Where Shadows Breathe Her Name

Silas:

The world is too bright today.

Ashwyck’s stones seem less haunted under the noon sun, but that doesn’t soothe me. If anything, it unsettles. The light feels borrowed, temporary, as though the shadows are holding their breath, waiting for nightfall to reclaim what belongs to them.

I am one of those shadows.

Her voice finds me before I mean to let it. Light laughter, hesitant, uncertain, like bells carried on the wind. I had slipped into the walls to watch, restless, drawn without thought. That’s when I hear it—her professor calling off the second class of the day. Obligations postponed, the perfect chance for me to do what I’ve been thinking of since the moment I first touched her hand.

Teach her.

Or perhaps damn her.

I step from the stone, bleeding out of the wall like mist. She stands outside the greenhouse, sunlight striking her hair into blue flamed fire. She doesn’t see me at first. She’s too busy twirling a petal between her fingers, eyes distant, lips parted as though she’s caught in a private thought.

I shouldn’t disturb her.

But I do.

“Isadora.”

She startles, the petal falling from her fingers. “Silas—” Her hand goes to her chest, pulse visible at her throat. “You can’t just appear like that.”

A smile, faint, unwanted, curls my mouth. “It is what I am.”

Her irritation fades almost immediately. She studies me, the sunlight reflected in her dark eyes, and something loosens in my chest. I force myself to look away before I soften further.

“Come,” I say, offering her my hand.

Her brows lift. “Where?”

“The graveyard.”

Her hesitation is a visible weight, but she doesn’t refuse. Instead she slips her hand into mine, and the world stutters. She is warm. Alive. I have no right to crave that warmth, yet I hold on as though I might drown without it.

We walk together through the winding path until the iron gates yawn before us. The graveyard is quiet, swallowed in ivy and the sigh of dead leaves. This is where I first met her—where shadows whispered her name to me, as though they had been waiting centuries for her arrival.

She slows when we reach the center, the crumbling angel statue towering above, wings broken. “Why here?” she asks softly.

“Because this is where you began,” I answer. “And where I can teach you to listen.”

“Listen to what?”

“To them.”

The shadows stir at my voice. They stretch along the marble slabs, bend against the broken crosses, curl like smoke around the edges of her gown. I feel them prickling under my skin, eager, desperate. They remember her.

Her lips part. She sees it too—the dark shimmer twisting at our feet, brushing her ankles like curious hands. She doesn’t flinch. That is what undoes me most.

“Silas,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what you already know.”

I turn to her fully, lift her hand again, and press it against my chest. My heart beats slow, like a drum heard from deep underwater. “You hear them already. Don’t you?”

Her lashes flutter. Her lips tremble. “…Sometimes.”

I nod once, as though this is all I expected, though inside, my chest is burning. “Then let me guide you. Shadow-travel is not learned—it is surrendered. You can’t force it. You can only allow it.”

She looks up at me, fear and trust fighting in her gaze. The kind of look no man deserves. Certainly not me.

Still, I whisper, “Trust me.”

Her throat works, and then—slowly—she nods.

The shadows surge in answer, brushing against us, twining. I step closer, so close her warmth threads into me. My hands lift, one resting lightly against her cheek, the other circling her wrist, keeping her pulse steady beneath my fingers.

“Breathe,” I murmur.

She does. The air shudders through her, trembling like a candle flame.

“Close your eyes.”

They fall shut.

The world stills.

I let the shadows take shape around us, let them fold in like wings, like a veil. I guide her hand lower, until our fingers entwine again. Her breath catches.

“Don’t fight it,” I say. “Let them lead you.”

At first, she stiffens. The cold seeps into her, her skin prickling under my touch. The graveyard disappears—sucked into the hollow quiet where shadows dwell. It is a place of absence, a place between heartbeats. I feel her sway, searching for something solid, and I hold her tighter.

Her nails dig into my palm. “Silas—”

“I’ve got you, Isadora.”

The intimacy of those words almost undoes me. My thumb brushes her knuckles. I lean close, so close my breath ghosts across her ear. “Feel it. The way they move. The way they wait.”

She exhales, shaky but steadying. The shadows coil around her waist, tugging, pulling. She doesn’t resist this time. She leans into me.

And then—

We fall.

The world dissolves into nothing but cold velvet and whispering threads of dark. It feels endless, vast, like we’ve stepped into the hollow chest of the universe itself. She gasps, but I hold her tighter, pressing her against me, grounding her.

“This,” I whisper, “is shadow-travel.”

Her lashes lift, though her eyes see nothing but the soft abyss. Her lips part, breath ragged. “It’s—”

“Terrifying?” I finish.

She swallows. “Yes.”

“And beautiful.”

Her gaze finds me even here, where no light shines. She nods. “Yes.”

Something cracks inside me. This moment—the two of us alone, held in the womb of shadow—feels more intimate than any kiss. More damning than any vow.

Her body trembles against mine. I slide my hand from her cheek to her jaw, steadying her. My thumb grazes the corner of her mouth. She leans into the touch, and it sears through me like fire.

“I won’t let them take you,” I murmur, the confession ripped raw from me.

Her breath hitches. “Silas…”

I almost kiss her. Saints forgive me, I almost do. But instead I let the shadows carry us back, tearing myself apart to stop.

The graveyard slams back into place. The air smells of stone and roses, damp and ancient. She stumbles, her knees giving slightly, and I catch her, pulling her against my chest.

Her heart hammers wild against me. Mine answers.

“Are you all right?” My voice is hoarse, roughened with everything I want and cannot have.

She nods against me, breathless. “That was…” She laughs, soft, disbelieving. “That was...... everything, and nothing, all at once.”

I close my eyes. Her hair brushes my mouth, her warmth soaking into me. My arms tighten of their own accord. I breathe her in, selfish.

“Silas,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes are wide, vulnerable, shimmering with something I don’t dare name.

I force myself to let go, though my fingers linger on her sleeve.

“This is only the beginning,” I manage.

She doesn’t know I’m speaking as much to myself as to her.

Because the shadows are louder now. Louder than ever. And every one of them screams her name.