Page 4

Finn

"An army, huh?" I say, trying to keep my tone light as we hurry down the corridor toward Lira's office. "Does that mean Thorne gets a cool evil general outfit? Please tell me there are shoulder spikes involved."

No one laughs. Not even a smile. Tough crowd this morning.

After Seren's bombshell about Thorne building an army for Alekir, we'd scrambled to get ready.

Kaia had yanked on fresh clothes behind a screen of shadows (Bob apparently taking his privacy-protection duties very seriously), while the rest of us tried to look less like we'd spent the night crammed into her room like overprotective bodyguards.

Now we're rushing through the Academy halls, every shadow in military formation behind us.

Mouse rides on Kaia's shoulder like a tiny general, his tail occasionally flicking commands that the other shadows instantly obey.

It would be impressive if it wasn't so terrifying to watch Carl suddenly snap to attention like he's been possessed.

"Are we really not going to talk about the fact that Mouse has apparently organized an entire shadow militia in the span of, what, twelve hours?" I ask, jogging to keep up with Torric's long strides. "Because I feel like that deserves some discussion."

"Not now, Finn," Aspen says tersely, his eyes scanning the hall ahead of us. His hand hasn't left the hilt of his dagger since we left Kaia's room.

"Fine, but I'm just saying—Bob is wearing what looks suspiciously like shadow epaulets. That's commitment to the aesthetic."

Malrik shoots me a look that could freeze fire. "The academy is in danger. Thorne is recruiting. Alekir is planning something, and you're focused on shadow fashion?"

"I'm focused on not losing my mind with worry," I snap back, the humor dropping from my voice before I can catch it. "Some of us cope with impending doom through commentary."

The tension in the room shifts, heavier now, like someone's cranked up the gravity. Malrik's expression softens slightly, his silver-gray eyes glinting with something like understanding. Kaia brushes her fingers against Mouse as if drawing strength from him, her face too pale in the early light.

The walk through the Academy is... exactly what I expected and still somehow worse. The whispers start the moment we step into the hallway, growing louder with every step. Students press against the walls, their eyes wide. I catch snippets of conversation, each one more dramatic than the last.

"That's her."

"The Valkyrie."

"Look! She has an army of shadows."

"Did you see what happened to the arena?"

I grin, throwing an arm around Malrik's shoulder as we pass a particularly slack-jawed group of first-years.

Their expressions are priceless, a mix of terror and awe that makes me want to start taking notes.

Or maybe selling tickets. Step right up, folks!

See the amazing shadow girl and her entourage of hot, broody men!

But then I catch the way some of them track her shadows' movements, like they're waiting for the darkness to turn on them. They don't understand that Kaia's shadows are more likely to offer you a PowerPoint presentation than actually hurt you. Unless you deserve it, of course.

"Fame suits you, Kaia," I say, watching as a cluster of Light Faction students literally stumble over themselves to get out of our way. Their pristine white uniforms are a stark contrast to the shadows that curl protectively around Kaia's feet.

"Finn," Kaia hisses, shoving me off. "Stop it."

"What? Just trying to lighten the mood. You've got to admit, they're impressed." I gesture to where Bob, ever the showman, is doing what I can only describe as a victory lap around our group. The newer shadows trail after him like eager pupils, and I swear I catch Patricia taking notes.

"They're scared," Malrik says flatly. His silver-gray eyes sweep over the corridor, catching the uneasy glances and hurried steps. A group of Elemental students whisper furiously behind their hands, their eyes locked on Kaia. "And they should be. Alekir's already got his claws in this place."

He's right, of course. Beneath the obvious fear and fascination, there's something darker in the way some students watch us. The way their hands hover near concealed weapons, the way their magical auras pulse with barely contained hostility. Thorne's influence runs deeper than we thought.

Mouse seems to sense it too from his spot on Kaia's shoulder. His tail twitches irritably, and the shadows around us respond, their movements becoming sharper, more purposeful. Even Bob drops the theatrics, falling into what I've started calling his "guard dog" formation.

"Well," I say, because someone has to break this tension before we all snap, "at least no one's throwing things this time. Remember when that Sorcery kid tried to hex you and ended up turning his own hair blue?"

Aspen's lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile. "That was your chaos magic and you know it."

