Chapter 13 — What The Shadows Did To Men

The first scream disappeared beneath the orchestra.

For one strange second, the ballroom continued moving normally around it.

Couples danced beneath cathedral chandeliers. Crystal glasses caught candlelight. Nobles smiled at one another through masks and political lies while snow drifted softly beyond the stained-glass windows.

Then someone collapsed near the western balcony.

The music faltered.

A glass shattered sharply against marble.

And black blood spread across the floor.

Everything after that happened too fast.

The nobleman convulsed violently beside the orchestra platform, dark veins crawling beneath his skin while panic erupted through the nearest guests. A woman screamed. Chairs overturned. Military officers surged toward the balconies at once.

“Shadow poison,” someone shouted.

Fear detonated through the cathedral hall.

Evelyn barely had time to process the words before Lucien’s hand closed hard around her arm and pulled her backward.

“Down.”

The command arrived low and immediate.

A crossbow bolt struck the pillar behind them a fraction of a second later.

The marble exploded.

The ballroom descended into chaos.

Masked guests scattered across the cathedral floor while imperial guards drew weapons near the entrances. Somewhere overhead, glass shattered violently as black-cloaked figures dropped from the upper balconies into the crowd below.

Assassins.

The orchestra stopped entirely now.

Only screaming remained.

Lucien moved with terrifying speed.

One moment he stood beside Evelyn.

The next he had thrown her behind the overturned banquet table while shadows burst sharply across the marble floor beneath him.

Not smoke.

Not illusion.

Something alive.

The darkness moved through the ballroom like liquid violence, swallowing candlelight as it tore toward the nearest attacker. One assassin barely managed to raise a weapon before the shadows wrapped around his throat and slammed him hard enough into the cathedral wall to crack stone.

Evelyn felt the impact through the floor.

Around them, nobles scrambled blindly toward exits while guards engaged the remaining attackers near the staircases.

Another assassin lunged directly toward Evelyn through the chaos.

Lucien intercepted him instantly.

The movement happened so quickly Evelyn almost lost it entirely beneath the flashing lights and panic surrounding them.

One hand closed around the attacker’s wrist.

The shadows answered immediately.

Black veins exploded outward across the assassin’s arm while something inside the darkness twisted violently enough to tear the weapon from his grip.

The man screamed.

Lucien didn’t even look at him.

His attention remained fixed entirely on Evelyn.

“Stay behind me.”

The shadows around him had changed.

Evelyn saw it clearly now beneath the collapsing candlelight and panic flooding the ballroom.

This wasn’t control anymore.

This was instinct.

Something ancient and dangerous responding directly to fear.

Or worse—

to the thought of losing her.

Another body collapsed near the cathedral stairs.

Captain Adrien Wolfe barked orders across the ballroom while royal guards forced surviving nobles toward secured exits. Blood streaked the marble floors beneath overturned tables and broken crystal.

The entire cathedral smelled suddenly of smoke and iron.

“Your Highness!”

Adrien reached Lucien through the chaos, sword drawn, military coat darkened with blood along one shoulder.

“There are more in the eastern halls.”

Lucien’s gaze never left Evelyn. “Get the students underground.”

“We can’t secure the lower tunnels yet—”

“Then seal the cathedral and kill anyone still inside who isn’t ours.”

The coldness of the sentence should have terrified her.

Instead Evelyn found herself watching the blood running slowly across Lucien’s ungloved hand where one of the assassins had managed to cut him.

The shadows moved faster near the wound.

Like sharks scenting blood in water.

Lucien noticed her staring.

For one brief second something dangerously close to exhaustion flickered through his expression.

Then another assassin appeared behind the shattered balcony railing above them.

Evelyn saw the blade first.

“Lucien—”

He turned instantly.

Too late to dodge fully.

The poisoned dagger cut across his shoulder as the assassin dropped from above.

The shadows exploded.

There was no other word for it.

Darkness ripped violently upward through the ballroom with enough force to extinguish half the candles in the cathedral. The assassin never even hit the floor properly before the shadows caught him midair and twisted hard enough to snap bone.

The sound silenced the room.

Even the remaining attackers froze briefly.

Evelyn stared at Lucien.

Not because of the violence.

Because the shadows looked hungry now.

They spread outward across the marble in restless shifting patterns while Lucien stood motionless at the center of them breathing too hard, silver-gray eyes darkened almost completely beneath the cathedral shadows.

The poison.

Dear God.

The assassin’s blade had been coated in shadow toxin.

Lucien swayed slightly.

Only slightly.

Evelyn moved toward him immediately.

“Don’t,” Adrien warned sharply.

Too late.

She reached Lucien just as another wave of shadows rippled violently across the floor beneath him.

The darkness recoiled the moment her hand touched his wrist.

Not disappeared.

Paused.

Lucien looked down at her through the storm of moving shadows surrounding them.

His breathing had become uneven now.

Painfully controlled.

“Evelyn,” he said quietly, like her name itself required effort suddenly.

“You’re poisoned.”

The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “Observant.”

Around them, guards finally secured the remaining attackers while cathedral bells rang emergency alarms through the storm outside.

Adrien approached carefully now, visibly tense.

“We need to move.”

Lucien remained motionless several seconds longer before forcing the shadows backward through visible effort.

The darkness resisted him.

Evelyn saw that too.

Saw the strain tightening across his face every time he forced the shadows down beneath control again.

The realization terrified her more than the attack itself.

Eventually Lucien straightened slowly and looked toward Adrien.

“Seal the ballroom.”

Adrien hesitated. “Your Highness—”

“Now.”

The captain obeyed immediately.

Students and nobles were escorted rapidly through the cathedral exits beneath armed guard while servants extinguished candles and covered bodies near the western balconies.

Nobody looked directly at Lucien anymore.

Not even the guards.

Fear had become something physical in the room.

Lucien noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Evelyn stayed beside him anyway.

The poison continued spreading visibly beneath the cut along his shoulder, dark veins moving slowly beneath pale skin before disappearing beneath the collar of his formal coat.

“You need a healer,” she said quietly.

Lucien glanced toward her.

Then toward the shadows still twitching faintly beneath his feet.

“No,” he answered after a moment. “I need isolation.”

The honesty of it unsettled her.

Not because he sounded afraid for himself.

Because he sounded afraid of what would happen near other people.

Snow and black rain crashed together against the cathedral windows while the academy descended fully into lockdown around them.

An hour later, Evelyn found herself standing inside Lucien Mordane’s private chambers high above the western towers while stormlight flickered across dark furniture and cathedral stone walls.

She hadn’t entirely agreed to come here.

Lucien had simply looked at her after the ballroom attack with exhaustion buried too deeply beneath his composure to hide anymore.

And she had followed.

Now he stood near the fireplace removing bloodstained gloves slowly while shadows moved faintly along the edges of the room like restless things trying very hard to remain still.

Evelyn watched him carefully from the doorway.

“You saved my life.”

Lucien lowered his gaze briefly toward the fresh blood still staining his hands.

When he answered, his voice had gone very quiet.

“That’s becoming a habit.”