Page 21

Kaia

Breakfast is quiet, but not in a peaceful way.

It’s the kind of quiet that feels too careful, too forced. Like everyone’s pretending things are normal when they absolutely aren’t. The weight of what we learned about the bond sits heavy between us, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

Finn is the only one keeping things from falling into full-blown awkward silence, mostly by shoveling food into his mouth and making dramatic noises about how “deprived” he was last night.

Malrik just drinks his coffee, watching him like he’s debating whether to hex him into silence or let him continue.

Aspen and Torric, on the other hand, are not watching anything.

Torric hasn’t said a word all morning, which isn’t entirely out of character, but it’s the kind of silence that feels heavier than usual.

Like something is sitting on his chest and he’s refusing to acknowledge it.

Aspen is worse. He’s just picking at his food, barely eating, shoulders stiff with tension I can almost see rippling beneath his skin.

I don’t like it .

My shadows don’t either.

Bob drifts closer to Aspen and Torric, hovering over them with unmistakable suspicion, his shadowy form almost military in its posture.

Patricia’s usual frantic note-taking slows as if even she’s taking inventory of the tension.

Finnick bounces anxiously between all of us, his usual chaotic energy subdued into nervous movement.

Walter just hovers near the ceiling, pulsing with that strange purplish light.

Finn is the first to crack under the weight of it. He leans forward, lazily spearing a piece of fruit from my plate. “So, what’s the plan today?”

Malrik doesn’t look up. “Survive.”

Finn hums like he’s considering that answer. “Not really my strong suit.”

Torric exhales through his nose, but still doesn’t speak. Aspen just blinks down at his food like he’s waiting for it to say something first.

I set my fork down with more force than necessary, the sound of metal against ceramic making Aspen flinch. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Aspen doesn’t react, but Torric glances at me. “Nothing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Try again.”

Aspen exhales slowly, still not looking up. “We’re fine, Kaia.”

I hate that answer.

It’s dismissive, controlled, too even—the way Aspen only ever gets when he’s holding something back. My hand itches to reach for his, but there’s something in the deliberate space he’s keeping between us that stops me.

“You’re fine?” I repeat, voice sharper than I mean for it to be. “That’s my line. And if I know it’s bullshit, so do you.”

I take a breath, forcing myself to stay calm even as my shadows ripple with my frustration. “That’s why you haven’t spoken all morning? That’s why you’re both acting like you don’t even want to look at each other? ”

Aspen’s fingers tighten around his fork. Torric shifts like he’s debating answering but then doesn’t. The bond in my chest pulses with something that feels like dread, or maybe anticipation.

Before I can press further, a shadow falls over the table.

A woman with an athletic figure and cropped black hair stands at the edge of our group, her Guardian attire pristine, her expression neutral. But her silver eyes linger on me for a beat too long before she speaks, studying my face like she’s measuring me against someone else.

“Kieran has requested your presence,” she says, voice smooth but firm. “All of you.”

The shift in energy is immediate. The tension morphs into something else entirely. I glance at Finn, who raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. Malrik doesn’t react visibly, but his shadows deepen around his feet.

Torric leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Requested our presence for what?”

The woman barely acknowledges the question, her silver gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “You are to meet him in the Hall of Echoes.”

I wait for someone to react, but none of them seem to recognize the name. Except Malrik, whose expression darkens slightly, shadows coiling tighter.

Finn leans toward me, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear. “That sounds ominous. Is it ominous?”

I shrug, my shadows mimicking the gesture. “It’s got ‘Echoes’ in the name, so probably.”

The woman remains unfazed but tilts her head slightly, like she’s deciding whether or not to humor him. “That depends.”

Finn perks up. “On what? ”

She finally looks at him. “On how well you handle the truth.”

Finn blinks. “Nope. Don’t like that.” He shoves the last of his toast in his mouth as he stands. “Come on, Trouble. Let’s go find out just how doomed we are.”

The woman turns, headed for the far doorway. “Follow me.”

Finn sighs dramatically, pushing away from the table. “Summoned before I could even finish breakfast. This is oppression.”

I roll my eyes and stand, my shadows gathering around me like a second skin. The others follow, and I don’t hesitate before slipping between Aspen and Torric.

They don’t acknowledge it, but they don’t pull away either. Their magic hums against my skin, Aspen’s cool presence, Torric’s steady heat, and the bond in my chest responds with a dull ache that feels both uncomfortable and right.

The halls are quiet as we follow the Guardian through the sanctuary, the air shifting the deeper we go.

With each turn down another corridor, the stone beneath our feet grows older, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps.

The magic changes too, no longer the gentle hum I’ve grown used to, but something deeper, more primal.

