Zara’s POV

  The room was silent except for the uneven breaths of the boy curled up in the corner. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, his knees pulled to his chest like he was trying to make himself smaller. Even from where I stood, I could see the faint glow of his veins, pulsing red beneath his skin. Blood magic.

  I took a slow step forward, but Kage extended an arm, holding me back. His posture was careful, steady—he wasn’t just approaching, he was making sure he wasn’t seen as a threat.

  “Hey, kid,” Kage said, his voice low, calm. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I know it was an accident.”

  The boy flinched, his fingers curling tighter against his arms. He shook his head frantically, his body trembling. “No. No, I—I didn’t mean—” His voice cracked, and he pressed himself further into the shadows.

  “I believe you,” Kage said firmly, taking a slow step forward. “But I need you to talk to me. We’re not here to hurt you.”

  I watched as the boy’s eyes darted between us, wide and terrified. He kept his hands tucked against his sides, his breathing uneven. He didn’t want to be near us.

  “Don’t—” he choked out. “Don’t get close.”

  His hands twitched like he was afraid of his own touch.

  Kage stayed where he was, lowering his voice. “It’s alright. You’re not alone in this. We just want to help.”

  The boy’s breath hitched, but he still didn’t move, his eyes locked onto Kage’s. I could feel the tension in the air, the way the magic clung to the room, restless and uncertain.

  Kage crouched slightly, making himself seem smaller, less intimidating. “Can you tell me your name?”

  The boy hesitated. I saw the way his fingers dug into his arms, how he fought against whatever instinct was screaming at him to run.

  Finally, in a whisper so quiet I barely heard it, he said, “Malrick.”

  Kage nodded slowly, like he was letting the name settle between them. “Alright, Malrick. I’m Kage. This is Zara. We’re here to help.”

  Malrick’s eyes flickered toward me for only a moment before dropping again. He still didn’t move.

  “But we need you to trust us,” Kage continued. “No one else knows the truth but you. And if we’re going to help, we need you to talk to us.”

  Malrick swallowed hard, his body still rigid with fear, but he didn’t pull away.

  It wasn’t trust yet—but it wasn’t outright refusal, either.

  It was a start.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but the words caught in my throat. The glowing veins, the way his magic clung to the air, the unnatural pull of his presence—I knew what this was.

  Realization crashed over me like a wave, my breath hitching. I had studied magic my entire life. I had seen nearly every form of it. But this? This was something I had only ever heard whispers of.

  I took a slow step forward, eyes widening as I whispered, “He’s Bloodborn.”

  Malrick stiffened at the words, his breath coming faster, like he expected me to say something cruel next. Instead, I crouched down, keeping my voice light. “Can I call you Mal? Or Rick?”

  He blinked at me, confused, his lips pressing into a tight line.

  “Ricky,” I decided with a small nod. “That suits you.”

  Malrick’s brow furrowed, like he couldn’t quite figure out what I was doing, but at least he wasn’t shrinking further away.

  “I know what kind of magic you have,” I continued, keeping my voice calm, warm. “It’s incredibly rare. I’ve spent my whole life studying magic, and even I’ve only read about it a handful of times. I’m a necromancer, so I understand what it’s like to have magic that people fear. Magic that people don’t understand.”

  His fingers twitched against his sleeves, but he didn’t speak.

  “I know some things about Bloodborn magic,” I went on gently. “But not a lot. It’s not well documented, and most of what I know is theory. But I do know it’s tied to life itself—blood isn’t just blood to you, is it? It’s power. It’s… energy. You can feel it, right? The way it moves through people?”

  His breath hitched, and for the first time, he lifted his head slightly. “Y-you… you really know that?”

  I smiled, relieved that he was at least listening. “I do. But I want to know more. I want to hear it from you. Can you tell me how your magic works?”

