I watched professors sealing doors with enormous iron keys, restricting hallways, and removing ancient books from shelves while students whispered in corners.
“At first, I believed the Academy was limitless.” Her fingers traced the edge of her cup absentmindedly. “But eventually I realized they only taught enough to keep students obedient.”
I frowned, wondering if she saw the parallel.
“No,” I said before I could stop myself. “Maybe they understood it better than you think. Perhaps, they wanted to protect the students.”
Her eyes lifted slowly to mine, and she smiled.
“They feared what shadow magic could become. They wanted to use it to pull the darkness and shadows out of the world, but I realized how powerful it could be if you put them back in.”
I sat shocked. My grandmother handed me the answers to my questions on a platter.
“That’s wicked.”
“Oh, Maeve.” Her voice dropped almost affectionately. “That’s exactly what they wanted us to believe.”
The shadows near the walls stretched slightly.
“They taught restraint constantly,” she continued. “Control. Balance. Limitation.” Her mouth curved faintly. “Every lesson came wrapped in warnings. It was ridiculous. And to think I was the one teaching fear? Don’t do this, or you’ll be ignited in flames. Don’t do that or…”
The vision shifted again, and I saw a younger version of her standing inside a massive circular chamber lined with silver runes. Shadows curled around her wrists like smoke while professors watched from above. They seemed nervous, and even then… uneasy.
“I excelled quickly,” she admitted as I brought my gaze back to hers and drew a breath.
“It’s classic. They praised talent right up until the moment talent stopped being manageable.” Her gaze drifted again as if she reveled in the memory. “There were lower chambers beneaththe Academy that most students never even knew existed. Ancient places with even more ancient…” She stopped herself as a chill crept slowly up my spine.
The shadows around us deepened.
I caught flashes of hidden corridors beneath Shadowick with black stone walls and mirrors that seemed to move when no one touched them and shadows that hovered just out of reach.
“I learned they carried emotion. Memory. Fear. Rage.” Her voice lowered further. “Love. Grief. Every terrible thing people bury inside themselves leaves an imprint.”
“The shadows?” I asked softly as the room fell colder, or maybe it was just me.
She nodded. “And if you listen closely enough…” Her eyes glittered strangely in the firelight. “…the shadows answer back.”
A knot formed hard in my stomach, but it wasn’t for the most obvious reason. It was in some odd way that she sounded somewhat reasonable.
“I started teaching the students this…At least the ones who’d listen.” Her eyes met mine, and she tilted her head. “The Academy started panicking once some of us began discovering deeper forms of magic.” She gave a humorless laugh.
The visions turned foggier now, but I could sense arguments behind closed doors and fear spreading.
“Entire wings were sealed. Books disappeared overnight. Professors suddenly became very concerned with safety.” She tapped her finger on the desk and stared into the distance.
“Was anyone hurt? Was that why?” I asked, but she continued on her own.
“They called it corruption,” she murmured.
“The shadows?” I asked.
“The shadow magic,” she corrected. “But it wasn’t corruption.” Her gaze locked onto mine fully now. “It was evolution.”
Every instinct inside me screamed not to look away.
“Over the years, I came to realize that they feared shadow magic because they realized it wasn’t passive.” Her voice had gone almost reverent now. “The darkness grows. Learns. Adapts.” She tilted her head slightly. “And once it recognizes someone willing to truly listen…”
My breath caught.
