Page 180 of Magical Mission

Krina sat alone on a bench near the arch of flowering moonvine, her dark braid draped over one shoulder, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her posture was straighter than when I’d first met her, less like someone hiding and more like someone who had nothing left to run from.

I slowed as I approached. She looked up before I could speak. Her expression was unreadable, but she gave a small nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t surprise that I saw in her eyes. It was readiness.

“Headmistress,” she said, gently. “You’re here about the shadow, aren’t you?”

I sat beside her, brushing my hands on my leg, still unsure how to start.

“I need to ask you about him. Your ex. I need to know more than what you told us when you first arrived. I feel like there might be more to the story.”

Krina’s shoulders tensed, but only for a moment. “I thought we severed the last of him.”

“So did I,” I said. “But I think he left more than just a tether. Something from Shadowick entered the Academy this morning. Slipped through our Wards like it knew the rhythm of our defenses. It left a message, one word.”

She turned her head toward me, brows furrowed. “What did it say?”

“Soon.”

Her breath caught, and that was answer enough.

“I’ve tried to forget what he was,” she said, voice soft and strained. “Tried to convince myself the worst parts of him were behind me. But he never really stayed gone. Not in the way that matters.”

“Did he ever speak of Shadowick?”

The word hung between us like a chill.

Krina didn’t flinch.

But her voice dropped to something almost hollow. “He never called it that. But yes. He talked about places between the lines. Places that didn’t belong to any map or realm. He once said there was a forest where silence could split you in two and a river that whispered names you’d tried to forget. He’d spend time in a village for classes, or at least that’s what he told me. ”

“He said that was where real magic slept,” Krina added. “Magic that didn’t follow rules. Magic thatansweredto grief.”

Goosebumps raced across my arms. “And he went there?”

She nodded. “More than once. He called it stepping out of the world. Each time he came back… it was like more of him stayed behind.”

“What was his name?” I asked.

Her mouth pulled tight. “Noren.”

I filed it away, though I doubted a name like that would hold much weight in a place like Shadowick. Still, anything that grounded this man in reality was worth keeping.

“He asked questions,” she said suddenly. “Always. About what was hidden. What was forbidden? It began small, with questions about spells, ancient histories, and hidden truths. But it always circled back to power. Who had it? Whokeptit? And how he could take it from them.”

She looked at me then, eyes sharp despite the emotion behind them. “He hated places like this. Hated what they stood for. He said learning light made people weak. That comfort made them soft. He believed fear was the only honest thing in the world.”

Fear.

I nodded slowly, dread blooming in my chest.

“That’s what he and Gideon share,” I murmured. “Belief in fear. That power only comes from unmaking things.”

Krina looked down at her hands. “Then he found someone who told him how.”

“Do you think it was Gideon?” I asked.

She hesitated. “Maybe. Or maybe it was Shadowick itself.”

The bench creaked softly beneath us. I wanted to ask more, but something told me not to push. Krina had given more than enough. She hadn’t flinched from the truth, even though it cracked the walls she’d built to survive.