I watched Cora from my window as she crossed the quad, her dark hair whipping in the wind, shoulders hunched against the cold in that way I knew so well. She was heading toward the special housing section again—the third time this week. Not to see me, of course. These days, I barely made her priority list.
Seven years of friendship, and suddenly I was an afterthought.
The familiar ache in my chest throbbed as I tracked her movements, a constant companion that had nothing to do with the physical drain of her curse and everything to do with watching her pull away from me. The pendant around her neck caught the afternoon sunlight, the crack in its surface visible even from this distance. It was failing—I'd known it for days, could feel the drain intensifying even when we weren't together.
That connection had always been our thing. The tether binding us since we were kids bouncing through the same broken foster system. She thought I didn't notice how she tracked my health, how guilty she felt every time I looked tired. But I noticed everything about Cora Dixon.
I turned away from the window, rubbing absently at the hollow feeling behind my sternum. The doctors had given up trying to diagnose it years ago. Chronic fatigue. Anemia. Idiopathic immune dysfunction. None of them had a clue about Cora's curse, about how it had latched onto me after Kayla died, about how I'd willingly let it feed for seven years because it meant Cora would stay.
Because if I was the only one who could sustain her, she'd never leave me behind.
Selfish? Maybe. But when you've lost everything else, when you've been forgotten and overlooked your entire life, you hold onto the one person who sees you. The one person who needs you.
My phone buzzed with a text from her: Research in the library tonight. Don't wait up.
Research. Right. The same excuse she'd used yesterday when I'd caught her leaving that campus "study group" with that guy Knox, her cheeks flushed with something that wasn't just the cold.
Knox had been watching her since day one, trailing her between classes with that predatory confidence of his. I'd seen the way he looked at her—possessive, intense, like he'd already decided she was his. Cora pretended to be annoyed by his attention, but I knew her better than that. I saw the way her eyes followed him when she thought no one was looking.
Then there was Professor Walker, with his unnaturally pale skin and cold eyes. I'd overheard them talking outside her history class—something about the pendant, about how she was "playing with forces she didn't understand." As if he understood her better than I did. As if seven years of friendship meant nothing compared to whatever experience he claimed to have.
And now there was this Easton guy she kept mentioning. The brilliant research student who might know how to fix the pendant, who had access to some special collection in the library that might hold answers about her curse.
All of them different somehow. All of them accepted into those special housing sections where Cora had been placed while I was assigned to regular student housing. All of them able to offer her something I couldn't.
"They'll leave when they realize what happens to people who get close to you," I muttered to my reflection, immediately regretting the bitterness in my voice. I didn't mean that. I knew how much the guilt over Kayla haunted her, how hard she worked to protect others from her curse.
To protect me.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Sitting here brooding wouldn't accomplish anything. If Cora was going to spend the evening in the library, I could at least make sure she ate something. Seven years had taught me that she forgot basic necessities when she was focused on research.
The campus was quiet as I crossed toward the library, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cobblestones. I felt the drain more acutely now that the pendant was failing, a constant pull that left me perpetually exhausted. Not that I'd ever tell Cora that. She carried enough guilt already.
I caught sight of her through the library's massive windows, hunched over a stack of books at a corner table. But she wasn't alone. That Easton guy sat across from her, his slender fingers tracing something in one of the ancient texts. As I watched, he said something that made Cora laugh—a genuine laugh, not the guarded chuckle she used in public.
My chest tightened. How long had it been since I'd made her laugh like that?
I stood frozen, watching their interaction with a sick feeling in my stomach. They looked right together—both intensely focused, both passionate about finding answers. I was just the friend from her old life, the one she drained when necessary, the safe harbor that was becoming increasingly irrelevant in this new world she'd found at Ardenmoor.
She's outgrowing you, a voice whispered, so quiet I almost thought I'd imagined it. They all leave eventually.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought. Cora wouldn't leave me. We'd been through too much together. We were family in every way that mattered.
But the doubt had taken root, feeding on every interaction I'd witnessed since we arrived at Ardenmoor. The way her face lit up when discussing research with Easton. The energy that crackled between her and Knox, even when they were arguing. The almost respectful way she mentioned Professor Walker.
I turned away from the window, unable to watch any longer. The sandwich I'd brought for her felt like a stupid, inadequate gesture now. What could I offer that compared to what they gave her? Knox with his confidence and intensity. Easton with his brilliant mind and research access. Walker with his mysterious knowledge and understanding of her curse.
I was just... Jude. The normal friend. The emergency energy source.
They'll never value you the way she does, the voice whispered again, clearer this time. They see her power, her potential. They don't care about her heart the way you do.
"Who's there?" I spun around, scanning the empty pathway. The voice had sounded too real to be just my thoughts, too close to be someone calling from a distance.
Silence answered me, broken only by the distant murmur of students crossing the quad and the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. I was alone.
