Zara’s POV

  My bright green eyes glowed faintly in the dim light of the morgue, casting an eerie reflection on the cold, metal table. The unsettling shade had always set me apart, marking me as something unnatural—a necromancer, a reminder of death itself.

  I reached up, pushing loose strands of silver-white hair behind my ear. It shimmered like frost under the harsh lighting, an unnatural contrast against my ashen skin. Even in the chill of the morgue, I didn’t shiver. The cold had long since become my companion.

  I adjusted the high collar of my black coat, the fabric stiff but familiar. Dark colors suited me. They absorbed the light, making my eyes burn all the brighter. A necessary warning.

  The sight was unsettling to most, but I had long grown used to it. I often felt like a ghost haunting my own workspace. Death clung to me like a second skin, its scent ever-present no matter how much peppermint oil I used to mask it. The morgue was quiet, sterile, and cold, but to me, it was home.

  Tonight, I had been called in for a special case—a man who had died under mysterious circumstances. He had been found in an alley, slashed to pieces, and his face was twisted in terror. The police suspected magical foul play, which meant they needed me to pull his soul back for questioning.

  With practiced ease, I brushed my fingers against the forehead of the recently deceased, activating the tether that bound the spirit to the body. My breath slowed as I murmured the man’s name, feeling the air shimmer as the soul responded to my call.

  The air in the morgue grew heavy, the fluorescent lights flickering as the spirit began to form. Wisps of translucent energy coalesced above the body, shifting into the outline of the man he once was. His eyes were wide, frozen in the terror of his last moments.

  “Who did this to you?” I asked softly, my voice a blend of gentle coaxing and steely resolve.

  A wave of fragmented memories hit me all at once. Darkness, a suffocating presence, a whisper at the edge of hearing—then pain. His fear became mine, the sensation of something unseen tightening around his throat, draining the very essence from his being. My body trembled as the memory overtook me, my vision swimming with his last moments. I experienced every death I encountered, and this was no different. Pain was always part of my work.

  The spirit flickered, struggling to remain anchored. He wanted to speak, but whatever had killed him had left his soul fragmented, unstable. My grip on his tether wavered, and I gritted my teeth, trying to hold him steady.

  “Focus,” I whispered. “Give me something, anything.”

  A single image flashed through my mind—a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him from the darkness. Then, the tether snapped, and the spirit dissipated into nothingness. My body sagged forward, the effort of holding him draining what little energy I had left.

  I exhaled sharply and removed my gloves, rubbing my temples. That had been useless. All I had for the police were a pair of bright blue eyes. I needed more, so I turned to the body itself.

  I adjusted the overhead light and began my physical examination. There were no external wounds, no signs of poisoning, no ligature marks—nothing that suggested an obvious cause of death. But as I pulled back the man’s sleeve, I froze. There, etched into his forearm, was an unmistakable mark—one that only a magical would have.

  It was subtle, a small silver crest embedded in his skin, the universal sign of an elemental wielder. This man had been magical.

  I stared at it for a long moment, my mind racing. The police had brought him in without knowing what he was. That meant his killer might not have known either… or they had known exactly what they were doing.

  Upstairs, the hospital buzzed with life. While I worked among the dead, Naja worked tirelessly among the living. Her ghostly silver hands moved deftly over a patient’s wound, the soft glow spilling up to her wrists, a beacon of life where mine only dealt in death.

  She stood out against the stark white of her healer’s robes—deep brown skin radiant under the harsh hospital lights, her soft curls framing a face that was all warmth and quiet strength. Where I was sharp edges and shadows, Naja was light—calm, steady, impossible to shake. She had always been my opposite, and yet, she was the only one who had never looked at me with fear.

  Most people feared magicals, even here in the city of Slyrest, where our kind was more common. But Naja was different. People didn’t shrink away from her silver hands the way they did my glowing green eyes. They reached for her, trusted her, desperate for the comfort her magic brought.

  I had met Naja years ago when she first arrived at the hospital, fresh-faced and eager to prove herself. Unlike many, she had not flinched at the sight of me, had not recoiled at the unnatural glow of my eyes. She smiled and introduced herself, offering her friendship freely. It was the first real friendship I had ever known.

  Most people feared magicals, even in a city where magic was more concentrated than anywhere else in the world. But Naja was different. Her magic was purely healing, incapable of harm. People loved her. I, on the other hand, was both revered and feared. I could bring back the dead, but that ability unsettled people. It was unnatural, they said. Wrong. Even those who sought my help never met my gaze for too long.

  Needing to retrieve a body for the morgue, I made my way upstairs. The hospital floor was still alive with movement, but my attention was drawn to a quiet scene by the waiting area. Naja stood beside a grieving family, her silver hands glowing faintly as she spoke soothing words. She had been able to heal everyone injured in the accident—everyone but the woman whose body I had come to take. The family clung to each other, their tears softened by Naja’s presence. She was comfort, hope in human form, and I envied the way people leaned into her kindness without hesitation.

