They were small then—soft, shy things that danced across the floor when the light fell just right.I used to chase them, giggling as they darted away, only to circle back and brush my ankles like curious pets.
Da would laugh sometimes, though tried hard to hide it.But when Ma disappeared and people visited with their annual prayers and pity, the laughter stopped.One night, he knelt beside me and whispered: “Keep them hidden, Seren.People won’t understand.”
I didn’t.Not then.
I close my eyes tighter as the memory twists.
The shadows stopped playing when the sickness came.They started listening, staying close to me when Da coughed up blood into his hands, when Sylas screamed from fever.They curled around me like my dark guardians.
Until they hurt me.
I remember the sting of it—like glass against my skin.The way they cut me once—just once—as if to remind me of who they belonged to.
The same sting I felt at the altar.
* * *
My handsclench under the water.Bubbles rise and burst as I break the surface.
“When did you change?”I croak.“When did I?”
The shadows curl over the gold taps, silent as ever.I close my eyes, and the faint pulse of the manacles reminds me I have a new master.The Luminaries.
The silence surrounding me is a lie.A hot, simmering pressure builds behind my ribs—a heat that has nothing to do with the water and everything to do with rage.With every shallow breath, the pressure swells; a captive animal thrashing against my sternum, threatening to break free.
I can feel the clock ticking.It's only a matter of time before the cage snaps.
17
KAEL
The guild halls are quiet at this hour.The air hangs heavy with honeysuckle and oil—a scent of consolidation, contemplation, and cleansing.Order restored before rot can set in.It’s a ritual we have long adhered to.
Not a single scuff or speck of dust mars the expanse.Every surface in this light-blessed place gleams with perfect precision that is both cold and devoid of character.
It was once the epitome of society.But lately, it feels different.Impure.Perhaps I’ve seen too much; the beautiful illusion has been shattered by the harsh light of knowledge.Their magic is no longer a wonder, but a cheap trick—a hollow performance.
Whether I like it or not, this is home.
I adjust my gloves, hiding the faint mark creeping up my wrist.It is a reminder of what I’ve seen in the Hollow.A reminder of why they sendme—and why I alone can see the cracks in their perfection.
When I reach the end of the corridor, the guards step aside without a word.I don’t need to announce myself; the colour I wear does that for me.
A gust of sharp, stale air greets me as the doors swing open.The chamber is smaller than the Grand Hall but no less ornate.Walls are lined with light, and crystals cast the air in a faint golden haze.Behind a desk of marble and glass sits the man I’m here to see.
High Commander Riven—Court Enforcer, and my superior.His chainmail polished to a mirror finish, his expression hard as the iron he wears.
“Kael,” he greets, voice smooth as glass.“You’ve delivered the Shadowborne girl, I hear?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s…comfortable?”
“For now.”I hesitate.“She’s…different from the reports.The shadows answer her willingly.”
Riven looks up, his amber eyes gleaming, “An obedience we haven’t yet seen in other subjects.Interesting.We will have to see how she fares during the testing.”
I meet his gaze.“Yes.We shall.”
