Shadows of the past

Kieran bolted upright, mouth dry and bitter, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His sister's face flashed behind his eyes - pale, still, with that dark pool spreading beneath her. The image wouldn't fade, no matter how hard he pressed his palms against his eyes.

'Another night of this,' he thought, swinging his legs over the bed. His shirt stuck to his skin, the room thick with the sour smell of night sweats and bad dreams.

"Back with her again, weren't you?" the voice in his head asked, cool as tap water.

"Like you need to ask." The words scraped his throat. "What else gets me up like this?"

"You wear that guilt like a security blanket. It's getting old."

Kieran's jaw tightened. "Shut up."

"Just saying - being weak back then doesn't make you guilty now."

"I said shut up."

The voice backed off, but Kieran could still feel it there, watching from the dark corners of his mind like a cat sizing up its prey.

'Weak,' he turned the word over in his head as he splashed cold water on his face. The mirror was cracked, making his reflection look like a stranger's puzzle missing pieces.

"You're not telling me anything new," he muttered, talking to both himself and the voice.

"Maybe not. But you're not learning from it either. Everyone's weak sometimes - unless they choose not to be."

Kieran let out a sharp breath through his nose, gripping the basin's edge. "That's why you're here? To fix poor broken me?"

"Fix you?" The voice gave a dry laugh that felt like sandpaper in his mind. "I'm just waiting to see what you do with that power you were so desperate for."

Kieran straightened. "I never begged."

"Not out loud."

He grabbed his jacket off the chair, yanking it on. "You mentioned something last night about soul echoes versus cores."

"Oh, now you want to talk. How convenient."

Kieran focused on lacing his boots, keeping his movements steady and practiced. "Just explain it."

"Think of a soul core as... the heart of things. Every mage has their own wellspring - yours happens to be indigo right now, though that could change with enough work or the right stones. But soul echoes? Those are like footprints in wet cement. Every choice, every fear, every scar leaves its mark. You've already felt the difference."

Kieran paused, remembering how it felt with Alessandro - the rush of memories, the surge of power that came so easily.

'The entity wasn't making it up,' he realized.

"Working with soul echoes is like puppet strings," the voice continued. "It's not the real thing, but it's close enough to fool most people. Just don't pull too hard - they tend to snap."

A grim smile tugged at Kieran's mouth. "Yeah, noticed that part."

"You liked it though, didn't you?"

Kieran didn't answer, but Alessandro's final moments played through his mind - the fear in his eyes, the way the power had hummed through Kieran's veins like a second heartbeat.

'Course I did,' he thought, keeping the words to himself.

The voice chuckled. "Thought so. Good - you'll need that appetite to make it here."

Later that morning, Kieran sat pushing his porridge around the bowl, his mind stuck on the entity's words from the night before.

The dining hall's door creaked open, and Ronan swaggered in, drawing his usual crowd of admirers like moths to a lamp. Kieran's eyes narrowed as he watched the other boy work the room.

'Something's not right with you,' he thought, yesterday's encounter still itching at the back of his mind.

He'd tried to brush it off, but the way Ronan had lingered in that hallway, the weird buzz of magic that seemed to follow him around - none of it added up.

'Let's see what you're really made of,' Kieran thought, his fingers twitching with the urge to try out his new trick.

He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, remembering the entity's words. 'Look for the echo. Everyone's got one. Like a shadow of their soul.'

There - a flicker of something coming off Ronan, like a thread dangling just out of reach. Kieran pushed deeper, feeling for the edges of it.

'Got you,' he thought, a cold thrill running down his spine.

But something wasn't right. This echo fought back, stronger than Alessandro's had been, its edges sharp and shifting like smoke from a knife's blade.

"Careful now," the voice warned. "This one's got teeth."

Sweat beaded on Kieran's forehead as he pushed harder, trying to get a grip on it. For just a second, he caught something - Ronan standing in shadows, talking into a glowing sigil. A whisperstone pulsing in his palm.

Then the connection snapped like a rubber band, making Kieran's head spin. His eyes flew open to find Ronan staring right at him across the tables, his face blank as fresh paper.

'He felt me,' Kieran realized, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Ronan's usual smirk slid back into place, but it looked frozen now, brittle. And in his eyes, just for a moment, Kieran saw something that made his own lips curl up.

Fear.

'Well, well,' Kieran thought, his smile spreading. 'Isn't that interesting.'

The morning crowd pushed through the Academy halls like water in a pipe, and Kieran let himself get swept along with it, his mind churning over what he'd seen.

'What was that about?' he wondered, the image of that glowing sigil in Ronan's hand playing on repeat in his head. That flash of fear in the other boy's eyes wouldn't leave him alone either.

"A whisperstone," the voice mused. "Rich kids' toys, mostly. Nobles and fancy mages use them to chat over distances. Not exactly cutting edge, but they get the job done."

'How do they work?' Kieran slipped into his usual spot at the back of the classroom, where he could keep an eye on the door.

"They carve runes into the stone that pick up on the user's magic. Light it up, and it connects to another stone that's tuned the same way. Links their thoughts together. Basic stuff, really, but useful if you need to keep secrets."

'And our friend Ronan's got one.' Kieran leaned back, drumming his fingers on the desk. 'Wonder who's on the other end?'

"That's what you should be asking. But he'll be watching for you now. Subtle isn't your strong suit, is it?"

"I don't need your running commentary," Kieran muttered, making the kid next to him look over.

"Did you say something?" the boy asked, more curious than nosy.

Kieran waved him off. "Just talking to myself. Bad habit."

The boy shrugged and went back to his notes, leaving Kieran to stew.

"You're going to need a better plan if you want to dig anything up," the voice said, smooth as oil. "He knows you're sniffing around now."

'I'll figure something out,' Kieran thought, setting his jaw. Once something caught his attention, he wasn't the type to let it go.

After class, Kieran tucked himself into the shadows of the main hall, watching the lecture room door. Students trickled out in twos and threes, their chatter about assignments and weekend plans washing over him like white noise.

Finally Ronan emerged, walking fast, his shoulders tight. Kieran followed, staying close to the walls, moving when Ronan moved.

The noble headed for the east wing - where the serious mages kept their offices and labs. Not somewhere regular students usually went. Kieran's nose twitched like he'd caught a scent.

'What are you up to?'

Ronan stopped at an old fountain, its water catching the magical lights like scattered coins. He looked around - but not carefully enough to spot Kieran pressed against the cold stone wall.

The whisperstone came out of Ronan's coat glowing like a ember.

"Is it done?" Ronan's voice bounced off the walls, reaching Kieran's hiding spot.

The stone hummed back. Kieran couldn't make out the words, but whatever they were made Ronan's face turn to stone.

"It needs to be finished before the month's out," he snapped. "No excuses. If it's not ready, there'll be hell to pay."

Another hum, sharper this time. Ronan ran his fingers through his hair like he wanted to pull it out.

"I don't care what you have to do. Just make it happen."

His fist closed around the stone, cutting off the voice. For a moment he just stood there, staring at the water like it might give him answers. Then he took a deep breath, tucked the stone away, and walked off like nothing had happened.

Kieran waited until Ronan's footsteps faded before stepping out of the shadows.

'Something's got him spooked,' he thought, his mind already spinning possibilities. 'Something big.'

"More than spooked," the voice chimed in. "He's trapped. Whatever game he's playing, he's losing."

The corner of Kieran's mouth lifted. 'Perfect. Scared people make mistakes.'

He headed back toward his room, plans already taking shape in his mind.

'If you're hiding something worth getting scared over,' he promised himself, 'I'm going to find it. And if it's useful... well, finders keepers.'*****