Page 13 of Secrets and Shadows

“I suppose that’s something else we have in common.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“And yet, I still find myself wanting one,” I say, maintaining my stride.

Her gaze snaps back to me. “Why?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Why not?”

She grunts dismissively at my answer but doesn’t argue further. Instead, she quickens her pace. I’m so absorbed in watching her that I don’t realize where we are until we turn the corner and find ourselves in the corridor leading to the first-years’ dorm.

My mouth drops open in surprise. Maybe she wasn’t as lost as I thought if she knew there was an alternate route to their dorm…

“For the record,” she says, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, “I really was only taking a stroll, but seeing you so intrigued made me want to mess with you.” With that, she salutes me and dashes through the door.

Consider this game on, sweetheart.

Five

KAI

Rogue located at the northern shore.

The message appearsin the gold-framed mirror of my dorm, vivid and blood-red, instantly setting off a familiar chain of events. I don’t waste a second, grabbing my katana off my dresser and slinging it across my back.

Moving silently, I slip out of the dorm undetected, evading Simon, Vaughn, and the rest of the students. Simon and Vaughn know about the special missions Headmistress Bennett occasionally assigns me, but they rarely ask for details. I prefer it that way.

I move like a shadow through the forest surrounding the academy. The moonlight barely breaks through the thick canopy above, but my sight cuts through the darkness. Countless nights in a dark, isolated room will do that to a man.

The path I take is well-practiced, forged from endless nights navigating these woods. Soon, I reach an old tree, its massive trunk tilting slightly under the weight of centuries and the deep influence of magic. I swiftly climb to one of the highest branches, where I can survey the ground below. Each step is calculated,my feet finding the sturdiest branches that can bear my weight. I always prefer higher ground; it gives me the vantage I need to observe undetected.

The Rogue knows he’s being hunted. No one’s foolish enough to come here without realizing it will cost them their life.

I blend into the night, becoming one with the stillness—observing, listening, following.

Then, in the distance, I spot him.

His bald head is etched with the distinctive markings of the Rogues, and he’s wearing their light blue robes. I’ve had nightmares about that color for years. Even now, it still haunts me.

He’s using a faint light spell to guide his way, a weak attempt to stay hidden. But even low-energy spells like that are enough to trigger our magic sensors. His eyes dart around frantically, scanning left, right, and behind him. He’s checking for any sign of pursuit, but he never thinks to look above.

Too bad for him it’ll be the last mistake he ever makes.

I slow my movements, pausing on one of the thicker branches, feeling the steady pulse of the night around me. My fingers brush the hilt of my katana, the cool metal comforting beneath my palm. Magic could end this easily, but why waste it on someone so unworthy? I prefer to save my magic for greater challenges, and besides, the Rogue isn’t worth the taint. I prefer to get my hands dirty.

The Rogue nears the edge of the clearing, his nervous glances becoming more frantic as he likely prepares to send a signal to his allies. He’s close to the academy—far too close for comfort. I move swiftly and silently to the end of the branch, concealed by the dense cover of trees. My muscles coil like a spring as I wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Right before he steps out into the open, I drop from the branches like a shadow falling from the sky, tackling him to theground with a hard thud. He barely has time to scream as the impact forces the air from his lungs. His frantic eyes widen in shock as he catches a glimpse of me—too late to react.

In one fluid motion, I unsheathe my katana. The blade catches the faintest sliver of moonlight, glinting ominously. He struggles beneath me, but I’m faster, more precise. With a sharp swing, my blade slices through the air.

A scream erupts from him as his hand is severed cleanly at the wrist. The severed limb hits the forest floor, fingers still twitching uselessly. With his hand gone, he’s no longer able to navigate his tracker, and the magic he called upon disperses into nothingness.

Blood spurts from the stump, painting the ground in a violent arc, warm droplets splashing across my clothes. The Rogue’s cry is raw, primal—an instinctual sound that’s a mixture of horror and agony. He writhes beneath me, clutching at the bleeding stump, eyes wide with disbelief, pain, and fear.

I want to stare into his eyes as I take his life.

I want to feed off his fear.

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