Master Wren's voice cut through the noise. "Veyre, stand down."
Marcus froze, his fist still cocked back. "But I didn't-"
"You won. She's down. The match is over." Master Wren's eyes were unreadable. "Unless you want to be expelled for excessive force?"
Marcus climbed off me, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He'd won, but barely. And we both knew it.
I lay on the ground, gasping, tasting blood and victory in equal measure.
"Vale," Master Wren said. "Can you stand?"
I could. Barely. But I did it.
Master Wren studied me for a long moment. "You lost."
"Yes, ma'am."
"But you didn't quit." Something that might have been approval flickered across her face. "Dismissed. Get yourself to the infirmary."
I stumbled toward the edge of the training yard, my vision swimming. Brooke materialized beside me, her face fierce with pride and worry.
"That was the stupidest, bravest thing I've ever seen," she said, wrapping my arm around her shoulders to support me. "You're an idiot."
"I know."
"You're also my hero."
"I lost."
"You survived. Against Marcus fucking Veyre. That's a win." She guided me toward the infirmary, her grip steady. "Half the crowd thought he was going to kill you."
"He wanted to."
"I know. But you didn't let him break you." Her voice was thick with emotion. "You crazy, stubborn, brilliant idiot."
Behind us, I could hear Marcus arguing with Master Wren, his voice carrying across the yard. He'd wanted to humiliate me completely, and I'd denied him that satisfaction.
It hurt. Gods, everything hurt.
But I was still standing.
Still here.
Still refusing to quit.
The infirmary was a bright, clean room that smelled of herbs and healing magic. A stern-faced healer named Meredith examined my injuries with brisk efficiency-cracked rib, split lip, extensive bruising, exhaustion.
"You're lucky," she said, her hands glowing with soft green light as she worked. "Another few minutes and you'd have permanent damage."
"Lucky," I repeated flatly.
"You picked a fight with Marcus Veyre on your fourth day.
I'd say survival counts as luck." She pressed her palm to my ribs, and warmth flooded through me, dulling the sharp pain to a manageable ache.
"I can't heal you completely-you don't have a bond to channel magic through. But this should get you mobile again."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Thank whatever god you pray to that Veyre didn't break your spine." She handed me a vial of something that smelled terrible. "Drink this. It'll help with the internal bruising."
I drank it. It tasted worse than it smelled.
Brooke waited for me outside, and together we limped back to our dormitory. The sun was setting, painting the Academy in shades of gold and red. Beautiful, if I could have appreciated it through the pain.
"Caleb wants to know if you're okay," Brooke said as we climbed the stairs. "I think he feels guilty. Like he should have warned you Marcus would pull something like this."
"It's not his fault."
"I know. But he's-" She paused, searching for words. "He cares. He's a good guy, underneath all the jokes."
"You like him."
"Maybe." She shot me a sideways glance. "Is that allowed?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't know. Feels weird. Getting attached to people here when we might not survive the trials." She was quiet for a moment. "But he makes me laugh. And that's worth something."
We reached our room and collapsed onto our respective beds. Every part of my body throbbed with a dull, persistent ache despite the healer's magic.
"You were amazing today," Brooke said into the gathering darkness. "I know you don't think so. But you were."
"I lost."
"You survived. That's what matters." She rolled over to face me. "Serenya, most people in your position would have quit. Would have yielded the second Marcus got serious. But you didn't. You stood back up. You fought back. That's... that's the kind of thing creatures notice."
"Creatures aren't watching the combat trials."
"Aren't they?" She smiled. "This is the Academy. Magic seeps into everything. Who's to say what's watching? What's paying attention?"
It was a nice thought. Probably wrong, but nice.
We lay in comfortable silence as darkness filled the room. Brooke fell asleep quickly, exhausted from her own matches. I heard her soft snoring and smiled despite the pain.
Then I waited.
The shadows came right on schedule.
That familiar tendril emerging from beneath my bed, but tonight it moved differently. Urgent. Almost frantic. It wrapped around my wrist immediately, and the relief was so profound I gasped.
The pain in my ribs vanished. The ache in my lungs eased. For these stolen moments, I felt almost whole.
But tonight, I felt him more clearly than ever before.
Kairen, somewhere in the Academy. And he was... furious. No-not furious. Terrified. I could feel it through the shadow connection-raw, barely controlled terror mixed with something that felt like rage.
He'd heard about the combat trial. Heard what Marcus had done.
And it had shaken something loose in him.
The shadow pulsed against my skin, almost apologetic, like it was trying to comfort me. Or maybe trying to comfort its master through me.
I'm okay, I thought, not knowing if he could hear. I survived.
The shadow tightened around my wrist for just a moment, almost like a squeeze of acknowledgment.
Then it retreated, sliding back beneath my bed as footsteps passed in the distant hallway.
I pulled my hand back and stared at the ceiling, my heart racing.
Seven weeks until the Bonding Trial.
But something told me I wouldn't make it seven weeks before whatever was happening between Kairen and me came to a head.
Before the shadows stopped asking permission and simply claimed what they wanted.
Before the walls Torin had warned about came crashing down.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what that would mean.
For either of us.