“It’s a great honor to practice with the Reaper Squadron,” Practol told him while they were walking down a dark hallway. “That is how much the King values you.”

Practice? This wasn’t practice.

Shaden didn’t reply, keeping his eyes down. Now that his freedom had been stripped away from him, he had no choice but to do as he was told. His family was still being taken hostage in the guise of luxury and comfort, but the magic on them had been thickly intertwined. There was no doubt the magic was keeping track of their location and could harm them if needed.

He knew what their plan was. They would make him demonstrate his abilities so they could replicate them. Just as he had learned from Practol they would learn from him.

He kept a straight face as they neared the end of the corridor. They would learn from him—if they could. He had no intention of making it easy for them. No, he had other plans in mind. Though the dragon had control over his body, his mind was fully his own.

Submission was for the weak, he recalled. He’d shaved off precious studying time just to review the book again. Not an eye for an eye, but an eye for a life. That way, no one would dare to mess with him again.

Understanding one’s weakness and difference in power were crucial for certain victory. One had to plan thoroughly to get what he wanted and not act on impulse. Be kind to your friends, but a roaring lion to your enemies. No enemy is without faults. Find them, dig into them, exploit them.

He doubted he could ever live like that as Demund. But as Shaden, he could be whatever he wished. This—this was a dream world.

A dream world, he told himself. While a separate reality with consequences, he had been able to do the impossible multiple times. A supply of mana that never seemed to run out; magic that he could learn and create in an instant; the ability to understand all languages. If this wasn’t a dream, what was it? He had a family and friends—those he cared about. But everyone else, he could treat like NPCs.

He decided to. There was no point in letting the world do as it wished on him. Certainly, he’d made a mistake by casting magic on the dragon younglings. He would pay his price as he saw fit, and at the end of it—leave. He would find a way. Nothing had been impossible so far.

“I will leave you here. I wish you the best.”

Shaden didn’t react. The door before him opened, and he entered, inspecting the room. It was a large open space with pillars with lights from glowing crystals on the walls. He heard the doors close behind him, but no one made themselves known to him. He was alone.

Or so they wanted him to believe. Though his mana was harder to control, he could sense two individuals before him, one leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and the other sitting down, feet on the floor but with no chair.

They were looking at him.

Shaden kept his mouth shut. He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly upwards, putting on a bored expression.

He felt the man move, getting up. His footsteps made no sound as he approached. When he was right before him, the man raised a hand, aiming to strike at his face.

Shaden intercepted in by grabbing it. The man cocked his head. It was then that he made himself known, colors blooming into thin air as the man’s body fully came into view.

“So you’re talented, I hear,” the man said. “The King himself has given you a share of the Guardian’s power. How terribly envious I am.”

Before Shaden knew it, the man had slipped his arm out, sitting on nothing again. He crossed his arms. As the man and woman’s faces were both masked, Shaden couldn’t see their faces very well. He decided to fix that.

Both of them grabbed their masks before Shaden could snatch them away with magic. They were perceptive, these two. The woman, realizing that her stealth had been seen through, revealed herself as well.

Never underestimate the enemy, Shaden recalled. The Reaper Squadron was the best in the country. There was a reason why the dragon had put him in their hands.

“He’s unnaturally perceptive to magic,” the woman spoke. “Careful. He is continuously spreading his mana around.”

So they could feel that. That was interesting to know.

“How dangerous could a child be?” the man snorted. “Come, show me your best. Though I doubt it will be better than ours, we were graciously told to take a look—”

“Don’t undermine the King’s orders.”

“Yes, yes. But what a waste of time. Come, boy. Quickly. You don’t want to see me get aggressive.”

“I would do as you are told,” the woman advised.

The woman sounded young, but the man had the voice of a grumpy middle-aged man. They were fairly normal-sounding, not something he’d expected from ‘Reapers.’ He’d thought that they would use voice-altering magic.

“Make me,” Shaden dared.

A line of veins rippled across the man’s forehead. “You don’t want that,” he said with an annoyed smile. “It will be less painful to show us now than to show us with a broken finger.”

Crack.

