His eyes darken “My father taught Torric and I everything long before we should have known.” He pauses, “Abilities are supposed to manifest and become stronger with age, but it can be forced.” I notice his eyes flick to his water ruin and I have so many questions. But I don’t press, not with the topic dulling the light in his blue eyes.
I take a breath, trying to focus. This time, instead of forcing the shadow magic into shape, I let myself feel the darkness around us. It's different from my personal shadows - cooler, less alive, but still responsive. My necklace warms slightly against my skin, as if encouraging this approach.
"Hey," Aspen says softly, stepping closer. "You're thinking too hard. Let it flow naturally."
He reaches out, his hand hovering just above my arm. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and my shadows respond, reaching out to brush against him. The contact sends a jolt through me, and suddenly my magic snaps into focus.
The shadows coalesce into a perfect replica of Aspen's blade, its edge gleaming wickedly in the low light of the arena. My personal shadows dance with excitement, and I feel a surge of pride mingled with surprise.
"Whoa," I breathe, staring at the construct in amazement.
Aspen grins, looking impressed. "See? You've got this."
"Adequate," Thorne's voice cuts through our moment of triumph. He's been circling the room, but seems to hover near our station more than others. "Though unconventional. Mr. Agere, demonstrate the standard form again."
I catch the slight tightening around Aspen's eyes, though his voice remains perfectly respectful. "Of course, Professor."
As Aspen demonstrates, I notice something odd. While everyone else's shadow constructs are uniform - precise, rigid things - his have a subtle fluidity to them, like he's adapted the standard forms to work better with his natural magic. My shadows reach out curiously, drawn to the grace of his movements.
"Your turn, Ms. Draven," Thorne commands.
My construct wavers as his attention fixes on me again. Through the window, Mouse is a dark blur of motion, and my personal shadows twist anxiously around my feet.
"Focus," Thorne snaps. "Control your... distractions."
Something in his tone makes my shadows bristle. The construct I'm trying to form suddenly warps, sprouting jagged edges before dissolving completely. The ambient shadows in the room seem to pulse in response to my agitation.
"I see we have much to work on," Thorne says silkily. "Perhaps those private lessons would be beneficial after all."
"I-" I begin, but he's already moving away, calling the class to attention for the next exercise.
Aspen catches my eye, his expression concerned. "You don't have to accept, you know."
"What?"
"The private lessons. Thorne offers them sometimes, not always for the reasons he says. Just... be sure it’s what you want."
Before I can ask what he means, Thorne's voice rings out again. "Next, we'll practice offensive applications. Everyone find a new partner."
My shadows curl uneasily as I watch Aspen move away. Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a very long class?
I'm still trying to process Aspen's warning when a familiar drawling voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Partner up with me, shadow girl?" Finn materializes beside me, grinning like this is all terribly amusing. "Promise I'll go easy on you."
My shadows perk up at his presence, and I swear one of them actually waves.Traitors.
"Remind me again why I'd want you to go easy on me?" I ask, but I'm already moving into position across from him. My shadows trail after me like eager puppies.
Finn's grin widens. "Because otherwise I might have to actually try, and then where would we be?"
Before I can retort, Thorne's voice cuts through the chatter. "Begin. Remember - precision. Control. No... improvisations."
That last word is definitely aimed at Finn, who responds with an impossibly innocent expression that wouldn't fool a blind troll. My shadows quiver with what feels suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
We square off. Finn's shadow construct forms with surprising grace - all flowing lines and deadly edges.
Show-off.