  Malrick looked at me, then at Kage, like he was weighing whether or not he could believe us. His fingers clenched, then slowly, hesitantly, he whispered, “I don’t mean to do it. I just… I feel it all the time. The blood. It calls to me. And when I touch people… I take too much. I can’t stop it.”

  His voice cracked, and he looked away, shame written across his face.

  Kage exchanged a glance with me, and I nodded slightly. He was opening up. This was progress.

  I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before turning to Kage. “Bloodborn magic is even rarer than necromancy,” I said, my voice quieter, more serious now. “I’ve read about it, but there’s barely any recorded knowledge on how it actually works.”

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  Kage frowned, his gaze shifting between me and Malrick. “So what makes it different?”

  I turned back to Malrick, who was watching me with wide, wary eyes. “Bloodborns don’t just manipulate blood,” I explained. “They manipulate life itself. Blood isn’t just a physical substance to them—it’s a conduit, a source of energy.”

  Kage exhaled sharply. “That’s why the victim’s soul tethers were stretched instead of severed.”

  I nodded. “Malrick doesn’t just drain blood or energy. He’s pulling at the soul itself, whether he means to or not. That’s why the body we found was so strange—his magic didn’t just take life, it disrupted the connection between body and soul. That’s why I could still sense those tethers stretching instead of breaking.”

  Malrick’s breath hitched, and he looked down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know…”

  “I know,” I said gently. “And this is why you can’t control it. You were never taught, because no one knows how to teach it.”

  I hesitated before adding, “Can you see them, Ricky? The tethers?”

  Malrick’s eyes darted up at me, his expression unreadable before he quickly looked away. “I… I don’t know. I see things sometimes. Red threads, pulsing, moving inside people… but I don’t know what they are.”

  My heart pounded. He could see them. That meant he wasn’t just pulling at life—he was perceiving it in ways that most Bloodborns probably never realized.

  “Those are soul tethers,” I explained gently. “Every living person has them, connecting their body to their soul. When someone dies, those tethers usually sever or fade. But with your magic… you don’t just take blood, Ricky. You pull at those tethers too.”

  He stiffened, his arms wrapping around himself. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know, Ricky,” I reassured him. “That’s why we were able to find you. The man’s soul tethers—some of them broke completely, but others? They didn’t disappear. They stretched. And I followed them here.”

  Malrick swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “I can feel it. Even now. Like… like something’s still reaching for me.”

  I exchanged a quick glance with Kage before kneeling beside him. “Then maybe we can use that to fix this. With your help, Ricky… I believe I can bring the man back to life.”

  Kage’s POV

  Kneeling beside Malrick, Zara spoke in a voice softer than I’d ever heard her use. She wasn’t just explaining—she was guiding, offering him a way to understand something no one had ever told him before.

  I had seen her in the classroom, teaching students about necromancy and magical theory with sharp intellect and unwavering confidence. But this was different. This wasn’t a lesson. This was instinct. Something natural, something protective.

  Something motherly.

  Malrick was stiff, his body curled inward, but I didn’t miss the way his face shifted when Zara told him she could bring the man back. It was small—a flicker of surprise, a flash of something else—longing.

  For someone who had only known fear, for someone who had spent his life believing he could only take, the idea that something could be undone? That must have been impossible to him.

  I exhaled slowly, crouching lower so I was at his level. “You think you’re the only one who knows what it’s like? To be feared for something you didn’t ask for?”

  Malrick’s gaze darted toward me, his expression guarded.

  I lifted a hand, letting my magic unfurl in slow, curling tendrils. Shadows rippled around me, coiling like living things, darkening the dim light in the abandoned space. “People have been afraid of me my whole life. Doesn’t matter what I do, how I use my magic—they only see the danger.”

  Malrick swallowed hard, his fingers twitching as he stared at the shadows shifting around my hand. “And you… you control it? You don’t—” His voice faltered. “You don’t lose control?”

  I let the darkness recede, my voice steady. “I didn’t always.”