It feels heavier, charged with history, like the magic here isn’t just present—it’s waiting.

My shadows ripple with each step, responding to power that seems to seep from the walls.

Torch flames flicker in ornate bronze holders, casting dancing shadows that feel almost alive. The air grows cooler, carrying the scent of ancient stone and something that reminds me of ozone before a storm, of power gathering.

No one speaks much .

Finn, normally incapable of letting silence exist, makes a few halfhearted jokes, but they don’t land the same way.

His voice seems to get swallowed by the weight of the air around us.

Malrik hasn’t said a word since we left the dining hall, his silver eyes tracking shadows I can’t see.

And Aspen and Torric… they still aren’t looking at each other.

I stay between them, keeping my pace even with theirs, but it’s impossible to ignore how tense they are. They don’t touch me, they barely acknowledge my presence. The space between us feels charged, like static building before a lightning strike.

It’s like they’re holding something back, and I hate that I don’t know what it is.

But now isn’t the time to push.

I turn my attention to the Guardian who walks a few steps ahead. Her stride is confident and controlled, like someone who doesn’t doubt where she stands in the world. She doesn’t look back, but her voice carries easily when she finally speaks.

“I’m Mira, by the way,” she says, still facing forward. “Second to Kieran.”

I blink, something cold settling in my stomach at the casual way she says his name.

Finn quirks a brow, glancing at me before grinning. “Wow. Second to Kieran? Sounds important.”

Mira doesn’t react to his teasing, her spine straight as a blade. “It is.”

The way she says it, so smooth and certain, irritates me immediately. Maybe it’s the confidence. Maybe it’s the way she hasn’t looked at me once since she started speaking.

Or maybe it’s the way she’s clearly implying something.

Second to Kieran .

Does she mean politically? Strategically? Or something else entirely?

I keep my expression neutral, but something about her tone sticks in my ribs like a thorn. “Second in what, exactly?”

Mira finally glances over her shoulder, her silver eyes lingering on me. “In everything that matters.”

I don’t know what pisses me off more—the answer, or the fact that I have no idea if she’s deliberately messing with me. But before I can come up with something appropriately cutting, Malrik speaks, his tone flat.

“We’re here.”

I tear my gaze from Mira, and my breath catches.

The Hall of Echoes.

The entrance is massive, carved from ancient stone that seems to pulse with its own heartbeat.

Runes line the towering archway, glowing faintly with old magic—not the steady shine of modern enchantments, but something wild and untamed.

They shift and dance as I watch, forming patterns that tug at something deep in my memory before dissolving again.

The doors stand open, revealing the vast chamber beyond.

Through the archway, I catch glimpses of soaring columns that disappear into shadows far above, their surfaces etched with spiraling patterns that seem to move when I’m not looking directly at them.

The air that drifts out feels different—heavy with memory and magic so thick I can almost taste it, like metal on my tongue.

The moment I see it, something in my chest pulls. The sensation is physical, like a hook behind my sternum drawing me forward. My skin prickles with goosebumps, and my shadows coil tighter around me, responding to whatever power waits inside.

Not the bond .

Something else.

Something older.

Something that feels like coming home and stepping into darkness all at once.

I swallow hard as I step forward, but Finn grabs my arm, stopping me before I can cross the threshold. His hand is warm against my suddenly chilled skin.

“Wait.” His voice is softer than usual, his joking edge gone. “Does anyone else feel that?”

I do.

The pull is stronger now, making my heart race and my breath catch. The runes pulse in time with my heartbeat, or maybe my heart is matching their rhythm. I can’t tell anymore. My shadows writhe restlessly, caught between drawing closer to the doorway and shrinking back from whatever waits inside.

And I don’t think I’m ready for what’s waiting there.

Finn, Aspen and Torric take a few hesitant steps inside, and when nothing happens, they continue on. Their footsteps echo strangely, as if the sound is coming from much further away than it should. Malrik hangs back, his silver eyes distant, seeing something beyond the present moment.

“I used to come here, as a child,” he says with a softness I’ve rarely heard from him. The words seem to ripple through the air, carrying echoes of childhood memories I can almost feel. “My father held meetings in this room. He said… he said he always found the answer here.”

His silver eyes meet mine, filled with an understanding that makes the bond in my chest ache. “Perhaps you will too, Kaia. Perhaps we all will. ”

With a small smile, he squeezes my hand. His touch grounding me against the pull of ancient magic as he walks into the room, leaving me there to think about what that might mean for all of us.

The runes pulse once more, beckoning, waiting for me to step through and face whatever truths the Hall of Echoes holds.

My shadows press close as I take a deep breath and follow them into the chamber, feeling like I’m crossing a threshold I can never un-cross.