The man’s expression hadn’t changed in the least, but he looked down at his hand, His index finger had been completely bent backwards, beginning to redden as the broken bone and torn flesh made the finger dangle aimlessly.

The man pursed his lips. “How funny,” he sighed with a scowl. “I do not like to waste time or energy.”

He got up, and Shaden felt the man’s body vibrate with power.

“Book—”

“I know. I won’t kill him. Just teaching him a lesson.”

Shaden held in a cry as a fist buried itself into his jaw half a second later, causing him to fly across the room. He crashed into a pillar with a crack, skidding across the floor as his body did spins in the air. Once he stopped, he waited for a little before getting up and wiping his mouth.

There was supposed to be blood. He looked at his hand with disappointment. His body was too resilient.

“This guy is tough,” the man grinned, cracking his knuckles. “I doubted our mission! Of course everything we do has some meaning to it.”

“The point is not to fight, but to learn.”

“I know, I know. Men learn with fists.”

The man appeared again, kicking him in the stomach. Even though Shaden had braced himself, the blow was different. It wasn’t just physical—but loaded with mana. He flew across the room again, but this time, the man was waiting for him on the other side.

He was quick. Shaden had never focused on speed as his forte. The world was better when he took it slowly. But during battles, being quick was—

So very cool.

His back was smashed by man, and he covered his face before he hit the ground, diminishing the blow. His muscles and bone groaned in pain, but already—like instinct—his healing magic had begun.

“Had enough?” the man grinned. “You won’t accomplish anything just by being hit. Do that thing you did before to my finger.”

The man’s finger looked fine now. Then again, any decent fighter knew a little healing magic.

Shaden got up. This time, there was blood in his mouth. He spat it out, wiping the leftovers with his hand.

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?” Shaden asked as calmly as possible. “I enjoy repaying my debts.”

“Now we’re talking,” the man laughed. “If you fail, it won’t end with just a little blood. Do your best, kid.”

Shaden let out a small laugh.

Then he vanished.

Immediately, the man assumed a fighting stance, bringing his arms out and planting his legs in the ground.

“Now, this is something,” he said, his eyes darting around. “I can’t feel a thing. Curse?”

“The spells are in place,” she replied, “but there is no signal. There isn’t a single response.”

“What? Don’t only use one spell.”

“I have seven active at the moment.”

Crack.

The man’s right foot now faced the opposite direction, and he fell on one knee, his face painted with discomfort. Immediately, he twisted it back. A second later, Shaden twisted the other foot.

Crack.

The man was resilient. Shaden had decided to use triple the mana he thought would be necessary to be safe, and even then, he had been met with resistance. But it wouldn't be a problem for him.

“That’s. Fucking. Painful.”

The man took out something from his pocket—a small vial. He drank it and stood up, his legs seemingly healed.

A potion. Shaden had never bothered to look into potions. With healing magic, he had not needed them. He’d tried drinking one with Lytha for the experience but had regretted it. The oily taste was one thing, but the sensation of the potion spreading inside of his body was not something he could get familiar with, like a thousand maggots crawling through his cells.

“You should have snapped my neck,” the man said.

Then he vanished from Shaden’s sight.

“Book! We’re here to learn his magic! Don’t be rash! Have you forgotten why you were moved from the frontlines?”

The woman’s words didn’t reach the man. Shaden stood by the woman’s side, wondering where the man had gone. Certainly, he couldn’t sense him now. There were traces of movement in the air, but he couldn’t pinpoint the man’s location exactly. The magic didn’t only fool the eyes, but mana perception as well.

Shaden could make his mana in the air become so thick so that he could perceive everything that happened within it, but it seemed inefficient. The more mana he used, the more the dragon would know that he wasn’t completely under its control. Besides, he had his hands on some tools that were perfect for the situation.

The marker he’d put on the man was faint, but it reacted to his pulse.

“Gah!”

The man let out a cry as his body was slammed onto the floor like a fly, pressed by the force Shaden exerted on him. Shaden still remembered the gravity magic the dragon had used and the powerlessness he’d felt. This man would experience something similar.

“Get. off. Of—me!” he groaned, trying to push himself off of the floor. But Shaden increased the pressure, and the floor around the man began to visibly shift.