  No one ever interacted with me like that. Except Naja.

  As I finished my work in the morgue, I felt a strange restlessness settle over me. It was late, and I knew I should go home, but something kept me lingering. Finally, I shook it off and stepped out into the cool night air, adjusting my long coat against the chill. The streets were quieter at this hour, the usual crowds thinned to only a few scattered figures hurrying home.

  As I turned down a narrow alley, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. A man was running—no, fleeing. He darted around the corner and nearly collided with me. Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and pulled me around the corner, and the world around me vanished into blackness.

  For a breathless moment, there was nothing but shadows—thick, suffocating, alive. The cold wrapped around me, not like air, but like something tangible. Then, just as suddenly, the darkness peeled away, spilling us back into the dim glow of the streetlights.

  I spun toward him, pulse hammering, my magic already rising to the surface in defense. He was tall, dark as the void he had pulled me into, his skin nearly blending into the night itself. Black, curved horns rose from his forehead, gleaming under the flickering lamplight. His eyes—obsidian, cold and unreadable—fixed on me, studying, calculating. Shadows curled at his feet, shifting unnaturally, as if they weren’t just part of the night but an extension of him.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, voice low and even, like he wasn’t remotely concerned about the men who had been chasing him moments ago. “I’m Kage. Police.”

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  I stared at him, my breath still unsteady. “Zara,” I finally managed.

  His gaze flickered briefly to my own, taking in the unnatural green glow of my eyes before giving a small nod. “You’re a magical.”

  “Necromancer,” I clarified, crossing my arms. “And you?”

  Kage’s lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Shadow magic.” At his feet, the darkness seemed to pulse in response. “Can I walk you home? There may be more of them.”

  “Who were they?” I asked, not moving just yet. “The men chasing you?”

  He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before shaking his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  I took a step back, my fingers curling instinctively at my sides. “You don’t drag someone into a shadow dimension—”

  “It wasn’t a dimension,” he interrupted smoothly. “Just a trick of my magic.”

  I ignored the correction. “—without explaining why.”

  His jaw tightened slightly before he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. “If they were after you, I’d tell you. But they weren’t, they were after me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He wasn’t lying, but he also wasn’t telling me everything.

  Kage nodded toward the street. “Still, you shouldn’t be out here alone. I’ll walk you home.”

  I hesitated, my instincts warring with my logic. He had saved me from… whatever had just happened. And despite the eerie way his shadows lingered, he had done nothing threatening toward me. Yet. Besides, something about the quiet steadiness in his voice—controlled, unreadable, unwavering—made me believe he wouldn’t hurt me.

  I sighed. “Fine. I live across the river. Follow me.”

  The night air was crisp, the cobblestone streets slick from an earlier rain. Gas lamps flickered, casting pools of golden light across the stone paths, stretching shadows along the narrow alleys. The scent of damp earth and distant firewood curled in the air.

  I walked in silence beside Kage, still reeling from what had just happened. He had pulled me into the darkness—literally—dragging me away from the path of the men chasing him. And now, we were walking as if nothing had happened.

  “So,” I started, crossing my arms. “Do you make a habit of pulling strangers into the shadows, or am I just lucky?”

  Kage let out a breath—something between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Wrong place, wrong time.” His steps were calm, controlled, but I could see the tension still lingering in his shoulders. “I didn’t want anyone else caught up in it.”

  “Who were they?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.

  “People who don’t take kindly to being lied to.”

  I frowned. “That’s vague.”

  “It’s meant to be,” he said simply.

  I huffed, irritation flaring. “You expect me to just accept that?”

  “I expect you to be smart enough not to go looking for trouble.”

  “You literally dragged me into it!” I shot back, stopping in my tracks.

  Kage finally turned to face me fully, the lamplight catching the sharp angles of his face. His onyx-black eyes were steady, but there was something unreadable beneath them.

  “They figured out I was an undercover officer,” he admitted after a pause. “They wanted me dead. You were in my path, so I made sure they didn’t get to you, too.”

  I blinked. That… was not what I expected.

  “So who exactly were they?” I asked again, my voice softer now.

  Kage exhaled slowly. “A group we’ve been monitoring. Smuggling, illegal enchantments, trafficking—dangerous people. The department needed someone who could disappear. Someone they wouldn’t expect to be watching.”

  His shadow twitched at his feet, moving independently for a brief moment before stilling again.

  I hesitated. “So they found out what you were doing.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And they don’t like being watched. Or fooled.”

  I studied him. The way he held himself—controlled, coiled, ready—he wasn’t afraid. But he was calculating. He had been trained for this.

  “And what exactly were you watching them for?” I asked.

  “Not something you need to worry about,” Kage said. “You’re already tangled up in too many police investigations as it is.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds an awful lot like you know who I am.”

