Page 10 of Shackled By Shadows

But that world is gone.

Once, the Light Realm and the Dark Realm existed in balance, each a reflection of the other. Neither opposites nor enemies, just two halves of a whole, governed by their own rulers, bound by ancient laws that kept the peace. The Light Realm, with its sprawling cities of golden spires, endless forests, and seas of wildflowers, stood as a beacon of order and prosperity. The Dark Realm, with its obsidian cliffs, silver-lit rivers, and skies painted in shades of eternal twilight, thrived in its own way, full of magic as deep and endless as the night. Two realms, two rulers, one world in harmony. Until it wasn’t.

The books don’t agree on when the balance began to break. Some say it was greed, one ruler wanting more, wanting control. Others claim it was the gods themselves who set the destruction in motion, testing the Fae to see whether they were worthy of the gifts they were given. Regardless of how it started, the result was the same: war. A war that shattered harmony, severed realms, and left the world, as it is now, divided, fractured, and ruled by fear.

Magic, once a force of wonder, became something else entirely. All Fae are born with magic, a simple, natural connection to the world around them, some control over the elements, and minor spells woven into their daily lives. But true power? That is something different. There is no logic to it, no bloodline or right of birth that determines who will be gifted beyond the rest. It is simply the will of the gods. A rare, unexplainable gift bestowed upon those they deem worthy or cursed. Those who wield such power can still use the magic of all Fae, but their abilities set them apart. Some see them as blessed. Others see them as weapons.

The gods themselves have long since ceased to walk among this realm, but their presence remains in the stories, in the prayers, and in the way people still look to the skies as if searching for guidance. The greatest of the great, the ones who lived, ruled, and fought with power beyond imagining, have ascended beyond death itself, or so it is believed. The worthy watch over the living, guiding them, protecting them in ways unseen. The unworthy? They are cast into eternal punishment, a fate worse than death.

I wonder, sometimes, if the gods still care. If they watch us at all.

And I wonder where I will go when my time comes.

Chapter six

Irresistible

Oberon appears without warning, as he always does, his shadow falling across the room before his form solidifies before me. His eyes, dark and inscrutable, lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

It catches me off guard, unable to look away. The weight of his focus presses down on me, and I feel something stir deep inside, a mix of dread and heat, something far less controllable. My heart hammers in my chest as I realize I have been staring at him, truly staring at him, without the veil of fear or fury that usually clouds my vision. When I become aware of it, warmth spreads across my face, and I’m ashamed of how exposed I feel.

The way he looks at me, calm and calculating, makes my skin crawl.

Beneath that cold exterior, I can’t shake the feeling that there is something else. Something buried deep, hidden beneath the layers he wears so carefully.

I want to look away, to escape from the weight of his attention, but I can’t.

He raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth curling ever so slightly. My heart thuds in my chest at the realization of how intently I have been staring at him. And yet, he doesn’t seem phased.

He doesn’t react. He just watches me, waiting as if to let me take it all in, all of him in.

“Careful, Lyra,” he murmurs finally, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “If you keep staring at me like that, I might start to think you’re enjoying this.” He pauses for a beat, letting the words hang in the air, then leans in just slightly, his smirk widening. “I can be rather . . . irresistible.”

My breath catches, but I force myself to look away, my chest tightening with the weight of everything I can't say. I swallow hard, the edges of my anger sharpening. “I'm not here for your amusement, Oberon.”

Oberon’s sneer deepens, his eyes flickering as he takes a slow, deliberate step closer. “Oh, I beg to differ, Lyra,” he teases, his voice deepens the sound like velvet against my ears. “Your body tells a different story.” His gaze sweeps over me, lingering for a moment too long, before locking with mine again. “You can deny it if you want, but your pulse is giving you away.” His lips curl in amusement.

“You’re more affected than you’d like to admit.” He leans in just a fraction, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence impossible to ignore. “Although,” he adds, his voice dropping even lower, “I’m not complaining.” The teasing is still there, but also something darker, more dangerous, hidden in the way he says it, like he is enjoying every second of this.

I take a step back, putting some distance between us, trying to keep my composure as the heat in my cheeks betrays me. “You’re extra full of yourself today.”

Oberon’s eyes gleam with a knowing, almost predatory pleasure, his voice remaining smooth, laced with mock concern. “Such fire, Lyra,” raising one hand to his chest as he takes another step closer, his presence overwhelming,

My pulse ticks as he lingers for another moment before letting out a sigh. His gaze sweeps the room, taking note of the disarray and failed attempts.

“But it seems your magic is just as stubborn as you are.”

His eyes find mine again, with that dangerous, confident glow. “Still holding it back, or are you finally starting to embrace it?” He tsks, as if he can sense the hesitation that lingers beneath the surface. “I can feel it, Lyra. The magic’s there, just waiting for you to let go.”

A glimmer of something tantalizing dances in his expression. A pulse of heat surges through me, which mirrors the intensity of his focus. His voice drops to a near purr, soft and enticing. “I think that’s the most fascinating part of you.” The words sound almost too sweet, too dangerous.

“That fear, that resistance.” His head shakes in frustration. “You’re so close, yet still so far from embracing what you truly are.”

I swallow hard, my breath catching in my throat at the proximity of his voice, the tone of his words sending a shiver down my spine. I try to steady myself, but his intensity, the weight of his words, makes it hard to concentrate.

I square my shoulders, doing my best to ignore the way my pulse quickens with each breath I take. “I'm not afraid of my magic . . . or of you.” I meet his glance with a challenge in my eyes, even as something deep inside me flutters.

Oberon’s lips twist into a sly grin, a light chuckle escaping them. “You should be afraid of me, Lyra,” he snarls, flashing his canines. I tense despite myself. The space between us feels like it is thinning. “But you should be more afraid of what happens if you don’t start taking your training seriously,” he continues, his tone replaced by something softer.