Chapter 38: The Shadow Teacher

 

The air in the Forbidden Archives was colder than I remembered. Or perhaps it was just the presence of the little girl walking beside Killian.

Nyx wasn't being carried. She insisted on walking, her small hand swallowed by Killian’s massive one. Every few steps, a stray shadow would flicker beneath her feet, reaching out like a curious kitten before she pulled it back.

"Are we going to see the library lady?" Nyx whispered, her voice echoing in the stone corridor.

"We are going to see a teacher," Killian replied. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of fierce pride and deep worry. "Someone who can show you that you are the master of the dark, not its servant."

We reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, past the rows of ancient books. In the very back, where the light of the torches couldn't reach, the old Keeper was waiting.

She was sitting on a pile of crumbling scrolls, her blind, milky eyes fixed on the entrance long before we arrived.

"The little moon has arrived," the Keeper rasped, a toothless smile stretching across her face. "And she has broken her cage."

Killian stepped forward, shielding Nyx slightly. "She needs to control it. The bracelet is gone. She nearly killed a man today."

"Nearly?" The Keeper chuckled. "She did exactly what she was born to do. She protected the blood."

The old woman stood up, leaning on her gnarled staff, and gestured for Nyx to come closer.

Nyx looked at Killian. He nodded slowly, releasing her hand.

My daughter walked into the darkness toward the Keeper. As she did, the shadows in the room didn't just move—they bowed. They flattened themselves against the floor, creating a path of pure obsidian for her to walk on.

"Show me your hand, child," the Keeper commanded.

Nyx held out her tiny palm. The Keeper reached out, her bony fingers hovering just above Nyx's skin.

"Close your eyes," the Keeper whispered. "Don't look with your eyes. Look with the mark on your father's chest. Feel the heartbeat of the void."

Nyx closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the torches in the hallway flickered and died. Total darkness swallowed us.

"Killian!" I whispered, reaching for him in the blackness.

"I'm here, Elena. Stay still."

In the center of the room, a faint violet light began to pulse. It was Nyx. But she wasn't just glowing; she was breathing shadows. A swirling vortex of darkness began to rotate around her, faster and faster, until it looked like a small, controlled hurricane.

"It wants to eat," Nyx’s voice sounded different—deeper, older. "It's hungry, Daddy."

"Then feed it your will, not your fear!" Killian shouted into the void. "You are a Blackwood! You do not let the beast eat; you tell the beast when to starve!"

The vortex wavered. The wind picked up, tossing ancient scrolls into the air.

"She's too young," I cried out. "It's too much for her!"

"She is exactly the age she needs to be," the Keeper’s voice cut through the wind. "Focus, little shadow. Turn the storm into a needle. Make it small. Make it sharp."

Nyx gritted her teeth. Her small face was contorted in concentration.

Slowly, the massive hurricane of shadows began to shrink. It compressed, turning from a storm into a ball, then from a ball into a single, thin thread of darkness.

The thread wrapped around Nyx's finger like a ring.

The torches flared back to life.

Nyx opened her eyes. She was panting, sweat dripping from her forehead, but she was smiling. On her ring finger, a delicate, shifting band of shadows remained.

"I did it," she whispered.

"You did," the Keeper said, looking exhausted but impressed. "But remember, child... the darkness is a mirror. If you use it to protect, it is a shield. If you use it to hate, it will become the monster everyone fears."

The Keeper turned her blind eyes toward Killian.

"She is ready for the first lesson. But you, King... you must be ready for the cost."

"What cost?" Killian asked, his hand dropping to the mark on his chest.

"The more she uses her power, the more of your life force it will drain," the Keeper said solemnly. "The Anchor doesn't just hold the weight; it pays the price in blood. Every time she strikes, you will feel the blow."

Killian didn't hesitate. He didn't even blink.

"Then let her strike as often as she needs," he said, his voice echoing with absolute conviction. "I have plenty of blood to give."

Nyx ran to her father, throwing her arms around his legs. Killian picked her up, holding her close, and for a moment, they looked like two halves of the same dark soul.

We walked out of the Archives, the sun setting over the mountains.

I looked at my daughter, who was now peacefully playing with the shadow-ring on her finger. I looked at my husband, who was walking with a slight limp he tried to hide.

They were protecting each other. They were breaking the prophecy together.

But as we headed back to the palace, a hawk circled high above us—not a normal hawk, but one with eyes of glowing green.

Someone was watching. Someone who knew the Destroyer was no longer in her cage.