Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The astronomy tower is the highest point in Greyson Academy, its ancient spiral staircase winding so far upward that my legs burn like fire by the time I reach the top.
Each stone step is worn smooth by centuries of students seeking solitude, and the air grows thinner as I climb, carrying the scent of old stone and something indefinably ancient.
The circular chamber feels suspended between worlds—its glass dome offering an unobstructed view of the stars above, like scattered diamonds on black velvet, while the academy sprawls like a glittering shadow far below.
Wind whistles through the metal framework of the dome, creating a haunting melody that matches my mood perfectly.
I’ve been hiding up here for hours, seeking solitude after the disaster at the power demonstrations earlier today.
The cold stone floor numbs my ass through my jeans, but I can’t bring myself to care.
My shadows still carry the faintest hint of Constantine’s fire, glowing subtly along the edges whenever they pass through moonlight like they’re lit from within by dying embers.
The Lightbringers’ suspicious faces haunt me every time I close my eyes—Seraphina’s analytical stare and Elara’s vindicated smirk burned into my memory.
My shadow scouts alert me to a presence on the stairs, their whispered warnings running through my consciousness like icy fingers down my spine. Seconds later, Bael emerges from the darkness as if the shadows themselves gave birth to him. Of course, he found me. He always fucking does.
“I wondered how long it would take you to track me down,” I say without turning from the window, my breath fogging the glass.
“I gave you space,” he replies, keeping a careful distance. I can feel his presence like a warm current in the cold air. “But after what happened today...”
“You mean my very public display of abnormal shadow behavior?” I turn to face him, anger suddenly bubbling to the surface like lava breaking through stone. “Where were you anyway? Constantine had to step in because you were nowhere to be found.”
A muscle tightens in his jaw, visible even in the dim starlight. “I was meeting with contacts outside the academy. Gathering information about Hunter movements.”
“Convenient timing.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.
His eyes narrow at my tone, shadows darkening around his feet in response to his mood. “I don’t answer to you, Ashley.”
“No, but apparently I answer to you.” The stress of the day breaks through my usual caution like a dam bursting. “You control where I go, who I talk to, how I use my abilities. You appear and disappear without explanation, watching from the shadows like some supernatural stalker.”
“I’m protecting you,” he says, shadows gathering around him like storm clouds.
“Are you?” I step closer, my own shadows swirling with agitation and reaching toward him despite my anger. “Or are you just protecting your investment? The culmination of centuries watching my family, waiting for another Ascendant to manipulate?”
His expression hardens, turning his beautiful features into something carved from marble. “You do not know what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it to me!” I gesture wildly, my shadows mimicking the movement in jagged patterns that slash through the moonlight. “You’ve been cryptic from day one. Guardian, protector, whatever the fuck you want to call it—I deserve to know why my life is suddenly in your hands.”
For a long moment, he says nothing, his ancient eyes assessing me with unnerving intensity.
The silence stretches between us, filled only by the wind whistling through the dome and the distant sounds of the academy below.
Then his shoulders drop slightly, resignation replacing anger like clouds parting to reveal the sun.
“Very well.” He moves to the center of the chamber, shadows pooling around him like spilled ink. “What do you want to know?”
The directness catches me off guard. I expected more evasion, more half-answers and deflection wrapped in cryptic warnings. “Everything. Start with why you were assigned to my family specifically.”
Bael waves his hand with fluid grace, and his shadows form a detailed projection above his palm—a family tree with countless branches extending back through generations like a dark constellation.
My name appears at the bottom in elegant script, preceded by dozens of others flowing upward into history.
The shadow-construct is beautiful and intricate, each name rendered in perfect detail.
“Your bloodline is one of the oldest with Ascendant potential,” he explains, shadows highlighting specific names on the tree with gentle pulses of light. “Every few generations, the potential manifests fully. The last was your great-grandmother’s brother, Thomas Dawn.”
I stare at the shadow genealogy with fascination, my breath catching as I see the names of ancestors I never knew existed. “I never knew him.”
