ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Liam went still for as the name echoed in his hand.

The thought did not feel far-fetched once it formed. In fact, it settled too easily, as if his instincts had been circling the shape for days and only now allowed his mind to name it.

Isolde was the student president. She had experience, access, and status. She had been mentoring Sheila under the perfectly reasonable explanation that Sheila would likely take over the role after graduation. She knew enough about student leadership to understand how a full-year cooperation assessment could shape or break command. She might have known about the Bastion Assessment, either because the third-years had undergone something similar or because her position gave her more administrative proximity than ordinary students.

She was also close to Sheila now.

Close enough to observe. Close enough to learn. Close enough to pass information.

The reason remained unclear.

That was the part Liam did not like.

He did not know why Isolde would help Chris. He did not know if she had any connection to him, any resentment toward Sheila, any lingering issue tied to Percy, or some purpose that had not yet shown itself. But he remembered their conversation in the third-year wing. The way she spoke of Percy. The way she asked about Sheila. The way she smiled as if everything casual was harmless while placing questions exactly where they mattered.

He had not trusted her from the start.

The only mistake was that he had allowed reason to dress his suspicion in politeness. Isolde helping Sheila with student president duties made sense, so he had let the obvious explanation stand beside his distrust instead of pressing harder. That was negligence.

Liam sat on the edge of his bed and chuckled faintly.

There was no humor in the sound.

"If it really is you," he muttered under his breath, "I would love to strangle you, Isolde."

The words came out calm, almost tired, but the irritation behind them was real. Not because Isolde mattered to him personally, but because of the sheer amount of inconvenience she might represent if his assumption was correct. Since the week began, this situation had grown from Sheila worrying about Chris, to Lucian confirming Chris was moving again, to an unknown source near Sheila, to possible confidential assessment information, and now to Isolde standing at the center of both possibilities like a quietly smiling problem Liam had already disliked.

He would not actually strangle a student to death on academy grounds.

That would be stupid.

Outside academy walls, with a legitimate reason, the thought might become more flexible.

His own reflection on that made him sigh through his nose. He was irritated, not reckless. If Isolde was involved, she needed to be confirmed first. Smoke was already tailing her. That would continue. Nyxie remained with Chris. Raven remained with Sheila. The next step was not violence. It was proof.

Space shifted near the center of the room.

Mabel appeared out of thin air with the silent ease of someone stepping through an open doorway rather than bending distance. She wore her Royal Corps uniform as always, her half-mask in place, and her hazel-brown eyes moved to Liam immediately. There was no surprise in her expression, only the faint look of someone who had arrived already aware that he was thinking too much.

"You could simply allow me to help," Mabel said, "instead of being stubborn and letting your mind become swamped with all of this."

Liam glanced at her.

"I have a lead," he said. "So stop pestering yourself into useless student politics. You are better than that."

His tone carried enough judgment to make the sentence sound almost like an insult wrapped in reluctant concern. Not completely harsh, but pointed enough that Mabel scoffed softly.

"Better than that," she repeated. "How generous."

"It is accurate."

"It is dismissive."

"Also accurate."

Mabel rolled her eyes slightly, though the movement was mostly hidden by the mask. "You are insufferable when you believe you are being practical."

"I am practical often."

"Yes. That is the problem."

Liam stood and walked toward his wardrobe, opening it to retrieve a plain dark shirt. He slipped it on and began buttoning it, his thoughts still moving around Isolde, Chris, and the unknown watcher from earlier. Mabel watched him with narrowed eyes, likely noticing that he was dressing again rather than preparing to wash or settle in for the night.

As he fastened another button, Liam said, "I do need you for something."

That drew Mabel’s full attention.

"Go on," she said.

Liam finished one more button before looking toward her. "I want you to patrol the academy and check if anyone is spying on me. Someone like an assassin. Someone like you."

Mabel’s expression shifted.

Confusion appeared first, then concern beneath it. "Why do you want me to do that, if you do not mind me asking?"

