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Chapte 14: Shadows

  The dungeon air was thick with the usual concoction of strange scents – incense, herbs, and something vaguely metallic that always made my stomach clench. Today, though, there was a new addition: frustration. My frustration. Ashara’s… probably amusement. We were in one of the rger basement chambers, a space usually reserved for combat training, now dimly lit by a few strategically pced braziers, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls.

  Ashara stood before me, arms crossed, her expression… unreadable. As usual. She was wearing her standard training attire – which is to say, not much. The leather straps, the skimpy shorts, the… everything. It was a deliberate distraction, I knew. A test. And, gods, it was working. My gaze kept flicking to her, to the way the firelight glinted off her skin, to the way her dark, furry ears twitched with every subtle shift in her weight, to the way the thin leather straps strained against her breasts, her nipples prominent, almost painfully so, seemingly just inches from my face. Focus, Sam. Focus on… anything else.

  “Shadow Dancing, Samuel,” she said, her voice a low, resonant purr that somehow managed to cut through the thick air. “It is not magic. It is skill. It is control. It is the ability to become one with the darkness, to move unseen, unheard, a whisper in the night.”

  She made it sound so… easy. So… natural. For her, it probably was.

  “It is a fundamental ability for any rogue,” she continued, her golden eyes fixed on mine. “A beginner’s technique, really. Something you should have mastered weeks ago.”

  The unspoken ‘you incompetent fool’ hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

  “Show me,” she commanded.

  I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head, trying to banish the images of Rosalind’s wild abandon, of Victor’s possessive touch, of Lily’s teasing smile, of Maple’s… well, everything, of Ashara’s… you get the idea. I focused on the nearest shadow, a pool of darkness cast by one of the braziers. I moved towards it, trying to emute Ashara’s fluid grace, trying to feel the darkness, to blend with it.

  I failed. Miserably.

  I stumbled, my foot catching on a loose stone, the sound echoing through the chamber. I felt, rather than saw, Ashara’s smirk.

  “Again,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.

  I tried again. And again. And again. Each attempt was a clumsy, awkward failure. I could feel the shadows, I could see them, but I couldn’t… become them. I was still just… me. Samuel. Clumsy, distracted, and increasingly frustrated.

  Crack!

  The riding crop stung across my exposed back, a sharp, precise reminder of my inadequacy.

  “Hesitation is weakness, Samuel,” Ashara said, her voice still calm, still controlled. “A rogue unseen is a rogue untouchable. You are… very touchable right now.”

  The sting of the crop was nothing compared to the sting of her words. I gritted my teeth, trying to channel my frustration, my embarrassment, my… everything… into the task at hand.

  We continued like this for what felt like an eternity. Ashara demonstrating, her movements fluid and silent, her body practically dissolving into the shadows with each step. Me… failing. Repeatedly. Spectacurly.

  The crop became a constant companion, a stinging punctuation mark to every misstep, every hesitation, every flicker of distraction. And, gods, there were many distractions. My mind kept wandering, flitting between the faces of the women (and men) who had… occupied… my time recently. And, of course, there was Ashara herself, a constant, unavoidable presence, a walking, talking embodiment of everything I was supposed to be striving for, and everything I was currently failing to achieve.

  Finally, as dusk began to settle outside, filtering through the high, barred windows of the dungeon, Ashara stopped. She stood before me, her expression… was that disappointment? Frustration? Or… something else?

  “Enough,” she said, her voice ft. “You are… not receptive. Your mind is… elsewhere.”

  She was right, of course. I was a mess. A distracted, exhausted, horny, frustrated mess.

  She turned, her tail swishing, and walked towards a heavy wooden chest in the corner of the room. She opened it, rummaged inside, and then turned back to me, a… look… in her eyes that made my stomach clench with a mixture of fear and… anticipation?

  “Desperate times,” she said, her voice a low murmur, “call for desperate measures.”

  And then, with a swift, decisive movement, she gestured to my clothes. “Remove them.”

  I stared at her, my mouth agape. “What?”

  “You heard me, Samuel,” she said, her voice hardening. “Strip. Now.”

  My mind raced. Was this another test? Some kind of bizarre punishment? Or… something else entirely? I didn’t know. But I also knew that arguing with Ashara, especially when she had that look in her eyes, was a very, very bad idea.

