Chapter 12: Shadows of the Past
—Narrated by Eli Whitmore
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Magic Theory Class was never supposed to be intense.
It was usually just an hour of Professor Alderwyn scribbling glowing formulas on the air, explaining the flow of elemental mana, or asking questions nobody wanted to answer. Today, though… something felt different.
Everyone in the room could feel it.
The tension. The silence. The way Thorne Everhart sat in the back row, arms crossed, eyes sharp like broken glass.
And the way Lucien Virell kept glancing at him.
Lucien was a top student—silver-haired, arrogant, and always looking like he had something to prove. He was powerful too. Wielded lightning like a storm god and walked like the classroom belonged to him. He didn't like Thorne. Never had.
And after what happened during the duel with the Shadow Revenant last week… I had the feeling Lucien's curiosity had turned into suspicion.
I was sitting near Felix and Ryker, flipping through my spellbook, but my mind wasn't focused. My eyes kept drifting to Thorne. He hadn't spoken much since our duel. Something was off about him.
Quieter than usual. Distant.
He caught me looking once.
He didn't smile.
---
Professor Alderwyn floated into the room—literally. His robes shimmered like mist, and his silver beard trailed behind him like an old memory.
"Good morning, Arcanians," he said, clapping his hands. "Today, we'll be discussing ancestral magic and the flow of inherited arcana through bloodlines. Very important. Very ancient."
The lesson began. Charts floated mid-air. Glyphs danced above our desks.
But nobody was really paying attention.
Because Lucien raised his hand.
And with that smug voice, he said, "Professor, speaking of ancestral magic—wouldn't a Paladin from the Everhart family have… quite the history with forbidden arcana?"
Everything froze.
Even the charts stopped moving.
Professor Alderwyn's smile wavered. "Lucien… I hope you're not accusing anyone of anything during my lecture."
Lucien didn't back down. He turned his head, slowly, toward Thorne.
"I'm just wondering," he said coolly, "how someone from the line of Victor Everhart—the Spectral Seer—ended up walking so closely with darkness. I mean, shadows… binding magic… revenant spirits. That's not exactly traditional Paladin training, is it?"
Thorne didn't move.
He just stared at Lucien. Dead still.
I saw his hand twitch slightly.
Ryker whispered under his breath, "Uh-oh."
Felix leaned forward, worried. "Do something, Eli. This is going to blow up."
I stood. My voice came out sharper than I expected.
"Lucien, back off."
He looked at me like I was a bug under his boot. "Oh? Does the Gate Way Keeper speak now?"
"Yeah," I said, stepping between him and Thorne. "And I'm saying you don't know what you're talking about."
Lucien smirked. "Maybe I don't. But I saw something during that duel. Something strange. When Thorne merged with your light… the shadows didn't resist it. They welcomed it. That's not normal. That's cursed magic."
Thorne stood slowly.
His chair scraped against the floor.
And when he looked up, his eyes weren't just sharp—they were full of something colder. Older.
A storm that had waited too long to be heard.
"You want answers?" Thorne said, voice low.
The room fell completely silent.
Lucien's smile faltered.
Thorne took a step forward, every movement precise, controlled, dangerous. "You think you know my family's legacy. You don't. You think I'm cursed? Maybe I am. But at least I don't wear my power like a crown and pretend it makes me better than everyone else."
Lucien stepped back.
Thorne wasn't shouting. He didn't need to.
His words were sharper than any blade.
"I was born into shadows," he said. "Raised by silence. You think that makes me weak? You think that means I don't belong here?"
"No," I said, stepping beside him. "It means you're stronger. You've survived what most of us couldn't even imagine."
Lucien scoffed but said nothing else.
He sat down slowly, jaw tight.
Professor Alderwyn cleared his throat. "That will be quite enough… all of you. Magic is not about judgment. It is about understanding. Mr. Virell, I expect better."
---
After class, Thorne walked ahead of everyone.
I caught up to him near the courtyard, where the floating lilies hovered over the silver pond.
"You okay?" I asked softly.
He didn't answer at first. He just stood there, staring at the water.
Then he said, "He's not wrong, Eli. There is a secret about my past. Something I haven't told anyone."
I waited.
I didn't push.
He continued, "My father—Victor Everhart—he didn't just see the dead. He made deals with them. Bound them. That power passed to me. But I've always fought it. I've never used it to hurt anyone."
I stepped closer. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Thorne."
"I do," he said. "Because I trust you. And because whatever's coming next… I think it's tied to my past. To what my father did."
My heart ached a little.
I could feel how heavy those words were for him.
So I said quietly, "Then let's face it together."
He turned to me, just slightly.
And for a moment, he looked like a boy who'd spent too long in the dark and had just found the edge of light.
"Thanks, Whitmore," he whispered.
"No problem, Everhart."
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To be continued...