Chapter 27 Malrik
Malrik
The water is perfect.
I sink lower, letting the warmth seep into muscles I didn’t realize were knotted. Days on the road. Nights of broken sleep. The constant pressure of leading without being asked to lead. It’s all been building in my shoulders, my neck, the space between my ribs where tension lives.
For the first time in what feels like weeks, I breathe.
Around me, the others are finding their places. The pool is larger than it looked from the edge — big enough for all of us to spread out, though no one seems inclined to spread far. We’ve been pressed close for so long, I’m not sure any of us remember how to do distance.
Torric groans like a dying animal as he sinks deeper. “Gods. Gods. Why didn’t we find this place sooner?”
“Because we were busy almost dying,” Aspen says mildly. He’s settled beside his brother, shoulders finally dropping from their usual tension. His eyes are already moving — cataloging everyone’s state, tracking who’s relaxed and who’s faking it.
I do the same thing. Always have.
Kaia floats near the center, her golden hair fanning out around her like a halo. She looks… peaceful. Actually peaceful. Her shadows drift lazily through the water around her, loose and content in a way I haven’t seen since before the sanctuary.
Finn is beside her — close but not touching. He’s practically vibrating with energy, even in the water. His chaos magic hums beneath the surface, a low static charge I can feel against my skin.
Kieran has positioned himself near the far edge. Close enough to be present, far enough to maintain that careful distance he’s been keeping. His gold eyes drift to Kaia every few seconds — quick glances he probably thinks no one notices.
I notice.
And Darian…
Darian has sunk so low that only his face is visible above the waterline. His cheeks are still flushed, his eyes darting everywhere except directly at anyone. His magic flickers nervously at his fingertips beneath the surface.
He looks like he wants the water to swallow him whole.
The pool’s edge is already crowded with shadows.
Bob has taken up position near Kaia’s discarded clothes, standing at rigid attention like he’s guarding state secrets. His posture radiates I am watching everything and judging all of it.
Patricia hovers beside him, notebook flickering at a leisurely pace. Documenting. Always documenting.
Finnick does a lazy flip through the air — showing off for no one in particular. Linda drifts nearby, radiating quiet approval.
And the Eds…
Two of them sit at the water’s edge. Then three. They bob gently, attention fixed on the pool. On us.
Walter floats overhead, pulsing with soft starlight, completely unbothered by everything.
“Your shadows are staring,” Torric says to Kaia.
She glances at the pool’s edge and sighs. “They always stare. You get used to it.”
“Do you though?” Finn asks. “Because Bob’s been giving me a look since I got in, and I’m starting to take it personally.”
Bob’s posture somehow becomes more rigid.
“He’s protective,” Kaia says.
“He’s terrifying. In an adorable, I-could-end-you kind of way.”
Patricia’s notebook flickers faster. Recording.
“Great,” Finn says. “Now I’m being documented. By shadows, that I named. This is fine. Everything is fine.”
The conversation drifts into safer waters.
Finn makes a crack about Japti’s architecture — something about the cavern looking like “someone’s very specific fever dream.
” Torric argues with Aspen about whether the berserker carvings in their hall were “badass” or “overdramatic.” Aspen maintains they were historically accurate.
Torric maintains they were metal as fuck.
Kieran offers quiet context — how Japti was built before the first Valkyrie walked, how the halls have been dormant for millennia. His voice carries the weight of someone who’s seen centuries unfold, and I find myself listening more closely than I expected.
“So we just… woke them up?” Kaia asks.
“You woke them up,” Kieran corrects gently. “The rest of us just followed.”
Something flickers across her face — uncertainty, maybe. Or the weight of being the center of something ancient and enormous.
Finn bumps her shoulder with his. “Don’t get a big head about it, Trouble. We’re still not letting you pick restaurants.”
She laughs — the right kind of laugh. Surprised. Real.
I feel something in my chest loosen at the sound.
I can’t help but pay close attention. Watch the dynamics, track the undercurrents, notice what people reveal when they think no one’s paying attention.
Kaia is more relaxed than I’ve seen her in days. Her shoulders have dropped from their usual defensive hunch. A few Eds circle around her like excited children.
She’s beautiful like this. Unguarded. Present.
Finn keeps glancing at her — quick looks followed by quicker deflections. He’s been doing that for months. Looking and then looking away, like he’s afraid of being caught wanting something he doesn’t think he’s allowed to have.
I know that feeling intimately.
