Rhian smirked and shifted his weight, letting Iris roll free from their pinned position.
She sprang to her feet in one fluid motion, watching him with narrowed eyes—waiting for an explanation.
But before she could demand answers, a cold shiver raced down her spine as her hands snapped flat against the mat, held there by something unseen rather than exhaustion or hesitation.
Iris's breath hitched as she glanced down—her own shadow had coiled around her wrists like blackened rope, rooting her in place.
She jerked her arms, muscles straining against the unnatural grip, but the darkness held firm.
Rhian crouched in front of her, tilting his head. "I can control your shadow."
As if on cue, the pressure vanished. Her shadow melted back into its natural shape, lifeless once more beneath the training room lights.
Iris flexed her fingers, throat tight. "...That's actually a scary ability," she admitted after a beat. "Imagine assassinating someone with that."
