1

I breathe him in as he walks by me, immediately berating myself for doing so. The way his clean, messy hair catches the light makes me feel things I really don’t want to. I look down and try to keep my mind present. 

It’s something I’ve always hated about myself: how much I notice, how much every little thing affects me. True, it makes the pleasant times feel euphoric, but it also makes…literally everything else feel excruciating. I feel like I’m the only person on the planet whose brain functions this way and I’m convinced that feeling this along will be my fate rest of my life.

Abruptly, a large shadow appears to my right, stretching from the floor to the ceiling in my periphery. It reaches over me and I swear I feel it gently caress my face. I stop suddenly to look around, ready to fight. Cadets are always playing tricks on each other at the academy, trying to knock any prospective competition off their game. I examine my surroundings carefully, but don’t detect anything of concern. People are meandering through the halls, the shadows in their usual form. I keep myself on high alert just in case and keep walking.

I round the corner and make my way through the halls of the college, savouring its unique beauty as I do so. It’s a brutal place, and its architecture reflects that. Hard lines, unyielding stone, massive columns that give way to a brutal scenery of mountains and stormy skies. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I always feel more calm here, close to the courtyard, savouring the breeze on my skin and the sense of awe that the mountainous landscape affords me.

Still, though, there’s that familiar ache in my mind, insatiable and ever present. It’s been with me since I was a child: a puzzle I can never quite solve, a pain that never quite heals. Where it comes from I’ve never known. A feeling of darkness, of something being profoundly wrong with me. A gnawing, gaping wound in my mind that prevents me from ever feeling truly happy. It’s another source of loneliness for me - I’ve always found it distinctly difficult to relate to others who don’t seem to have the same mental torture playing out in their mind at all hours of the day. It feels like I’m keeping some dreadful, horrible secret.

I shake my head, willing myself to practice the mindset techniques we’ve been learning in class. Nothing in your head is real. I recite to myself. Focus on what you can feel, touch, taste, smell, and hear. The here and now. That’s what’s real. It’s the only thing that’s real.

As I continue to walk, I swear I can still feel the presence of the shadow moving beside me, following my every step. As time passes, I realize that it doesn’t much matter to me whether it’s a cruel trick from a class mate or that of my own mind. The yawning chasm in my mind is softened by the shadow, somehow. It’s oddly comforting.

My pulse skyrockets as I turn a corner and see what’s front of me. Him. Here. Again. Leaned against a banister lazily, as if out of a mirage. I do a double take and look behind me quickly, confused. 

Am I seeing things? Wasn’t he was just behind me, waking past me in the opposite direction?

I shake my head. Between this and the shadows, I need to get a grip. Clearly my lack of sleep has escalated into full blown hallucinations. That can’t be a sign of anything good, can it? I keep my head down and keep walking, willing myself not to look at him as I walk by.

“Do you really think you’re that alone?” I hear a velvety voice purr from behind me, jolting me from my racing thoughts. His voice.

I slow a little, but keep walking. There’s no way that voice is directed at me.

Stay present. I repeat to myself. Touch, taste, smell, feel, hear.

The voice chuckles from behind me. It sounds closer than before.

The shadow reappears abruptly in front of me again, blocking my path and nudging me to turn back to him with force. So it wasn’t in my mind. And it came from…him?

I spin to confirm my suspicions and my heart sinks as it strikes me in that moment just how lovely he is: the long angles of his face look as though they’ve been etched from smooth, dark stone. His high cheekbones, stark jaw, soft mouth, and dark skin all sing in harmony to emphasize to his most striking feature: hooded, dark eyes that swirl with molten gold. I notice that today he’s clean shaven, which - much to my disappointment - makes him look somehow even more touchable. Kyran. The legendary first year whose reputation is known even outside the academy, despite him being the same age as me.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“That’s quite the relic.” He’s looking at me. Oh god, he’s looking at me.

“I’m sorry?” I say. My voice sounds pitifully quiet in my ears.

“I’ve never seen a relic like that here before.” He clarifies, still leaning against the banister casually. “What’s your signet?” 

I’m at a loss for words, but not entirely surprised by the question. It’s not the first time someone has noticed the odd relic that my dragon, Achlys, gave to me. On the contrary, it’s attracted a lot of attention from both staff and students since the Threshing. It’s a monstrous, black mess of sharp edges that look like blades trying to burst out of my spine, extending from the bottom of my tailbone to the top of my neck. It’s caused a lot of speculation about what my signet will be. Sometimes I felt like I’d rather not find out.

But why did he notice? And why is he talking to me? And how did he get from the opposite end of the hall to here? And how does one lean against anything and make it look so casual? 