“He died before you were born.” Bael’s expression darkens like storm clouds gathering, and his voice carries the weight of old grief. “Hunters found him when he was twenty-two. Too young to have mastered his abilities.”
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the cold air. “And you were his guardian too?”
“Yes.” The word carries weight, heavy with old pain and regret that makes his voice rough. “I failed him. I was... delayed reaching him when his Ascension began. By the time I arrived, the Hunters had already detected his energy signature.”
The simple admission reveals more about Bael than hours of conversation ever could. Beneath the intimidating exterior and cool detachment lies genuine regret that humanizes him in a way I didn’t expect.
“Is that why you were watching me so closely? Fear of failing again?”
His shadows shift restlessly, the family tree dissolving into more abstract patterns that swirl and dance in the air between us. “Partially. But your case is unique. The crimson wings mark you as special, even among Ascendants.”
“The harbinger,” I murmur, remembering the prophecy from the Compendium that haunts my dreams.
He nods, moonlight catching in his dark hair. “When I first saw the crimson tinge on your wings, I knew. Centuries of waiting, and suddenly the prophecy manifests in my lifetime.”
“Lucky fucking you,” I say dryly, though the bitterness has faded from my voice.
“It’s not luck. It’s fate.” He looks at me directly, green eyes reflecting starlight like pools of liquid emerald. “I wasn’t randomly assigned to your family, Ashley. I requested it specifically.”
This revelation surprises me enough that my shadows still completely. “Why?”
His shadows dance uncomfortably, betraying emotions his carefully controlled face doesn’t show.
“I knew the first Dawn who showed Ascendant potential. Elizabeth Dawn, in 1642. She never fully ascended, but her shadows...” He pauses, searching for words while his gaze grows distant.
“They moved like yours. Alive. Sentient.”
The implication sinks in slowly, like ice water through my veins. “You’ve been watching my family for almost four hundred years?”
“Yes. Through plagues and wars, migrations, and marriages.” His voice softens with something that might be fondness. “I’ve seen your ancestors live, love, die—all while carrying the dormant potential that finally manifested in you.”
I try to comprehend the devotion this represents, the centuries of patient vigilance. It’s like trying to hold the concept of forever in my mind—impossible and overwhelming. “That’s... a really fucking long time to wait for something that might never happen.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips, transforming his face. “Immortality provides perspective. And patience.”
“But why?” I press on, needing to understand this obsession that shaped centuries. “Why dedicate your entire existence to one bloodline?”
His shadows swirl more vigorously, displaying what appears to be an internal conflict.
The wind picks up, whistling more sharply through the dome.
Finally, he says, “Because I made a promise to Elizabeth as she died. That if the crimson wings ever appeared in her line, I would ensure that Ascendant survived to fulfill the prophecy.”
The weight of generations settles on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. No wonder he’s so protective, so invested in my survival. I represent the culmination of a centuries-old promise, the vindication of four hundred years of vigilant waiting.
“What exactly am I supposed to fulfill?” I ask quietly, my voice barely audible over the wind. “The Compendium mentions restoring balance, but what does that actually mean?”
Instead of answering directly, Bael extends his hand. His skin looks pale as moonlight in the starlight. “Let me show you something. A shadow technique passed down through your bloodline, though most never had the ability to actually use it.”
Curious despite my lingering frustration, I place my hand in his. His skin is cool and smooth, contrasting with the warmth that seems to radiate from his core. The moment our skin touches, a familiar electric current runs between us, our shadows merging at the edges like lovers embracing.
“Your shadows have memory,” he says, voice dropping to a mesmerizing cadence that seems to resonate in my bones. “They remember what your ancestors knew, carrying techniques and knowledge through generations even when dormant.”
“That’s impossible,” I whisper, though my shadows are already responding to his words, stretching and swirling in unfamiliar patterns that feel oddly right.
“Focus on my voice,” he continues, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm. “Feel the ancestral knowledge sleeping within your shadows. Elizabeth called it shadow-weaving—the ability to create solid constructs from darkness itself.”