Page 53 of Shadows Rising

“Power.” Her silver eyes catalog the changes in me, the sharper edges, the way shadows respond to my presence now like they recognize something that wasn’t there before. “You’re different than you were as a boy.”

She traces her fingers down my forearm, just the barest brush of contact, waiting to see if I’ll react. If I’ll let her.

I don’t.

I catch her wrist before she can move any further, grip firm but not unkind.

She exhales softly, her smirk deepening. “Interesting.”

My jaw tightens. “Is it?”

She watches me, something calculating in her expression. “Most men would have reacted by now. One way or another.”

My grip tightens, just for a second, before I release her. “I’m not most men.”

For the first time, something flickers across her face, something almost like genuine interest. But it’s gone before I can name it.

She exhales softly, stepping back. “No. You’re not.”

I give her a slow, humorless smile. “Was that your conclusion?”

She tilts her head, studying me one last time before turning to walk away. “Among others.”

I close my eyes, inhaling deep, letting the silence settle.

This place is trying to pull me back into old patterns. But I’m not the boy who left this realm in desperation and shame.

And I’m sure as hell not the prince they lost.

Chapter 27

Kaia

The world around me shifts.

I know this is a dream—I always know.

But this one feels different.

I’m standing in a place I don’t recognize, though something about it tugs at the edges of my mind like a half-forgotten song. Shadows coil around my feet, not just stretching but clinging, their tendrils wrapping like searching fingers, like they’re trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear. The cracked stone beneath me pulses faintly, as if it carries a heartbeat, as if it remembers things I’ve forgotten.

The air hums with something ancient, something hungry.

The sky above is endless black, no stars, no moon, just a vast and empty void that presses down on me like a weight I can taste. The silence isn’t peaceful—it’s waiting. Watching.

A flicker of movement catches my eye, something small, bobbing just above the ground.

Walter.

But his usual lazy drifting is gone. His form wavers in and out of focus, like a candle struggling against wind. He moves toward me with hesitant urgency, his strange purplish glow flickering as he hovers near my shoulder. He’s trying to warn me.

I take a step forward, but the ground beneath me isn’t solid. It shifts like sand made of shadows, not quite earth, not quite anything. Each step feels like walking on the surface of a frozen lake where the ice grows thinner with every breath.

Then I see him.

A figure stands in the distance, half-swallowed by shifting mist.

I can’t make out his face clearly.