Page 59 of Shadow's Claim

The maintenance tunnels stink.Like, seriously stink—a nasty cocktail of mildew, rust, and something else I don't want to identify. I wince as my shoe splashes through a puddle of questionable liquid.

"This is disgusting," I mutter, trying to breathe through my mouth.

Kael moves ahead of me, his midnight-black skin absorbing what little light filters through the occasional maintenance grates. His four arms occasionally brush the walls, gathering shadows around us like a protective cloak. The darkness responds to his touch, deepening where his fingers pass.

"Functional, not comfortable," he replies, glowing purple eyes providing just enough illumination to guide our way. "Commander Vex will have the entire Academy searching for us by now."

There's a time when that would have terrified me—the thought of an entire shadow demon institution hunting us down. But fear has evolved into something more complex now. Determination, perhaps. Or resolve born from having something worth protecting.

The hybrid shifts inside me, its consciousness brushing against my mind with nervous energy. It's been unusually quiet since we fled Dr. Grey's laboratory, as though conserving strength or—more worryingly—sensing danger ahead. I've begun to trust these impressions, this non-verbal communication that flows between us. No longer just biological connection, but genuine bonds forming.

"How much farther to the western exit?" I ask, one hand supporting my lower back where an ache has been building for the past twenty minutes. Eight months pregnant and crawling through maintenance tunnels. Definitely not in the "What to Expect" books.

"Half kilometer, approximately," Kael answers, pausing at a junction to check markings on the wall. His upper right hand traces faded symbols while his lower pair maintains vigilant awareness of our surroundings. "These red indicators—Dr. Grey's directions."

We turn northwest, following the faded red arrows that might be our only hope of escaping the Academy undetected. The tunnel narrows further, forcing me to turn sideways at certain points. Kael's shadows extend to guide me through the tighter passages, cool tendrils of darkness that feel surprisingly solid against my skin.

"Wait," he says suddenly, one hand raised in warning. "Listen."

I freeze, straining my ears. At first, I hear nothing beyond the distant drip of water and the hum of ventilation systems. Then—voices. Faint but growing louder. Coming from somewhere ahead of us.

"Security sweep," Kael whispers, shadows darkening around his massive form. "They're checking the maintenance tunnels."

My heart pounds against my ribs. "Is there another way?"

Kael's glowing eyes scan our surroundings, four arms moving in coordinated patterns as he manipulates shadows to extend his senses further down the tunnel. The darkness responds to him like a living thing, stretching forward to investigate before flowing back to report what it found.

"Service shaft," he says finally, pointing to what looks like a simple maintenance panel in the ceiling. "Ventilation system access. It might bypass the search team."

"Might?" I echo, not loving the uncertainty.

"Limited options," he reminds me, which—fair point.

With efficient movements, his four arms work together to remove the panel, revealing a narrow shaft barely wide enough for a human to squeeze through. For me, eight months pregnant? It's going to be tight. For Kael, with his massive shadow demon form? Impossible.

The realization hits us both simultaneously. I see it in the way his shadows momentarily still around him, in the slight dimming of his glowing eyes.

"You go," he says, confirming my fear. "I will divert the search team."

"No," I protest immediately, the word escaping before I can consider its implications. When did staying together become so important? When did separation become something to fear rather than desire? "We stay together."

"The hybrid must be protected," he counters, shadows extending from his midnight-black skin to emphasize his point. There's something in his voice I haven't heard before—not just possession or duty, but genuine concern. "Your capture ensures Obscura's experiments. Mine merely delays them."

The voices grow louder. We have seconds, not minutes, to decide.

The hybrid's consciousness suddenly pushes against my mind with unexpected force—not fear but determination, accompanied by shadowy images I can't quite interpret. Something about connection, about bonds that transcend physical proximity. It's trying to tell me something important.

"The hybrid can maintain our link," I realize aloud, the knowledge coming from somewhere beyond my conscious thoughts. "Even separated, we might sense each other through its consciousness."

Kael's glowing eyes widen slightly. "Theoretically possible. Unprecedented, but..."

"We don't exactly have time for a peer-reviewed study," I say, already reaching for the opening above. "Help me up."

His four arms lift me with effortless strength, positioning me at the shaft entrance. The touch is careful, supportive—nothing like the controlling grip he once used to restrain me during interrogation or claiming. I pull myself up with effort, pregnancy making the movement awkward and uncomfortable. The hybrid shifts inside me, its consciousness providing a strange surge of energy that helps me muscle through the discomfort.

Once I'm safely in the shaft, Kael replaces the panel below me, our eyes meeting one last time through the narrow slats. In that brief moment, I see something unexpected in his glowing gaze—concern, yes, but also trust. He believes I can do this. He's counting on me, not just directing me.

"Northwestern quadrant, western exit," he reminds me. "I will find you."

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