Chapter 3 The Boy in the Shadows

Nyxira POV

I couldn't move.

Darian stood just inside my room. The door didn't creak. His footsteps made no sound. It was like he floated on air. Moonlight touched his silver hair and made his pale face glow.

He didn't speak. Just stared at me with those cold, clear eyes.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. The mark on my palm throbbed hard now-hot under the skin. Like it was warning me.

"What... do you want?" I asked. My voice was small. Too small.

Darian took one step forward.

"I saw you," he said. His voice was soft and low, like a whisper in the dark. "In the Trials."

My chest froze. "No one saw me. I was alone."

"You weren't," he said. "Not really."

I slid my legs off the bed. I didn't stand. Not yet. But I needed to be ready. In case he tried something.

His eyes flicked to my hand. "You tried to hide it," he said. "But I felt it from across the chamber. The fire. The blood."

I tucked my hand under the blanket.

"You don't know what you saw."

He tilted his head. "Don't I?"

He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled something out.

I tensed.

But it wasn't a weapon.

It was a shard of black crystal.

He held it toward me. Not close-just enough for me to see.

Inside the crystal, something moved. A glow. Like embers under glass. I didn't want to look at it. But I couldn't look away.

"What is that?" I whispered.

He watched me carefully. "A mirror," he said. "For people like us."

"I'm not like you."

"No," he said. "You're older."

That made no sense.

I stood up now. My legs were shaky, but I forced them to stay still.

"Leave," I said.

Darian didn't move.

"I'm not your enemy, Nyxira," he said.

"You don't even know me."

He stepped back then. Slowly. Like he didn't want to scare me more.

"You'll need help," he said. "When the flames wake. When they come."

"Who?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he placed the black crystal on my windowsill.

"If you dream of fire," he said, "look into this. It will show you what your memory won't."

Then he turned and left.

The door shut behind him without a sound.

I stayed frozen for a long time.

I didn't touch the crystal.

I didn't sleep.

I just watched the window until the sky turned grey.

The next day, everything felt wrong.

The halls were louder. Brighter. Too sharp. Like the magic in the walls could feel what was happening inside me.

Whispers followed me again. But not just about my House now.

"Did you hear about the Ashendark girl?"

"They say she didn't scream during the Trial."

"They say the room bowed to her."

It wasn't true. I did scream-just not out loud.

And the room didn't bow.

The creature did.

I kept walking. I didn't meet anyone's eyes.

At breakfast, I sat alone.

No one joined me.

But Zeryn watched from across the hall. He sat with the Bloodfangs-his people. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. Just stared, like he was waiting.

For what?

Classes started that day.

Not normal classes. Not math or history.

Combat. Magic. Bloodlines. Ritual theory. Enchantment.

They didn't teach like human schools did. There were no pencils. No chalkboards. Just rooms full of floating spells and teachers who looked like they'd lived a thousand years.

My first class was in a round chamber made of crystal and bone. The teacher was a tall woman with hair like smoke and eyes like steel. She didn't introduce herself.

"Today," she said, "you'll show me what you are."

I froze.

"What if we don't know?" someone asked.

She smiled coldly. "Your blood will."

She pointed at a circle on the floor.

"Step in. Let the spell read you."

One by one, students entered the circle. Glowing light spun around them. Each time, the light changed color.

Red for werewolf.

Silver for vampire.

Blue for fae.

Gold for witch.

Each student left the circle with their House confirmed.

Then it was my turn.

I didn't want to go.

But I did.

I stepped into the circle.

Nothing happened.

No color. No glow.

The silence stretched.

The teacher frowned. "Again."

I stepped forward again.

Still nothing.

The students whispered.

"Is she broken?"

"Maybe she's a Null."

The teacher came closer. "Let me try," she said.

She raised her hand-and magic poured from her palm. It wasn't gentle. It hit me like a wave.

My knees buckled.

The mark on my hand burned so hot I nearly screamed.

And then-light.

Not one color.

All of them.

Red. Silver. Blue. Gold. Then black. Then white.

The circle cracked.

The spell burst.

And every torch in the room went out.

Silence.

Then someone screamed.

Smoke filled the room. I couldn't breathe. I fell to my knees, gasping.

I felt arms grab me-pulling me up.

Not rough. Careful.

Then a voice in my ear.

"Come on. We have to go."

Zeryn.

He pulled me through the smoke, past the broken spell circle, through a hidden door.

We came out into a quiet hallway. Cold. Empty.

I leaned against the wall, panting.

Zeryn stood close, watching me like I might fall again.

"What was that?" I whispered.

"You tell me."

"I don't know."

He stepped closer. "Your mark," he said.

I froze.

He reached out slowly. Gently.

"Show me," he said.

I shook my head.

But my hand moved anyway.

I unwrapped the bandage. Rolled up the sleeve.

His eyes widened.

"It's real," he whispered.

I nodded.

Then he did something I didn't expect.

He knelt.

Not deep. Not dramatic.

Just enough to show he understood.

"I won't tell anyone," he said. "Not even my House. Not even my father."

"Why?"

He looked up at me. His eyes were golden. Wild. But kind.

"Because I know what it's like," he said. "To carry something old. Something dangerous. And not know what to do with it."

I blinked fast. My throat hurt.

He stood again.

"You need to learn control," he said. "Before they decide you're a weapon."

"I'm not."

"They won't care."

We walked back to the dorms together. Not talking. Just quiet.

When we got there, he didn't say goodbye.

He just looked at me one more time.

And then he was gone.

That night, I stared at the crystal.

It still sat on my windowsill.

The note had said if I dreamed of fire... look.

I hadn't dreamed.

But I couldn't sleep, either.

I reached for it.

The moment I touched it, the room vanished.

I wasn't in my bed.

I was in a field of ash.

The sky above me was dark red. The ground burned with dying embers.

And in the middle of it stood a woman.

She had wings like flame. Eyes like gold.

She looked like me.

Older. Stronger. Sadder.

She turned toward me.

"You have to run," she said. "They know."

"Who are you?" I asked.

But she didn't answer.

She lifted her hands.

And the fire behind her turned to dragons.

Not statues. Not stories.

Real.

Alive.

Roaring.

Then I woke up.

Back in my room.

Sweating.

Heart racing.

Someone was outside my door again.

But it wasn't Darian.

This time, it was a note.

No name.

Just words:

"They're coming for you at dawn."

I looked out the window.

The sky was still dark.

But the wind smelled like smoke.

And in the distance, across the mountains, a horn blew low and cold.

Something had arrived.