Suddenly, Shaden felt the power being taken from him. He stopped the magic immediately, but it was too late. His stealth became undone, and the man instantly got up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ran out of juice, hah? I’ll get you for that—”

But immediately, his expression changed. He fell to the floor on one knee, lowering his head towards the door. The woman did the same. Shaden had braced himself for a fight but linking his loss of power together with the way the two were acting, the King had come.

He didn’t kneel. Surprisingly, the one who came through the door was not the King, but another man.

His silver hair was like the King’s. He was wearing ornate garments of white and dark blue, but most noticeable was the small dragon that perched on his shoulder—a youngling. Its amber eyes were focused on him.

It was the cause for his loss of mana. Shaden could feel it absorbing his power, greedily sucking it in.

I could kill it now, he thought.

He hated the feeling of being controlled. If he mustered as much mana as he had done at the Wall of Arrows, overpowering the youngling wouldn’t be a problem.

But his fascination with the creature prevented him, as well as his thoughts for his family. The dragon seemed to understand his lack of hostility as the draining on him stopped.

So the dragons can share magic, Shaden noted. Perhaps the royalty could as well. He would have to be cautious not to reveal all the cards he had.

“What is the meaning of this?” the man demanded. Shaden noticed something peculiar on him but didn’t speak.

The question wasn’t directed towards him, but the masked man. He lowered his head more.

“My Prince, I didn’t know you would be coming,” the masked man said. “We would have made better preparations.”

“It wasn’t in my plans. But my father sent me. You were meant to learn from the boy, not test him.”

So the dragon knew what was happening. Because he had used too much mana? Or could it tell whenever he used magic? Shaden bit the inside of his cheek. If the dragon knew every spell he cast, he wondered if it would be possible at all to learn something that would be able to free him from the dragon’s curse.

Patience, he told himself. Rashness would lead to ruin. He had to bide his time.

But…he wanted to see Eilae. Within a year—he would find his way out.

Hopefully.

“My apologies. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” the masked man answered.

The prince sighed. “Are you satisfied now? Have you seen what the boy is capable of?”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “His stealth magic is completely untraceable—for now.”

“For now?”

“Once we analyze the system of magic he uses and its patterns, replicating and detecting it will become possible.”

“Good. My father looks forward to it.”

Shaden wondered why the dragon itself didn’t analyze his magic if it was so good at it. But perhaps he was fortunate that it didn’t. Or was it analyzing it through the curse it had placed? There were too many things he didn’t know.

The prince turned to him this time. His expression looked stern, though he crossed his arms and let out a deep breath.

“I’ve heard little about you, but I know you have an abundance of mana,” he said. “Those with power should not misuse it.”

“He was the one who attacked me first,” Shaden bluntly replied.

“Yes. It’s part of his twisted character. I apologize for that. My father doesn’t care for trivial things.”

“My prince—”

“But he is your superior now,” the prince continued, “as am I. You will show respect and do as you are told, else all order fall apart. I don’t want to force authority on you. You’re but a child who has too much power to handle. Take this as a learning opportunity.”

“Is getting punched and kicked suitable for a child?”

“You are not an ordinary child. Your body is stronger than your mind. Learn to handle your mind. We will look over your body.”

There was no anger or scorn in the man’s voice. He spoke as if he were saying the truth.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Shaden said, balling up a fist.

“Then I will learn as a prince should. There will be plenty of time for everything.”

“My lord, we couldn’t possibly—”

“Forget about the formalities, Book. I will be coming over as well to oversee the situation. Not for the boy’s safety, but yours. He is a dangerous one. He could kill you with a flick of his hand.”

“I—understand,” the man said, though with some disagreement. The woman simply remained still next to him, stealing a glance at Shaden. Though the dragon’s curse was dulling his senses, he could feel the currents of magic move throughout the room, sticking onto his skin like vapor on a foggy day.

“On that note—what is your name?” the prince asked.

“Shaden,” Shaden replied. “Shaden Limen.”

“I am Boren. We will see each other often.”

