Page 7 of Spells of Shadow and Blood

I began spending the entire day with Cirilla, even eating dinner at her house. I was seeing Zion less and less, but he didn’t seem to mind. I was excelling in my schoolwork, far surpassing where I should be by this age. He didn’t mind my extra hours of studying and reading.

I had mastered my change completely, and no longer felt the urges of the wolf, even when I spent hours and hours in her form.

Little did I know…that was because the wolf and I were becoming one.

TEN YEARS OLD

By the time I was ten years of age, Cirilla’s eyes had turned from the amethyst I once remembered, to the dark aubergine of when we had first begun studying together, to entirely black.

There was no pupil.

No iris.

Just a darkness I had never seen before. It was depthless.

I found it beautiful in its own way, though I doubt others felt the same. It was a sign of how powerful she was becoming. Of how much she had devoted herself to her studies.

I had asked her what had happened to her eyes, already knowing the answer. She had never given me a straightforward response. She had stopped going out, sending me on all of her errands and to do all of her shopping in town. I didn’t mind going to the market for her. I wasn’t sure if it was becauseshe was getting older in years, or because she was embarrassed about her newfound appearance. She didn’t like to speak of it.

If I were her, I would show off my new black eyes with pride.

As her progression into dark magic continued, her hair had gone from grey to white, all color leeched from it. Her face had always borne prominent wrinkles before, but now it sagged with age, her bones growing tired with the years. All I could think was that I hoped she left the Grishina grimoire to me when she passed. I chastised myself for the thought, but that didn’t stop it from repeating as if it were stuck on a loop in my mind.

I cared for her…in a way. But I cared for the grimoire more.

It had a power over me. I wasenamoredwith it. Enamored with the idea of it. That it could grant meendlesspower. That once I was the most powerful Shade in the entire realm,nobodycould bring me down. Nobody would make fun of me.

Torment me.

I would be invincible.

One day when I was on my way to Cirilla’s house, I could sense something…different in the air. The snow was packed against the cobbled road to the point where it had become slick. As if there were a sheet of ice atop the road. It took me twice as long to get to her house with how careful I had to be. It was still fall in Istmere, and I hadn’t yet broken out my winter boots.

When I had arrived, I prepared for my lessons at the small table nestled in the nook of the dining room. Cirilla had entered the room in a frenzy, a cloak tightly fastened around her neck, her white hair bundled into a hat.

“Don’t unpack—” She moved to stop me from taking my books out of my bag. “We are going out.”

“Out?” I asked, confused.

We never went out. Cirilla never left the house anymore.

“Out,” she confirmed with a nod.

When I noticed the Grishina grimoire tucked under her arm, any questions that bubbled to my lips were stifled. I swung my pack back onto my back, borrowing a cloak from Cirilla to keep the chill out.

It was much too long for me, dragging along on the floor. I kept stepping on it, groaning in frustration. I pushed it back and followed Cirilla out the door, down the front steps and toward the outskirts of Siraleth.

I had never left Siraleth before and was surprised when we trudged past the city center, toward the plains beyond. We continued on in silence, and I tried my best to keep up with her long strides.

She was fast, despite her age.

We passed through two long stone spires that reached up into the sky, so far that they disappeared among the cloud cover. When townhomes came into view in the distance opposite a bustling port, I realized we must be in Prins.

Did my father know that she was taking me out of the city?Where were we going?

My questions were answered soon enough when we climbed a steep hill that switched back and forth against the mountain, homes lining each side of the road. We came upon a worn navy painted townhome, the cedar shingles falling off and leaving parts of the roof bare.

Cirilla rapped against the door furiously, the Grishina grimoire still tucked tightly under her arm. Her black eyes swept up and down the street, ensuring nobody spotted us here. The door swung open, and we entered.

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