"Ah, Ms. Draven." His voice slides across the yard like oil on water. "I thought we might demonstrate what you learned yesterday. Darian?"
As if conjured by his name, Darian emerges from the shadows. Something flickers across Malrik's face—recognition? Warning?—but it vanishes before I can read it.
"Let's show them your progress," Darian suggests. His smile is warm, but his eyes calculate.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” I try, pushing all the confidence I can muster into the words.
“Nonsense,” Thorne chimes in, all but ignoring my request.
The twins halt their sparring, steam still coiling around them like restless spirits. Torric's expression darkens as Darian moves closer to me. Aspen's hand finds his brother's arm—a silent warning.
"Perhaps a practical demonstration?" Thorne's suggestion carries the weight of a command. "Mr. Agere, if you'd assist?"
Torric steps forward, eager as always for a fight, but Thorne gestures to Aspen instead. The calmer twin moves with fluid grace, though I catch the tension riding his shoulders.
"The objective is simple," Thorne continues, pacing the edge of our impromptu arena. "Kaia will attempt to breach Aspen's defenses using what she's learned. Darian will... guide her technique."
My shadows coil tight around my ankles as Darian steps behind me. His hands ghost over my shoulders, adjusting my stance. "Remember what we practiced," he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck. "Reach for the deeper shadows."
A shiver runs through me—from his touch or something else, I'm not sure. But the moment his hands settle, a subtle pulse runs through me, like my shadows are being pulled or stretched in ways they’ve never moved before. My skin prickles as a strange, unwelcome sensation crawls up my spine.
From the corner of my eye, I catch it—a fleeting nod from Thorne to Darian. My chest tightens.
Darian’s voice remains soft, soothing. "You feel that? That connection to something deeper? Focus on it."
But it feels wrong. The shadows don't react like they normally do—they hesitate, jitter, as if uncertain. Even Bob, my steady presence, flickers uneasily near my ankle.
Aspen raises his hands, and a wall of crystalline water shimmers into existence. Behind it, his face distorts, but I read concern in the set of his jaw.
"Begin," Thorne commands.
I try to push my unease aside, reaching for the shadows like I always do. But instead of responding with their usual fluidity, they jerk and pull in strange, erratic movements. My heart pounds as Darian’s hands press lightly against my back, guiding me, but it feels invasive, like someone reaching into a part of me they shouldn’t.
"Let it flow," Darian murmurs, but his voice sounds distant now, layered with something sharper, darker. My shadows lash out, not at Aspen’s barrier but in wild arcs that scrape across the ground, uncontrollable.
A gasp escapes me as the necklace against my skin grows warm—no, searing. The amethyst glows faintly, and my shadows snap back to me, tearing away from whatever influence they were under. Darian stumbles back slightly, his hand withdrawing as if burned.
"Enough!" Malrik's voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding. He steps into the arena before Thorne can speak, his silver eyes blazing. My shadows rush to him, clinging like frightened children.
Aspen lowers his barrier, his gaze locked on Thorne. "What the hell was that?" he demands, his calm veneer cracking.
Thorne’s expression is smooth, unreadable. "A momentary lapse in control, nothing more. Ms. Draven has much to learn."
But I know better. The crawling sensation, the tug on my magic—it wasn’t mine. And the way Darian avoids meeting my gaze tells me he knows it too.
"That's enough." Thorne cuts through the tension with practiced ease, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the group. "This session is concluded. Kaia, remember what we discussedabout control. The rest of you... I'm sure you have other matters to attend to."
As the group disperses, I feel the weight of unspoken words pressing in. Torric looks ready to argue, his hands twitching like they’re itching for a fight, but Aspen steers him away with quiet murmurs, his calm demeanor masking something stormy beneath. Malrik vanishes into the shadows without a backward glance, but the chill he leaves behind lingers, settling uneasily in my chest.
Finn lingers, though. Of course he does.
"Hey." His hand catches my arm, his touch grounding me when I feel like I might float away on the tide of unease. His green eyes meet mine, searching. "Just... be careful, okay? Some shadows hide sharper teeth than others."
His voice is low, meant for me alone, but there’s something in his tone—a warning, a plea—that makes my heart stutter. He's gone before I can ask what he means, vanishing in a blur of fire and mischief, leaving me with nothing but questions and the unsettling feeling that I’m missing something vital.
Darian appears at my side, smooth as ever, his smile soft, almost apologetic. "They’re just protective. It’s sweet, really."
"Yeah," I mutter, my gaze fixed on the space Finn just vacated. "Sweet."