Great. Now I was hearing things. Probably another symptom of the energy drain. I'd been sleeping poorly lately, plagued by strange dreams—shadows moving at the corners of my vision, whispers just beyond understanding, and always, always the sensation of something watching. Waiting.
I headed back toward my dorm, the uneaten sandwich still clutched in my hand. The weariness I'd been fighting all day settled deeper into my bones with each step. By the time I reached my room, it took all my remaining energy just to kick off my shoes before collapsing onto the bed.
Sleep claimed me almost instantly, dragging me down into dreams more vivid than usual.
I stood in the woods near campus, but not the familiar parts where students sometimes ventured for parties or outdoor classes. This was deeper, darker, the trees twisted and ancient, their branches creating a canopy so thick it blocked most of the moonlight. The air felt heavy, charged with something that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
"Hello?" I called, my voice sounding muffled in the strange density of the forest. "Is anyone there?"
She was yours first, a voice responded, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Before the others. You sustained her when no one else could.
I turned in a slow circle, trying to locate the source of the voice. "Who are you? What do you want?"
A shadow deeper than the darkness around it detached from a nearby tree, sliding forward like oil on water. It didn't have a definite shape—more an impression of form, a suggestion of eyes and a mouth that wasn't quite a mouth.
I want what you want, it said, the voice clearer now. For her to see your worth. For her to choose you over them.
A chill ran down my spine. "You don't know what I want," I insisted, though the words rang hollow even to me.
The shadow seemed to smile, an impression rather than an actual expression. Don't I? I've watched you for years, Jude Reyes. I've tasted your devotion, your sacrifice... and now your jealousy.
It circled me slowly, never quite touching but close enough that I could feel the cold emanating from it. You've given her everything, and what has she given in return? She drains your life force while chasing after others who will only hurt her in the end.
"That's not true," I argued, though doubt crept in with the shadow's words. "Cora cares about me. She doesn't mean to hurt me."
Intent doesn't lessen the pain, the shadow whispered. She takes and takes, blind to your suffering, blind to your love.
"Stop it." I tried to back away, but my feet felt rooted to the ground. "You don't know anything about us."
I know everything about you both. The shadow paused, seeming to assess me. I know about the power dormant in your blood. Why do you think you've survived her feeding for so long? Why do you think you can hear me now, when others cannot?
I shook my head, trying to clear it. "What are you talking about? What power?" This was just a dream, a product of stress and exhaustion and my own insecurities.
This is no dream, the shadow corrected, as if reading my thoughts. This is the first honest conversation you've had in years. The only one who sees your true value is me.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
The shadow drew closer, its cold presence enveloping me like ice water. I want to help you. To awaken what sleeps inside you. To give you the power to protect her properly, to make her see you as an equal to these special people she surrounds herself with.
Something stirred inside me at those words—a longing I'd barely acknowledged even to myself. To be more than just the ordinary friend. To be someone who could stand beside Cora as an equal, not just a victim of her curse.
She needs you, the shadow continued, its voice almost gentle now. More than she knows. More than they will ever understand. But she'll never see your true worth until you embrace what you really are.
"And what am I?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
More than you know. More than she knows. The shadow seemed to pulse with satisfaction. I can show you, if you're willing to listen.
I should have refused. Should have recognized the danger in this strange encounter. But something in the shadow's words resonated with fears I'd been harboring since we arrived at Ardenmoor—that I was losing Cora, that I wasn't enough for her anymore, that I would be left behind while she found her place in this new world.
"I'm listening," I whispered.
The shadow's approval washed over me like a cold caress. Good. We'll speak again soon, Jude Reyes. Watch her carefully in the coming days. See how they try to claim what was always meant to be yours. And when you're ready to reclaim your proper place at her side, call for me. I'll be waiting.
The dream dissolved, leaving me gasping awake in my darkened dorm room. Sweat drenched my sheets despite the chill in the air, and my heart hammered painfully against my ribs. The digital clock on my nightstand read 3:17 AM—the witching hour, they called it in folklore. The time when the veil between worlds was thinnest.
Just a dream, I told myself, trying to slow my breathing. Just a product of stress and jealousy and exhaustion.
But as I lay there staring at the ceiling, a cold certainty settled over me. It hadn't been just a dream. The shadow had been too real, its words too precise, the lingering cold too physical.
And the strangest part? For the first time in days, the constant ache in my chest had eased. The drain from Cora's curse felt diminished, as if something else was supplementing my energy.
I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of what had happened. The shadow had mentioned dormant power. Was that possible? Could there be more to me than just "Cora's friend"?
The thought followed me back into restless sleep, along with the shadow's final words:
When you're ready to reclaim your proper place at her side, call for me. I'll be waiting.
I didn't know if I believed what the shadow had told me. But one thing was certain—I couldn't keep watching Cora fade away from me. Couldn't keep pretending it didn't hurt to see her turn to others instead of me.
Something had to change.
And for the first time, I wondered if that something might be me.