ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Liam appeared in midair between the trees.

For the first instant, there was only the violent pull of Mystica’s teleportation spell releasing him into open space, his body suspended in a dark blur of branches, leaves, and cold night air. Then gravity remembered him. He dropped through the canopy, one shoulder brushing past a cluster of thin branches as his field uniform snagged briefly and tore free.

Liam twisted in the air before the fall could turn ugly, one hand grazing a trunk, boots catching against a lower branch just enough to cut his speed before he dropped the rest of the way.

He landed in a crouch on damp earth, one hand pressed to the ground, the other already ready to call a blade from his shadow if something moved.

Nothing did.

Only the forest breathed around him.

Liam stayed still for a second, listening to the leaves whisper overhead and the faint creak of old wood shifting in the dark. Then he slowly stood, dusted one knee with the back of his hand, and looked up at the place he had fallen from.

"The academy seems to love having me drop from the sky," he muttered.

The thought of Nalim surfaced immediately after that, unwelcome but clear. He remembered appearing above the trees there as well, though from far higher, with open air beneath him and demons waiting below like the academy had decided the best way to begin a test was to throw him into a problem before his feet touched anything solid. This fall had been softer by comparison. Less dramatic and irritating, though only slightly.

He pushed Nalim out of his mind as he straightened fully and took in his surroundings.

The sky above Eldervale was dark, just as he had expected after Thion’s warning about the time difference. Amthar had been edging toward dawn when they were deployed, but Eldervale lagged several hours behind. Here, night still held the forest, though not with complete blackness.

A faint silver glow touched the edges of the clouds overhead, and thin strands of starlight slipped between gaps in the canopy. The air smelled of wet bark, moss, old leaves, and something faintly sharp beneath it, a strange mineral scent that did not belong in an ordinary forest.

The weather, however, was not as bad as he had expected.

It did not match Amthar’s late-autumn bite. The air was cool, but not cruel. Damp, but not freezing. Liam took one slow breath and, without meaning to, appreciated it. If Eldervale wanted to be dangerous, it could at least have the decency not to be miserably cold while doing so. That was the first sensible thing the realm had done.

He looked around longer.

He was alone.

No voices. No frantic footsteps. No students swearing after bad landings. No panicked calls for friends. No glow of active communication insignias. Just trees, shadows, and the low silence of a realm that did not care how many academy students had been dropped into it.

Being alone was bad for the year.

For Liam personally, it was almost pleasant.

He could think without unnecessary noise. He could move without dragging along students who needed to be calmed, counted, reassured, corrected, or prevented from making a loud death-shaped mistake. He could decide his own pace and adjust without explaining himself to someone whose confidence exceeded their survival instincts. The problem was larger than him, yes, but in the first few minutes, solitude was cleaner.

’Not ideal,’ he thought, scanning the trees again. ’But workable.’

Liam let his breathing settle, then stretched his senses outward.

Dark Myst moved quietly through him, not in a spell meant to announce itself, but in a controlled expansion of awareness. His perception spread through the shadows around him, brushing against trunks, roots, dips in the ground, low shrubs, hanging branches, and the spaces where something might hide. He pushed the radius carefully, about two hundred meters in every direction, searching for movement, hostile presence, human breath, unnatural stillness, or the faint disturbance of a creature waiting too close.

The forest gave him nothing immediate.

No students, nearby beasts or any obvious ambush.

He held the sense a few seconds longer, because the first answer was not always the correct answer, then slowly withdrew it.

Clear enough.

Liam took off his field bag and placed it on the ground before crouching beside it. The academy-issued bag was sturdy, dark, and practically arranged, its buckles easy to open without too much sound. He went through it quickly, confirming the contents by touch and sight without wasting time admiring the academy’s idea of generosity.

Basic rations. Water container. Emergency extraction mark. Small field knife. Writing materials. A compact first-aid kit. Signal stone. Spare cord. Flint. Other limited supplies packed tightly enough to be useful but not enough to make life comfortable.

He took out two things first: the map of Eldervale and his communication insignia.

After removing them, he closed the field bag, placed his palm over it, and allowed dark magic to rise from his shadow. The bag sank cleanly into the darkness and vanished into his Void storage. The weight disappeared from the ground, leaving only disturbed leaves where it had been.

