Page 31

Kaia

My shadows are still basking in their victory.

Bob actually struts as he leads the others in what can only be described as a triumph parade around our end of the table.

Even Patricia, usually laser-focused on her documentation, keeps recreating the exact moment Mira’s face shifted from confusion to pure outrage.

Finnick has appointed himself chief dramatist, complete with shadow-flailing and what I’m pretty sure are interpretive dance moves.

“They’re never going to let this go, are they?” I mutter, watching Steve and Carl stage an increasingly elaborate performance where they carry Linda around like she’s royalty.

“Not a chance.” Finn grins, stealing bread from my plate with zero shame. “Bob’s probably commissioning a commemorative plaque. ‘The Great Mira Ejection’—catchy, right?”

I glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. Mouse, draped across my lap like a satisfied cat, makes a sound that’s definitely laughter .

Malrik takes another careful sip of coffee, but I catch the way his mouth quirks. “Linda’s tactical coordination was particularly impressive. Textbook execution.”

“Of course you’d analyze shadow military strategy,” Torric snorts, though his golden eyes spark with amusement. “Next you’ll be grading their formation techniques.”

The warm glow in my chest—pride, satisfaction, maybe a hint of possessiveness I’m pretending doesn’t exist—begins to settle. Then the hollowness punches through. That familiar ache. The bond that refuses to complete itself, hanging in my chest like an open wound.

The magic in me doesn’t respond with comfort.

It responds with panic .

Chaos magic explodes through me without warning, wild and vicious, scattering my shadows like startled ravens. The cup in my grip cracks , tea leaking across the table in dark rivulets that look too much like spilled blood.

“Fuck,” I gasp, hands shaking as I try to hold myself together. Bob snaps into crisis mode, marshaling the others into damage control while Patricia’s frantic scribbling turns sharp with worry.

Finn’s fingers find mine beneath the table, anchor-steady. “Talk to me, Trouble.”

Before I can answer, movement at the high table steals my attention. A figure in battle-worn leather armor bends low, whispering urgently in Kieran’s ear. The transformation is instant, his entire frame goes rigid, amusement dying like a snuffed candle.

The bond between us jolts , electric where it should be warm .

Mouse’s ears flatten as Kieran rises, his gaze cutting across the room to find mine. The playful energy dies completely, replaced by something that tastes like dread on the back of my tongue.

“Well,” Finn mutters, grip tightening. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

Kieran strides toward us in silence, but I feel his urgency like lightning under my skin. My shadows abandon their celebration, clustering close with sudden wariness. Even Finnick drops his theatrical nonsense, snapping into formation beside Bob.

“War Room. Now.” His voice could cut glass. Those ancient eyes sweep over our group before locking on mine again, and I see something flicker there, not just alarm, but something rawer. Like he can feel me coming apart and has no idea how to stop it.

Aspen sets his cup down almost too gently. “What’s happened?”

Kieran’s already turning away, shoulders carved from stone. “Not here.”

Another wave of chaos magic tears through me, foreign and violent, nothing like the controlled chaos that belongs to Finn. This feels like something trying to claw its way out from inside my bones. My shadows writhe in response, agitated by power that doesn’t belong.

“Easy,” Finn murmurs, hand warm against my spine. “Just ride it out.”

Mouse presses against my leg as we follow Kieran through corridors that suddenly feel too narrow, his violet eyes sharp with concern. The missing bond pulses like an infected wound, responding to whatever tension is building in the air around us.

The War Room buzzes with grim energy when we arrive. Revna stands rigid beside the ancient table, silver armor catching torchlight, maps spread before her like battle scars. Symbols mark locations I don’t recognize, but they feel important. Dangerous .

“Tell them,” Kieran commands, and something in Revna’s expression goes knife-sharp.

“Our scouts in the northern mountains sent word.” Her voice stays level, but there’s steel underneath. “Alekir’s forces are mobilizing. And they’re not alone.”

The name hits like ice water in my veins. Bob immediately shifts into defensive positioning while Patricia’s notes become increasingly frantic, pages flipping with supernatural speed.

“Not alone how?” Malrik’s question carries weight I don’t understand, like he already knows the answer will be terrible.

Revna’s gaze finds his, something dark passing between them. Shared knowledge. Shared fear. “The corruption isn’t just spreading anymore. It’s changing people.”

“Into what?” The question slips out before I can stop it, though I’m not sure I want the answer.

“Something else,” Kieran says quietly. “Something that shouldn’t exist.”

The foreign chaos magic rips through me again, buckling my knees. Finn catches me before I can fall, but I feel his alarm through our bond like a live wire.

“We move now,” Kieran continues, eyes fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity. “While we still have the advantage.”

“What advantage?” I ask, fighting to stay upright. “What exactly do we have that he doesn’t?”

His expression goes granite-hard. “You. Bonded. Here. Stronger than you’ve ever been. ”

But am I? The incomplete bond screams in my chest, a constant reminder of everything that’s broken, everything that’s missing. And this chaos magic tearing through me, I’m not controlling it. It’s controlling me.

Aspen shifts beside us, his usual stillness cracking. There’s something in his face—knowledge, maybe, or fear—that makes my anxiety spike higher.

“Aspen?” I start, but he’s already moving toward the door, movements too controlled, too careful.

“Need air,” he says without looking back, but it sounds more like escape than breath.

Mouse makes a distressed sound, ears tracking Aspen’s retreat. Bob starts to follow, then hesitates, torn between duties.

The others remain focused on maps and battle plans, but something pulls me toward Aspen. Not the bond exactly, something deeper. Instinct maybe, or the certainty that whatever he knows, whatever he’s running from, it’s about to change everything.

“Be right back,” I murmur to Finn, who squeezes my hand once before letting go.

As I slip out after Aspen, shadows trailing like worried children, one thought hammers through my skull:

Whatever he’s hiding, I need to know it. Because this isn’t just about missing bonds or uncontrolled magic anymore.

This is about keeping us all alive long enough to figure out what the hell we’re fighting for.