My necklace pulses once, warm and sure, like an answer to a question I wasn’t sure how to ask.
"Speaking of secrets," Finn says, sprawling back against a cushion, "can we talk about how Malrik has apparently been holding out on us? Mr. 'I understand shadow magic' better than anyone over here."
Malrik stiffens slightly. "I never claimed—"
"No, you just casually read magical alignments and speak fluent shadow-ese." Finn grins. "Very mysterious. Very broody prince."
I sit up straighter. "Wait, prince?"
"Former prince," Malrik corrects sharply, shooting Finn a look that could freeze fire. "Of a realm that no longer really exists. It's not relevant."
"Seems pretty relevant to me," I counter. "Especially if it helps explain what's happening with my shadows."
Malrik is quiet for a long moment, his shoulders stiff and his gaze fixed on the floor as though weighing his words. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled, each word deliberate, as if he fears the weight of what he’s about to reveal. "Absentia—my realm—was once a bridge between worlds. Between light and shadow, life and death. The magic there... it was different. Deeper."
"Like my shadows," I say softly.
He meets my eyes. "Similar, yes. But yours are..." he pauses, searching for words. "Purer, somehow. Less corrupted."
"Corrupted by what?"
Another loaded glance passes between the others.
"There are stories," Aspen says carefully, "about an ancient power that tried to harness shadow magic. To control death itself."
"Alekir," Malrik says, the name falling like stone. "The Soulbinder."
My necklace flares sharply, and my shadows coil tight. Even Mouse lifts his head, suddenly alert.
"Easy," Finn murmurs, reaching out to steady me as the room seems to tilt. His hand finds mine, warm and grounding. "Maybe we should save the spooky history lesson for tomorrow."
"No," I manage. "I need to know. Everything you know about this Alekir, about my shadows, about the necklace—all of it."
"Not everything tonight," Malrik says firmly. "Some knowledge needs... context."
"Then give me context," I challenge. "Because right now, all I know is that my magic attracts dangerous attention, my necklacereacts to weird alignments, and apparently there's some ancient shadow-binding guy who might be relevant to all this."
"Don't forget your grumpy shadow army," Finn adds helpfully. "And their cookie addiction."
As if on cue, Bob swipes another treat. Finnick is buried in a pile of them and Patricia is daintily nibbling on one.
"The point is," Torric cuts in, "you're not facing this alone anymore. Whatever's coming—whether it's Darian, Thorne, or something bigger—we've got your back."
"Whether you want us or not," Aspen adds with a faint smile.
"Very reassuring," I mutter, but I'm fighting a smile too.
"Oh please, you love us," Finn declares. "Even Bob agrees. Look at him nodding."
"Bob is eating another cookie."
"Multitasking!"
I laugh, and some of the heaviness lifts.
"We'll figure it out," Malrik says quietly. When I look at him, his expression is intent. "All of it. Just... trust us?"
The question hangs in the air, weighted with more than just tonight's revelations.