Torric has stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his massive frame taking up more than his fair share of space. The tension he’s been carrying since his father has finally unwound. He looks younger like this. Less like a weapon waiting to fire.
Aspen watches everything with those ice-blue eyes, cataloging and calculating. But there’s something softer in his expression tonight. Something almost hopeful.
Kieran’s gaze keeps drifting to Kaia like she’s a star he’s spent centuries orbiting but never quite reaching. The longing in his face is ancient. Patient. The kind of want that’s learned not to push.
Ironic, considering.
And Darian’s magic keeps flickering under the water. Nervous. Uncertain. Like he doesn’t know how to exist in a space where no one’s demanding anything from him.
An Ed drifts past his shoulder.
He flinches.
The Ed bobs past Darian’s arm, then floats away.
He watches it go with obvious suspicion.
“They’re curious,” Kaia says, noticing his tension. “They won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not worried about them hurting me,” Darian mutters. “I’m worried about them… existing. Near me. Constantly.”
“Welcome to my life,” Finn says cheerfully.
Darian sinks a little lower.
I stretch, adjusting my position in the water. Casual. Natural.
My calf brushes against Kaia’s ankle.
She goes still.
It could be an accident. The pool is crowded. Bodies in close proximity. These things happen.
But I don’t move away. I let the contact linger — light, barely there, but unmistakable.
Her ankle presses back. Just slightly. A question, maybe. Or an answer.
I keep my face neutral. Above the surface, nothing changes.
Below it, everything does.
“The berserker murals were definitely the most dramatic,” Finn is saying. “All that fire and ice and raw masculine energy—”
“Are you mocking us?” Torric asks.
“I would never.”
“You’re absolutely mocking us.”
“I’m appreciating. There’s a difference.”
Aspen sighs — the long-suffering sigh of someone who’s spent his entire life managing his brother’s intensity and Finn’s chaos. “Can we not?”
“We can never ‘not,’” Finn says solemnly. “It’s against my religion.”
Kaia laughs again, and I feel the vibration of it through the water. Through the place where our legs are still touching.
She doesn’t move away.
Neither do I.
Three Eds drift across the water toward Darian.
Then four.
They cluster near his shoulder, bobbing gently, their attention fixed on him with what I can only describe as fascination.
“Um,” Darian says.
“They really like you,” Finn observes, delighted.
“I don’t want them to like me.”
“Too late. You’ve been chosen.”
Kaia is watching with obvious amusement. “They’re harmless. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, Carl once got stuck in someone’s hair for three hours. But that was an isolated incident.”
Darian looks like he wants to cry.
I shift again.
This time, I extend my other leg.
It finds Finn.
He startles — a barely perceptible jerk beneath the surface. His chaos magic flickers once, a spark of surprised energy that dissipates quickly.
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge it.
But he doesn’t move away either.
I hold the contact. Light but deliberate. My calf against his, my other leg still pressed to Kaia’s ankle.
Both of them. At once. Intentional.
I see you, I think. Both of you. I want you both here.
Kaia’s ankle presses more firmly against mine. Her breath doesn’t change, but I feel the shift in her — awareness sharpening, attention focusing.
Finn’s chaos magic settles into something almost calm. The nervous hum beneath his skin goes quiet.
Under the water, we’re tangled together. Above it, no one can tell.
Almost no one.
Aspen’s gaze sharpens.
He’s not looking at Darian and his Ed problem. He’s looking at us. At the space between the three of us that’s somehow gotten smaller. At the way Kaia’s shoulders have angled toward me. At the way Finn has gone unusually still.
He doesn’t speak. Just files it away.
But I see the flicker of understanding in his ice-blue eyes.
Six Eds now. Maybe seven.
They’ve formed a loose semicircle around Darian, bobbing at the surface like cheerful little sentinels.
“This is getting out of hand,” Darian says, his voice pitched higher than normal.
“On the contrary,” Finn says, “I think this is the perfect amount of hand. The exact right number of hands. Shadow hands. Ed hands. Whatever they have.”
“They don’t have hands.”
“That’s what makes it special.”
Torric is staring at the Ed formation with growing confusion. “Why are they doing that?”
“Unknown,” Aspen says. But he’s smiling now — actually smiling, not just the controlled twitch of amusement. “Perhaps they sense his discomfort.”
“They’re feeding on my discomfort?”
“That seems dramatic.”
“I’m being swarmed by shadow creatures and you’re calling me dramatic?”
Patricia’s notebook is flickering rapidly. Documenting every moment of Darian’s descent into madness.