Page 32 of Shadebound (Dark Fantasy #1)

She’d lost an older brother in the plague. Grandparents too.

I was surprised she even spoke to me after that.

I’d always presumed it was Bells doing. But now? Perhaps she just didn’t blame for something I didn’t cause.

Zayden was still drawing on the back of my hand.

The pace had slowed; the pen dragged with a steady rhythm like he was deliberately stalling.

It was almost clinical, the way he stayed focussed on those faint, looping shapes.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. Just kept going and going like he needed the distraction too.

I still didn’t stop him. I didn’t even think about it.

The room quieted, too still, like we were all waiting for a sound that hadn’t come yet. I stared ahead, but the warmth of Zayden’s hand anchored me in place, a constant pressure that I could track. It kept me steady. I wasn’t sure if he meant to do that. But I didn’t care to work it out.

And then I heard him again.

Death.

They like to pretend they don’t know how it started .

A small jolt passed through me, just enough to make my shoulders shift. I hadn’t been expecting his voice again, but I wasn’t unhappy to hear it more than I usually did.

My eyes stayed on the illusion at the front of the room, though my attention shifted entirely. I kept still, breathing evenly, curious now. Curious in the way I got when something important was about to be revealed. He rarely spoke without purpose, and when he did, it was never empty.

How? I thought, as my heart thudded.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, a moment passed.

Then: It started with deaths. Ritualistic serial killings. Bodies were left in public view. Necks sliced open. Runes carved into flesh. No blood left in them at all.

My blood went cold.

I clenched my fist beneath the desk, nails biting into my palm.

Zayden must’ve felt the shift, the way my hand tensed without warning. He didn’t say anything. He just set the pen aside and laced his fingers through mine. His thumb moved slowly across my skin, tracing shapes I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t speak. I doubted I could when I was so focussed on the voice in my head. But the contact was enough. So I let Zayden stay there, and I stayed with Death.

As I thought of my sister. Of how she’d looked when I... when I’d found her.

When my shadows had felt her die, and I had raced to find her.

She’d been killed exactly like that. Neck sliced open, cut down to the bone. Her body covered in runes. Every mark made while she was still alive. Not random. Not impulsive or hurried. Someone had taken their time. Had known what they were doing. It wasn’t a murder. It was a message .

And no one ever figured out why. Even me.

The weight in my chest was too much. I couldn’t breathe right.

It’s not finished . Death whispered. It is not over .

The killer at Mors? I wondered, heart racing too much for me to handle. Is that why they’re doing it? For the plague... or for a new one?

Both . Death replied. She was chosen for both and more will be chosen too. It will not stop .

Before I could ask more, a loud crash broke through the quiet.

A desk scraped harshly against the stone floor.

Chairs shifted. Voices rose louder than my heartbeat.

A group of shifters at the back had started pushing each other.

It looked careless, but it wasn’t. They were clearly mad about something stupid.

Something I couldn’t care less about right now.

Because my sister had been murdered for a plague . For meaningless magic.

For a pathetic fucking monster to do some heinous things, they could have sacrificed anyone else for.

One of the shifters shoved Tyler too hard and stumbled. He slammed into Draven’s chair. The legs skidded with the impact.

Draven stood up, eyes narrowed, hands moving. I thought perhaps he was going to sign something rightfully rude.

Then he punched Tyler. Hard enough to make the pathetic dragon stumble once more.

The dragon-shifter responded with another shove. This one had an intention behind it far worse than before. He raised his large hands, and somehow, someway... I reacted to it.

I reacted to his violence . Not towards me. Not when I was in danger, or pain.

But because of Draven . Because of Bells. Because of every ounce of emotion bubbling under my skin that I couldn’t work out how to deal with.

My shadows flared despite the cuff. Tendrils snapped outward from my skin, fast, deadly and controlled.

Without thought, they shot across the room to Tyler, and coiled around his throat.

I shoved my chair back at the same moment, shooting to my feet with all the hatred I felt earlier simmering through me once more.

I could handle him hurting me. I could heal and live with the pain.

