I narrow my eyes. “Try again.”
Aspen exhales slowly, still not looking up. “We’re fine, Kaia.”
I hate that answer.
It’s dismissive, controlled, too even—the way Aspen only ever gets when he’s holding something back. My hand itches toreach for his, but there’s something in the deliberate space he’s keeping between us that stops me.
“You’re fine?” I repeat, voice sharper than I mean for it to be. “That’s my line. And if I know it’s bullshit, so do you.”
I take a breath, forcing myself to stay calm even as my shadows ripple with my frustration. “That’s why you haven’t spoken all morning? That’s why you’re both acting like you don’t even want to look at each other?”
Aspen’s fingers tighten around his fork. Torric shifts like he’s debating answering but then doesn’t. The bond in my chest pulses with something that feels like dread, or maybe anticipation.
Before I can press further, a shadow falls over the table.
A woman with an athletic figure and cropped black hair stands at the edge of our group, her Guardian attire pristine, her expression neutral. But her silver eyes linger on me for a beat too long before she speaks, studying my face like she’s measuring me against someone else.
“Kieran has requested your presence,” she says, voice smooth but firm. “All of you.”
The shift in energy is immediate. The tension morphs into something else entirely. I glance at Finn, who raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. Malrik doesn’t react visibly, but his shadows deepen around his feet.
Torric leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Requested our presence for what?”
The woman barely acknowledges the question, her silver gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “You are to meet him in the Hall of Echoes.”
I wait for someone to react, but none of them seem to recognize the name. Except Malrik, whose expression darkens slightly, shadows coiling tighter.
Finn leans toward me, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear. “That sounds ominous. Is it ominous?”
I shrug, my shadows mimicking the gesture. “It’s got ‘Echoes’ in the name, so probably.”
The woman remains unfazed but tilts her head slightly, like she’s deciding whether or not to humor him. “That depends.”
Finn perks up. “On what?”
She finally looks at him. “On how well you handle the truth.”
Finn blinks. “Nope. Don’t like that.” He shoves the last of his toast in his mouth as he stands. “Come on, Trouble. Let’s go find out just how doomed we are.”
The woman turns, headed for the far doorway. “Follow me.”
Finn sighs dramatically, pushing away from the table. “Summoned before I could even finish breakfast. This is oppression.”
I roll my eyes and stand, my shadows gathering around me like a second skin. The others follow, and I don’t hesitate before slipping between Aspen and Torric.
They don’t acknowledge it, but they don’t pull away either. Their magic hums against my skin, Aspen’s cool presence, Torric’s steady heat, and the bond in my chest responds with a dull ache that feels both uncomfortable and right.
The halls are quiet as we follow the Guardian through the sanctuary, the air shifting the deeper we go. With each turn down another corridor, the stone beneath our feet grows older, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The magic changes too, no longer the gentle hum I’ve grown used to, but something deeper, more primal. It feels heavier, charged with history, like the magic here isn’t just present—it’s waiting. My shadows ripple with each step, responding to power that seems to seep from the walls.
Torch flames flicker in ornate bronze holders, casting dancing shadows that feel almost alive. The air grows cooler, carrying thescent of ancient stone and something that reminds me of ozone before a storm, of power gathering.
No one speaks much.
Finn, normally incapable of letting silence exist, makes a few halfhearted jokes, but they don’t land the same way. His voice seems to get swallowed by the weight of the air around us. Malrik hasn’t said a word since we left the dining hall, his silver eyes tracking shadows I can’t see. And Aspen and Torric… they still aren’t looking at each other.
I stay between them, keeping my pace even with theirs, but it’s impossible to ignore how tense they are. They don’t touch me, they barely acknowledge my presence. The space between us feels charged, like static building before a lightning strike.
It’s like they’re holding something back, and I hate that I don’t know what it is.
