Chapter 15 #2
He hesitates, and I see conflict flash across his features. Then he nods. His shadows remain intertwined with mine, but he shifts the balance, allowing my shadows to take more of the work of maintaining our cloak.
I focus intently, trying to memorize how the shadows bend light, how they conform to physical form without gaps.
The effort requires deep concentration that makes my temples throb, and I find myself leaning back slightly against Bael’s chest for stability.
His coolness seeps through my shirt, strangely comforting.
“You’re doing well,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair despite his cool skin. “Your shadows are natural cloakers. This ability was strong in Elizabeth as well.”
The mention of my ancestor, the woman he watched over centuries ago, creates an odd connection across time. My shadows pulse in response, the cloak momentarily thickening around us until we’re completely invisible.
“What was she like?” I ask, maintaining the shadow cloak while satisfying my curiosity about this mysterious ancestor. “Elizabeth, I mean.”
Bael is silent for a moment, as if weighing how much to share or lost in memories that span centuries.
“Stubborn. Brilliant. Unafraid to challenge conventions.” His voice softens with memory and what might be fondness.
“She was the first to suggest that shadow and light might exist in harmony rather than opposition. A radical idea in the 1600s.”
“And you’ve been carrying her theories forward all this time?”
“Among other things.” His shadows pulse gently against mine, creating patterns that feel like a conversation I can’t quite understand. “The Dawns have always been visionaries. It’s in your blood.”
Speaking of blood reminds me of something else I’ve wondered about, something that’s been nagging at me since our conversation in the tower. “The mate bond you mentioned—you said it forms through blood connection. But we haven’t...” I trail off, unsure how to phrase something so intimate.
“The initial recognition doesn’t require blood exchange,” he explains, his voice carefully controlled. “That comes later, if the bond is accepted.”
“And what happens then?” I ask, curiosity overcoming caution despite the dangerous territory we’re venturing into.
His shadows tighten slightly around me, and I feel his body tense behind me. “Our essences become permanently intertwined. Your shadows would always be able to find mine, regardless of distance. My blood would strengthen your abilities, while your energy would enhance mine.”
“Sounds intense,” I murmur, trying to maintain a light tone despite the weight of the topic and the way my body responds to his proximity.
“It is.” His voice drops lower, rough with something that might be desire. “The bond is rare for a reason, Ashley. Once completed, it cannot be broken except by death.”
The shadow cloak pulses around us, responding to the emotional charge of his words like a living thing. I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we stand, of the almost-but-not-quite contact between his body and mine, of the way his shadows seem to caress my skin through the cloak.
“I should try the cloaking alone now,” I say, needing some space to think clearly and get my racing pulse under control.
Bael steps back, his shadows reluctantly disentangling from mine like lovers being forced apart.
The cloak thins but doesn’t disappear completely as I struggle to maintain it with just my own power.
The loss of his support is immediately apparent—like trying to hold up a heavy curtain with one hand instead of two.
“Focus,” he instructs from several feet away. “Your shadows know what to do. Let them remember.”
I close my eyes again, reaching for the ancestral knowledge Bael claims exists within my shadows.
To my surprise, they respond, gathering more tightly around me and bending light with greater skill than I could consciously direct.
It’s like accessing muscle memory for an action I’ve never performed.
When I open my eyes, I’m still semi-invisible, the shadow cloak maintaining its integrity even without Bael’s assistance. My reflection in a fragment of stained glass is barely more than a shimmer.
“I’m doing it!” I exclaim, watching my barely-visible hand as I extend it toward the moonlight.
“Impressively well for a first attempt,” Bael agrees, observing from a few feet away with what might be pride. His own form is fully visible now, his shadows gathered normally around him.
I move around the chapel, testing the limits of my new ability. The cloak falters when I move too quickly or lose concentration, but for the most part, it holds. The freedom this skill offers is intoxicating—to move unseen, to observe without being observed. No more hiding like a frightened animal.
“This changes everything,” I say, allowing the cloak to dissolve as I return to where Bael stands.
The sensation of becoming visible again is like stepping into bright light after darkness.
“No more hiding in my room or sneaking through back passages. I can actually move around campus without constant fear.”
“Don’t become overconfident,” he cautions, his expression serious. “The cloak isn’t perfect, especially against those specifically looking for shadow manipulation. Light Nephilim might sense the distortion.”
“Still, it’s better protection than I had before.” I can’t keep the excitement from my voice or the way my shadows dance around my feet with joy. “What other techniques have my ancestors developed? Shadow-speaking? Shadow-healing?”
“All in good time.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, and I catch a glimpse of genuine affection in his expression. “You’re progressing faster than I anticipated, but each ability builds on the last. Master cloaking fully before we move to communication.”
I’m about to protest when my shadows alert me to movement outside the chapel—a patrol passing nearby, their footsteps echoing off stone walls. Instinctively, I pull the shadow cloak around me again, fading from visibility with increasing ease.