But nobody in this godforsaken hellhole would lay a hand on my brother.

Nobody would touch what was mine. Not to harm, or take them away from me again.

Nobody would breathe in the world I could control without my permission. Without malice towards my loved ones or creatures. Not in the darkness that I ruled. And not surrounded by the shadows that would kill them all.

I would kill them all. Easily. Happily . They were nothing. Just flesh suits with magic I could take. Magic I could watch bleed from every orifice until satisfied.

Magic I could eviscerate with less effort than it took for all these weaker creatures to breathe .

Teeth bared, I lifted Tyler off the ground by his throat. Shadows tightened around his pasty flesh, digging in with barbed teeth filled with nightmares and ruin.

I laughed as he screamed. Laughed again when he started bleeding all over the concrete floor.

Head clear for the first time since my arrival, I just stood there and watched Tyler as he kicked out.

As he scratched against my shadowy noose.

Saphira yelled at me. She called me a psychotic bitch, and tried to pull her boyfriend back to the floor.

Other dragon friends of theirs did similar. But it was all useless.

They were children trying to go against real magic. Real power.

The more Tyler tried to breathe, the higher I forced him to go.

The more I forced every ounce of horror I could imagine into his mind, letting my darling creatures feast on every facet of pain and suffering the bastard dragon had ever gone through.

At least, I did until another pressure pressed against mine. It wasn’t aggressive, but it had weight enough for me to feel it.

I shifted my focus and found Alessandro watching me.

He stood completely still, posture straight, expression unreadable.

The fire climbing his arm pulsed once, brighter blue than before.

He wasn’t reacting to the others. He was reacting to me as he sent his tendrils of icy flame closer to where I stood.

He didn’t speak; he just let the weight of his magic rest against mine like he wanted to see what I would do about it.

Jaw hardening, I didn’t release the shadows. I didn’t drop the idiot still gasping. I kept everything where it was. Digging and digging until Tyler started to slow down with his fight.

The fire crept higher on Alessandro’s arm. He took a single step forward—not enough to close the distance, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t going to back down.

Then he pushed again. His magic pressed against mine. Those tendrils of blue flame wrapped around my skin, simmering their way up my arms and chest.

I anchored my stance. Shadows gathered at my shoulders. I didn’t escalate, but I didn’t ease back either.

He continued to watch me. Waiting. Leering.

I raised my hand and signed across the space between us: Control your horde .

His response came immediately: Control your magic.

We stood there, frozen, as the pressure between our magic settled into a low tension. I had no clue what he was on about. I was in control. Every ounce of darkness and despair was by choice. By design.

It was all me. All my thoughts, wants, desires . I was the shadow made flesh, and I was powerful enough to—

The zap from the cuff hit without warning. It surged up my arm, stinging hard enough to make my shadows retreat and vanish inside of me, instantly asleep once more. I couldn’t even mourn their loss again before the white-hot lightning made me gasp, my knees buckling under the strain of it.

Rayla’s voice cut through the air as I blinked a few times. “Enough childishness. Return to your seats and behave, or I’ll use something stronger than a warning pulse.”

Somewhere between the zap and Zayden pulling me down into my seat with a concerned look, Tyler had dropped to the ground. He’d dragged himself off the floor, neck bleeding profusely. Orange eyes flickering with flames as... as blood dripped from them.

My shadows had blinded him. They’d carved into his eyes and...

He was still wheezing. Coughing. Yelling at me and clearly unhappier than I was about him surviving.

He was whining and yelping about the agony he was in.

Saphira hovered uselessly by his side, shooting me filthy glares as her hands fluttered over her boyfriend’s body, trying to find where she could help him and failing.

“Hurry up and take him to a healer before he bleeds out.” Rayla ordered, and the panther girl did just that, her wicked glare still locked on me as she helped a staggering Tyler limp out of the room.

Not that I was too bothered about looking at him much. No, I kept my eyes on Alessandro for the rest of the lesson.

The most annoying part of all was that Alessandro kept his eyes on me.

Like I was a problem. Not him.