He glances down at his hands, still resting in his lap. Slowly, he turns them palm up.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then—shadows begin to rise. They unfurl from his fingertips in slow, curling ribbons. Smoke and silk and something darker. Silent. Ethereal. Moving like breath. Called with nothing more than a thought.
I watch, quiet. Awed.
It’s beautiful.
But it shouldn’t be.
I’ve only read about the Shadow element in the texts Valen has shared with me. Always imagined it as cold. Heavy. Like oil on water. Or ice on skin.
But this—this floats. It spirals and winds, weightless and slow. One curl drifts toward me. Brushes my cheek. But instead of cold—I feelwarmth.Gentle. Steady. Like lying beneath the stars on a summer night. Soft.Safe.
And I’m . . . confused.
Because nothing about this feels the way I was taught it should. The stories said shadow magics was poison. Corruption. A creeping sickness that twisted and destroyed anything it touched.
But what curls around me now is soft. Gentle.Alive.
Instead of feeling afraid and recoiling from it, I find myself leaning closer. And for a moment, sitting here in the hush of firelight, with Thane’s shadows brushing past me like a whispered secret—I don’t know what to believe.
Then—a sharp twist through the bond.
Shame.
I lift my gaze. Thane is staring at the shadows drifting from his hands. Jaw clenched. Eyes tight with something he doesn’t say.
He looks like a god carved in shadow, gray eyes storm-dark.Magics winding around him like breath.
And yet he’s looking at the curls of shadow with repulsion. As if he can’t at all see what I see.
The bond tightens, jagged, like it’s echoing the self-loathing Thane is feeling. I reach out and grab his hands, closing my fingers firmly around his. The shadows vanish—cut off like a breath. Thane’s eyes flick up to mine, startled. I hold his gaze. Fierce. Steady.
And through the bond, I push forward the truth.
You are good.
You are light.
Not the darkness he fears or the curse that lives inside him.
I don’t know if he can feel what I am trying to convey, but I send it anyway. And something shifts.
The bond between us softens and steadies. I see it in his eyes, too. The hardness eases, and those golden flecks—the ones that flare brightest when he’s letting himself feel—spark again. His hands tighten around mine for a moment, holding on.
Then he exhales, low and rough, and pulls back. Drags both hands through his hair in a restless sweep before leaning back heavily into the chair.
“I can wield,” he says, his voice stripped bare.
His eyes flick to the space where the shadows had been.
“But I’ve seen what the Commanders of the Shadow Forces wield. And this . . . ”—Thane shakes his head—”this isn’t the same.”
He gestures toward Valen without looking away from me for long.
“You have too. What do you make of this, Valen?”
Valen leans forward slowly, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped. His silver-blue eyes narrow slightly, studying Thane like he’s a puzzle he’s only just beginning to solve. He’s quiet for a long moment.
