My shadows reach toward him instinctively, seeking the familiar fire connection that feels like coming home. Before they can touch him, however, the tower door slams open below with a crash that echoes up the spiral staircase. Voices follow, cold and authoritative.
“—should be accessible at all times during the evaluation period,” comes a cultured voice I recognize with growing horror as High Examiner Malcolm’s.
“Of course, but student privacy protocols—” Headmaster Blackwood’s response is cut short.
“Hunter authority supersedes academy protocols during Trial season,” Malcom replies smoothly, and I can hear the steel beneath the silk. “I’ll need access to the astronomy tower for the duration of our stay. The elevation provides ideal observation conditions.”
Constantine moves with Hunter-trained silence, pulling me into the deepest shadow of the alcove. His touch burns through my shirt, warm and steady.“Cloak,”he mouths silently.
I wrap my shadows around us both, creating the invisibility shroud Bael taught me. The technique takes intense concentration, especially covering two people, but fear provides powerful motivation. My shadows respond eagerly, remembering the lesson as they bend light around our hidden forms.
Footsteps spiral upward, growing louder as Malcolm and Blackwood approach the top of the tower. Each step sounds like a nail being driven into a coffin. My heart hammers so loudly I’m certain they’ll hear it, but I focus everything on maintaining the shadow cloak, bending light around us exactly as Bael demonstrated.
Malcolm enters first, his silver coat catching the moonlight like armor. He moves immediately to the center of the circular room, turning slowly as if scanning for something specific. The air around him feels different—charged with power and danger. His eyes pass over our alcove without pausing, but something in his expression suggests he senses... something.
“This tower has interesting properties,” he observes casually, though there’s nothing casual about the way his pale eyes continue scanning. “Shadow convergence points in unexpected places.”
Blackwood looks confused, his weathered face creasing. “I wasn’t aware the astronomy tower had any special shadow attributes.”
“Most aren’t,” Malcom agrees, still scanning the room withpredatory patience. “Tell me, Headmaster, has anyone accessed this tower recently? Students, perhaps?”
My breath stops completely, lungs burning as shadows tighten around us in response to my spike of fear.
“It’s open to senior students for astronomy projects,” Blackwood replies, his voice carrying the caution of someone who suddenly realizes they’re in dangerous waters. “I’d have to check the access records for specifics.”
“Please do.” Malcolm approaches our alcove, stopping just feet away. I can smell him now—expensive cologne mixed with something metallic and cold. “I’m particularly interested in any Dark Nephilim who might favor this location.”
My shadows tremble with the effort of maintaining the cloak under such intense pressure. Beside me, Constantine carefully, silently, extends his hand toward mine. When our fingers touch, a subtle flow of fire energy stabilizes my shadows, reinforcing the cloak from within with warmth and strength.
The unexpected support nearly breaks my concentration from sheer surprise, but I manage to maintain the illusion as Malcolm finally turns away. The relief is so intense I nearly collapse.
“I’ll station observers here during the night hours,” he informs Blackwood, each word a promise and a threat. “The tower provides an excellent vantage point for monitoring student movement across campus.”
After what feels like an eternity, they finally leave, footsteps fading down the spiral staircase. I maintain the cloak for several minutes longer, paranoid about Malcolm’s potential return, before finally releasing it with a gasp of exhaustion.
“That was too fucking close,” Constantine whispers, still holding my hand. The contact continues feeding subtle energy to my depleted shadows.
“Too close.” I slump against the wall, trembling slightly fromthe prolonged exertion and delayed terror. “He sensed something, even through the cloak.”
“High Examiners are specifically trained to detect shadow anomalies,” Constantine confirms grimly. “Malcolm is renowned for his sensitivity to unusual shadow patterns.”
“Great,” I mutter, tasting despair. “So nowhere is safe now.”
“Not on campus,” he agrees. “But we still need to alter your records tonight. Can you still manage the shadow-speaking technique?”
Despite my exhaustion, I nod. “I think so. My shadows responded to our connection when you touched me. They’re stronger when linked to your fire.”
Something flickers in his eyes at this admission—surprise, pleasure, something deeper. “The Vessel bond continues to develop, even without formal training.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Both, potentially.” He finally releases my hand, though my shadows protest the separation by reaching after his warmth. “Meet me at the administration building at midnight. The records room should be empty then.”
As he turns to leave, I catch his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “Constantine... thank you. For helping me. For risking everything.”
He looks down at my hand on his arm, then back to my face. In the moonlight, his expression is unreadable but intense. “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to survive tomorrow’s demonstration with Malcolm watching.”
The reminder sends fresh anxiety through me, my shadows momentarily swirling before I can control them again.