Liam turned his attention to the insignia.

It was a palm-sized piece of enchanted metal, shaped with the academy crest worked into its center and a smaller circle of communication runes around the edge. He checked it for cracks, loosened engraving, dullness in the core rune, or any sign that the teleportation had damaged it. The glow inside the lines was faint but stable. Good condition. That meant it might work, which was different from saying he trusted it.

He attached it properly to the reinforced section near his upper chest, where it could be accessed without interfering with movement, then spread the map on the ground before him.

The map was not perfect. It could not be. Eldervale was too unstable in places, and the academy had already warned them that confirmed information did not mean complete information. Still, the map showed the general region, Veyrhold near the center of the assessment zone, possible arrival territories, marked threat regions, rivers, ridge lines, old roads, dense forest bands, and several constellation references for night navigation. Liam studied it briefly, then lifted his gaze toward the sky.

The canopy blocked much of it.

He moved a few steps to the side, found a gap between the branches, and looked upward.

For a moment, he saw only scattered stars and a faint, unfamiliar curve of cloud. Then his eyes found what he was searching for: a crooked chain of five pale stars with a sixth dimmer point beneath the center, a constellation drawn in the guide and marked as one of the more reliable night references in the region. The guide had called it the Broken Antler, which was a stupid name, but apparently useful.

He looked back down at the map, aligned the constellation reference with the direction of the old northern ridge, then studied the nearby features. If the stars were where he thought they were, and if the map’s arrival territories were reasonably accurate, Veyrhold should be northeast from his current position. His own landing site, based on tree density, terrain slope, and the mineral scent in the air, placed him southwest of the settlement.

The problem was the marked territory surrounding that region.

Mimic-associated zone.

Liam stared at the label.

"Of course," he muttered.

Mimic threats. Sound-based lures. False calls. Possible voice imitation. Distorted movement patterns. The guide had not been specific enough to satisfy him, which meant the academy either did not know more or had chosen not to give more. Both possibilities were irritating.

He rolled up the map and slipped it into one of his belt pockets, then stood.

The situation was troublesome, but not worth dwelling on. Dwelling did not change location. Movement did.

Before heading out, Liam let his awareness sink into his own shadow, finding the threads he had prepared before deployment. Smoke and Raven had already been attached to Chris’s and Sheila’s shadows before Mystica’s spell took them. The teleportation had stretched the connections unpleasantly, like threads pulled through too small a gap, but they had not broken.

He linked to Smoke first.

A flash of impression came through: darker ground, open patches between twisted trees, several human scents nearby, Chris’s voice, Logan’s louder breath, the shape of a group moving with urgency. South of Veyrhold. Farther south than ideal, but not disastrously far. Smoke remained hidden, quiet, and attached.

Liam disconnected without watching more.

He shifted to Raven.

Her perception was sharper in angles, more fluid in darkness. He caught damp leaves, Sheila’s light Myst restrained beneath her skin, frightened students clustered nearby, one person limping, another breathing too quickly, Edith absent. East of Veyrhold. Sheila was with a smaller group.

Liam withdrew from the connection before the impressions could pull him into observing details he did not need yet.

Chris south.

Sheila east.

Liam southwest.

Veyrhold northeast.

That was enough.

He adjusted his direction and began moving through the woods.

As he walked, his shadow deepened beside him. A sleek form slid out of it without sound, low and fluid, black as the space beneath old roots. Nyxie emerged into Eldervale with a quiet ripple of dark Myst, her adolescent form folding into the nearby shadows before fully revealing itself. Her eyes glinted briefly in the dimness, alert and pleased in a way that suggested she found the realm interesting already.

"Quietly," Liam said without looking at her. "No showing off. No terrifying students. No getting caught by observers. Move ahead and learn."

Nyxie gave a soft huff.

It sounded suspiciously like offense.

"I mean it."

Her tail flicked once before she slipped into the shadows between trees, vanishing so completely that even Liam had to track her by bond rather than sight. She moved free now, beginning the role he had prepared for her. Scout. Observe. Remember. Feed him knowledge when it mattered.

Liam continued northeast through the woods, his steps light, his senses stretched enough to catch danger without burning focus too quickly. Above him, the dark sky watched through the leaves, and somewhere ahead, Veyrhold waited.

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