"During the day, I felt watched."

Mabel’s eyes sharpened.

Liam continued, "Not the normal kind. Not students staring. It felt threatening. Predatory."

Mabel frowned slightly. "When?"

"Fire Magic. Again on the way to Knight Combat."

"You did not mention it."

"I did not know what it was."

"And now?"

"I still do not."

Mabel stepped closer, her posture changing in a way that made the room feel less casual. The teasing warmth vanished from her completely, replaced by the quiet precision of a protector assessing danger. "I did not pick up any suspicious presence throughout the day while I watched you move through the academy."

"That is why I am asking you to check the academy," Liam said.

Mabel studied him.

"If both of us could not see who it was," Liam continued, "and I could feel it while you could not, probably because you were not the target, then it could mean many things. None of them are worth discovering only when I least expect it."

Mabel remained silent for a moment.

That reasoning was difficult to dismiss. She trusted her own senses, but she had also learned not to dismiss Liam’s instincts. His intuition was not some vague anxiety he wrapped in dramatic meaning. Too often, he noticed danger before he could explain why. He had survived too much by listening to the subtle things most people ignored. If he said the sensation felt predatory, then it deserved attention, even if Mabel herself had not sensed it.

"Very well," she said. "I will patrol tonight."

Liam gave a small nod.

"And if I find anything?"

"Observe first."

Mabel’s brows lifted faintly.

Liam looked at her. "If they are dangerous, handle them. If they are useful, I want to know who sent them."

"That sounds like you are asking me not to immediately remove a threat."

"I am asking you to identify it first."

"Reasonable," Mabel said after a moment. "Annoyingly so."

"You will survive."

"I always do."

Liam finished buttoning his shirt, then reached for his coat.

Mabel’s eyes followed the movement. "Where are you going?"

"To confirm something."

"You have not washed yet."

"I know."

Her gaze narrowed slightly. "Liam."

He pulled the coat over one arm. "If I do not confirm this, I will not sleep tonight."

Mabel paused.

That was enough for her to understand the direction of his mind. He had said he had a lead regarding the Chris and Sheila issue. If he was leaving his room immediately after the Beacon Hall announcement, then he was likely going to confirm whatever thought had come to him during or after the gathering. Knowing Liam, he would rather step back into the cold and irritate himself further than allow a useful suspicion to sit untouched until morning.

"Is this about Isolde?" Mabel asked.

Liam looked at her for a moment.

The lack of answer was answer enough.

Mabel sighed softly. "Be careful."

"I am not planning to strangle her in public."

"That is an awful response to my warning."

"It is also true."

"Again, not reassuring."

Liam opened the door. "I will be back."

"Try to make that statement remain accurate."

He gave her a flat look, then stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

Mabel stood alone in the room for a moment after he left, her eyes fixed on the door. Outside the window, evening had deepened over the academy grounds, the late-autumn sky dark and restless beyond the glass. The building carried the low sounds of students returning from Beacon Hall, voices rising and falling through the walls as the second-years reacted to the announcement that had just reshaped their next several weeks.

Mabel’s thoughts returned to Liam’s warning.

A predatory gaze he could feel but she could not.

That bothered her.

She trusted Liam’s instincts. She trusted them enough to treat the matter as real even before proof presented itself. If someone was watching him and skilled enough to avoid her notice, then this was not a careless student, not some noble brat with too much curiosity, and not an ordinary spy standing in the wrong corridor. It was either magic, distance, concealment, or something more troubling.

Mabel lifted one hand, and the space around her fingers bent faintly.

Her duty was to protect Liam. Not his schedule, not his mood, and not his useless attempts to avoid student politics while stepping directly into them anyway. Him. If something had entered the academy for him, she intended to know before it moved.

She glanced once toward the desk where the Eldervale guide sat unopened.

Then she vanished into thin air, leaving the room empty behind her as night began to settle fully over Dark Knight Academy.

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