Page 32 of Beasts of Shadows #1

Our second field exercise is an overnight trip into the Shadow Realm, in the second-to-last week of November.

Given the limited success of our last trip, I’m thankful when Percy lets us pick our own partners.

Cat and I bump elbows, already migrating toward each other with matching smirks.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” she asks.

“If it’s ‘don’t die’ and ‘stick close to the loudmouth with a sword,’ then yes.”

“I was thinking loot the best trail snacks from Stella’s pack, but your plan works too.”

We make our way toward the gear station, where Percy stands flanked by two upperclassmen in ash-gray cloaks. Their faces are blank—beyond human blank. Shadows lick up their ankles like smoke, and when one turns toward me, I catch a glint of green just beneath the surface of their skin.

“As part of this exercise,” Percy says, projecting his voice over the shuffling group, “a glamour will be applied to all spectral and divine-born students. It will suppress your abilities until sunrise.”

A rustle of unease passes through the crowd.

Ta?sse crosses her arms. “You’re making shades mortal. For fun ?”

“Not for fun,” Percy replies, calm as ever. “For fairness. And for learning. Many of you have never lived here. The Shadow Realm doesn’t care if you were born divine. It only cares if you’re clever enough to survive it.”

Cat mutters under her breath, “So basically, we’re crash-coursing survival in a god-eater’s playground.”

“There hasn’t been a god-eater, god-slayer, or god-maker in ages,” Stella mutters.

I glance sideways at Nikolai, standing a few paces away beside Kilronan. His seafoam eyes are unreadable, his posture relaxed—but I see the tension in his jaw.

He doesn’t like being vulnerable.

Good.

Maybe now he’ll stop smirking at everyone like the goddamn apex predator he is.

If only he used that mouth for something other than insults and strategy.

Oh gods, what is wrong with me?

That’s it. I’m getting laid. Tomorrow night, if I can. I’m not going to take one more minute of fantasizing about what Nikolai can and cannot pull off in bed.

“Once you cross the veil,” Percy continues, unaware of my sudden aching dilemma, “the glamour activates. Each duo will be pitted against another to find a hidden object and return it. Whichever team holds the item by midnight will automatically go up a spot in the rankings.”

That sounds way too easy.

There must be a catch.

But that’s good. If this is tough, it’ll keep my mind off of how good Nikolai looks.

Or how amazingly alive Ravi smelled.

“So we can steal?” Stella asks.

Canines curve over Percy’s lips when he grins.

“You’re encouraged too.”

Damn. So much for an easy night.

Nikolai steps forward. “And what happens if someone dies under glamour?”

“They stay dead.”

Silence spreads like oil.

He glances my way, looking worried. Probably expecting me to come for him, after all the stupid crap he’s pulled.

But I’m too tired to deal with him.

Percy holds up a brass compass, its needle spinning erratically.

“This is a sidhé needle. It will help you navigate. But a word of caution. It’s made for mortals, so don’t rely on it too much.”

Grumbles hail across the crowd. Stella and Jasmine lift their chins, probably gloating over the reminder that even tonight, shades bleed.

“It’s cursed to twist toward either desire or doom. And no one knows for sure which it is. But it always points true. On top of that, the terrain changes. Memory shifts. Shadows… distort. Good luck.”

The group disperses toward the veil, where the world shimmers and folds in on itself like smoke caught in a jar. The upperclassmen silently give each duo their packets and compasses.

“Thanks for the death trinket,” Cat grunts.

As I pass one, a low voice follows me. Just loud enough to curl under my skin.

“This isn’t the real test, you know.”

I glance back. The shade doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me.

“You are.” The whisper drifts from nowhere—and everywhere. “The way you choose to get it. The alliances you make. The ones you leave behind.”

A beat of silence.

“That’s what the gods are watching.”

Of course they are.

#

We crack open the wax seal on our OPORD just past sundown, crouched behind a boulder with our breath fogging the air. The instructions inside are hand-lettered in iron ink, and only slightly charred at the edges—Percy’s idea of professional polish.

OBJECTIVE : Recover Gothel’s looking glass.

A single object. One per team. Hidden somewhere in the Shadow Realm’s northern quadrant. The note doesn’t say what the looking glass does. Or what happens if we find it.

“Sounds fake,” Cat mutters, squinting at the parchment. “Or poetic. Either way, I bet Reema would know.”

She would. Cody, too, though he’d want something in return for the information that Reema would give willingly.

I suppose, if he was here, I could just blackmail him with what I learned in his journal.

I tuck the OPORD into my jacket and glance toward the forest.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Born ready.” She cracks her knuckles. “Also, deeply under-caffeinated.”

We step off the path, leaving the flickering wardlight perimeter behind—and the mist swallows us whole.