The dragon next to him whispered something to him. Or rather, spoke telepathically. They looked like they were conversing, but no movement nor sound moved between their mouths.

“Your magic is dangerous,” Boren stated, putting out a hand. Shaden’s eyes widened when a large circle of lines and inscriptions appeared before the prince’s hand, rotating as if it were alive. Suddenly, tendrils sprouted from the magic circle, enveloping his limbs, connecting to the initial curse that had been placed.

“Father is too lax,” Boren said. “He did not see that you are still ready to rebel. I will seal your magic, Shaden. You need time to accept these changes. Book, Curse, you may be dismissed. Give Shaden a week or two to understand that what we are doing to him is not oppression, but control for the greater good.”

“Yes, your Highness,” they both said. They vanished from Shaden’s sight, and surprisingly—

He didn’t feel them at all.

Shaden looked at his hands. Something was different.

“The stronger you attempt to move your mana, the worse the resistance will become,” Boren explained. “I will lift the seal when you are ready. You make it clear that you wish to escape.”

“How can you tell?” He was pretty confident in his expressions.

“The flow of your mana,” Boren told him. “When the will is fluctuating, so does one’s mana.”

Shaden frowned. “And when the mana is restrained, so is one’s will.”

“You learn quickly.”

Boren turned around towards the door. “Think hard and well. Become a respected ally or a slave.”

Shaden had no intentions of fully submitting. But the thought of being one of Melern’s top figures was alluring. If he gave his loyalty to the kingdom, there would be no doubt he would find himself in an admired place of power. The dragons could become his friends. But there was one thing he found puzzling.

“Why would a prince like you steal money from the nation’s own Gambling Houses?”

The prince’s footsteps froze in place. He slowly turned around. “What?”

“Sinkhole. The ‘legendary’ gambler,” Shaden muttered. “But the Gambling Houses are operated by the kingdom. What’s the point?”

“Gambler?” Boren laughed. “Your imagination is running wild.”

But it wasn’t. Though all of the interference from the curse, he’d felt the faint signal of his marker from the prince when he’d entered—the same one he’d placed on the so-called Sinkhole.

To prove a point, Shaden tried to muster his magic, but the moment he attempted to move his mana, it froze in place, like ice trying to move through a cold pipe in the winter. He simply couldn’t. Even with all the mana he’d had, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t feel his connection to his infinite mana.

“Uncomfortable, isn’t it? Those with great power suffer more when they lose it. Watch your mouth, young child. You should never lie to a dragon.”

“Then it would know.”

Shaden glared at the dragon, and it bared its fangs with a hiss. Boren’s face darkened a little.

“There is no gambler in the royal family,” he said, walking away. Then he vanished, his body whisked away by magic.

And Shaden couldn’t feel the flows of mana around him.

The price for resistance.

It felt as if he were in a trance. The world was there, but it felt dull and heavy as if he were walking through water. He felt numb.

He felt like Demund.

Alone, he walked through the long halls without anyone to guide him. Even with his power gone, he knew the way. But the way back was so very foreign; it had been like daytime before, but now he walked through the dark with a dim lantern. He could see that which was around him, but not feel things further away.

His five senses were all he had. When a servant emerged from a corner, he nearly flinched, surprised by the sudden appearance.

This—

This wasn’t him.

“Shaden, what’s wrong?” his mother asked when he arrived at where his family was. They had been given a modest house to live in with utensils and an allowance as well. He was not a slave but a civil servant in a way and would be paid for his work.

The smell of his mother’s cooking aroused a deep sense of nostalgia inside of him, back when he was a child in Danark. Back when there were no worries. Back when he was running every day with Enariss, back when he still had his leg. Without his mana to watch over his emotions, he felt vulnerable, and the welling in his heart became bigger and bigger.

“You could tell?” Shaden asked.

“Of course I can! Look at yourself. Have they mistreated you?”

Shaden wished that he could see himself in a mirror. “No,” he said instead, hugging his mother.

The deep melancholy of losing mana. He’d read it somewhere in a book before. He’d wondered why some would kill themselves just because they lost their magic—there was so much more to do with life.

But how wretched and weak he felt. How dull, how stagnant, how pointless life seemed.

