As I pass one of the bulls, its gaze tracks me, dark eyes following my movement with unsettling intelligence. The red-black essence that clings to the enforcers seems stronger today, maybe even more focused, Dmitri's signature, woven through them like puppet strings.
We're all still being watched. The only thing that's changed is what they're watching for.
The whispers start the moment I pass each group, hissing commentary that follows me down the hall like a living thing.
"That's him, the counselor who's not really a counselor."
"Did you hear what happened last night? I heard that his entire office exploded in fire but nothing burnt."
"Who cares about that? I heard he’s bonded to five Magila! FIVE!”
"My roommate said their essences looked like one entity when they merged."
"Stellan Wilder transformed. No fire elemental has ever done that. Does anyone know what he is?"
"I heard he’s not really human. The new counselor. What? I heard Mother Nature chose him.”
Several gasps follow, someone asking how they know.
“I overheard some of the other counselors talking.”
I keep my head up and my expression neutral, even though my heart pounds against my ribs. This is what we wanted, isn't it? For the truth to come out, for people to see that Dmitri's system is broken. But being at the center of everyone's attention makes my skin crawl.
By the time I reach the dining hall, my bond marks are burning hot enough that I'm surprised they're not leaving scorch marks on my shirt. The noise in the cafeteria drops by half when I walk through the main archway but the steady beats of their auras are still there, curious and feeling out the space.
As I weave between tables, I catch even more fragments of conversation that answer the question burning in my mind.
"—felt it all the way in the east wing. Like the whole academy shook."
"My roommate said the enforcers were running toward the counselor wing. They felt something massive."
"Tamara told Professor Hendricks this morning. I heard her in the hallway."
So that's how. Our combined essences merging last night must have sent shockwaves through the entire academy. We weren't exactly subtle. And apparently Tamara has been talking, though whether that's sabotage or strategy, I can't tell yet.
My mates are already at our usual table, but everything about the setup is different now. They're not scattered around trying to maintain the illusion of casual friendship. They're sitting close together, thighs pressed against thighs, shoulders touching, territorial and unapologetic.
Stellan sits between Jade and Rumi, his gray-blue eyes flickering with hints of orange fire every time someone stares too long. He looks anxious, fingers tapping against his leg as Jade stays pressed against his side, one hand resting possessively on Stellan's thigh. The Incubus' purple eyes scan the room with predatory focus, daring anyone to comment.
Rumi lounges in his chair across from them, but the tension in his shoulders is obvious. His golden eyes track every movement in the room, the guy ready to manifest them in an instant if needed. I manage a small smile just as Ambrose and Harlow come up behind me, their aura stronger than it was yesterday.
It feels almost like a protective embrace, even when I look over at my stepbrother to see him half awake, his eyes half-lidded. He hisses as someone walks back, the air visibly frosting over with his essence before disappearing.
Well, that’s concerning.
However, the changes in the six of us make one thing very clear. We’re done hiding. We also don’t really have a choice. I push forward and take a seat, Ambrose and Harlow sliding in on either side of me. Stellan’s anxiety hits me all at once, the air supercharged with heat that’s suddenly battling Harlow’s ice.
"Morning," I say quietly, reaching for the plate someone's already prepared for me.
"Babe," Harlow murmurs, his hand finding mine under the table. "How are you feeling?" His voice is thick with sleep as he steals a piece of bacon off my plate. If this were a different moment, I might laugh, but his first thought is always me. It’s endearing, at least.
"Like everyone in this room is watching us. Tamara said that everyone knows. Likeeveryone.I don’t know how, but I feel like part of a spectacle." I’m 99% sure that no one knows about the Praestes part or that Harlow’s a wraith or that Ambrose is adjinn. Sure, they probably suspect that my mates are more than their element, but…
"They are," Ambrose confirms, not bothering to lower his voice. "Let them. We're not performing for their entertainment anymore." He seems more anxious than usual, his hand moving to his chest where his pendant used to hang, a phantom gesture, reaching for an anchor that no longer exists. Ever since the pendant dissolved and he learned what he truly is, Ambrose has been different. Quieter. More watchful. The Original Darkness, tethered to me now instead of an object.
Sometimes I catch his shadows moving independently, reaching toward me even when Ambrose himself is looking elsewhere. Like the void recognizes its new home. And lately, I've noticed him muttering in his sleep, names I don't recognize, fragments of conversations in languages that sound ancient. When I asked him about it, he said memories were surfacing, things he'd buried so deep he'd forgotten they existed. His mother's voice. Old debts. Connections he'd severed when Dmitri trapped him here.
"It's like the pendant was suppressing more than just the darkness," he told me, his green eyes distant. "Now that it's gone, everything's coming back."