  He looked down, his jaw tight. “I don’t want to hurt people. I just—” He clenched his fists. “I don’t know how to stop.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” I said. “You think I never wanted to undo the things I did when I lost control? You think Zara doesn’t understand what it’s like to have a magic that makes people afraid?”

  His eyes flicked back to Zara. “You really think you can bring him back?”

  Zara nodded without hesitation. “With your help, Ricky, I do.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. I could see the battle in his eyes—the fear, the doubt, the desperate need for something other than this.

  I offered him my hand. “Come with us. No matter how scared people are of you, I know you don’t want this. You don’t want to be a monster. And Zara is offering you a way to undo a mistake. That’s something neither of us ever got when we were younger.”

  Malrick hesitated, his whole body tense. His hand twitched toward mine, but at the last second, he yanked it back, curling his fingers into fists. He shook his head, his breathing ragged.

  “I—I can’t touch you. That’s how it happened. That’s how I hurt him.”

  His voice cracked, and I saw the fear in his eyes—the kind that came from knowing your own body was a weapon you couldn’t control.

  Zara’s voice was soft but steady. “Tell us what happened, Ricky.”

  He swallowed hard, glancing at the floor. “I needed more food. I only go out at night when no one’s around. I didn’t see him coming—he came around the corner too fast, and we… we bumped shoulders. That’s all it took.”

  He squeezed his hands tighter, his whole frame trembling. “And then he just… started to collapse. I could feel it happening, but I couldn’t stop it. I tried—I really tried—but I always take too much.”

  He looked up at me, shame written across his face. “I don’t want to do it again. I can’t.”

  I looked down at Zara, fear tightening in my chest—not fear of him, but for him. He was so afraid of his magic, so afraid of himself, that he wouldn’t even let himself touch another person.

  Zara’s expression softened as she crouched again, her voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it. “Ricky, look at me.”

  Malrick’s breath hitched, but he obeyed, lifting his gaze reluctantly to hers.

  “Look closely,” Zara instructed. “Tell me if you can see my soul tethers.”

  He blinked in confusion but hesitated only a moment before his crimson-lit veins flickered, scanning her with something deeper than sight. “You have so many,” he whispered. “More than I’ve ever seen.”

  Zara smiled, nodding. “Yes. And do you see how some of mine are connected to the earth, to the air around me?”

  Malrick’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked past her, searching the invisible connections between her and the world itself. Slowly, he nodded.

  Watching them talk about something I couldn’t even see was unnerving, but I knew it mattered. Zara was speaking in a language only he could understand, and I was grateful for it.

  Then Zara glanced at me briefly, something flickering in her expression before she turned back to Malrick. “My tethers are different than everyone else’s because of my magic. My soul isn’t just connected to my body—I’m connected to the earth, to death itself.”

  The weight of that statement settled hard in my chest, but I kept my face neutral. This wasn’t about me.

  Zara reached out a hand, palm up, toward Malrick. “Ricky, your magic can’t break my soul tethers. Nothing can.”

  Malrick stared at her outstretched hand, his breathing uneven. His fingers twitched at his sides, torn between instinct and hesitation. I could see the battle in his mind—the deep-seated fear that touching her would unravel everything. But then, slowly, cautiously, he reached out.

  His fingertips brushed against Zara’s palm, and when nothing happened—no draining, no collapsing, no pain—a shuddering breath escaped him. His face twisted, relief flooding through his features so intensely that for a moment, he looked like he might cry.

  “I… I didn’t hurt you,” he whispered, almost in disbelief.

  Zara smiled softly, curling her fingers around his hand. “No, you didn’t.”

  Before he could retreat again, she moved, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Malrick stiffened at first, completely frozen, his breath hitching in his throat.

  Then, like something inside him cracked open, he let out a shaky sob and collapsed against her. His shoulders trembled, his hands gripping the fabric of her coat as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

  Zara held him tighter, rubbing slow circles on his back. “You’re not alone anymore, Ricky,” she murmured. “We’ve got you.”