“Malcolm was right,” another responds, examining the ground where we were training. His voice carries satisfaction that makes my stomach clench with dread. “Something’s been practicing out here.”
My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain they must hear it, but our combined shadow cloak holds firm. Bael’s arm circles my waist, pulling me tighter against him as the Hunters move within feet of our hiding place. I can feel his controlled strength, the way his body coils with readiness to protect me if necessary.
“Fan out,” the leader instructs, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being obeyed. “Full perimeter sweep. Whatever was here can’t have gone far.”
As they move deeper into the forest, their footsteps fading into the distance, Bael whispers against my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Shadow-walk with me. Now.”
I’ve never attempted shadow-walking with another person, but our merged shadows make it feel natural. Bael guides the transition, our physical forms dissolving into the shadow realm as we step through darkness itself. The sensation is disorienting but exhilarating—like falling through cool water while remaining perfectly dry. Reality becomes fluid around us, space and time bending in ways that shouldbe impossible.
We emerge at the edge of the academy grounds, near the dormitory wing but safely hidden behind a stone outbuilding. Our shadows reluctantly separate as the walk concludes, though they maintain tenuous connections between us like they’re reluctant to let go.
“That was too fucking close,” Bael says, his voice tight with concern that I can feel through our connection. “Thorne must have sensors throughout the forest now.”
“Looking specifically for shadow activity,” I add, remembering the crystal device the Hunter carried and the way it had pulsed with hostile light.
“Tomorrow’s challenge just became more dangerous.” Bael’s eyes search mine, and I can see centuries of protective instinct warring with respect for my autonomy. “They’re actively hunting, not just setting traps.”
The reality of my situation settles heavily on my shoulders like a lead blanket. Between Thorne’s directed hunt, tomorrow’s manipulated Trial, and my increasingly difficult-to-conceal abilities, discovery seems almost inevitable.
“What if I can’t hide it anymore?” I ask quietly, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me. “What if my shadows react instinctively during the Labyrinth?”
Bael’s expression softens slightly, revealing the man behind the ancient predator. “Then we implement contingencies. Constantine’s escape route. My intervention. We’ve prepared for this possibility.”
My shadows reach toward him one last time, forming a brief butterfly pattern between us—their chosen symbol for our connection. His darkness responds, completing the pattern with graceful precision before reluctantly withdrawing.
“Return to your dormitory,” he says, though his voice suggests he’d rather keep me here where he can protect me. “Rest whathours remain before dawn. Your shadows will need full strength tomorrow.”
As I turn to leave, Bael catches my hand, the physical contact sending a jolt through our shadow connection that races up my arm. “Remember what you learned tonight, Ashley. Your shadows are both weapon and shield, both concealment, and revelation.”
“And dance partner,” I add with a small smile that feels more confident than I have in weeks.
Something like pride touches his usually solemn features, transforming his face. “Indeed. The shadow-dance continues tomorrow, just with higher stakes.”
I slip away toward my dormitory, using my newly improved cloaking ability to avoid the occasional patrol. My shadows feel different after tonight’s training—more confident, more purposeful, more attuned to both their defensive and offensive capabilities. They flow around me like loyal companions, ready to protect and serve.
Whatever awaits in tomorrow’s Shadow Labyrinth, I face it with new tools and techniques. My shadows may have begun as frightening manifestations of an unwanted transformation, but they’ve evolved into extensions of my will, my perception, and my connection to both darkness and light.
As I finally reach my bed, exhaustion settling into my bones like lead, my shadows form one last construct before I drift into sleep—a perfect replica of the shadow-blade I created tonight, hovering protectively above my pillow like a promise of what’s to come.
Tomorrow, High Examiner Malcolm will learn that this Ascendant isn’t as defenseless as he believes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun setson Greyson Academy with agonizing slowness, painting the ancient stone buildings in shades of blood and amber. Students cluster in nervous groups throughout the campus, some frantically practicing last-minute techniques, others maintaining forced calm that fools absolutely no one. The air tastes electric, charged with a mixture of excitement, dread, and magic residue from hundreds of simultaneous preparation spells.
I'm in our team's assigned preparation room—a repurposed classroom with desks pushed against walls to create a central practice space. Massive arched windows face west, the dying sunlight casting long, dramatic shadows across worn floorboards. The stone walls are lined with faded tapestries depicting previous Trial champions, their expressions eternally frozen in victory poses that feel like they're mocking our current anxiety.
My shadows are on constant alert, extending around the room like a silent sentinel. Since last night's training session with Bael, they've become more protective, more vigilant. They slip beneath the door occasionally, checking the corridor for potential threats before returning to report all clear.
"Your shadows are particularly active today," Seraphina observes from her corner of the room. She sits cross-legged on a cushion, surrounded by crystal prisms that refract the dying sunlight into rainbow patterns. The effect should be beautiful, but there's something calculated in how she's positioned them—each prism casting light into corners where shadows might naturally gather.
"Just nervous," I say casually, forcing my shadows to retract closer to my feet. "Everyone's on edge before the Trials."
Marcus snorts from where he's practicing shadow-weapon formations. "Some more than others. Your shadows have been twitching like scared rabbits all afternoon."
I bite back a defensive response. Getting into an argument with my teammates the night before Trials would only worsen an already tense situation. Instead, I focus on my preparation—simple shadow extension exercises that reveal nothing of the advanced techniques Bael taught me.
Iris is the only teammate who seems genuinely cooperative, sitting nearby as she practices her empathic projections. "Your emotional signature is all over the place," she whispers when the others are distracted. "Everything okay?"
