Rin woke to the sensation of being watched.
His room was dark, the moon casting silver light through the window. He lay perfectly still, listening. No sound. No movement. But the feeling persisted, a prickling awareness that he wasn't alone.
"Malachar?" he whispered.
"Not me, boy. But I feel it too." The demon's voice was tense. "Someone's in your room."
Rin's hand slowly moved toward the small knife he kept under his pillow, a gift from his father for cutting rope and leather. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.
"No need for that," a smooth voice said from the corner. "I mean you no harm."
A figure stepped from the shadows, and Rin bolted upright. The man was tall and lean, wearing dark robes that seemed to absorb light. His face was hidden behind a featureless white mask.
"Who are you?" Rin demanded, gripping the knife.
"A concerned party." The masked man moved closer, his movements fluid and silent. "I've been watching you, Rin Eldraven. Your summoning was quite the spectacle."
"Get out or I'll summon Malachar."
"Please do. I'd very much like to meet him properly." The man tilted his head. "But I think you'll want to hear what I have to say first. It concerns your survival at this academy."
Rin hesitated. "Talk fast."
"Direct. I appreciate that." The man clasped his hands behind his back. "You've made enemies, Rin. Powerful ones. Adrian's family has connections to the academy board. Elena Brightstar's father is a duke with influence over funding. And that's just the beginning."
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"No, you didn't. But you have it nonetheless." The man paused. "Tell me, has anyone explained what happens to students who become too problematic? Too dangerous?"
"Expulsion," Rin said.
"If you're lucky. If you're unlucky, you have an accident. A training exercise gone wrong. A summon that loses control and has to be put down, along with its summoner." The masked man's voice carried no emotion. "It's rare, but it happens."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Quite the opposite. I'm offering you protection." The man reached into his robes and pulled out a small crystal, dark purple and pulsing with inner light. "This is a communication stone. If you ever need help, need information, or need someone to watch your back, activate it. I'll come."
"Why would you help me?"
"Because you're interesting, Rin Eldraven. You've opened a door that should have remained closed, and I want to see where that leads." The man placed the crystal on Rin's desk. "Consider it an investment in your potential."
"I don't even know who you are."
"Call me Shade. That's all you need to know for now." The figure moved back toward the shadows. "One more thing. Your demon mentioned the Nexus, a place of defeated legends. Be careful who you tell about that. There are people who would do terrible things to access such a place."
"Wait," Rin called. "How did you even get in here? The dorms have wards."
Shade paused at the window. "The same way I'll leave. Through places that exist between places." He climbed onto the windowsill. "Sleep well, scholarship student. Tomorrow, the real games begin."
He dropped backward out the window. Rin rushed over and looked down, but saw nothing. No body, no rope, no trace of the intruder.
"That was concerning," Malachar said. "That man moves like an assassin."
"Should I report this?"
"To who? The professors who already suspect you're dangerous? The headmaster who's watching for any excuse to remove you?" Malachar's tone turned thoughtful. "No. Keep the stone. But don't use it unless absolutely necessary. That kind of help always comes with a price."
Rin picked up the purple crystal. It was warm to the touch, and he could feel faint energy pulsing through it. He wrapped it in cloth and hid it in his chest beneath his spare clothes.
Sleep didn't come easily after that.
The next morning, Rin found a note slipped under his door. Neat handwriting on expensive paper.
Rin Eldraven, you are hereby challenged to an official ranking match. Tomorrow at noon, Training Ground Three. Failure to appear will result in automatic forfeiture and loss of academy standing. Signed, Marcus Ironheart, Silver Rank 47.
"Marcus?" Rin racked his brain. "I don't even know who that is."
"The stocky boy from yesterday," Malachar recalled. "One of Adrian's followers. This is retaliation."
Rin crumpled the note. Of course it was. He'd humiliated Adrian, beaten Elena's summon, and now the vultures were circling.
At breakfast, Kira spotted the challenge notice immediately.
"Marcus Ironheart? That's bad, Rin." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "His summon is an Earth Golem, mid Silver tier. It's slow but hits like a siege weapon. And Marcus has been at the academy for two years. He knows every trick."
"Can I refuse?"
"Not without consequences. Refusing an official challenge drops your standing, makes you look weak. Other students will pile on." She bit her lip. "You have to fight."
"Then I'll fight."
"With proper preparation this time." Kira pulled out her notebook. "We have until tomorrow noon. That gives us time to study Marcus's fighting style, plan counters, and practice your bond communication with Malachar."
"We?" Rin asked.
"I'm your friend, aren't I? Friends help friends not get crushed by golems." She grinned. "Besides, this is great research. Now eat up. We have work to do."
They spent the morning in the library, reviewing recordings of Marcus's previous matches on a scrying mirror. Kira took detailed notes while Rin watched the Earth Golem in action.
The summon was exactly as described: massive, slow, devastating. It could take incredible punishment and keep fighting. In one match, it had shrugged off fire spells that would have melted steel.
"Malachar can beat that, right?" Rin asked his shadow.
"Easily. But the question is whether you can command me effectively enough to make use of my abilities." Malachar's tone was pointed. "You still barely understand our bond."
"Then teach me."
There was a moment of silence. Then: "Meet me in your mindspace tonight. It's time you learned what it truly means to be bonded to a demon lord."
That evening, after dinner and evening classes, Rin lay on his bed and focused on the mark on his palm. He'd read about mindspaces in his Dimensional Theory textbook, mental landscapes where summoner and summon could communicate more directly.
He closed his eyes and reached for the connection, pulling himself along the thread that bound him to Malachar.
The world inverted.
Rin opened his eyes to find himself standing in a throne room. The architecture was grand but ruined, with columns that had been broken and repaired with what looked like molten metal. Banners hung from the walls, torn and burned, displaying symbols he didn't recognize.
At the far end of the room, seated on a throne of black stone and red iron, was Malachar. But not the armored warrior from the arena. This version was younger, less scarred, wearing the regalia of a king rather than a soldier.
"Welcome," Malachar said, "to what remains of my world."