Page 19 of Shattered Veil
No. I need answers.
I rap my knuckles against the wood in a specific pattern. One-two-three. Pause. Two quick taps.
Silence stretches. This is a mistake. I should turn back. Tiernan was right. Playing both sides is a game I won’t win.
Then—a creak. The door opens a crack.
“Get in,” a gruff voice growls.
I slip inside. The living room is cramped, dimly lit. Professor Azareon sits in an armchair, the source I’m here to meet across from him. Two hulking figures flank him—shifters, by the look of them. Their eyes track my every move.
“You weren’t followed?” the professor asks.
I scoff.“Please. Give me some credit.”
He nods, gesturing to an empty chair.“Sit. We have much to discuss.”
I slide into a chair, leaning forward.“Nice place. Very cozy.”
Azareon’s eyes narrow.“This isn’t a social call, Callen.”
“No shit.” I drop the act, my voice hardening.“I’m risking as much as you are by being here.” I gesture at the man in the hooded cloak across from me.“What do you think my father would do if he knew I was meeting with rebels?”
The professor snorts.“You entitled fool. You have no idea what your father is capable of doing, what he has done, to some of us.”
I clench my jaw.“Enough. This isn’t what I’m here to talk about. You said he had information.” I gesture to the rebel, who has yet to utter a single word.
The man finally speaks.“Dean Charling’s murder.”
“What do you know about it?” I study his face, partially obscured by shadows.
The rebel exchanges a look with his shifter guards.
“It was shadow magic,” he says finally.
“No fucking kidding. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“It was shadow magic wielded by the Council.”
My blood runs cold. I force my face to remain neutral.“You’re saying the Council—”
“Killed Dean Charling,” he cuts in.
Shadow magic wielded by someone without the innate ability. By people who shouldn’t have it at all? The implications are staggering. It’s just like I’ve been hearing from rebel sources. The Council has been extracting and using shadow magic for their own purposes.
“Who?” I demand.
Professor Azareon shakes his head.“We don’t know. But whoever it was... they’re powerful.”
The rebel’s voice drops to a rasp.“It goes deeper than you know. The Council, your father, the elite families—they’re all in this together.”
My stomach twists. I keep my face impassive, but my mind races.“Explain.”
He leans forward, shadows dancing across his hooded face.“They’ve been harvesting shadow magic for years. Extracting it from those born with the gift, using it to further their own power. They dispose of the shadow magic wielders and pretend shadow magic is extinct.”
“That’s impossible,” I argue, but doubt gnaws at me.“Shadow magic can’t be transferred.”
Azareon’s laugh is bitter.“That’s what they want you to believe. But they’ve found a way. Dark rituals, blood sacrifices. They’re tapping into something ancient, something that should have remained buried.”
