Page 90 of Dark Bonds

The shadows swirl again, coalescing into the form of a towering woman, her hair a cascade of the night sky. “Nyx,” Professor Everett whispers, his usual joviality giving way to genuine awe. “The goddess of night, the mother of shadow.”

As if responding to her name, the shadow Nyx turns her gaze upon us. I flinch involuntarily, feeling the weight of her ancient stare.

“Oh, come now,” Professor Everett chides, though his own voice holds a note of reverence. “Show some respect. It’s because of her generosity that we have our gifts.”

The image shifts, showing Nyx bestowing shadows upon human-like figures, their forms shimmering as they embrace their new powers. I feel a tingle in my fingertips, as if my own shadows are responding to the display.

“Contrary to what some misinformed texts might tell you,” Professor Everett continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “our abilities weren’t stolen or taken by force. They were given freely and with purpose by Nyx herself. The other guys, though, they totally stole their gifts.”

A hush falls over the classroom as the implications sink in. The shadows on the walls seem to pulse with newfoundsignificance. I find myself holding my breath, the weight of this revelation settling over me like a cloak.

Professor Everett’s eyes sweep over us, and he has this knowing smirk that makes me squirm. “So next time you shift, remember you’re not just messing around with shadows, you’re tapping into something ancient, a gift straight from Nyx herself—magic.”

My stomach does a little flip. Nyx. I can still feel her presence and hear her voice in my head from that day. Was that what I felt? Some kind of primordial connection? It’s both awesome and terrifying to think about.

He claps his hands together, dispersing a small cloud of shadow that gathered there. “Now then,” he says, his tone lightening, “who’s ready to embrace their cosmic heritage with some hands-on learning?”

I feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubble up inside me. As Professor Everett begins to pace the room, mirror in hand and shadows swirling in his wake, I realize this is no ordinary history lesson. This is a revelation about our nature and our place in the cosmic order.

Looking around at my classmates’ faces, I can see the same awe and uncertainty I feel reflected back at me. One thing is certain—none of us will leave this classroom the same.

I can’t help myself. My hand shoots up, my curiosity overriding my usual caution.

“Yes, Frankie?” Professor Everett says, a glimmer in his eye.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The words tumble out, charged with an intensity that surprises even me. “If Nyx was so important, why don’t we learn about her? Is there a reason we’ve been kept in the dark about this... deeper connection to shadows? And how does it relate to our current abilities?”

Professor Everett’s smile is approving, but there’s a hint of wariness in his eyes. He places the mirror down gently, itssurface still swirling with darkness, and picks up an ancient-looking scroll. The parchment crackles as he unrolls it, releasing a scent of age and secrets.

“Excellent questions, Frankie. This scroll contains prophecies and lore about Nyx. Anyone want to take a stab at why it might have been hidden away?”

The class is silent for a moment, then a girl near the front speaks up, her voice trembling slightly. “Maybe because it was easier to control people by focusing on fighting? If everyone thought power came from physical strength instead of... wisdom or whatever, then it would be easier for the strongest to stay in charge.”

“An astute observation.” Professor Everett nods, his eyes gleaming. “Anyone else?”

A boy in the back raises his hand, his face pale. “What if there’s a reason this history was buried? What if knowing it puts us all in danger?”

The discussion that follows is heated, tinged with an undercurrent of fear. Some students argue that the warrior tales must be true, and that we would know if there had been some goddess worshiping matriarchy. Others point out how much of our history has been lost or deliberately obscured. The temperature in the room seems to drop as the debate intensifies.

I listen, my mind whirling. Could this explain the pull I’ve felt toward the shadows? The sense of a greater, more primal power than just the ability to fight? My skin tingles with an energy I can’t quite explain.

Professor Everett guides the debate skillfully, never quite taking sides but pushing us to question our assumptions. As the class winds down, he leaves us with a final thought.

“History is written by the victors and rewritten by those who come after. It’s up to each of you to seek the truth beneath the stories you’ve been told. These artifacts are windows into ourpast, but it’s your job to interpret what you see. Remember, knowledge is power, but power always comes with a price.”

His gaze lingers on me for a moment, and I have the distinct impression he’s trying to tell me something. The weight of his words settles over the class like a heavy blanket.

Unfortunately, the bell rings. “Looks like class is over.”

For the first time in a while, the groans are because no one wants to leave class.

As students begin to file out, still arguing amongst themselves in hushed, nervous tones, Professor Everett calls out, “Oh, and one last thing. There’s an old prophecy in this scroll about twin shadow shifters who would bring great change. It’s probably just another story, but it’s something to think about.”

My heart skips a beat. Twins?

As I gather my things, still lost in thought, I notice Dorian watching me intently. His gaze is piercing, as if he can see right through me. I’m about to approach him when a sudden chill sweeps through the room.

The shadows in the corners begin to writhe and twist unnaturally. An oppressive feeling of dread settles over us, and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something’s wrong.

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