Secret Night Training

Isadora:

The nightmare spits me awake.

I jolt upright in bed, heart thundering, lungs choking on phantom smoke. For a moment I can still see it—the ruins, the crimson sky splitting apart, fire chasing me through endless halls. My skin burns like it remembers every lick of flame, every scream echoing down the walls.

But the room is still. Quiet. Only the faint flicker of starlight spilling through the tall windows tells me I’m awake.

I’m not alone.

Kai is slumped in a chair in the alcove, an open book resting against his chest, his head tilted just enough that one golden curl shadows his cheek. His breathing is soft, steady. He must have fallen asleep while reading, keeping watch the way he always does.

But the others—

I twist, scanning the corners, the shadows, searching for Silas’s quiet silhouette, for Rhett’s heavy presence near the bed, for Lucian’s sharp, prowling stillness. Nothing. The air feels thinner without them. Exposed.

A tremor crawls up my arms. I press a hand to my chest, steadying my breath. If the nightmare was just a dream, then why does the darkness feel like it’s still watching me?

No.

I can’t just lie here trembling. I can’t keep letting their powers save me, bind me, cage me. Tonight, I need to prove I’m not just their fragile obsession.

I slip from the bed, careful not to wake Kai. His lashes flutter once but he doesn’t stir, and I pause, caught between guilt and resolve. Then I pad across the cold floorboards, bare feet whispering against the rug, until I find enough space in the center of the room.

The silence is thick, waiting. My pulse hammers.

I close my eyes and breathe.

First: Silas.

I remember the way he showed me—how to let the shadows wrap like smoke through my fingers. Cold, patient, never forced. Invite them, he’d said, his voice like midnight, not command them.

The corners of the room ripple. Darkness pools. I stretch my hand, and shadows curl up my wrist like ink poured into water. They shiver against my skin, whispering, testing.

For a heartbeat, it feels like power. Like safety.

Then the whispers sharpen, biting. The air chills, frost racing along the windowpanes. I gasp and pull back, nearly losing them—but no, I refuse. I steady my breath, bend my will, and whisper back: Mine.

The shadows still. Not gone—never gone—but listening.

Second: Kai.

Charm, glamour, light.

I focus on the warmth he carries, the glow that never seems to dim. My hands tremble as I mimic the gestures he’s shown me. My mind calls for light, for gentleness, for something bright enough to push the darkness back.

A faint golden shimmer sparks above my palm, wavering like a candle flame. I choke on sudden relief.

But the warmth flickers with something else—longing. A tug deep in my chest, desperate, aching. For him, for them, for more than this room full of dread. My cheeks burn, and the glow falters.

“No,” I whisper. “Stay.”

The light steadies.

For the first time, I realize it isn’t his magic that steadies it—it’s mine.

Third: Rhett.

His lessons were never gentle. He taught with teeth and growls, pushing me toward instinct, urging me to sharpen my edges instead of dulling them.

Predator. Huntress. Fire under the skin.

I close my eyes and remember the way he circles, the way his presence presses down until I either submit or fight. I let the fear churn, twist, become something hotter.

My nails dig into my palms. My pulse thrums low, powerful. The shadows in the corners recoil from it.

And then—I feel it. A strength coiling through my limbs, animal and raw. My body feels alive, charged, hungry. Like I could tear through anything that threatened me.

I breathe in. A low sound escapes my throat—half-growl, half-laugh.

Yes. I know this power now.

Finally: Lucian.

This one frightens me most.

His blood magic isn’t a gift. It’s dominion. The veins. The pulse. The whispered rites that dig into marrow and steal the rhythm of life.

I remember earlier night when I accidentally touched it, the way the crowd gasped, the way their hearts faltered under my will. It had terrified me. But it had also… answered me.

I press my palm to my chest, feel the beat there, steady, stubborn.

One heart, to find the others.

The words slip unbidden from my lips. The air thickens. My blood feels molten, rushing faster, louder. In the silence, I can hear the threads of it—my veins, my breath, the steady thrum. And beneath it, faint but real, the echoes of others.

Kai’s, slow and steady across the room. A heartbeat not mine, but tethered.

My knees weaken. This is too much. Too dangerous.

I release it, gasping, clutching my chest. The threads snap back, leaving me shaking but alive.

When I open my eyes, the room is not the same.

The shadows hover, quiet and obedient. The golden shimmer lingers like a halo. My body hums with predatory tension, and the faint echo of veins still pulses in my ears.

All four.

All of them inside me.

I stagger back, press my spine to the wall, and laugh—a sharp, broken sound. I’ve done it. I’ve stolen from them all.

But power never comes free.

Because what if this is the prophecy’s hand, twisting me into something unnatural? What if the reason I can touch them all is because I’m meant to destroy them all?

I sink to the floor, trembling, clutching my arms tight. The air feels colder, heavier, as if the night itself is watching.

From the alcove, Kai stirs in his sleep, murmuring my name, a frown creasing his brow. He doesn’t wake.

Thank the gods.

He can’t see me like this. None of them can.

I close my eyes and whisper a vow to myself, voice shaking but sure:

“I’ll master this. Before it masters me.”

And somewhere, faint in the dark, the shadows laugh.