“Is Shaden hurt?”

It was Melany. She nervously tugged on his pants, looking up at him with a thumb in her mouth. Shidey was next to her, though she looked at him weirdly while swishing her tails as if seeing a stranger. But of course. There was no mana coming out from him right now.

“I’m okay,” Shaden smiled, patting his sister’s head.

“Then can you help me with this?”

She pulled him aside to show him—a basic drawing of a bird.

“I need to copy this for tomorrow,” she said. “How?”

“How? You copy the shapes.”

“But how? Where do I start?”

She looked confused.

“Anywhere you’d like.”

“But where is that?”

“Hmm. I’d say…start from the edges. I would begin from the top then go down.”

“Okay. You could have said that earlier.”

Shaden laughed. “Sorry, sorry.”

Melany began drawing, and Shaden watched dully. He felt weak, and his responses didn’t feel as genuine. But at least he could tell that his sister was a horrible drawer. It was no bird that she drew. The neck was as long as a snake’s, and the wings were far too small in proportion, with the legs as long as chopsticks.

“This is wrong,” Melany decided after some thought. “It looks a little different.”

“A—a little?”

“Yes.”

She scowled, crossing her arms. “Can you do better?”

“I shouldn’t do your homework for you.”

“I wanna see.”

“Alright.”

He wasn’t a good refuser. Receiving the pencil from Melany, he began to draw on another sheet of paper, his hand sliding over the surface. A few strokes here, some lines there, adding gradients in between.

“Hmm. You’re okay,” Melany decided, inspecting his drawing.

It was better than hers. It had to be. But Shaden was feeling depressed at how awful his artistic touches had become. Most of the lines weren’t perfectly aligned, and a few awkward bulges here and there made the bird look unnatural. They were small details, things that didn’t really matter.

But he knew what a perfect copy felt like. He’d practiced it over and over. With his mana stripped away from him, his limbs hadn’t moved in the way he wanted to, and his vision hadn’t been as clear. This drawing was a failure.

He spotted Melany tucking the sheet away.

“Do you like it?”

“I’m going to show Mom and Dad,” she said.

“To tease me?”

“Tease? Are you making fun of me?”

She pouted, crumpling her initial drawing of a strange bird. “Then this would look like rubbish.”

“What? No, not at all. It’s unique and abstract.”

“It’s supposed to be a copy.”

Though she’d stated that she would show his drawing to their parents, she snuck it inside of her small bag and put the rest of her supplies away.

“Don’t you have to finish your drawing?”

“I can do it after dinner.”

Shaden laughed, and his sister gave him an unsatisfied look.

“Play catching stones with me,” she demanded, taking out a pouch from the side.

He had no choice but to agree. By dinner, his father had arrived, looking quite merry. He had a stack of papers in his hand along with a sack.

“They wish for me to take the test to join the Silver Knights,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll have to begin training again and get the dust off of my body.”

“The Silver Knights?” Shaden asked.

“They are the royal guard of the palace,” his father told him, taking off his coat. “I hear they’re paid quite well.”

Shaden didn’t know what to say.

After dinner, his father called him aside for a talk. He sat down before him, and by the mood, Shaden knew they would talk about something heavier than usual.

“I heard that the King placed a blessing on you,” Garthan said, “but by the looks of it, it seems to be more of a curse. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Shaden said.

“You’re much more talented than me. But I would be a terrible father if I couldn’t notice my son’s misery? Shaden, tell me everything you need to.”

Shaden pushed back the welling in his heart. “They took my mana away from me. Or my control over it.”

“Will they remove the restraints in time?”

“Yes. The prince said a week or two. He told me to become an ally or a slave. But they both mean the same thing. I’m not free anymore. I’ll be under the King or dragon until I escape or die.”

“It’s not a bad life.”

“I know. But…Dad, we’re from Skotos, right? We’re not supposed to be under anyone.”

“People are always under something,” his father said. “Do you fear that you won’t be able to take your rightful place as Skotos’s ruler?”

Shaden shook his head. “It’s not about that. I still have to go to the Rvuvick Empire to see Eilae—I mean, finish my training. I have to spend my 15th birthday in Skotos. Grandfather said that it would be important. But I can’t anymore.”