  Slowly, hesitantly, I began to undress. The air in the dungeon, despite the braziers, felt suddenly cold against my skin. I felt… exposed. Vulnerable. And, undeniably, humiliated.

  Ashara watched me, her expression unreadable, her gaze… everywhere. It was a deliberate dispy of power, a reminder of who was in control. And, in that moment, standing naked before her in the dimly lit dungeon, I felt utterly, completely at her mercy.

  Ashara gestured towards the door, her expression still unreadable. “Outside, Samuel. Now.”

  My mind was a bnk. Naked? Outside? In Ashbourne? Was she insane? But arguing was pointless. I knew that. So, with a sigh of resignation – and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold – I did as I was told.

  We stepped out into the narrow alleyway behind the compound. Dusk had deepened into night, the sky a canvas of deep indigo and scattered stars. It was cold, though thankfully not as bitingly frigid as it had been earlier in the winter. Still, the air stung my exposed skin, raising gooseflesh across my body.

  “The shadows, Samuel,” Ashara said, her voice low and urgent. “Use them. Become them. Move. Silently. Unseen.”

  And then, she was gone. Vanishing into the darkness with that unnerving grace of hers, leaving me standing there, naked, alone, and utterly bewildered.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and trying to ignore the very obvious… shrinkage… that had occurred due to the cold and the sheer absurdity of the situation. I focused on the shadows, the pools of darkness that clung to the walls of the buildings, the narrow gaps between the alleyways.

  My first few attempts were… pathetic. I stumbled, I shuffled, I bumped into things. I was about as stealthy as a drunken ox. Passersby, thankfully few at this hour, gave me startled looks, some hurrying past, others stopping to gawk. I could feel my face burning with shame, my… everything… shrinking even further.

  “Move!” Ashara’s voice, disembodied and sharp, echoed from somewhere in the darkness. “Silence! Flow! Become the shadows!”

  Her words, and the implicit threat of the riding crop, spurred me on. I tried again. And again. And again. Each time, I focused on a different aspect of the technique. The way I pced my feet. The distribution of my weight. The rhythm of my breathing. The… ck of clothing fpping in the breeze.

  Slowly, gradually, something started to shift. I started to feel the shadows, to understand their flow, their depth, their… texture. I started to move with more confidence, more fluidity, my steps becoming lighter, quieter, almost… silent.

  And then, it happened.

  I was moving along a narrow alleyway, the shadows deep and clinging, when a couple emerged from a nearby doorway, ughing and talking, oblivious to my presence. I froze, expecting to be seen, to be exposed.

  But they didn’t see me.

  They walked right past, their voices fading into the night, their eyes never once registering my presence.

  I stood there, stunned, for a long moment. Then, slowly, a grin spread across my face. I’d done it. I’d actually… disappeared.

  I moved again, testing the limits of this newfound ability. I slipped from shadow to shadow, my body practically melting into the darkness, my movements silent, fluid, almost… instinctive. The cold air still stung my skin, but I barely noticed it. I was too focused, too exhirated, too… alive.

  The power… it was intoxicating. A rush of adrenaline, of pure, unadulterated freedom. I was unseen, unheard, a ghost in the night. I could go anywhere, do anything… The possibilities were… endless. And, frankly, a little terrifying.

  I took off into the night, a naked shadow flitting through the streets of Ashbourne, the frigid temperatures completely forgotten, the embarrassment of moments ago repced by a surge of pure, exhirating power. This… this was what it meant to be a rogue.

  “Took you long enough,” a voice murmured, smooth as silk and ced with mocking amusement.

  I froze, my heart leaping into my throat, and spun around, instinctively reaching for a weapon I didn’t have. Naked. Right. Forgot about that.

  Felix.

  He was standing there, leaning against a wall, shrouded in shadow, only his face visible in the dim light. He was smirking, of course, that infuriatingly superior smirk that always made me want to punch him. Or… something.

  “Felix,” I said, my voice a little breathless, a little unsteady. “What… what are you doing here?”

  He pushed himself off the wall, his movements fluid and graceful, and stepped closer, his violet eyes gleaming in the darkness. He was… too close. Close enough for me to smell his scent, that familiar mix of cedar and steel, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body.

  “Just… admiring your technique, Samuel,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Or ck thereof, until recently. Very… revealing.”

