The Weight of Shadows

The morning smelled wrong.

Or maybe it was just me.

Dirt, sweat, burnt wood, and that faint metallic tang that always made my stomach twist.

I woke with my arms tangled in my blanket, sheets stiff, my knees aching from yesterday’s training. Every movement felt heavy. Every breath felt like I was dragging the world along with me.

I stared at the ceiling. No sunlight touched my room yet. Just the faint gray smudge of dawn sneaking through the cracks in the boards. It didn’t promise anything. Not warmth. Not mercy. Just the beginning of another day in the pack.

I swung my legs over the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor. It hissed against my skin, and I almost swore. Almost. Swore would be pointless anyway. There was no one to hear me. No one to care.

Derek Valen was probably awake already. Probably sharpening his claws on someone’s pride. Probably laughing before breakfast. Probably… yeah. I tried not to think. Failed anyway.

Why bother thinking of him?

I wrapped my robe tighter around myself. Fumbling. Too big. Too loose. The uniform felt like it was made for someone else. A person stronger. Taller. Braver. Just not me.

Step outside. Footsteps. I counted them automatically. Three of them. Derek’s gang most likely, going to whatever mischief they had planned.

I ducked, not because I was afraid to be noticed but because showing up for their amusement had become routine. And I hated routine. Hated it with every shivering cell in my body.

Just then, Kael appeared. Kael, like some phantom I hadn’t earned the right to notice.

He leaned casually against the wall. Arms crossed. Cute, sharp eyes on me. That smirk, yes, that wicked smirk. It was dangerous. Because it made me feel something. Made me feel warm even in the early morning cold. Made me feel confused, exposed, alive. All at once.

“Morning, ghost,” he said, tilting his head.

I blinked. “I’m not…” No.

Words stuck. Swallowed by panic. My throat dry, hands curling around the hem of my robe.

“You’re terrible at mornings,” he added, softening just a fraction. Not teasing. Not kind. Just… observing. Watching. Like I mattered.

I wanted to tell him to stop. To leave. To go back to shadows. Instead, I swallowed and muttered something like, “I’m fine.” Lie. Full lie.

We walked in silence toward the training yard. I tried to ignore him. Failed spectacularly. Every glance, every movement, every casual adjustment of his sleeve, made me aware of my own clumsy body, my own mistakes, my own… nothingness.

Training started again. Lines. Orders. Sweat. Pain. Humiliation. Derek didn’t fail to notice me, didn’t fail to shove, trip, whisper. Every small action calculated to make me feel less than. And it worked. Every. Single. Time.

I tried to sink into myself, curl my shoulders, make myself disappear. Didn’t work. Kael’s gaze kept finding me. It made me squirm. Made my heart thump in a way I hated and hated myself for hating.

“Focus, Kade,” he muttered under his breath once. Not loud enough for Derek. Not polite enough to ignore. Just… real. And I didn’t know if that was kind or worse. Worse, maybe. Because now my failures were visible to someone who cared.

Lunchtime came slowly just like a punishment. Pack dining hall was buzzing. Everyone as loud and confident as they usually are.

All of them alive in ways I wasn’t and didn’t think was possible. I grabbed a corner seat. Tried to be as small as possible. Knife in hand. Bread half-stale. A sip of water. Quiet. Invisible.

Kael slid into the bench opposite me. Not much space. Too close. Heart thudding. Mind spinning.

“Eat,” he said, voice low. Like an order. But not. Something else.

I stared at him. Then at the bread. Then at him again. Stupid. Clumsy. Why did he make everything I wanted so difficult?

“Why are you staring?” he asked. Smirk threatening. Not teasing, not friendly. Dangerous.

“I’m not,” I said. Lie. Breath shaky. Bread in hand. Chewed too fast. Swallowed wrong. Choked. Coughing. Hands slapping the table. Embarrassment blooming, hot and sharp.

Kael laughed. Soft. Not loud. Not cruel. Just… present. Like he was letting me live, letting me exist for a fraction of a second.

“Still pathetic,” he whispered, leaning slightly closer. “But… not invisible. Not completely.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. So I just nodded. Small, pathetic nod.

The rest of the afternoon was… worse?

Training with weapons. Obstacles. Mistakes. People laughing every time I faltered. Me, wishing fervently for the day to be over so I can wallow in peace in my chambers.

Kael stayed close enough to notice me, far enough to make me squirm. I hated him. Loved him. Feared him. Needed him. Couldn’t breathe without noticing him.

By the time sun dipped low, I felt like a rag. Tired. Broken. Invisible. Except… that one tiny flicker. That one second when Kael had looked at me. Saw me. That burned somewhere inside. Made me tremble. Made me hate that I craved it.

I staggered home. Room. Door shut. Collapse. Breath shaky. Hands on the floor. Mind racing.

I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted someone, anyone, to see me without teasing, without judgment, without games.

I wanted… Kael.

I shook my head. No. Ridiculous. Dangerous. Don’t feel. Don’t exist. Don’t hope.

And yet… I couldn’t help it. One tiny ember of hope burned in me.

Tomorrow. I would train. I would fail. I would fall. I would scrape my knees. I would bleed. And maybe… just maybe… I wouldn’t be entirely invisible.