Page 24 of Beasts of Shadows #1

It’s unsettling, hearing Ravi talk about his children like we aren’t still kids ourselves. I get he has memories beyond this life, but it doesn’t change how disturbing it is to hear.

“Bea’s echo always dies.Before her nineteenth birthday.”

My throat tightens.

“Dies how?”

“She’s sacrificed,” Ravi says quietly. “Calea orchestrates it every time. She hides it in prophecy, in war, in noble causes. But the result is always the same. Bea’s divine echo dies, and Calea absorbs the energy.”

“And you?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“I watch,” he says finally. “That’s my role. Bound by blood, by vow, by punishment. And I watch. But you changed it. Things are off script. Something’s happening. Something’s already happened.”

I curl my fingers over my cup, staring out the window.

“Picca Roberts said the same thing,” I murmur.

Ravi takes my trembling hand, and I let him.

“You should’ve told me,” I say.

“I’m telling you now.”

“You should’ve told me before I got here. Before the bogeys. Before I—.”

Before I kissed someone else, thinking you were dead.

Before I started feeling something I don’t know how to name.

“There’s more.”

“Of course.”

Ravi licks his lips.

“Now that you’re aware of the cycle, you can end Calea before she kills you. And there are a lot of shades, for a lot of reason, who want to see you do just that.”

“Back up,” I say, waving my arms. “You want me to kill a god ?”

“Not a god. The god. Calea’s head honcho of the entire Shadow Realm right now. Like…the Celtic mafia, or something.”

“Oh,” I grunt, unbothered. “I guess that makes it easier.”

I press my hands into the table to stop their trembling.

“We have some time until your birthday. Calea doesn’t know about me. That you’ve broken the curse. We’ve taken careful pains to ensure she’s left in the dark. It’s why I go by Sumner here.”

I narrow my gaze.

“She’ll come for you herself. You’re not just a soul echo anymore.

Once she realizes that, she’ll realize you’re a threat to her power.

Between now and then, you’ll work with Picca.

She’s one of my best students in fighting and prophecy.

” My eyes narrow. “Use your power to your advantage. If you’re going to take on Calea, you need to be formidable against the top students. This is how you do it.”

I chew on my cheek.

Ravi lets me sit with that.

Lets me spiral.

Lets the ugly possibilities eat their way up my spine like ivy.

Then he leans back, exhales through his nose, and says—too casual to be comforting—.

“I took care of Nikolai for you.”

My brain halts. Like someone yanked the emergency brake on a speeding train. My fingers go cold around the croissant. The air in my lungs turns heavy, sharp.

“You what?”

Ravi shrugs, tearing off another chunk of his toast. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

I push back from the table, half-standing. “What did you do?”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

“Nari,” he says, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “The Matholwch patriarch tormented Bea. Maybe you don’t remember that, yet, but I promised her I’d never let anyone hurt her again. Especially not that family.”

My mouth opens, then closes again.

“Nikolai’s adopted, though. He’s not really a deity.”

His gaze holds mine, too steady.

Nikolai’s sneer. His voice. His hand brushing mine in the dome. The carved charm. The way he looked at me before he kissed me. Like, maybe, I wasn’t just another piece of mortal garbage.

“I don’t need your protection.”

“You might not. But I’m here for you, regardless.”

He slides his plate away, the clink of ceramic against glass unnervingly final.

“And I keep my promises.”

#

On my way back to classes, I cross paths with Nikolai.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the marketplace on Saturday.

The first time we’ve really seen each other since we kissed.

He’s coming from the west corridor, flanked by no one for once. Alone. He walks like nothing can touch him. Like his enemies die just from thinking too hard.

When his eyes flick toward me, he slows. Then sneers.

My arm shoots out before I can help myself.

My fingers catch the curve of his bicep. His muscle tightens under my grip, solid and unyielding. But he stops.

I should let go. I don’t.

“Look,” I start, “I don’t know what Ravi said the other day—.”

He gives a bitter chuckle and moves before I can blink—pressing one arm to the wall beside my head, pinning me in place without touching me. His breath is warm, close. His smile? Anything but.

“You know,” he says, voice low. “I figured you had friends in high places—given the number of times someone’s had to save your ass. I just didn’t realize one of them was your ex. Or your teacher.”

He leans closer, lips curled in a sneer.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell,” he winks, but it’s hardly comforting.

It feels more like a warning that he could tell, if he wanted to.

That he has something on me. “Although, I gotta know—for someone so opposed to deities, you sure don’t mind screwing them.

Was it weird finding out your allegedly dead ex was the one grading your essays? ”

“He’s not my teacher,” I say, voice tight. It’s the only thing I can get out. “And where do you get off sounding jealous—.”

“ Jealous ?”

The loss of his nearness shouldn’t feel like whiplash, but it does. My whole equilibrium stutters, like I’ve been released from a spell. I suck in a shaky breath, trying not to look like I needed it.

He checks his watch, flicking the metal lid closed with a snap.

“Jealous of what? You and him ?”

“You kissed me.”

“Out. Of. Pity.” His grin is malicious. Meant to hurt. The words land like a slap.

I flinch, but barely. Just enough that he’ll see it and file it away for later—another weakness to exploit.

He flashes me a cold, toothless smile and adjusts the cuff of his jacket. So calm. So casual. Like this is a game to him, and he’s already won.

“It was your last night, remember? I figured I’d throw you a parting gift. Didn’t quite get to throwing you a bone, of course…”

The air between us warps.

Gods, he’s good at this. Cutting deep with just a few words, as if he knows exactly where I’ve buried every shard of self-worth.

I should walk away. I should say nothing.

But my pride is a living thing. It refuses to be quiet.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then I laugh.

It’s not a nice sound. Too sharp at the edges. Too loud for the empty hallway. But if I don’t laugh, I might scream. Or worse—beg him to admit he didn’t mean it.

Because a part of me still wants him to mean it.

“I’m glad we see the situation in the same way,” I say, even though my voice feels splintered on the inside. “One less thing to be confused about next time I’m dying.”

His smile doesn’t falter. But something shifts in his posture. Small. Sharp. Like I landed closer than I should have.

He gives a theatrical bow, lips curved in cruelty.

“Have fun with your god.”

Then he walks off, whistling.

I don’t flinch. Not until he’s gone.

Not because I don’t have something else to say.

But because if I open my mouth, I might say something I can’t take back.