Focus. I say to myself sharply, willing myself back to reality.

“I’m not sure.” I reply, and he looks at me curiously. Colour blooms in my cheeks, and I curse my body for betraying me. My lack of signet manifesting has been a source of embarrassment, and has been dominating my thoughts since I got my relic. “I haven’t gotten it yet.”

His eyes soften, and to deflect the pity I see growing in them I quickly reply, “Why, what’s yours? Mind reading?”

His head snaps back and a wave of surprise passes over his face. The pity is replaced by something that looks like cold fury. He cocks his head playfully to the side and takes a step forward, pushing himself away from the bannister with an athleticism that I both appreciate and resent. The expression on his face is unreadable now. 

Someone get me out of here. Please. I’m begging. I think to myself frantically as my pulse jumps again.

“Of course not.” He says slowly, a wicked grin spreading over his face. “That would make me an inntinnsic, and that would be a death sentence.” His brown eyes study my face and I get completely lost in them for a moment, I can’t help myself. I didn’t realize humans could have gold flecks in their eyes, but here we are. 

“Right.” I hear myself say. The sound of my own voice pulls me back into reality and I’m grateful for my social instincts.

Of course he hadn’t been reading my mind. Everyone knew that inntinnisics were killed as soon as their signet manifested. It must have been a coincidence of timing, or I must just be hearing things. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Then, as though he heard that too, the grin grows and he looks as though he’s stifling a laugh.

“What’s your name?” He asks me as I open my mouth to object to his mirth. He takes another step towards me. I feel sick.

“Odium.” I respond, taking a step back in tandem, trying to think of a way to exit this conversation. 

“Odium.” He says back to me, and my name feels like fine wine in his mouth. 

Oh, give me a break. I say to myself sharply. I feel the undertone of fear simmering in my inner voice. 

The longer I stay here, the more likely it will be that my mind imprints on him. Once that happens, I’ll be along for the same, familiar ride of all-encompassing fixation, fantasies, and self-induced suffering. He’ll be the newest in a long line of people who my mind unleashes its obsessive limerence upon. He’ll be completely unaware and unreciprocating, and I’ll be in a state of constant agony. 

He’s still standing there, observing me with an almost feline quality. The expression of amusement still dances on his face. He seems surprised, fascinated. Unless that’s wishful thinking on my part. It probably is.

“Anyways.” I say abruptly, cutting through the silence. “I gotta get to class. It was nice to meet you.” I smile and make a casual gesture at him with my hands, immediately regretting it. I groan to myself and turn, trying to leave. 

The shadow reappears abruptly, brushing my face again, nudging me back around to face him, gently but firmly.

“What’s the rush?” He asks, his voice teasing. 

I take a deep breath, processing the odd encounter playing out in front of me. Is it hot that he’s herding me with his shadows? Yes. Is this likely part of some cruel bet he has with his friends? Also yes. We’ve never talked to each other since we both started at the academy a few months ago, and it doesn’t make any sense that he’s starting now. Clearly, he didn’t even know my fucking name. 

But I knew his. I’ve known his for a long time. I gather my resolve and look up at him, jutting my chin out in resolve. Fuck this.

“Ok.” I say to him drily. “Seriously. I don’t have time for whatever…this is.” I gesture to the shows. “I’m late.” 

We stand there a while, staring at each other.

Then, because I can’t help myself, I ask, “So is that your real signet? Shadows?” 

He doesn’t say anything at first, still looking at me with that strange gaze. I meet his gaze and stare back. 

“I guess you could say that.” He finally replies. The intensity of his eyes depletes a little and whatever spell he seemed to be under disappears as quickly as it came.

“Cool.” I respond. 

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Other people seem to think so.”

Other people? What’s that supposed to mean? My mind races. He doesn’t like it? No. Not today. Get to class. Forget that this exchange ever happened. 

“Ok.” I continue to step backwards. “Anyways, I seriously gotta get going. I’ll see you around.” I smile politely and turn to leave.

“See you around.” He says, a mocking tone in his voice. I roll my eyes.

Good. Be a prick. It will make this easier.

Then, since I can’t help myself, I turn and add: “And stop reading my mind, please!”

It comes out playfully, as intended. Good.

“I’ll try.” He replies with a chuckle. “My name is Kyran, by the way.”

I groan internally. I already know that. 

I turn a corner and rush to class, desperately trying to ground myself in the familiar walk while my heart and mind try to fly off in a thousand different directions.

Except this time, the shadow is beside me the whole way, never faltering from my side. 

For the first time since I can remember, I don’t feel so alone.

Great. I’m already fucked.