It clings to my calves like foam, curling over roots and jagged rocks, softening everything to a dream—or a warning.

Cat and I hike single-file through an overgrown trail that smells like wet bark.

The trees are ancient—gnarled things with bone-white trunks and arching limbs that form a crooked ribcage above us.

There’s no wind. No stars. No moon. Just the soft crush of boots and breath.

My head pounds, a slow throb behind my eyes that started back at the creekbed and hasn’t eased since. Something in the air changed there. I don’t know what. But my skin hasn’t stopped prickling since.

It feels like we’re being watched.

Like the woods have a pulse—and it’s out of sync with ours.

I press a palm to a tree for balance. The bark is slick with moss and something else—sour, cloying, like old wine. I wipe my hand on my thigh and keep moving. Each footstep is heavier. Like the woods don’t want us here.

The forest presses in closer now. My senses ping—too quiet, too familiar.

Unease coils tight.

I spin—nothing but fog and skeletal trunks.

“Will you relax?” Cat demands. “You’re making me nervous, and I don’t do nerves.”

She jerks to a stop as Nikolai and Kilronan step into our path.

For fuck’s sake.

Kilronan materializes through the fog like a smug forest god, all sharp smiles and glinting steel. And right behind him—of course—is Nikolai.

Sea-foam eyes, jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, expression like he just smelled something unpleasant and knows it’s us.

“Ladies,” Kilronan greets with a gallant little bow. “Give me the compass, Nicky. It’s clearly pointing to something you’d regret.”

“Clever,” Cat scoffs, rolling her eyes. “What are you searching for?”

Kilronan grins. “Same thing as you, I’d wager. Something shiny. Something cursed. Something the gods want us to bleed for.”

My stomach tightens. “The looking glass.”

Nikolai doesn’t respond. Just studies me with that unreadable expression, like he’s already several moves ahead. Like he’s already seen how this ends.

“Hold up.” Cat narrows her eyes. “You two are—?”

“Our competition,” I finish flatly. “Of course.”

“Midnight deadline,” Kilronan quips. “One relic. One team leaves with it. The other leaves with bruised egos.”

“And no powdered godleaf, either,” Cat whines. “If I’d known we’d be sober and social, I’d have faked my own death.”

Kilronan holds out a hand, mock-solemn. “Best of luck to you both. May the most vicious, underhanded, morally ambiguous team win.”

“Hold up.” Nikolai crosses his arm before Kilronan, before they can move. “Let’s make this interesting.”

I don’t care for the way he’s looking at me.

“Absolutely not,” Cat says, instantly. “I’m not playing dick-measuring games with the Van Ritten Prince and his favorite court jester.”

Kilronan grins. “You’re just scared to lose.”

“I’m scared you’ll open your mouth again.”

But I don’t look at Cat. I’m looking at Nikolai. At the way his arms are crossed, unimpressed, like he thinks we’re beneath him—and maybe we are. But maybe we don’t have to stay that way.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, before I can stop myself.

Kilronan’s eyes gleam. “Now that you mention it, I’ve always wondered—are mortal orgasms as pathetic as the rumors say?”

He glances at Cat. “What do you think, Kitty? Loser services the winners. Mouth, hands, creativity optional.”

“If I wanted to choke on disappointment, I’d call my ex. At least he knew to shut up and order me takeout afterward.”

“You’ll be too wrecked to eat. But I’ll leave the menu on your pillow.”

“Promises, promises,” Cat retorts.

Nikolai, who’s been quiet to this point, makes a face. “They’re wasting time on purpose.”

“Oh, Nicky, we can entertain this for a bit. It’s not like they actually stand a chance.”

“We’ll do it.”

“The fuck we will,” Cat growls.

“Trust me?”

“Only slightly more than Cody.”

I squeeze her hand, hoping she can pick up what I’m putting down.

I’ve got this.

Cat makes a face, but reluctantly nods her acquiescence.

I face the men.

“If we win, you’ll help me with training. Real training. Enough to break out of the bottom ten.”

The silence that follows is thick as the fog.

Then, Nikolai smiles. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just slowly. Like I’ve said something unexpected and he’s trying to decide if I’ve just made a fatal mistake.

Eyes dancing, he steps forward.

“And if we win?”

“You won’t,” I scoff. Kilronan whistles low. “But in the slim chance that you do…”

I meet Nikolai’s eyes.

“Then you collect,” I say, voice cool. “Exactly what you asked for.”

Cat makes a choking noise beside me.

“You serious?” Kilronan’s grin flickers into something hungrier.

“You made the wager,” I say. “I’m just willing to match it.”

There’s a long beat. Even the forest seems to still.

I turn on my heel, looping my arm with Cat’s. “Try to keep up.”

Beside me, she groans. “I hate all of you.”