"Prove it," I reply with a wink, and for just a moment, the heavy atmosphere lifts.

But as we round the corner toward Lira's office, the weight settles back in. The shadows tighten their formation, and even Kaia stands straighter, her violet eyes sharp and focused.

We're students in name only. The war's already claimed us.

But hey, at least we look good doing it.

As we approach Lira's office, hushed voices drift through the partially open door. I recognize Lira's calm, measured tone immediately, but it's the deeper voice that makes us all pause.

"They're targeting the students now, Orlin," Lira says, tension bleeding through her usual composure. "This isn't just about the Heart of Eternity anymore."

"I'm well aware," Headmaster Orlin replies, his voice grave. "The board is pressing for answers about Thorne's disappearance. They're not satisfied with our explanation."

"The board can go—" Lira starts, but she cuts off abruptly as Mouse chirps a greeting. The shadows around Kaia ripple in response, and I swear Bob looks embarrassed about blowing our cover.

"Come in," Lira calls, not missing a beat. "All of you. "

I shoot Kaia a grin. "Caught like first-years at a midnight feast. Some things never change."

She rolls her eyes, but there's the ghost of a smile there. "Kind of hard to hide a small army of shadows, Finn, especially when most of them don't listen."

Malrik elbows me sharply as we file into the office.

Lira stands behind her desk, her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in its usual severe braid.

Beside her, Headmaster Orlin cuts an imposing figure in his formal robes, but there's something tired in the set of his shoulders, like he's been fighting too long without rest.

"Miss Draven," Orlin says, inclining his head toward Kaia. His eyes linger on the shadows swirling around her feet, but there's no fear in his gaze, only careful consideration. "I believe we're overdue for a proper conversation."

Kaia straightens, and I notice the way the shadows press closer to her, like they're trying to lend her strength. Bob actually moves to stand at her side, like a tiny shadow bodyguard. "About what happened in the arena?"

"About everything," Lira interjects. She gestures to the chairs arranged before her desk. "Sit. We have much to discuss, and very little time."

"The board," Malrik says, his voice sharp. "They're moving against us?"

Orlin paces behind Lira's desk, his robes swishing with each deliberate step.

"The board is traditionally meant to oversee the academy's more.

.. political matters. They represent the interests of each faction, balancing power between them.

Under normal circumstances, they have little involvement in day-to-day operations. "

"But these aren't normal circumstances," Lira adds dryly .

"No," Orlin agrees, his expression grim. "Thorne's monthly reports were concerning enough, but after the incident in the arena... the board saw everything—Darian's attack, your wings, your restraint. They're shaken."

"Why weren't we told about this board before?" Kaia asks, her voice sharp. The shadows around her feet curl tighter, reflecting her tension. Patricia starts frantically taking notes, while Carl looks like he's attempting to hide behind Steve.

"Because until now, they were content to observe from a distance," Orlin explains. "The board meets only quarterly, in the Celestial Chamber beneath the academy. They're meant to be... impartial observers. But Thorne's disappearance has forced their hand."

"And divided them," Lira interjects. "The Light Faction representative, Lady Virath—yes, Alenya's mother—is calling for immediate action. She wants you expelled, your powers bound."

Torric growls low in his throat. "Let them try."

"The Elemental and Sorcery representatives are more cautious," Orlin continues, holding up a hand to quiet Torric. "The academy's recording crystals captured everything that happened in the arena. They've seen how Darian attacked you, how Thorne orchestrated the whole thing."

"And how you only unleashed your power when backed into a corner," Lira adds, her tone sharp. "I've submitted my own testimony about your character, your progress in my classes."

"And I've given mine," Seren pipes up from her perch on Lira's windowsill, where she's been uncharacteristically quiet until now.

Her lavender hair catches the morning light as she turns to face us.

"Though I believe my exact words were 'academic idiots who wouldn't know a hero if one saved their pompous—'" She catches Orlin's eye and clears her throat. "Well, you get the idea."

"The recording crystals and character testimonies are the only reason the board remains divided," Orlin explains.

"They can't deny the evidence of Thorne's betrayal, of Darian's attack.

But they also can't ignore the raw power you displayed.

The manifestation of your wings, the way the arena shattered. .."