His father nodded. “Did I tell you why I left Skotos?”

“No.”

“Your grandfather’s life—my father’s—is a miserable one.”

Garthan breathed out heavily, shifting in his seat. “My grandfather and those before him died quite quickly. Not because of age or illness, but because of the presence that lurks within Skotos.”

“Presence?”

“Your dagger, Shaden. You’ve fused with it. That shadow…is part of something greater.”

The Shadow.

“After your fifteenth birthday, it begins to—whisper, I’ve heard,” Garthan continued. “Not in a bad way. It becomes your lifelong companion, giving advice and power. My father has described it as the most beautiful, wonderful, and perfect feeling a human can experience.”

Garthan’s expression turned dark. “As a consequence, my grandfather couldn’t live without it. He died to give his life to it. My father—I thought he was different. He was determined to make us strong, never complimenting us. But he would rage at himself when we were asleep.”

“Why?”

“The shadow wouldn’t respond to him. The whispers come sparingly, I’ve heard. He wished for me to quickly bond with the presence so that I would hear the whispers and tell him what they meant. It made me afraid. The older I grew, the worse my father’s dejection became. His emotions for us became duller and duller, and at one point, I’d thought that he only saw us as tools.”

“But he’s different now.”

“Yes, he is. But that is not the point.”

Garthan looked at him with seriousness. “I—don’t know much about our secrets, Shaden. Lytha would know better. But once you take my father’s place, you will be like him—always within that dark estate. My father was not a happy man. Perhaps—perhaps this is for the better.”

“Being under a dragon.”

“You will be able to experience the land. You will be able to travel and make new friends. If you do well, wealth and honor will come to you. None of that can be achieved in Skotos.”

“What exactly is our family? Assassins?”

“Caretakers for the so-called goddess dwelling within Skotos.”

Caretakers. Goddess. He’d read the texts and had suspected that there was something powerful sealed within the heart of the mountain. Something about falling from the heavens, giving each family their respective gifts, and falling into a deep sleep. But was that all they were? Caretakers?

“But we do other things as well.”

“Yes. Some favors here and there.”

“And the people who lived in Skotos?”

“There are those who’ve wandered inside. Others are those who are not to be allowed out because of what they know or have done. But most of them are their descendants.”

“Skotos is a prison.”

“The children born there are allowed to leave. However, they may never return unless the Head of Skotos wills it.”

Garthan cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is—this life may be better. You will be free from responsibilities. You’ll be able to live your own life and not the one my father expects of you.”

“But the other families…they’re expecting me to become the Head.”

“I can’t speak for them. But Practol will send a word if you wish.”

Practol. The moment the man pledged his allegiance to the King was still clear in Shaden’s mind. The moment he had betrayed the Limens. Was he going to do the same?

He felt incredibly weak. Without mana to aid him, resisting was so tiring. There was no motivation at all. If things were like this—

“It’s not like I can change anything now, can I?” Shaden sighed. “The King and his dragon are too powerful.”

His father smiled. “Even for you?”

Shaden smiled back. “Even for me. I think I’ll take a bath and sleep early today. My body feels so weak.”

“Can I take a look?”

Garthan placed his hand on Shaden’s back, and Shaden felt a tingle where they touched.

“Hmm. Whatever the spell is, it has completely stopped your mana flow. Even children have a current, no matter how weak, but yours is frozen.”

“Is it bad?”

“Many say that mana is your will. When your mana stops, so does your will.”

“It feels like that.”

“A week or two…who was the prince that placed the spell?”

“Boren.”

“He’s known for his kind and playful nature. Perhaps he’s waiting for you to come to him. You must have done something to be restrained.”

“A little. This guy called Book tried to test me, so I smashed him into the ground.”

“You did? Sounds like he needs an apology.”

“But he punched me in the face first.”

“He did? Who is this cruel man?”

“His was called Book. Part of the Reaper Squadron.”

“Ah.”

Garthan scratched his head. “You’ve…been to the Nieuts. You must know what being in the army feels like.”

