Page 16 of Shadebound (Dark Fantasy #1)

“Which again, I can understand. But it still hurt,” I sighed, explaining myself a little. “Losing Bells damn near killed me. You were one of the few reasons I held on. And then... suddenly you were gone too. That didn’t help.”

He was quiet for a beat, then asked, “Is that why you think you did what you did? Why you killed all those people? Did it contribute to that?”

“Amongst other things. Yeah.”I nodded as I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, the few tendrils of pink mixed in with my black almost enough to burn me.

I’d done it for Bells. Just two front pieces of my hair. The exact shade of bubblegum she’d had.

I hated it. But I needed it. I needed a piece of her with me at all times. Far more than her currently missing necklace, or magic stones.

As though sensing my little internal spiral, Zayden lifted a hand.

With careful gentleness, he trailed his fingers along my cheekbone.

His touch was featherlight, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to do it.

For a second, I wanted to lean in—to press into the warmth and let it mean something—but I forced myself to stay still.

It was so soft it barely registered. But my body noticed—skin prickling, breath catching, like every nerve had woken up just to feel him again.

“For what it’s worth, Heartache,” he said, “I’ve missed you every single moment.”

“So did I,” I breathed, as I stepped back and watched his fingers fall.

He grinned after, like he was trying to play it off, like it hadn’t just been the rawest thing either of us had said.

I didn’t usually do emotions. I didn’t know what to do with care and love when they weren’t weapons. They were still strange things in my hands. But I knew how to say just enough that he would understand me. Hopefully.

He looked like he was about to say something else, but the door creaked open before he could. It scraped along the stone with a low, steady sound, like a warning for us to stop being hideously emotional.

Zayden offered a smile. “Oh yeah, meet your new favourite roommate. Other than me, of course.”

I frowned. “Who?”

The door swung wide.

And Maya Cordeaux stood there. The last woman I’d ever expected to see.

She looked like the ocean dreaming of violence.

Long, shiny blue hair in intricate braids, tiny shells and crystals woven through.

Her eyes were neon, otherworldly blue that practically glowed in the dim light.

Her skin shimmered faintly, as if something iridescent lived beneath it, like scales that weren’t always visible but wanted to be.

She wore blue and iridescent loungewear.

Sleek and clingy, like it was made for both lounging and combat.

It glinted with movement, giving the impression of liquid pooled sunlight whenever she shifted her weight.

She broke into a grin instantly. “Well, well. Look what the tide dragged in.”

I stared—not because I didn’t recognise her.

I did. Immediately. Maya had been my sister’s best friend.

Bells’ shadow and twin flame. At some point in their teenage years, it had become more.

Until the pair were so hideously in love that I had felt sick every time I saw them smile.

She’d been at our house more than not, curled on couches, floating in the pool, dancing barefoot in the garden at midnight.

Laughing at things no one else thought were funny.

Crying in silence the night Bells died.

And now she was here.

Now I was seeing her for the first time since my sister’s funeral just over a year ago.

There was something comforting in seeing Maya again.

A fragile link to a past I didn’t let myself think about.

A glimpse of a time that hadn’t been so steeped in blood.

But it hurt too—seeing her was like opening a wound I’d kept stitched shut.

A reminder of what I’d lost. Who I’d lost. And a part of me hated that she was here.

I hadn’t known she was at Mors. I hadn’t asked about her since the funeral.

I hadn’t noticed her being missing from my life.

She was just... here now. And it made something in me ache with guilt. Because she deserved more than that.

Bells would have hated that I’d let Maya go too.

Maya stepped closer and reached out her hand. I flinched—barely, but I did. She didn’t comment. Just squeezed my hand gently. No words. No hug. Just that small connection.

Zayden glanced at me. “I’ll leave you two. We’ve got training in the morning. Try not to murder anyone before I’m back. I wanna make sure we get a good night’s sleep before...” he trailed off. “Well, before initiation part two.”

I rolled my eyes, not capable of asking questions when I was already stressing out. “No promises.”