  Kage smirked. “Everyone in this city knows who you are, Zara. There aren’t exactly many necromancers walking around.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Magical abilities were rare—one in five thousand, roughly. And necromancy? It had been centuries since anyone like me had walked the streets of Slyrest. People knew my name. But they didn’t know what I did with my magic.

  “Then you know I can take care of myself,” I said.

  Kage hummed, a noncommittal sound. “I know you can handle the dead.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes dark and steady. “Not sure how well you handle the living.”

  My fingers twitched at my sides. “Fair point.”

  “I’ve seen your work. I just figured they’d want to keep your involvement quiet.”

  I glanced at him. “And why would they?”

  “Because people already fear what they don’t understand. Imagine what they’d think if they knew the necromancer in the morgue was the one solving murders.”

  I frowned, but he wasn’t wrong. Most people in the city accepted magic, but necromancy was something else entirely. Magic was meant to heal, to grow, to create. I dealt with the dead.

  “You didn’t grow up here, did you?” I asked after a beat.

  “What gave it away?”

  “The way you talk about magic,” I said.

  Kage hummed in acknowledgment. “No. I grew up in a small town. Only magical there.”

  I glanced at him. “No one else?”

  “Not a single one.” His voice was steady, but there was something distant in it.

  “That must have been hard,” I said quietly.

  He nodded in agreement, but then a thought occurred to me. “Who trained you?”

  He shrugged, but the motion was stiff. “I figured things out on my own.”

  I let out a breath. “You shouldn’t have had to.” Every magical was supposed to receive training. It was law. Not because the world was kind, but because it was practical—an untrained magical was dangerous, even to themselves.

  Kage let out a short, humorless laugh. “Tell that to the people in my town. No one knew what to do with me. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was capable of until I nearly—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening.

  I studied him in the dim glow of the lanterns. He was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly.

  He exhaled sharply. “It started small. The shadows moved when I didn’t want them to. They stretched too far, clung too tightly. I thought it was normal—just a quirk of the dark.” He hesitated. “Until they stopped letting go.”

  A chill ran through me. “You mean—”

  “I mean I almost killed someone,” he said flatly. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “A boy in my village picked a fight with me when we were kids. I don’t even remember what it was about, but I got mad. And my magic—” He inhaled sharply. “It wrapped around him. Dragged him down into the dark. I didn’t know how to stop it. I could hear him screaming, and I—” He shook his head. “By the time I pulled it back, he wouldn’t come near me. No one would.”

  I hesitated, then offered a wry smile. “Well, at least you didn’t accidentally raise a dead bird in front of your classmates.”

  Kage blinked, caught off guard. “You did what?”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “It was a stupid accident. Some bratty kid in my class kept picking on me, so one day, I was upset, and my magic acted on instinct. Raised a crow right in front of everyone. The thing went crazy—swooped down and attacked my bully. Feathers everywhere.”

  Kage stared at me, then—surprisingly—laughed. A real laugh, deep and warm, cutting through the cold night air.

  “That,” he said, shaking his head, “is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

  I let out a breath, something easing in my chest at the sound. It was rare to meet someone who didn’t flinch at what I was, let alone someone who could laugh with me about it, most of the time Naja couldn’t laugh with me, she didn’t understand, her magic was very different from mine and Kage’s. The moment felt lighter, a brief break from the weight of everything.

  We walked in silence for a few moments before I spoke again, my tone quieter, more thoughtful. “Slyrest University changed everything for me.”

  Kage glanced at me, listening.

  “I was sent there when I was young—before my magic could fully manifest. My father wanted me to have the best education possible, to be surrounded by others who understood magic. I don’t think I realized how lucky I was back then.”

  I could still remember those first days, walking through the grand halls of Slyrest University, surrounded by scholars and magicals of all disciplines. The city itself had always been a beacon for magical education, but Slyrest was the beating heart of it.

  “Every magical is required to go through basic training, but at Slyrest, I had the chance to study deeper—to learn how my magic worked, how to control it. Not everyone gets that chance.” I cast him a sideways glance, my voice softening. “You didn’t get that chance.”

  Kage exhaled, looking ahead. “No. I had to teach myself.”

  I nodded, understanding more than I had before. “That’s why so many magicals end up here. It’s the only place that offers specialized magical education beyond the basics.”

  Kage nodded slightly. “I enrolled in some courses when I got here about three years ago. Magical Theory, Magical Defense, Souls and Spirits…”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Wait. That’s one of the classes that I teach.”

  Kage smirked. “Yeah. Small world, huh?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” He started walking again, and after a second, I followed.

  “You’re infuriating.”

  Kage chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”

  I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Officer Kage.”

  As we reached my home, we parted ways, a strange sense of understanding settling between us. I watched Kage disappear into the night, my mind filled with thoughts of shadows, magic, and the uncertain future that lay ahead.