ShadowBound: The Need For Power

By the time the final lesson ended and the academy bells rang to announce the end of the day, Liam had gained no useful information from Nyxie, Raven, or Smoke. None of the three targets had revealed anything conclusive. Chris had moved through his day with frustrating ordinariness, at least from the pieces Nyxie had passed along through brief impressions. Sheila had remained busy, but nothing around her suggested a clear leak. Isolde had behaved like a student president handling duties.

But Liam was not surprised.

The chance of getting something useful during lesson hours had never been high. People did not usually conduct private meetings between instructors, classmates, scheduled movement, and crowded corridors unless they were desperate or stupid. The better chance would come outside formal hours, when students had personal time and could move under the cover of routine. After classes ended, people went where they wanted, spoke with whom they wanted, and made the kinds of small choices that revealed what schedules hid.

Still, the lack of progress was irritating.

The academy bells continued ringing across the grounds as students poured out of their classrooms. Doors opened all along the corridors, releasing streams of second-years, first-years, and the occasional third-year from late sessions. Voices rose quickly. Bags shifted over shoulders. Some students stretched with relief, while others immediately began complaining about assignments due the next morning.

The end of the day always loosened the academy’s structure, but the tension of upcoming exams still hung over everyone like low cloud cover.

Among them, Liam walked calmly with a detached expression, his books and materials held beneath one arm.

’Nothing useful yet,’ he thought, moving through the crowd without slowing. ’But that was expected. If Chris is meeting someone, it will likely be after lessons. Nyxie will have a better chance now.’

His connection to her remained steady in the back of his mind. Distant, quiet, but alert. Raven and Smoke were also still active, their presences stretched away from him in different directions across the academy. Maintaining awareness of all three without actively linking was not difficult, but it created a subtle sense of occupied space inside him, as if three shadows were tied to his own and moving through places he could not see.

He did not mind that part.

He minded not having answers yet.

There had been one development that eased some of his irritation, though only slightly. Earlier in the day, through ordinary observation rather than shadow links, Liam had seen Sheila and Edith speaking together near the eastern study hall. The conversation had not been brief. They had stood close enough for seriousness, but not tension, and both had carried themselves with the controlled composure of people settling something important. Later, Sheila had been seen with Edith beside her while speaking to a small group of second-years about exam preparation.

That was enough.

Sheila and Edith had reached terms.

It would likely become official once the academy gave the practical exam announcement, but the foundation was already there. Edith had accepted the direction, or at least accepted enough of it to stand beside Sheila. That meant one piece of the coming problem had been moved into a better position. Sheila would not be alone in managing the second-years, and Liam would not have to be dragged into some visible vice role unless the academy became especially spiteful.

That gave him a small measure of peace.

Very small.

His mind returned to the other issue as he left the academic corridor and moved toward the broader hallway leading outside.

’That watching sensation,’ he thought.

He had not felt it since the walk to Knight Combat, but the memory remained clear enough. Still couldn’t tell whaf it was, but it was definitely far more that just a student staring. The problem was that every time he tried to locate it, the sensation vanished before he could catch the source. That meant either the watcher was skilled, the method was not direct sight, or Liam had simply become more sensitive to something he could not yet define.

’Am I being spied on?’ he thought.

The possibility did not feel far-fetched. It would not be the first time someone decided Liam Hunter was worth watching. The last dark mage, bastard son of Serah Magna, and so much more. There were too many reasons someone might send eyes after him, and Liam disliked that none of them could be dismissed cleanly.

He could investigate himself, however he already had enough going on.

’I’ll ask Mabel,’ he decided. ’She can check the academy for signs of someone sent after me.’

Mabel was a Royal Corps operative, his assigned protector, and someone far better suited for identifying hidden surveillance than most people in the academy. If someone had been sent for him, she would notice something fast and better than he would.

But if nothing was there, he could stop wasting thought on it.

The academy bell rang again.

This time, it was not the ordinary end-of-day bell.

Liam paused.

So did many students around him.

The second chime carried a different weight, deeper and more commanding. It rolled through the corridor once, then silence followed for a brief second before a magical voice spread through the academy halls. It was clear, amplified, and formal, echoing from the announcement stones placed throughout the buildings.

"All second-year students are to report to Beacon Hall immediately."

The voice paused.

Then repeated.

"All second-year students are to report to Beacon Hall immediately."

Students began looking at one another.

A few groaned at once.

The announcement repeated two more times, each call just as formal and unavoidable as the last, before the magic faded and the corridor noise returned in a wave of murmurs.

Liam stood still for a moment, expression unchanged.

’Guess it’s time,’ he thought.

He was not the only one to reach the obvious conclusion. Around him, second-years began shifting direction, their earlier plans dying in real time. Some had been heading toward dormitories, training halls, or the dining hall. A few looked genuinely irritated, likely because they had intended to leave the academy grounds or finally rest after classes.

But the Beacon Hall summons left little room for choice. When the academy called an entire year immediately after lessons, it was almost always for something important.

And with theory exams next week and practical exams the week after, the reason was not difficult to guess.

"They’re finally announcing it," one student muttered near the wall.

"The practical?" another asked.

"Has to be."

"Could be theory schedules."

"They would not summon everyone to Beacon Hall for theory schedules alone."

That was probably true.

Liam adjusted his grip on his books and began walking with the rest of the second-years as the flow of students turned toward Beacon Hall. The movement spread through the corridor like a current changing direction. Students from different classes merged into the same path, some speaking quickly, others quiet with thought. The tension that had hovered over the year for days grew more solid now, shaped by the sudden certainty that answers were about to arrive.

Not everyone wanted those answers.

Some students complained openly as they walked. Others tried to guess the format, voices rising with speculation. Group cooperation. Full-year assessment. Field deployment. Academy-controlled battlefield. Demon simulation. The guesses multiplied quickly because fear liked having names, even when those names were wrong.

Liam moved among them without joining the conversation.

His thoughts remained divided. Part of him stayed on Chris, Sheila, Isolde, and the shadows still tailing them. Part of him stayed on the strange sensation of being watched. Another part shifted toward the Beacon Hall and whatever announcement was waiting there.

The academy had a habit of turning simple information into complication, and the timing of this summons felt exactly like the beginning of another one.

Around him, second-years continued making their way through the halls, drawn toward Beacon Hall beneath the weight of the announcement.

Liam only felt the familiar irritation of a day growing larger than it needed to be.

He had wanted to finish classes, wait for his shadows to report something useful, ask Mabel about the strange watcher, and return to his room before the cold became worse.

Instead, the entire second year was being gathered.

He looked ahead as the wide doors leading toward Beacon Hall’s outer passage came into view, students funneling toward them beneath the glow of academy lamps.

’Of course,’ Liam thought. ’They had to wait till now because one inconvenience is not enough.’

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