“Wait,” I reach out instinctively, my hand catching his wrist. His skin is cool marble beneath my fingers. “Help me maintain it a little longer. I want to get the feeling right.”
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 forstability. 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. Myreflection 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 footstepsechoing 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.”