He pulled me into a brief hug, his arms warm around me. He looked at my mouth. Just briefly. And then he stepped closer. He still smelt like nature—rain on bark, sun through pine. A scent that made me want to lean in and breathe deeper.

“See you later, Heartache,” he murmured near my ear, his voice soft enough to be a secret.

I leant in before I could talk myself out of it. Just for a second. Just long enough to remember what it felt like to be near him and not hurt. I wanted to hold on to him, to keep him there just a little longer. Just long enough to pretend that everything hadn’t changed. But then he pulled away.

And then he was gone.

I stood in the doorway, the strangeness of the moment weighing down on me.

My body was drained, heavy in a way that said I needed food, sleep, and at least ten minutes with no one speaking to me.

I hadn’t eaten since the day before, and was eager for my brother and his companions to return with food.

Plus, I’d just used a violent burst of magic. My limbs ached. My head buzzed.

I was drained from having to be normal-ish. To emote, and talk, and do things with other people.

And maybe weirdest of all, it was night.

Full night. Stars overhead through the narrow dorm window, I was surprised I could see.

Which made no sense. When I’d left home, it had been nearly four in the morning.

My arrival had been early enough to still be considered daytime. Yet now it was pitch black.

“Magic window.” Maya said, as though she could read my thoughts. “It’s fake, but makes us feel better.”

I nodded, unable to think of what else to say. I was tired. So very tired.

I was fed up with reminders of my mirror image when I could no longer see her. Speak to her.Or feel the light of her rainbow shining on me in the only way I could love colour.

Maya stepped back and waved me into the room.

“I already put your stuff on the bed next to Zayden. Figured you’d want that spot, even if the guy who used to have it was a psycho.

Well, he was hot. But he was an incubus, so I made sure to cleanse the space so you don’t catch cooties too.

So I hope that’s okay.” She grabbed a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me.

“And here’s the schedule. It’s not that interesting.

Mostly just doom and gloom with snack breaks. ”

I followed her in, eyes flicking over every inch of space.

The dorm was... witchy. Like a witch who ate children in the woods sort of way. Or perhaps a gothic nightmare that had been brought to life.

The room was circular, with the tall fake window that looked out over jagged cliffs and a sky full of stars. The air smelt faintly of lavender, salt, and something sweetly electric.

There were thirteen beds arranged in a perfect circle: thin metal frames, each topped with a threadbare mattress and a single thin sheet.

Every bed bore a touch of its owner’s personality—posters, trinkets, and small totems clinging to the frame.

I spotted Zayden’s immediately: it was unmade, with a few punk band posters haphazardly tacked above, and a small werewolf teddy I’d given him once sat dutifully at the head. To my right, I saw my own future spot.

My bed was dressed in all black, with a black tapestry hung above it, stitched with silver threads that formed a protective sigil I recognised from one of my mother’s old books.

There were black protection candles melted to the knobs on each bed corner, and my suitcase was tucked on the ground beside a pair of black fluffy slippers.

It looked a little like home. And that almost hurt.

“You unpacked,” I whispered.

Maya smiled. “I wanted to surprise you. I even got your tarot card set out with its mat, and your little altar kit.” She pointed to the small black wooden side table, barely big enough for my cards.

She’d left them in the box on top of the mat, with a small bundle of protection herbs in a gossamer bag next to it.

My mother had packed well. I had enough witchy things to keep myself capable of remembering her for at least the next decade.

Not that I intended to be here that long.

“You’ve not got your cauldron; they took that until they check it over for weird spells, even though your mother must have tried to hide it and make it miniature in your case.” Maya’s neon eyes rolled. “I even washed your goblet—it’s on the sink drying off. I’m jealous that you have it here.”

“You’re welcome to borrow it anytime.” I murmured. My goblet had a dragon carved on the side, and had been a gift from my father one birthday. It could make me any drink I wanted; I just had to prick my finger on a dragon scale and imagine what I fancied drinking.

“Thanks!” She grinned. “Oh, and I left a gift on your pillow to try to sweeten the mood. A little sorry you’re in jail thing.”

My throat tightened. “I appreciate that.”