  My face burned. I was acutely aware of my nakedness, of the fact that Felix, of all people, had found me like this. Gods, this was humiliating.

  He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the way he was looking at me, like I was a… a particurly interesting specimen he’d just discovered.

  “Don’t worry, Samuel,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me. Though I must say… I’m impressed. You’ve finally learned something useful.”

  He paused, his gaze lingering on my face, then… lower. Much lower.

  “Now,” he said, his voice a silken whisper, “perhaps you can show me what else you’ve learned.”

  I braced myself for… I wasn’t sure what. Another taunt? A challenge? A… proposition? But what he did next surprised me completely.

  He started to undress.

  Not slowly, not seductively, but with a quick, efficient movement, shedding his clothes in a neat pile. In moments, he was standing before me, as naked as I was, his body lean and muscled, the shadows pying across his skin, highlighting the subtle curves and pnes.

  “What… what are you doing?” I stammered, my voice a mix of confusion and… something else. Something that felt a lot like… anticipation.

  Felix just smiled, a genuine smile this time, without the usual mocking edge. “You’ve unlocked the ability, Samuel,” he said. “But you haven’t mastered it. Let me show you.”

  And then, before I could respond, he reached out and took my hand. His grip was firm, warm, and… surprisingly reassuring.

  “Come on,” he said, a pyful glint in his eyes. “Let’s have some fun.”

  And then, he melted. Not literally, of course, but… he seemed to dissolve into the shadows, his body becoming indistinct, blurred, almost… invisible. And, because he was holding my hand, I felt myself being pulled along with him, the same sensation enveloping me, the darkness wrapping around me like a cloak.

  It was… exhirating. Terrifying. And utterly, completely amazing.

  We moved through the night, not running, not walking, but flowing, a pair of shadows flitting through the darkness, unseen, unheard, a whisper in the wind. The cold air stung my skin, but I barely noticed it. I was too focused on the sensation, on the power, on the sheer, unadulterated freedom of it all.

  This is the best feeling in the world!

  Felix led me, his hand still csped in mine, guiding me through the maze of alleys and streets, showing me the nuances of the Shadow Dance, the subtle shifts in weight, the way to use the darkness to my advantage.

  “See, Sam?” he murmured, his voice a breath of sound against my ear. “It’s not about hiding in the shadows. It’s about becoming them.”

  And, for the first time, I understood. I felt it. The connection to the darkness, the way it embraced me, concealed me, empowered me. It was… intoxicating.

  We moved like this for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, a silent, shadowy dance through the sleeping city. And then, Felix stopped, pulling me to a halt on the roof of a familiar building. The Crooked Nail.

  He gestured towards a window near us, on the second floor, a window I knew well. Maple’s window.

  “Show time,” he whispered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

  I peered through the window, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and, well, let’s be honest, curiosity. And there they were. Maple, her caramel-colored fur gleaming in sweat, and… the tiger-man. He was… impressive. Muscles rippling, stripes stark against his orange fur, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he… attended… to Maple with a thoroughness that made me blush. It even made me jealous.

  We watched for a few moments, a silent, shared moment of… observation…

  And then, before I could even process what was happening, a voice, sharp and familiar, cut through the night.

  “What, pray tell, are you two doing?”

  Ashara.

  She was standing behind us, her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance. She was, of course, fully dressed, her leather outfit gleaming in the moonlight. And she was holding her riding crop.

  Felix and I froze, our naked bodies still partially concealed by the shadows, but our… proximity… to each other, and to Maple’s window, making our intentions… abundantly clear.

  Ashara raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over us, taking in our nakedness, our shared guilt, our… everything.

  “Well?” she said, her voice dangerously soft. “Care to expin?”

  Before either of us could stammer out a response, she reached out, not with the crop, but with her hands, and grabbed both of our ears, her fingers pinching painfully.

  “I believe,” she said, her voice a low, “it’s time for you two to cool off. And perhaps… reflect on the importance of discretion.”

  And with that, she started to pull, dragging us away from the window, away from the Crooked Nail. Leaving us with nothing but the cold night air, the lingering memory of our shared adventure, and the very distinct impression that we were both in very, very deep shit.

  AnnouncementComments? 2 chapters left in this lil novel, then the next one begins. I don't even know if anyone is reading this. Anyone wanna comment?

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