Chapter 49

The email notification flashed on my screen, simple yet unsettling.

From: Headmaster Oswald Brightwen

Subject: Request for a Meeting

I took a steadying breath before making my way to the Headmaster’s office. Brightwen wasn’t someone I was eager to see—not after that final divination exam where he’d bought every word of the reading I’d bullshitted. He’d hidden his reaction, but I hadn’t missed the flicker of something in his eyes—shock, fear, or maybe anger. Whatever it was, it didn’t make me feel any safer around him now.

The headmaster’s office was located in a secluded corner of the administrative wing. The corridor stretched out long and silent, the walls decorated with ancient tapestries and portraits of past headmasters, their expressions stoic and unyielding, just like Brightwen himself. I hesitated before the large oak doors, steeling myself as I raised a hand to knock.

“Enter.”

His voice rang out before my knuckles even touched the wood. I stepped in, squaring my shoulders, and found him seated behind an expansive mahogany desk, framed by towering bookshelves filled with an array of worn leather-bound volumes and trinkets that seemed to radiate a soft, almost ethereal glow. His white hair gleamed under the dim light, giving him an aura of wisdom and severity that was hard to ignore.

“Ms. Riley,” he said, standing to greet me with an outstretched hand, his green eyes sharp and assessing. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

I nodded, taking his hand briefly, noting the strength in his grip despite his age. He gestured for me to sit, and I sank into the chair opposite his desk, careful to keep my posture steady, unyielding.

“I wanted to speak with you,” he began, folding his hands and regarding me with a look that was almost grandfatherly—if a grandfather also happened to wield political power with an iron fist. “First, let me extend my condolences. Losing your parents, especially under such… harrowing circumstances, is no small thing to bear.”

His gaze softened, the sympathy in his voice so convincing that I nearly believed it myself. But I knew better. Headmaster Brightwen was nothing if not a master of subtlety, and every word he said was calculated to disarm.

“I appreciate that, sir,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

He nodded, a small, approving smile touching his lips. “Thank you, Mara. I know this has been an incredibly trying time for you, especially as you’re adjusting to your status as an Omega.” He gave a knowing glance, a subtle reminder of the bonded quarters I now shared with Silas—a privilege reserved only for bonded pairs or packs.

There was no point in denying what he’d likely already investigated to its last detail. I nodded, careful to keep my face neutral.

“There’s no shame in needing help, Ms. Riley,” he continued, his voice like silk. “The Academy has ample resources for Omegas, especially those experiencing a… later onset. If you need any guidance—counseling, specialized advisors, even assistance with nesting—know that you need only ask.”

The words were so gentle, so laden with paternal care, that anyone else might have been lulled into a false sense of safety. But I caught the glint of calculation in his eyes. He was gauging my reaction, watching every flicker of emotion, each shift in my posture, like a hawk assessing its prey.

“Thank you, Headmaster. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He studied me for a moment, the silence stretching, filling the room with a strange tension. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a pensive look crossing his face.

“You’re an exceptional student, Mara,” he said, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. “Your performance in divination last semester was… remarkable. I had no idea you were so attuned, so adept at such difficult and complex visions.”

There it was. The carefully veiled compliment, designed to make me feel unique, important—even useful.

“I do my best, sir,” I replied, keeping my expression carefully blank.

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile, as though we were sharing a private joke. “I’m sure you do. Divination, especially of your caliber, is a rare gift. And one I’d like to nurture. As you may know, certain tensions are… rising, especially with President Russling’s recent behavior. I have reason to believe that our world will soon be on the cusp of monumental change.”

I stayed silent, my pulse quickening. I knew what he was referring to—the budding war between the Light and Dark factions, the same divide that had been widening with every questionable move Russling made. But he didn’t need to know I was aware of it, much less that I could see more of it in my visions than he could likely imagine.

Brightwen continued, watching me closely. “Mara, I need allies I can trust. People with vision—literal and figurative. People who can help steer this Academy—and the world—through the tumult ahead.”

He let the words hang, heavy with implication. He was good—every word, every glance designed to coax me into a sense of importance, a role in his looming war. But I wasn’t so easily swayed.

“I’m honored that you’d consider me, sir,” I replied smoothly. “But I’m just a student. I’m here to learn, not… navigate political waters.”

Brightwen smiled, a smile so genuine I might have believed it was real if I hadn’t seen the cold calculation in his eyes moments before. “A modest answer. Admirable. But you and I both know that true leaders don’t shy away from responsibility, no matter how young they may be.”

He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine, the intensity of it almost hypnotic. “You’re at a crossroads, Mara. As a newly emerged Omega, and as someone with remarkable skills, you could play a vital role in the future of our world. A role that transcends your studies here.”

The implication settled over me like a dark cloud. He wasn’t just talking about loyalty or support—he was talking about choosing sides in a battle that was building beneath the surface. He wanted me aligned with him, with the Light, against Russling and whatever dark forces he commanded.

I forced a smile, nodding politely. “That’s… a lot to consider, sir. I appreciate your faith in me.”

Brightwen nodded, as though he’d expected nothing less. “Take your time, Mara. I’m here to support you however I can. And if you ever feel… compelled to share any visions, I trust you’ll come to me.”

His words were honeyed, but I could feel the steel beneath them. He wanted my divination skills on call, wanted access to whatever insights I could glean from the shadows that lurked in my mind. But I couldn’t let him know what I knew—that the very shadows he sought to command had already chosen me as their vessel.

“I understand,” I replied, keeping my tone carefully even. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

He inclined his head, watching me with that unsettling, assessing gaze. “Good. And remember, Mara—this Academy is a place of learning, but it’s also a place of growth, of discovery. Sometimes, the paths we’re meant to take aren’t always the ones we expect.”

The warning in his words was clear. He didn’t trust me—at least, not fully. But he wanted to keep me close, to tether me to his cause before Russling could reach me. It was a clever game, one I could appreciate even as I resented being drawn into it.

I stood, offering a polite nod. “Thank you again, Headmaster. I’ll keep everything you’ve said in mind.”

As I turned to leave, he called out, his voice low and almost too soft to hear. “One more thing, Ms. Riley.”

I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.

“Be careful with what you see. Some visions are meant to remain… unspoken.”

The threat in his words was barely veiled, a reminder of the power he wielded and the influence he held over the Academy. I nodded, my expression neutral, and left his office with the weight of his warning pressing down on me.

As I walked down the empty hall, my thoughts churned. Brightwen was a master at manipulating those around him, and he clearly had no qualms about using whatever tactics were necessary to sway me to his side. But I wasn’t his pawn—or Russling’s, for that matter.

If I succeeded in the trials, I would be something else entirely. Not Light, not Dark, but something both feared and revered. The Liege of Shadows. And in a world ruled by Brightwen and Russling, there was no room for a third player. Not unless I made room.

For now, though, I’d play his game. Because in the shadows, the power was mine alone.