Torric nods, his expression growing somber again. "Aspen and I, we've been training for these trials our entire lives. Father made sure of it."
The weight of his words hits me like a physical blow. My shadows curl protectively around my ankles, sensing my distress. "Your entire lives?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.
Torric's golden eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. He nods slowly, his voice dropping even lower. "Typically, magic manifests around twelve or thirteen, when puberty hits. It's this whole big thing – a coming of age moment, you know?"
I nod, even though it’s not the same as what happened to me. I’ve always had my magic and my shadows, as far back as I can remember.
"But for us," Torric continues, his voice tight, "it was different. On our fifth birthday, our father..." He pauses, his fists clenching at his sides. "He forced these runes on us."
My eyes widen in shock, and I instinctively reach out to touch the fiery wolf emblazoned on his chest. Torric flinches slightly but doesn't pull away. Under my fingertips, I can feel a faint pulse of magic, wild and barely contained. It doesn’t escape me how he shivers at my touch.
"Forced?" I whisper, horrified. "But how? Why?"
Torric's laugh is bitter, devoid of any real humor. "To give us an edge. To make us stronger, faster, more powerful than our peers. The runes aren't natural, Kaia. They're..." He struggles for a moment, searching for the right word. "They're cheating, essentially."
My shadows writhe in agitation, picking up on my distress. Bob puffs up indignantly, while Patricia seems to be furiously taking mental notes. Finnick, in a rare moment of seriousness, wraps a comforting tendril around my wrist.
"But that's not the worst part," Torric continues, his voice barely above a whisper. The torchlight flickers, casting deep shadows across his face, making him look haunted. "When we hit puberty, when our natural magic should have manifested... nothing happened."
The ache in my chest grows for this man. What he and Aspen must have endured. "You mean..."
He nods grimly. "The runes interfered with our natural magical development. Aspen and I, we should have had powerful shadow magic, like you. But because of what our father did..." His voice trails off, thick with emotion.
The torchlight flickers, casting restless shadows across Torric’s face. His fists clench at his sides, and I can hear the strain in his voice as if the words themselves are painful to say.
The corridor suddenly feels too small, too confining. My heart aches for Torric, for Aspen, for the choices that were stolen from them before they were old enough to understand. My shadows stretch out, instinctively seeking to comfort, to protect.
I thought about the way my shadows seemed to have a life of their own, how they sometimes acted without my permission. Would I feel the same loss as Torric if someone had tried to cage them?
"That's why," Torric says, his eyes fixed on my writhing shadows with a mix of longing and resignation, "that's why Isometimes come across as... well, an ass. Especially about magic. It's not that I don't respect what you can do, Kaia. It's just..."
"You're mourning what you lost," I finish softly, understanding dawning.
He nods, a vulnerability in his eyes that I've never seen before. He takes a deep breath, his mask slipping back into place before he turns abruptly, leaving me there alone.
A tear escapes for those poor boys and what was done to them. I brush the tear away, trying to steel myself. Torric had been forced to fight with borrowed power, but my magic is my own—wild, unpredictable, and untamed. How can I possibly shape it into something worthy of the trials?
Chapter 16
Kaia
We’ve all made our way back to the Shadow Faction, and I’ve been staring out the window in the common room for longer than I’d like to admit.
"Hey, you okay there, Trouble?"
Finn's voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. His arm slides around my shoulders, and I find myself leaning into him despite my best efforts to maintain some dignity. Even my shadows settle at his touch, though Bob seems determined to pat my head consolingly—which feels exactly like being brushed by a concerned cobweb.
"I'm fine," I lie, my voice brittle. "Just peachy. You know, if peaches were rotten and filled with maggots of self-doubt."
"Well, that's a delightfully gross metaphor." Finn squeezes my shoulder. "But seriously, Kaia, you've got this. We've all got this." He pauses, watching as Finnick attempts what appears to be a motivational shadow-dance. "And hey, at least your personal cheerleading squad seems confident."
I want to believe him. But as I look out at the academy grounds I can’t help but feel overwhelmed.
I’m never going to be enough.
Finn's arms move, tightening around my waist as he shifts, settling behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder, and I can't help but place my hands over his where they rest on my stomach. The warmth of his body seeps into me, chasing away some of the chill that's settled in my bones.
I’m not used to touch, to this closeness, but with Finn it seems natural. It fills me with a warmth that’s unfamiliar but welcome.