Bael watches with approval that warms me more than it should. “Your shadows are becoming more protective. Good.”
The patrol passes without entering the chapel, but the momentary fear reminds me of my precarious position at Greyson. Despite new abilities and growing confidence, discovery remains a constant threat hanging over my head like a sword.
When I release the cloak again, materializing like smoke taking shape, Bael has moved closer. His expression is more serious now, shadows gathering around his feet. “There’s something else we should discuss. Your fire Hunter.”
“He’s not my anything,” I protest automatically, though heat flushes my cheeks at the possessive way he says it.
“Yet you continue training with him, allowing the Vessel bond to develop.” There’s no accusation in Bael’s tone, just concern that feels oddly like jealousy. “The shadow-fire connection grows stronger each time you engage it. I can see its residue in your shadows even now.”
I hadn’t realized Constantine’s fire essence left such obvious traces. “Is that dangerous?”
“Not inherently. But it complicates matters.” Bael’s shadows reach toward mine, tendril to tendril, testing the fire-touched darkness. “Your shadows are developing dual affinities—blood and fire. The prophecy mentions both, but navigating such connections requires careful balance.”
His shadows connect with mine, creating that electric sensation I’ve grown to anticipate. But this time, instead of just touching, his shadows actually intertwine with mine, black coils wrapping around each other in an intimate dance that makes my breath catch.
“The mate bond offers protection through blood,” he continues, his voice deepening as our shadows entwine further. “It creates a permanent connection that transcends physical proximity.”
“And the Vessel bond with Constantine?” I ask, finding it harder to concentrate as our shadows create patterns of increasing complexity between us.
“Power enhancement. Elemental integration.” His eyes never leave mine, intense and hypnotic. “Both connections serve the prophecy in different ways. Both have their place.”
Our shadows have created something like a double helix between us, spiraling in perfect harmony. The sight is mesmerizing, beautiful in an otherworldly way that speaks to something deep in my soul.
“But you’re warning me against trusting him,” I observe, taking a step closer without fully intending to.
“I’m warning you against revealing too much too quickly.” Bael doesn’t retreat as I advance, and I can see his pulse beating in his throat. “Constantine’s intentions may be academic rather than malicious, but that doesn’t make them safe for you.”
Another step brings me close enough to feel the coolness radiating from his immortal form. Our shadow helix pulses between us, creating a bridge that feels tangible despite being formed of darkness.
“And your intentions?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper. “Are they safe for me?”
The question hangs in the air between us, charged with meanings neither of us fully articulate. Our shadows respond to the tension, the helix spinning faster, drawing us incrementally closer until I can see gold flecks in his green eyes.
“I made a vow to protect your bloodline,” he says, his voice rougher than usual. “To ensure the crimson ascendant fulfills the prophecy.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I hold his gaze despite the intimidating intensity in his ancient eyes. “What do you want, Bael? Beyond vows and prophecies and centuries-old promises?”
For a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then his hand rises, not quite touching my face but close enough that I can feel the coolness of his skin like winter air against my cheek.
“What I want,” he says slowly, his voice rough with something that sounds like longing, “has not mattered for a very long time.”
Our shadows surge in response to his words, the helix collapsing as they rush toward each other like magnets of opposite polarity.
The darkness between us becomes almost solid, pushing us together until barely an inch separates his body from mine.
I can feel his breath against my lips, cool and sweet.
Time seems to stop as we stand frozen in that moment of almost-contact, our shadows wrapped around each other in ways our bodies are not. His eyes drop to my lips, then return to meet my gaze with a question I’m not sure I’m ready to answer.
The chapel bell tolls midnight, the sound reverberating through the stone walls and breaking the spell like shattering glass. Our shadows reluctantly disentangle as we both step back, the moment—whatever it was—passing like smoke through fingers.
“You should return to your dormitory,” Bael says, his voice carefully neutral again, though I can see the effort it costs him. “Curfew patrols will be making their final rounds.”
I nod, gathering my things while trying to process what just happened. Our shadows continue reaching for each other even as we maintain physical distance, reluctant to separate completely like they have a will of their own.
At the chapel door, I pause, my hand on the cold iron handle. “Same time tomorrow? For more practice, I mean.”
“If you wish.” His expression reveals nothing of his thoughts, but his shadows betray him by reaching toward me. “Though perhaps we should focus on shadow-speaking next. A less... physical technique.”
The slight emphasis tells me he felt it too—the dangerous pull between us when our shadows connect so intimately. The mate bond growing stronger despite neither of us formally acknowledging it.
“Goodnight, Bael.” I slip into the corridor, pulling my newly learned shadow cloak around me like armor.
As I navigate the darkened halls of Greyson, my footsteps muffled by the cloak, my shadows still pulse with the memory of contact.
They carry the imprint of his darkness within them, a connection that feels permanent even though we never touched.
Whatever stands between us—guardian and ward, potential mates, allies in prophecy—has shifted tonight, becoming something more complex and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
And I have no fucking idea what to do about it.