Chapter 99 When Shadows Take Shape
Morning didn’t erase the night.
If anything, it made it feel more real.
Liora moved through the corridors with a quiet tension she couldn’t shake, her senses sharper than usual, as if the castle itself had shifted around her. Every sound felt louder. Every shadow stretched a little too far.
And every whisper—
Even when she couldn’t hear it anymore—
felt like it was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.
“You’re distracted.”
Mattheo’s voice cut through her thoughts as they walked side by side toward the lower corridors. His tone was calm, but his gaze flicked toward her more often than usual.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“You’re not.”
She exhaled. “I’m trying to be.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
She glanced at him. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Neither am I.”
He didn’t argue—but he didn’t look convinced either.
They descended a narrow staircase, one that led toward a lesser-used section of the castle near the old storage chambers. Liora wasn’t entirely sure why they had come this way, only that the pull from the night before hadn’t completely faded.
And Mattheo had noticed.
Of course he had.
“You felt it again,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Where?”
She hesitated, then gestured ahead. “Somewhere down here.”
His expression darkened slightly. “Then we stay alert.”
A faint smile touched her lips despite everything. “You’re always alert.”
“More than usual.”
That didn’t reassure her.
But she nodded anyway.
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The corridor they entered was colder than the rest of the castle.
Not dramatically—but enough to notice.
The torches flickered weakly, their light dim and uneven, casting long shadows that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. The stone beneath their feet felt older somehow—worn, but not from use.
From time.
Liora slowed. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“No,” Mattheo agreed. “It doesn’t.”
A low sound echoed from deeper within the corridor.
Not a whisper.
Not quite a growl.
Something in between.
Liora froze.
“You heard that,” she said.
“Yes.”
The sound came again—closer now. Scraping. Uneven. Like claws dragging against stone.
Her grip tightened on her wand. “That’s not… whatever we saw last night.”
“No,” Mattheo said, stepping slightly in front of her. “It’s not.”
The shadows at the far end of the corridor shifted.
Then something moved.
It emerged slowly, as if peeling itself from the darkness. Its shape was wrong—not entirely solid, not entirely shadow. Long limbs bent at unnatural angles, its body flickering between forms like it couldn’t decide what it was meant to be.
Liora’s breath caught.
“What is that?”
Mattheo didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes narrowed, analyzing.
“Construct,” he said finally. “Partially formed. Not natural.”
As if responding to his voice, the creature tilted its head.
Then it lunged.
“Protego!” Liora cast instinctively, her shield flaring just in time as the creature slammed into it. The impact sent a shock through her arms, forcing her back a step.
It hissed—if the sound could be called that—and recoiled.
“Stay behind me,” Mattheo said sharply.
“I can help—”
“Behind me, Liora.”
Something in his tone made her listen.
She stepped back—but didn’t lower her wand.
The creature moved again, faster this time, splitting—
No.
Not splitting.
Multiplying.
Two more forms peeled away from it, each one slightly less stable than the original, but just as aggressive.
“That’s not good,” she whispered.
“No,” Mattheo agreed.
His wand moved in a blur.
A sharp burst of green magic shot forward, striking one of the creatures and forcing it backward into the wall. It dissolved on impact—but not completely.
It reformed.
“They’re anchored,” he muttered.
“To what?” she asked.
Before he could answer, another creature lunged—this one faster, more solid. Mattheo stepped into its path without hesitation, intercepting it with a forceful spell that sent it skidding across the stone.
It recovered almost instantly.
Too fast.
One of the others circled, slipping past him—
“Mattheo!” Liora called.
He turned just as it lunged for her.
But he was too far.
Liora reacted on instinct. “Expelliarmus!”
The spell hit—but it didn’t disarm.
It slowed.
Just enough.
Mattheo moved.
In an instant, he was between them, his arm catching her and pulling her sharply to his side as his other hand cast a defensive barrier that flared bright against the creature’s attack.
The impact echoed through the corridor.
Liora felt the force of it through him—the way his body tensed, absorbing the hit without letting it reach her.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice low but firm.
“I’m not—”
“Stay with me.”
The words weren’t just instruction.
They were something else.
Something deeper.
The creatures circled again, three now, their forms flickering more aggressively, as if reacting to his interference.
“They’re learning,” Liora said.
“Yes.”
“That’s worse than last night.”
“Yes.”
Another attack came—two at once.
Mattheo didn’t hesitate.
His spells became sharper, faster—less restrained. Each movement precise, controlled, but edged with something more dangerous. He drove one creature back with a burst of raw force, then pivoted, catching the second mid-lunge and slamming it into the ground with a crushing wave of magic.
The third slipped through.
Liora saw it too late.
It came from the side—silent, fast, reaching—
Mattheo turned just as it struck.
He didn’t block it.
He took it.
The impact hit his shoulder, forcing him back a step, his jaw tightening as the creature’s form flickered violently against him.
“Mattheo!” Liora’s voice broke.
He didn’t respond immediately.
His wand flashed—once, twice—and the creature shattered into fragments of shadow that scattered across the floor before dissolving completely.
The remaining two hesitated.
For the first time—
They retreated.
Not far.
Just enough.
As if reconsidering.
Then, slowly, they began to fade.
Not defeated.
Not destroyed.
Just… gone.
The corridor fell silent.
Again.
But not empty.
Never empty.
Liora turned to him immediately. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was tighter than usual.
“You’re not fine,” she insisted, stepping closer. “You just let it hit you—”
“It wasn’t going to reach you.”
“That’s not the point!”
“It is to me.”
The words stopped her.
Her breath caught.
He looked at her then—really looked at her—and for once, there was no mask.
No distance.
Just raw, unfiltered certainty.
“I won’t let anything touch you,” he said quietly.
Her chest tightened.
“You can’t promise that,” she whispered.
“I can try.”
“That’s not the same.”
“It’s enough.”
Silence stretched between them.
Liora’s gaze dropped briefly to his shoulder, where the creature had struck. “It still hit you.”
“I’ve handled worse.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
A faint, almost tired smile touched his lips. “You sound like you care.”
“I do,” she said immediately.
The honesty of it lingered.
Mattheo didn’t look away.
“Good,” he said softly.
Her cheeks warmed slightly, but she didn’t step back.
“Those things,” she said, forcing herself to refocus. “They weren’t random.”
“No.”
“They were waiting.”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
He hesitated.
“For us,” he said finally.
That was worse.
Liora exhaled slowly, her thoughts racing. “So whatever’s behind this… it’s not just watching anymore.”
“No,” Mattheo said. “It’s escalating.”
She glanced down the corridor where the creatures had vanished, unease settling deep in her chest.
“And next time?”
His grip on his wand tightened slightly.
“They won’t hold back.”
Neither would he.
And somehow—
That scared her just as much.