Page 71 of The Light Within

“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve never explicitly asked before.”

Cinn’s fingernails bit into his palm. He forced his jaw to unclench. “We did discuss him, though. You told me there was only one other shadowslipper that had brought spirits back from the shadowrealm. That was him, right?”

Noir pierced him with heavy, beady eyes. Likely, Cinn was revealing too much, but he needed answers.

“When you first arrived, Cinn, you spoke very negatively about your ‘affliction,’ as you put it. We talked at length about how challenging it made your life, even before the accident with the four deaths.”

Cinn flinched, blindsided by the reminder of the innocent lives he would never not feel responsible for taking.

“Imagine if I’d told you back then that the father you don’t even remember became so traumatised by his ability, that he became clinically insane, then eventually slipped and did not return. What would your reaction have been? Hmm?”

Not a very good one.

Cinn didn’t reply, looking past Noir to a spot of peeling wallpaper.

“Would that have improved your already low mood?”

Still avoiding Noir’s eye, Cinn snapped, “Can I just get the new band and go?” Then added, “Please,” because his mother raised him right.

“Between that and the pressure on you to assist in the fight against the umbraphage—withholding it made sense, Cinn. But I would have gotten to it, eventually.” Noir’s voice dropped softer. “You saw your mother? How was that?”

Goddammit. What was it about Noir that made Cinn want to open up?

“It was nice,” he admitted, his eyes sliding over a stuffed bookcase to land back on Noir’s face. “It was really nice. She’s sorted herself out. Five years sober. I went to her house and everything. She has a dog. A beagle.” He swallowed to remove the crack in his voice. “We’re going to keep in touch from now on.”

“I’m so pleased to hear that, Cinn.”

Noir leaned over to squeeze his knee. Cinn didn’t completely hate it.

“And are you doing alright, since the bridge? Eleanor said you were mostly unharmed, physically, but it must have been terrifying, considering what happened last time.”

It had been terrifying. He’d lost control of his own body, watching from within himself as he marched onto the bridge…

Cinn nodded. “Just a few scratches.”

Noir wasn’t fooled. But he stood up, slow movements deliberate and measured, lines on his face deepening with the effort. It was only a short time ago Noir was sprinting across Auri with Cinn, rushing to the building that had been under attack, but now he paused for a moment to steady himself before crossing the small space to slide his desk drawer open.

He collapsed in his desk chair, then tossed Cinn a gold band identical to his old one.

“Hello old friend,” he murmured as he slipped it on. Relief surged through him like a tide, washing away days of tension from living without the warding band. Living like he did before he arrived at Auri, in constant fear of slipping.

The band wouldn’t slip off, but Cinn tested it anyway, flicking his wrist. He grinned at Noir. “Cheers.”

Stuffing yet more of that unknown substance into his pipe, Noir said, “You know I’m here to talk about anything at any time, don’t you, Cinn? I hope this little bump in the road won’t set us back.”

Cinn reallyshouldhold his grudge for a tad longer, but…. “Sure,” he said, and meant it.

When he left Noir’s office a while later, it felt like a ten-tonne weight had been lifted. He navigated his way through the maze of corridors. He had ages until he was due to meet Julien. Perhaps he could—

A prickle of unease crept up his spine, the sensation of unseen eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder, but the empty hallway revealed nothing. Walking quicker, he reached the tower’s grand spiral staircase. The wrought-iron railing curled gracefully downwards, the steps winding like a coiled serpent. The soft light from above cast intricate shadows on the walls.

Just my shadow. My normal shadow.

As Cinn descended, the feeling persisted, each echoing footstep sounding like a phantom companion. It didn’t matter how many times he spun around, the sense of being followed down the staircase clung to him—someone was silently mirroring his descent, just out of sight.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, not with his trips to the shadowrealm and the defeat of an umbraphage under his belt. But it did.

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