ShadowBound: The Need For Power

After leaving Isolde in the enclosed walkway, Liam did not return to his dorm room immediately.

He wanted to. The day had been stretched too far already, and the cold outside had moved past annoying into something he was beginning to consider personally malicious. Between the Beacon Hall announcement, Chris, Isolde, the unknown watching sensation, and the thought of Eldervale waiting two weeks ahead, he had more than enough reasons to call the night finished. But there was one last thing to handle before letting the matter rest, and unfortunately, it could not wait until morning.

So Liam found himself standing in front of Sheila Granger’s dorm room door.

One hand remained in his pocket while the other lifted and knocked calmly against the wood. The sound was firm but not loud, carrying just enough through the door to be heard without announcing his presence to the entire hallway. Once he knocked, he stayed where he was and let his eyes move over his surroundings out of habit.

The second-year dormitory corridor was quieter than it had been earlier, but not empty. A few students passed by in loose pairs or alone, some likely returning from dinner, others carrying books and talking in low voices about the Bastion Assessment. The announcement had clearly swallowed most ordinary conversation for the night.

Two girls walking down the hall noticed him standing outside Sheila’s door and slowed almost imperceptibly. Their eyes flicked from him to the door, then back to him before they hurried onward, whispering only after they had moved several steps away. Liam ignored them. If the second-years wanted to turn him knocking on Sheila’s door into a topic, they would do so whether he reacted or not. People were always eager to build nonsense out of wood scraps.

No answer came immediately.

Liam waited a few more seconds, then knocked again.

This time, Sheila’s voice came from inside, muffled by the door. "Just a second. I’m coming."

Liam lowered his hand and waited.

A few more moments passed before the lock clicked.

The door opened.

Sheila stood on the other side, fresh from the shower, with one towel wrapped around her body and another in her hands as she dried her long white hair. Damp strands fell over her shoulders and down her back, darkened slightly by water, and a faint warmth from the bath still touched her skin.

She opened the door with the distracted expectation of someone assuming it was a friend, perhaps Ariana, Edith, or one of the girls from her floor.

Then she saw Liam.

Her blue eyes widened.

"Liam?" she said quietly.

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Then awareness struck her all at once.

Sheila looked down at herself, then back up at him, her face changing so quickly it almost seemed to burn. She was standing in a towel in front of a boy. Not just any boy, but Liam Hunter, who stared at her with the same unchanged expression he might have used if she had opened the door holding a stack of books instead. That somehow made it worse. If he had reacted dramatically, flinched, blushed, or looked away too fast, she might have found something to grasp onto.

Instead, he remained perfectly still, eyes steady, mouth flat, as if the situation had simply been added to the long list of strange inconveniences the week had handed him.

Sheila made a small sound that was not quite a word.

Then she slammed the door in his face.

The hallway went quiet around Liam for a second.

He stayed exactly where he was.

His expression did not change. He did not step back in offense, call through the door, or look embarrassed. After a moment, he only closed his eyes briefly, shook his head a little, and let out a faint sigh through his nose.

"Of course," he muttered.

Then he continued waiting.

A student passing at the far end of the hall saw him standing there, looked at the closed door, and immediately chose another direction. Liam noticed and did not care. Behind the door, there was some muffled movement, quicker and less controlled than Sheila probably wanted it to sound. Something soft fell. A drawer opened. Footsteps crossed the room. The delay stretched for several minutes, which Liam used to stare at nothing in particular while counting the number of ways this night had become more troublesome than necessary.

Finally, the door opened again.

This time, Sheila was dressed in a simple pale-blue dress that fell comfortably around her frame, modest and loose enough to have been chosen quickly rather than with much thought. Her long white hair was still damp, falling in heavy strands over one shoulder, and though she had regained some composure, a faint embarrassment remained on her face. She held the door with one hand, her other smoothing uselessly at the front of her dress as if checking that it was truly there.

"I’m sorry about earlier," she said, voice quieter than usual. "I was not expecting you to come to my room."

"It is fine," Liam said.

Sheila looked at him for a moment, still clearly embarrassed by how calmly he said it.

Liam continued, "I only came because I need to talk to you."

The embarrassment did not vanish, but concern moved in beside it.

Sheila’s thoughts immediately turned in several directions at once. Edith. The conversation they had likely had. The Beacon Hall announcement. The Bastion Assessment. Chris. The worry she had admitted in this very room two days ago. Liam did not come to people’s dorm rooms at night without reason, and if he had chosen to come after everything that had happened, then the reason had to matter.

She opened the door wider. "Come in."

Liam entered without ceremony.

Sheila closed the door behind him and turned back, only to notice that his gaze had shifted around the room.

Her room was not a disaster by any ordinary standard. It was still cleaner than most students’ rooms would ever be after a week of classes and exam preparation. But for Sheila, it was visibly disturbed. Books lay open across the bed and desk. Notes were spread in organized clusters that had begun collapsing into disorder. Assignment materials rested on the floor beside a cushion, several pages marked with small strips of colored paper. The Eldervale field guide sat open near the edge of the bed, its pages only recently skimmed.

A hairbrush, folded towel, and half-filled glass of water sat near the lamp on her desk. It looked like she had been trying to prepare for everything at once, then showered before returning to continue.

Sheila followed Liam’s gaze and flushed faintly again, though for a different reason this time. "Sorry. I was working through assignments and exam preparation earlier. I have not had time to put everything away."

Liam shrugged. "Do not worry about it."

"It is usually better than this."

"I know."

For some reason, that made her feel more exposed than the mess itself. He had noticed her usual order before. Of course he had. Liam seemed to notice almost everything he pretended not to care about.

Sheila walked past him and quickly picked up a few papers from the floor. "You can sit wherever you want."

Liam chose the chair beside her study desk and sat, his posture relaxed but not careless. Sheila gathered two books from the edge of the bed, stacked them on the desk, then moved the Eldervale guide to the side. She did not clean everything. That would have taken too long and made the awkwardness worse. She only tidied enough to feel as though she could breathe while speaking.

"Do you want water?" she asked.

"I am fine."

Sheila nodded and sat on the edge of her bed facing him. The distance between them was comfortable, though the room felt quieter than usual. The soft lamplight gave the space a private stillness, and beyond the window, night pressed dark against the glass. A few droplets of water slid from Sheila’s damp hair to the fabric at her shoulder, but she did not reach for the towel again. Her full attention was on Liam now.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.

"The conversation we had two days ago."

Sheila’s expression changed immediately.

She remembered it too clearly. Sitting in this same room after class, admitting what had been weighing on her mind, speaking of Chris, of influence, of the possibility that he might be preparing something against her even though she had no proof. She had hated how uncertain she sounded then. Hated that she had needed to say it aloud. Hated that part of her had hoped Liam would make the problem simpler by seeing what she could not.

Now he was here.

Her first thought was that he might have already handled it.

Maybe Chris was no longer a problem. Maybe Liam had found something and shut it down. Maybe the worry she had carried was over. The hope came too quickly, and she tried not to let it show on her face.

"Go on," she said.

Liam did not soften the answer.

"You were right to worry about Chris."

Sheila went still.

"He has not truly been quiet," Liam continued. "He is preparing something. From what I learned, he knows more about you, your position, and your current influence among the second-years than he should."

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