Torric hasn’t said a word all morning, which isn’t entirely out of character, but it’s the kind of silence that feels heavier than usual. Like something is sitting on his chest and he’s refusing to acknowledge it. Aspen is worse. He’s just picking at his food, barely eating, shoulders stiff with tension I can almost see rippling beneath his skin.
I don’t like it.
My shadows don’t either.
Bob drifts closer to Aspen and Torric, hovering over them with unmistakable suspicion, his shadowy form almost military in its posture. Patricia’s usual frantic note-taking slows as if even she’s taking inventory of the tension. Finnick bounces anxiously between all of us, his usual chaotic energy subdued into nervous movement. Walter just hovers near the ceiling, pulsing with that strange purplish light.
Finn is the first to crack under the weight of it. He leans forward, lazily spearing a piece of fruit from my plate. “So, what’s the plan today?”
Malrik doesn’t look up. “Survive.”
Finn hums like he’s considering that answer. “Not really my strong suit.”
Torric exhales through his nose, but still doesn’t speak. Aspen just blinks down at his food like he’s waiting for it to say something first.
I set my fork down with more force than necessary, the sound of metal against ceramic making Aspen flinch. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Aspen doesn’t react, but Torric glances at me. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes. “Try again.”
Aspen exhales slowly, still not looking up. “We’re fine, Kaia.”
I hate that answer.
It’s dismissive, controlled, too even—the way Aspen only ever gets when he’s holding something back. My hand itches to reach for his, but there’s something in the deliberate space he’s keeping between us that stops me.
“You’re fine?” I repeat, voice sharper than I mean for it to be. “That’s my line. And if I know it’s bullshit, so do you.”
I take a breath, forcing myself to stay calm even as my shadows ripple with my frustration. “That’s why you haven’t spoken all morning? That’s why you’re both acting like you don’t even want to look at each other?”
Aspen’s fingers tighten around his fork. Torric shifts like he’s debating answering but then doesn’t. The bond in my chest pulses with something that feels like dread, or maybe anticipation.
Before I can press further, a shadow falls over the table.
A woman with an athletic figure and cropped black hair stands at the edge of our group, her Guardian attire pristine, her expression neutral. But her silver eyes linger on me for a beat too long before she speaks, studying my face like she’s measuring me against someone else.
“Kieran has requested your presence,” she says, voice smooth but firm. “All of you.”
The shift in energy is immediate. The tension morphs into something else entirely. I glance at Finn, who raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. Malrik doesn’t react visibly, but his shadows deepen around his feet.
Torric leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Requested our presence for what?”
The woman barely acknowledges the question, her silver gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “You are to meet him in the Hall of Echoes.”
I wait for someone to react, but none of them seem to recognize the name. Except Malrik, whose expression darkens slightly, shadows coiling tighter.
Finn leans toward me, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear. “That sounds ominous. Is it ominous?”
I shrug, my shadows mimicking the gesture. “It’s got ‘Echoes’ in the name, so probably.”
The woman remains unfazed but tilts her head slightly, like she’s deciding whether or not to humor him. “That depends.”
Finn perks up. “On what?”
She finally looks at him. “On how well you handle the truth.”
Finn blinks. “Nope. Don’t like that.” He shoves the last of his toast in his mouth as he stands. “Come on, Trouble. Let’s go find out just how doomed we are.”