“Blunt, rude, oppressive, and irritating?”

“Exactly. The Reaper Squadron is the same—but the worst in Melern. The greater the group, the harsher the methods.”

Garthan ruffled Shaden’s hair. “But you did well to smash the guy. He’ll know not to mess with you. Power is especially important among the strong.”

Shaden grinned. “Do you remember when the princess came to Danark?”

“Yes, for her country tour.”

“I saw the Reaper Squadron then. They were guarding the princess. Rother and I were looking at the procession from the roof of a tall building, and then they brandished their knives at us.”

“The Reaper Squadron?”

Shaden nodded. “I thought they were scary then. And cool. But they weren’t much.”

Garthan smiled. “The best squadron in the country isn’t good enough for you? But don’t underestimate them. There is a reason why people work in groups.”

“I know. I’ll never underestimate anyone again.”

He still felt weak, but something was clear in his mind.

They chatted for a while longer, laughing about their experiences in the army and how stubborn or stupid some people could be, and how some scary superiors turned out to be angels or buffoons. They talked about the meals they got, and Garthan teased Shaden for not experiencing training camp before being deployed. So Shaden asked if Garthan had ever climbed a mountain, to which he said—

“What in Skotos were they thinking, making you do that in the cold!” he raged, cracking his knuckles.

“It was tiring, but easy enough,” Shaden said. “Having a lot of mana helps. And I also made another breakthrough!”

When they finished speaking, it was way past the time Shaden had decided to sleep in. They finally showered and got ready for bed. Melany would sleep with their parents, and though he was asked if he wanted to join, he politely refused.

“But come any time!” Melsei smiled. “Good dreams, dear.”

“You as well, Mom.”

He was finally able to lay in bed to think. Not having mana had unsettled him greatly, but he was a master of adaptation. Truthfully, he’d lived like this as Demund before he’d discovered how to circulate. It was uncomfortable, but not terrible.

Well, it was terrible. But not life-changing.

Perhaps it was life-changing.

Shaden sighed. At that moment, his father’s words came into his mind.

Skotos. Goddess. Presence.

Shadow.

“You must still be there,” Shaden said, not expecting it to work. After all, his mana was sealed.

But the shadow emerged from his hand, obeying his will. Surprised, he stared at it dumbly until he realized that it wasn’t the darkness of his room that was causing him to hallucinate, but the shadow itself. He moved it around. It didn’t feel as intuitive or natural as before, but it was reacting to his thoughts.

“How come you’re not sealed?” he asked. “Didn’t the dragon detect you?”

The shadow didn’t respond.

Shaden played with the shadow, creating different shapes and textures out of it. It was always black but could become as sharp as the sharpest blade or as hard as a diamond. Without his mana to fuel it, it wouldn’t be as large or powerful—but it was there.

“How come you’re here when my mana is sealed? You must get your energy from something.”

He turned the shadow into a glove and placed it over his hand. It was kind of dark so to see it better, he summoned some light with the same hand and inspected it. It was completely black—like a shadow.

The light was hurting his eyes, so he let it vanish, turning his body in his bed. It was time to sleep. He’d still try to find a way to escape if he could, but perhaps he could make peace with the situation if he couldn’t—

His eyes snapped open.

Taking out his hand again, he summoned light. Nothing happened. He summoned his shadow again and covered his hand with it. No, just covering it didn’t work. He had to make his shadow envelope and fill his hand.

Light appeared once more. The flow of mana was meager in his hand—but definitely there. He extended the shadow to his arm, and to his surprise, he could control his mana in it.

He removed the shadow. Concentrating, he felt the dragon’s curse take hold in his arm again, sealing his power once more. But in that instant, he’d felt it.

The shadow had unraveled and eaten the dragon’s curse. Shaden was glad that the dragon’s magic was advanced enough to repair itself because if it couldn’t—he definitely would have been found out.

“Well, well, well…”

He should have noticed when the shadow had blocked Prince Salahin’s firestorm. He should have realized when it had protected him from the dragon’s presence.

His shadow could nullify and absorb magic.

And he realized why his grandfather had told him once that there was no target they couldn’t kill, no matter how powerful the being.