Outside, the academy grounds stretch before us, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The ancient trees sway gently, their leaves shimmering with an otherworldly iridescence. In the distance, the spires of the Observatory pierce the darkening sky, their crystalline surfaces catching the last rays of sunlight and refracting them in a dazzling display of color.
"You know," Finn murmurs, his breath tickling my ear, "I think we could all use a bit of practice. What do you say we round up the gang and have ourselves a little shadow-slinging session?"
I consider his offer, watching as a group of students from the Light Faction glide by on shimmering discs of pure radiance. Their laughter carries on the evening breeze, a sense of longing for freedom like that washes over me.
"Yeah," I finally agree, my voice barely above a whisper. "That might be good.”
As I lean back against Finn, I become acutely aware of a certain... firmness pressing against me. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize the effect our closeness is having on him. Part of me wants to tease him about it, but I'm too emotionally drained to summon my usual snark.
Instead, I turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. His green eyes are dark with a mix of desire and concern, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in them. It's easier than facing the doubts that threaten to consume me.
"Alright, let's do this," I say, injecting a confidence into my voice that I don't quite feel. "But if Bob tries to give anyone a shadow wedgie again, I'm calling it quits."
Finn's laugh rumbles through his chest, and I can't help but smile in response. As we step away from the window, my shadows swirl around us, seeming to pulse with renewed energy.
???
We reach the combat arena—other students already practicing spells, and huddled in strategic discussions—I can't shake the feeling that I'm drowning in expectations. Thorne's offer of private lessons echoes in my mind, tempting and terrifying. Patricia's frantic shadow-scribbling of what look like evacuation plans isn't helping my anxiety.
Mouse growls softly at my feet, probably unimpressed with my escape fantasy. Leaving would mean giving up the first place I've ever felt like I might belong. Even my shadows have found their niche, with Bob playing sergeant to the smaller wisps.
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
"Promise me something?"
He grins at me, wrapping his arm over my shoulders again, green eyes twinkling. "Anything for you, Trouble. Except maybe my last cookie. A man's got to have limits." He shrugs. "But honestly, I'd probably give you that too."
I take a moment, needing to push back that hint of vulnerability in his tone.
"Promise me that when I inevitably crash and burn in these trials, you'll at least make my eulogy funny?"
His arm tightens, and for a moment, his usual playfulness vanishes. "Not happening, Kaia. Because you're not going to crash and burn. You're going to shine so fucking bright you'll put the Light Faction to shame. And we'll be right there with you, every step of the way."
As if to prove his point, he releases me and our little band of misfits materializes around us. Aspen, all grace and careful control. Torric, barely contained power and intensity. Malrik, quiet danger that makes my shadows quiver. And Finn...
Well, Finn is currently trying to juggle fireballs.
"Finn!" I yelp as flame whizzes past my ear. My shadows scatter in all directions, except for Finnick, who seems far too interested in the potential for chaos. "What in the name of all that's unholy are you doing?"
"Livening things up! Come on, Trouble, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Probably hiding with my sense of self-preservation," I mutter, but I'm fighting a smile. The familiar chaos is oddly comforting, even as Bob tries to herd the other shadows away from Finn's impromptu fire show.
That's when everything goes wrong.
Chapter 17
Kaia
One of Finn's fireballs spirals wild, hurtling straight for Aspen. I react on instinct, shadows erupting from my fingertips in a protective surge. But I've misjudged, overcompensated, and suddenly my power is everywhere, writhing with a life of its own. The air thickens as my shadows burst free, their movement erratic and wild, pulling at the edges of my control. A deep hum vibrates in my chest—a warning or an echo, I can’t tell. Something doesn’t feel right but I can’t stop to think about it. Even Bob loses his usual composure, dissolving into the maelstrom. The shadows writhe and stretch, snaking toward the edges of the arena like living tendrils of ink. I hear startled gasps, the scrape of boots as students step back, but the shadows are too fast, too chaotic. The air is heavy, like trying to breathe through damp wool, and the deep hum in my chest grows louder, more insistent.
"I can't—I can't control it!" The words tear from my throat as Patricia's frantic attempts to catalog the chaos only make it worse. Mouse growls, hackles raised at the surge of power.
And then a figure steps between me and the spreading darkness. His hands move in an intricate pattern, and I feel my magic respond, settling back into my skin. My shadows retreat reluctantly, though they keep their distance from him—even Bob hanging back with unusual wariness.
"Breathe," he says, voice low and steady. "You're safe."
