ShadowBound: The Need For Power

By the time Liam returned to his dormitory building, that irritation had settled firmly beneath his skin.

The walk back had not helped. The cold outside had been sharp, mean-spirited, and persistent, the kind that slipped into every space between coat, collar, and skin as if personally invested in making him hate the season more. He had kept fire-aligned Myst moving inwardly to preserve warmth, but the effort only made the weather feel more insulting. A person should not have to use magic simply to cross academy grounds without being harassed by air.

He climbed the stairs to his floor without speaking to anyone, ignored the few students in the lounge who glanced his way, and reached his room with the same flat expression he wore when the world had tested his patience one too many times in a day.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Mabel was seated in one of the chairs near the desk, which was unusual enough to make Liam pause. She had not taken her more recent favorite place atop the wardrobe, though the wardrobe still looked as though it belonged to her now by right of repeated occupation. Instead, she sat comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, a book open in one hand.

Nyxie lay curled on her lap in her small dragon form, apparently napping with all the confidence of a creature who believed she had conquered both shadow and royalty. Her wings were folded loosely along her sides, her tail curled around Mabel’s wrist, and her head rested against the fabric of Mabel’s uniform. Every so often, a faint little rumble came from her throat, less a growl than a sleepy purr.

Mabel did not look up from her book when Liam entered.

"Good evening," she said calmly.

Liam closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, his gaze moving from Mabel to Nyxie and back again. "Were you not supposed to be handling a mission from Her Majesty?"

"I am," Mabel said, turning a page.

Liam stared at her.

Mabel’s eyes moved along the page before she added, "Or rather, I was. The mission was redirected to another agent."

"Why?"

"Probably because I handled one two days ago," Mabel said. "And probably mainly because my main duty here is protecting you."

Liam watched her for another second, then gave a faint hum. He did not look surprised, only mildly thoughtful, as if filing the answer away among several other things he had no immediate need to address.

He crossed the room, placed his document case and books where they belonged, and began removing his coat. The fabric held traces of cold from outside, and he disliked the sensation enough to strip it off with more force than necessary before hanging it over the chair back. His uniform jacket followed, then his outer shirt, leaving him in dark pants and a tank top. The warmth of the room was tolerable, but he still drew a thin current of heat through his body to drive away the last stubborn chill.

As he changed, Mabel’s eyes paused on the page.

Then they lifted slightly.

She watched him for a moment, not in the amused way she had after their training bruises, but with the quiet assessment of someone who had learned to read his moods through the smallest changes. Liam’s movements were controlled as always, but there was a sharper edge beneath them. The way he set down his things. The way he removed his coat. The faint tightness in his jaw. The absence of the usual dry indifference when he returned from class.

Mabel lowered her gaze back to her book, though she did not truly continue reading.

"You look more annoyed today," she said.

Liam paused.

Nyxie’s ear-like ridges twitched faintly on Mabel’s lap, though she did not fully wake.

Mabel turned another page with calm precision. "Did something happen, or did something go wrong?"

Liam looked at her for a moment without answering.

Then he asked, "Is it that obvious?"

"Not really," Mabel said. "But I have been with you long enough to tell."

She said it simply, without smugness or exaggeration, and resumed reading as if the statement did not carry the weight it did. Liam watched her for another second. Most people thought Liam looked the same regardless of mood. Some had learned that his eyes sharpened when irritated, or that his silence changed slightly depending on the situation. Mabel noticed more than that. She did not need him to speak to understand when something in him had shifted.

Mabel’s thumb rested lightly against the edge of the page. "What happened, if you do not mind talking about it?"

Liam finished setting aside his uniform shirt, then sat on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath him. For a moment, he looked toward the desk where his now-submitted report no longer sat, then back to Mabel.

"Sheila was right about worrying over Chris," he said.

Mabel’s eyes lifted from the book again.

Liam continued, his voice flat but threaded with irritation. "Chris is preparing something. The worse part is that he has someone close to Sheila helping him. I need to find out who before the practical exam arrives so I do not have to deal with unnecessary problems."

Mabel studied him in silence.

The words themselves were practical, but the irritation beneath them was clear. Liam was not afraid of Chris. He was not even particularly threatened by the situation yet. What bothered him was the expansion of the problem. Sheila’s concern had become Chris’s preparation, which had become an unknown person feeding information, which would likely become another chain of complications if left alone. Liam hated unnecessary complexity when the source was something as avoidable as student politics.

Nyxie shifted on Mabel’s lap, one eye opening lazily as if she had heard enough to decide whether this new problem deserved her attention. After a second, she snorted softly and closed her eye again.

Mabel rested one hand lightly along Nyxie’s back. "I can help you find out who this person is."

Liam’s head turned toward her.

His expression changed into a skeptical, judgmental stare so immediate that Mabel recognized it before he said anything.

"Do not look at me like that," she said. "I was only suggesting help."

"I cannot believe you want to involve yourself in this useless, time-wasting academy issue," Liam said. "You do not need to."

Mabel looked at him over the top of her book. "I am doing it for you."

"That does not make it better."

"It does, actually."

"No."

"As your protector," Mabel continued, ignoring him, "it is only right that I make sure you are not stressed over minor inconveniences. You should be grateful."

Liam’s stare flattened further. "There you go using being my protector as an excuse again."

"It is a very useful excuse."

"It is still an excuse."

"It is also true."

"I am not stressed," Liam said.

Mabel stared at him.

The half-mask hid part of her expression, but not enough. Her hazel-brown eyes carried such a deadpan look that the mask almost made it worse, reducing her reaction to pure, silent judgment. Nyxie opened one eye again, glanced between them, then let out a tiny sleepy huff that sounded suspiciously like agreement with Mabel.

Liam looked down at her. "Do not start."

Nyxie closed her eye with the dignity of someone choosing peace.

Mabel returned her attention to her book. "Then handle it yourself."

Liam watched her.

She turned a page.

The room settled into silence, though it was not the same silence he had entered with. Some of his irritation had thinned, not because the problem became less annoying, but because Mabel’s willingness to help had been expected and irritating in the opposite direction. She did not need to care about second-year politics. She did not need to concern herself with Sheila’s leadership, Chris’s schemes, or whatever unknown student had decided to become useful to the wrong person.

Yet she offered anyway, then wrapped it in that familiar protector excuse as though neither of them could see the plain concern beneath it.

Liam stood from the bed.

"I am going to wash."

"Try not to drown in the sink," Mabel said, eyes on her book.

"That would be difficult."

"With your luck, you would find a way."

He gave her a flat look, though it lacked the same edge as before.

Mabel’s mouth curved faintly.

Liam turned and headed toward the bathroom, slightly less irritated than when he entered. Nyxie shifted on Mabel’s lap again, stretching one wing without waking fully, and Mabel continued reading as if nothing important had happened. But her eyes did not move across the page for several seconds.

Instead, she listened to the sound of Liam closing the bathroom door, thinking about Chris, Sheila, the unknown helper, and the way Liam kept insisting he wanted nothing to do with leadership while still walking straight toward every problem that threatened to fracture it.

After a moment, Mabel looked down at Nyxie.

The little shadow dragon opened one eye.

Mabel murmured, "He is very bad at staying uninvolved."

Nyxie gave a tiny, sleepy chirp, as if she agreed completely.

Mabel finally returned to her book, the faintest trace of amusement lingering beneath her mask.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!