ShadowBound: The Need For Power

The second-years reached Beacon Hall in uneven streams, some arriving quickly from nearby classrooms and others entering with the irritated pace of students who had clearly been dragged away from something they preferred.

The hall itself had been prepared before the announcement ever rang through the academy. Rows of seats were arranged before the main stage, leaving wide aisles between sections so the students could move in without turning the entire gathering into a crowded mess. Tall banners bearing the academy crest hung from the high walls, their dark fabric still beneath the glow of the overhead lamps. The engraved pillars lining the hall caught the light in thin silver lines, and the great arched ceiling above made every murmur stretch farther than it should.

The atmosphere was familiar, but not comfortable.

Beacon Hall was where the academy made things official. Rankings, ceremonies, instructions, warnings, and decisions that affected entire years were not usually delivered in casual classrooms. That alone made the second-years more attentive than they would have been otherwise. Some still talked as they entered, but the conversations were lower now, their earlier complaints pulled back beneath curiosity and unease.

The upcoming exams had already been sitting over them for days. Now that the academy had summoned them so suddenly, most of them understood that whatever had been vague was about to gain shape.

Liam entered with the crowd and slowed near the back of the seating sections, his gaze moving over the rows in search of an open place. Students were already settling in clusters. Some sat with their usual classmates, others with friends from shared dorm floors, and a few tried to claim seats near people who looked like they knew something they did not. The front rows filled more slowly, as they always did when students were unsure whether being closer to the stage would bring unwanted attention.

He had taken only a few steps down one aisle when he heard his name.

"Liam!"

The voice was unmistakable.

Liam turned his head toward it and found Dylan waving from a row closer to the center-left section of the hall. Maxwell sat beside him, one arm draped over the back of his chair, and there was an empty seat on Maxwell’s other side. Dylan waved again with the kind of energy that suggested he had either forgotten the hall was filling with people or simply did not care.

Liam made his way over and took the empty seat beside Maxwell.

As he sat, he glanced between them. "How did both of you get here this quickly?"

Dylan opened his mouth, likely ready to say something useless, but Maxwell answered first.

"We were already nearby," Maxwell said. "We skipped our third classes and went back to the Forgemastery room to keep working on something."

Liam looked at him.

Maxwell shrugged, not even trying to make it sound noble. "Mainly Dylan’s idea, since... well, he’s Dylan."

Liam said nothing.

There was no need. Maxwell’s final words explained enough.

Dylan leaned forward at once, offended. "Do not say that like you were dragged there against your will. You were just as curious as me."

"I was curious," Maxwell said. "I was not ’let’s skip class and possibly die by instructor disappointment’ curious."

Dylan scoffed. "First of all, instructor disappointment has never killed anyone directly."

"That is not a standard I enjoy using."

"Second, you wanted to see how the thing turned out."

"I did," Maxwell admitted. "But I was not that eager to skip Magic class for it."

"You say that now because you are trying to look responsible in front of Liam."

Maxwell glanced at Liam. "Do I look responsible?"

"No," Liam said.

Maxwell pointed at Dylan. "See? No one is buying it anyway."

Dylan gave a satisfied nod. "Exactly. So embrace the truth. You wanted answers, I offered a path, and together we pursued innovation."

"We skipped class."

"For innovation."

"For a half-finished bracer mechanism that almost snapped shut on your finger."

"It did not almost snap shut. It expressed enthusiasm."

Maxwell stared at him. "That is the worst description of mechanical failure I have ever heard."

Liam ignored them after that and looked around the hall.

The second-years continued filling the seats, the sound of movement building around him. Students shifted down rows, called friends over, argued quietly about whether the announcement would be worse than expected, and tried to look calm in the way people only did when they were not calm at all. Liam’s eyes moved across the sections with quiet attention while Dylan and Maxwell kept bickering beside him.

As the hall filled, Liam let his awareness shift inward.

The first connection he reached for was Raven.

The world changed.

For a moment, his own sight blurred beneath the low, sleek view of Sheila’s shadow. Through her eyes, Liam saw the hem of Sheila’s coat, the steps of students passing around her, the polished floor of Beacon Hall, and the shadows cast by rows of seats beneath bright lamps. Sheila had just entered through one of the side aisles and was moving calmly toward a seat not too far behind where Liam sat. Several students greeted her as she passed. She responded with small nods and a composed expression that did not reveal whether the announcement had made her as uneasy as it made everyone else.

Liam went on to break the connection.

Next, he reached for Nyxie.

The shift came more naturally, almost eagerly, as if Nyxie had been waiting to show him something, or at least waiting to be acknowledged. Through her senses, Liam saw Chris seated in another arranged section of the hall. He had likely arrived earlier, judging by how settled his posture was. Logan sat near him, restless and alert in that irritating way of his, while Lucian was also close, though he looked far more restrained than he had in the Magic Department hallway the previous day.

Chris himself sat with a composed face, speaking quietly to someone beside him before turning his attention toward the stage.

Nyxie clung to Chris’s shadow with complete confidence.

Liam felt the faint flicker of her satisfaction through the bond, like a small smug chirp without sound.

’Stay focused,’ Liam thought.

Nyxie’s response came as a sensation rather than words: offended dignity and obedience, in that order.

Liam cut the link before she could make the mental impression more dramatic.

Last, he connected with Smoke.

The world shifted again into the sharper, scent-heavy perception of the shadow wolf. Isolde was not in Beacon Hall, which made sense. She was a third-year, and this announcement was clearly directed at second-years. Smoke showed her inside what appeared to be a student council office, seated with two other senior students as they sorted through papers across a long table.

The room was warm with lamplight, lined with shelves of files, and filled with the smell of ink, parchment, wax, and polished wood. Isolde’s posture was relaxed, one elbow resting lightly on the table as she reviewed a document and spoke to the girl beside her.

Seeing nothing suspicious, Liam released the connection and returned fully to Beacon Hall.

Dylan and Maxwell were still arguing beside him, though their topic had shifted from skipped classes to whether a bracer mechanism could be considered successful if it functioned once and then tried to maim its creator. Liam listened to half a sentence, decided neither of them needed his involvement, and looked toward the stage.

Then he murmured, "Now would be the best time to stop talking."

Dylan paused mid-sentence. "Why?"

Maxwell followed Liam’s gaze.

A moment later, both of them quieted.

Assistant Headmistress Lucia Greydon had stepped onto the stage with her magic clipboard in hand. She moved with brisk composure, her academy uniform immaculate, her expression calm but businesslike in a way that suggested she expected the room to settle without needing to demand it. Behind her walked Sir Regulus, his presence heavier and more imposing by nature. He did not carry a clipboard or stack of notes. He did not need to. His very presence on the stage made the hall’s noise begin to lower before Lucia reached the pulpit.

The students noticed quickly.

Conversation faded in layers. First the front rows, then the middle, then the back where a few students whispered until someone elbowed them into silence. The shifting and murmuring did not stop completely, but it reduced enough for the hall to feel gathered rather than crowded.

Lucia approached the pulpit at the center of the stage and placed her clipboard down on its surface. The magic within it glowed faintly, shifting several pages of light into order. Sir Regulus took position a few steps behind and to her right, arms resting at his sides, gaze moving over the assembled second-years with a steady, unreadable calm.

Lucia looked out over them.

"Good evening, second-years."

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