Page 89 of Dark Bonds

“The Mirror of Nyx,” Everett murmurs, his voice slithering into every shadowed corner of the room. “Its reflections have shattered minds and unraveled sanities. Who dares to peer into its depths?”

Suddenly, it’s freezing in here. I’m getting goosebumps, and I’m trying not to shiver. What the hell is that thing? Chairs scrape against the floor as students lean away. Fabric rustles as shoulders hunch and arms wrap protectively around torsos.

Nobody says a word. It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, then a few brave souls raise their hands, but they are shaking like leaves.

Professor Everett’s gaze sweeps the room, settling on a student in the front row. The chosen one’s spine snaps straight. His eyes, however, remain fixed on the mirror, as if mesmerized by its shifting surface.

“The mirror,” the guy stammers, looking like he might puke. “It’s supposed to show stuff about the Umbra Bellators… You know, those legendary shadow warriors. Everyone thought their powers were a gift from the gods or whatever, but?—”

“Enough.” Professor Everett’s voice cracks like a whip. He raises the mirror, its surface now a void, drinking in the ambient light. “A pretty tale, oft repeated, but what if this artifact reveals a truth far less... palatable?”

The mirror seems to pulse in his grip, as if alive and hungry. My stomach clenches, a primal part of me wanting to flee whatever terrible secret that glass might reflect.

“Look,” Professor Everett says, leaning in like he’s about to spill some major gossip, “the real story behind our powers? It’s way messier and darker than what your textbooks say.”

He places the mirror face down on his desk, and I feel a collective sigh of relief from the class, but the reprieve is short-lived.

“The Umbra Bellators didn’t receive their powers as a gift,” he says, slowly pacing in front of the class. “They took them by force from Nyx herself.”

A chill runs down my spine. I glance at Dorian, but his expression is unreadable, his eyes fixed on Professor Everett.

“Ancient shadow beings, older than time itself, were trapped and... harvested,” Professor Everett continues. “Their essence, their souls, were extracted and bound to human hosts. The process was excruciating for both parties.”

The room falls deathly silent, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. My palms are sweaty, and I resist the urge to wipe them on my jeans.

“But the Umbra Bellators’s thirst for power didn’t end there.” Professor Everett’s voice drops even lower, compelling us to lean in despite our fear. “They sought to challenge Nyx herself to steal the very source of shadow magic.”

He picks up the mirror again, its surface now roiling like a stormy sea. “Nyx’s retaliation was as swift as it was terrible. She cursed the Umbra Bellators, binding a part of their essence to this mirror. Now, those who peer into its depths are forced to confront a secret truth about themselves, the nature of their power, and the price of their ambition.”

I think of the thrill I feel when I shift, the intoxicating rush of power. Is that the curse at work? Am I being slowly consumed by the shadows I command?

“This curse messes with us in all sorts of ways,” Professor Everett says, eyeing us. “Our powers aren’t free. There’s this darkness that creeps into us, and if we’re not careful, it’ll eat us alive.”

When his gaze meets mine, I feel exposed, as if he can see right through me to the shadows lurking beneath my skin.

“The Nyx’s mirror is a testament to the folly of unchecked ambition,” Professor Everett concludes, his voice resonatingwith grim finality. “It forces us to confront the darkness within and acknowledge the terrible price of our power. Who among you is brave enough—or foolish enough—to face that truth?”

The silence that follows is deafening. We sit, frozen in our seats, each of us grappling with the weight of this revelation and the terrifying possibility of what the mirror might show us.

Professor Everett smirks. “Now is the perfect segue to introduce the goddess Nyx.”

My breath catches. I think of the dark, powerful presence I encountered and the name that echoed in my mind—Nyx. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to deepen at the mention of her name.

Professor Everett’s eyes twinkle with barely contained excitement as he holds up the obsidian mirror. His fingers, weathered but nimble, trace the ancient frame. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping to a stage whisper that somehow fills the room, “let’s uncover therealtruth about shadow shifters.”

With a dramatic flourish that sends his untucked shirt flapping, Professor Everett raises the mirror. “Behold, the true origins of our kind!”

The mirror’s surface ripples like disturbed water. Suddenly, inky tendrils of shadow burst forth, coalescing into ghostly images that dance across the classroom walls. I gasp along with my classmates, some scrambling back in their seats.

“Easy there.” Professor Everett chuckles, looking for all the world like he’s hosting a mildly amusing dinner party rather than unleashing ancient magic. “They are just shadows... probably.”

The shadowy display sharpens, revealing scenes of a world in its infancy. Light and darkness swirl together, neither existing without the other. My heart races at the sight, a strange sense of familiarity stirring within me.

“You see,” Professor Everett says, casually perching on his desk as if he didn’t just turn our classroom into a supernatural cinema, “we shadow shifters are old. Older than old. We’re talkingbeginning of timeold.”

A classmate in the front row, wide-eyed and pale, raises a trembling hand. “Sir, are you saying we’ve always existed?”

Professor Everett’s eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise. “Always existed? My dear boy, we’re the very embodiment of cosmic duality!” He grins, the shadows from the mirror casting strange patterns across his face. “Light and dark, yin and yang, day and night. We’re the living, breathing personification of that eternal dance.”

---