"There you are!" Finn's voice makes me jump. He's lounging against the wall, clearly having ignored my dismissal. "That bad, huh?"
"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter, but I'm pathetically grateful he waited. My shadows stretch toward him, seeking comfort. I don’t want him to notice my hands trembling in a way I can’t control. That isn’t me, that isn’t how I work and I’mnot about to start now. I steel my resolve in hopes of making it through the rest of the day.
"Fair enough." He falls into step beside me. "Want to grab food instead? I hear they're serving mystery meat in the dining hall. Ten gold says it's actually transmuted troll toes."
Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. "You're disgusting."
"You love it." He grins, then sobers slightly. "Seriously though, you okay?"
I think about Thorne's words, about control and chaos and power that needs containing. About private lessons and firm hands and proper guidance. The amethyst thrums against my skin, as if trying to tell me something.
"I don't know," I admit quietly.
Mouse bumps my hand with his head, and my shadows curl around us both like a protective cocoon. At least I'm not facing this alone.
"Screw it," I mutter suddenly. "Mouse, you're staying in my room tonight. House rules be damned."
Finn's grin widens. "Now that's the chaos I like to see."
Chapter 15
Kaia
The summons arrives at breakfast, tucked neatly beside my plate like some kind of smug afterthought. I barely have time to grab my granola bar before Finn snatches it up, his grin all mischief as he reads aloud in an exaggerated, overly proper tone.
“Shadow Faction,” he announces, ignoring my glare. “You are hereby required to attend a meeting with Professor Thorne in the combat arena at precisely eleven o’clock. Attendance is mandatory.”
“Sounds ominous,” I mutter, snatching the note back before he can add anything more. My shadows coil protectively around the parchment like they can shield me from whatever unpleasantness Thorne has in store.
“Mandatory Thorne time?” Finn grins. “Count me out. Or better yet, can I bring popcorn?”
Aspen looks up from his tea, his calm presence cutting through Finn’s antics. “It’s probably nothing. Orientation-related, most likely. It’s pretty common.”
“Orientation with Thorne?” Torric scoffs from across the table. “That sounds more like a prelude to torture.”
Malrik doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks louder than Finn’s theatrics or Torric’s cynicism. His silver eyes flicker with something that makes my shadows curl tighter, and the knot in my stomach twists a little more. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod, his silver eyes glinting with something unreadable. Does he sense it too—the way Aspen's words don’t quite match the tension in his tone?
Now, as I descend the winding stone staircase toward the combat arena, I can’t shake the growing sense of dread. My shadows trail after me, their tendrils darting nervously at my feet. Bob insists on scouting ahead, while Patricia sticks close, probably taking mental notes. And Finnick is doing some type of dance? They’re more jittery than usual, which does nothing to calm my nerves.
"So, Shadow Faction," Finn says, watching Bob investigate a particularly suspicious-looking step. "I hear they throw the best parties. What do you think?"
I roll my eyes, even as Finnick attempts to trip him. "Sure, if you want to party with brooding emos who think they're too cool for school."
"Sounds perfect," Finn quips with a wink that I definitely don't find charming. He gracefully sidesteps Finnick's attempt at sabotage when he tries and fails to trip him, which only encourages the shadow's antics.
“I have no interest in throwing a party,” I complain, even though I know he’s just trying to distract me.
Aspen's steady presence anchors me, his calm energy a contrast to my jittery nerves. He must see it all on my face though, because he leans in closer, heat radiating from him. "Don't worry," he says softly. "We'll face whatever it is together."
Before I can respond, Torric's voice booms off the stone walls, making my shadows jump.
"They use these meetings to weed out the weak," he says with a predatory grin. "Make the newbies fight to the death."
My stomach drops. "Tell me you're joking." Bob immediately puffs up while Patricia frantically starts cataloging escape routes.
I glance at Malrik, hoping for reassurance, but he's unnervingly quiet, silver eyes distant. My shadows reach toward him before I can stop them, and I swear his lips twitch in response.
Mouse prowls beside us as we reach the underground training area. The shadows here feel alive, pulsing with barely contained energy that makes my skin tingle.
