Many Years Ago (Part 1.1)ARAHEENShe had not intended to stop before the cell, yet her feet slowed of their own accord. Before she could command them otherwise, her gaze had already settled upon the prisoners. She wasn’t entirely certain what had drawn her. Pity was forbidden. Perhaps it was curiosity. After all, she had never ventured this far into the Crescent Tower before. Not even as a child, when she had used to sneak in, longing to see a living, breathing salamander up close—rather than just the figures from stories or the illustrations in her books.The tower reserved this depth for salamanders considered to be the highest threat. Her entry here had been a hard-earned privilege, granted after she had passed the trials to become part of the sylph army—both as a sigilmaker and a warrior.Today, her father had finally allowed her to join his inquisition work, though he had given her no clue as to what awaited.“Araheen!” her father called.She turned swiftly, catching a fleeting s
Many Years Ago (Part 1.2)ARAHEENShe exhaled a quiet, controlled breath. She suppressed any hint of troubled reaction even as Theobald sidled up to her, blocking her path—far too close for comfort. His gaze met hers, with the faintest trace of arrogance on his lips. The thought of striking his disdainful face crossed her mind. It was a temptation she had long harbored since the day her father brought home his second wife and her two insufferable children.But she was no longer the naïve, defiant girl she had once been. After everything she had endured to regain her father’s favor and elevate her status in society, she could not afford to be seen as a Fractured Sylph anymore.“Let me pass,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. Theobald lingered for a moment, as though testing her patience. When she did not waver, he at last stepped aside, offering a subtle gesture of his hand as though to grant her passage.“You can’t fool me, dear step-sister,” he whispered, falling into step behind h
Many Years Ago (Part 2.1)ARAHEENThe Dragon.Years ago, stories of a winged creature flying through the night sky spread like wildfire. Their people said the salamanders had unleashed it as a weapon, striking down garrisons and supply ships once thought to be impenetrable. Yet no survivors emerged from those attacks to confirm its existence, so their people had conveniently dismissed it as a myth.Until recently.In the past couple of years, a few sylphs had managed to survive a garrison attack—though barely—to recount their encounters. They spoke of a salamander with the power to shift into a colossal beast, its wings vast and its scales as hard as steel. Unfortunately, they had died before offering more details.The stories had consumed her father ever since. To him, the Dragon was the greatest threat the sylphs had ever faced. He was determined to find it, capture it, kill it—whatever it took.
Many Years Ago (Part 2.2)ARAHEENHer father laughed, a slow, measured sound. “Did I not swear that I would find what would wound you most grievously?” He gestured toward the guard. “You do not wish for your precious sister to endure such torment, do you?”“Aktaeon!” Nalini cried out.“She had no part in this,” Aktaeon said, blood and spit flying from his mouth, his muscles taut. “She has never even slain a sylph in her life!”The guard lifted Nalini and slammed her onto the rack without a hint of care, while another stepped forward to fasten her wrists and ankles. The female salamander’s heartbeat raced with fear.“Then do her this favor,” her father said, his tone almost leisurely, “and reveal to me everything I seek to know about the Dragon.”Nalini turned her head toward her brother. “We swore, Aktaeon,” she said. “Don’t tell them.”“Ah, another defiant one,” her father remarked, t
PresentARAHThe fog swallowed her surroundings, wrapping her in the past once more. Slowly, it began to recede, peeling back the memory like layers of mist until the present bled through. Her breath caught as reality snapped back into place—tears welled in her eyes, her mind spinning with chaotic fragments.Blinking rapidly, her vision sharpened. A man was kneeling before her, his back to her, head yanked back. His hair was tightly tangled in her fingers. She gasped, her body tense, unable to process how she had gotten here or how this moment had taken over.What the hell was happening?Her other hand clenched something sharp. The handle, wrapped in cloth, was soaked through and stained red. It was a jagged blade made of either metal or glass. The edges were biting into her palm as she pressed it against something soft. Something pulsing.A wave of cold shock crashed over her, pulling her completely out of the haze. She was cutting the man’s throat—just as she had done with Nalini in
ARAHShe must’ve lost track of time again because the next thing she knew, she was back at the witches’ base, with Vienna helping her onto the couch. Voices and movement blurred around her—Drusden giving orders, the cloaked witch speaking through the guard’s voice. Lokius dabbed her face with a wet towel, and the beer guy pressed a glass of water into her hand.Alaunus appeared last, arms full of supplies for healing and who knew what else. Part of her remembered he was the reason she’d tried to leave in the first place, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. His pale blue eyes held concern—whether it was genuine or not, she couldn’t tell. She let him inspect her, barely registering the cut in her palm until she felt the familiar hum of energy from his fingertips.Vienna sat beside her, murmuring softly as she worked through the tangles in her curls, cleaning the blood from it. The others moved and talked around Arah. She could hear them, but the words didn’t seem to reach
ARAHShe kicked her legs off the couch and sprang to her feet, every nerve in her body on high alert. The lights in the whole block flickered on—whether by magic or not, she couldn’t tell.Drusden’s face tightened, his cigarette frozen halfway to his mouth. His brown eyes flashed with a brief glint of surprise, though something in his expression suggested he’d somehow expected this.“Is it the enemy coven?” she asked, tension crawling up her spine. Did they know she was here? Were they going to attack the prison?Closing her eyes, she exhaled sharply, clenching her hands. A part of her wanted to laugh in disbelief. After everything—the vampire encounter, Alaunus, the fog, reliving that tragic memory, remembering what she really was, and the bloodbath she’d caused...Now came the enemy witches. It felt like a cruel joke that her night wasn’t over yet. Her head throbbed, sharp pain stabbing behind her eyes. Why couldn’t she catch a break?The doors upstairs slammed open. She glanced up
ARAHShe burst out of the back hallway, sensing the danger in the air. She froze in place, her eyes darting toward the plume of smoke curling up from the distant horizon. Fire crackled, likely coming from the direction of the main gate and watchtowers. Had the enemy blown them up with magic?Her stomach twisted at the sound of sizzling flesh and faint, agonizing screams. Someone was dying slowly over there. The guards—it had to be them. She clutched her chest, horrified at the thought of those innocent people burning alive. Why them? They were just doing their jobs. They didn’t deserve to die like that.‘We won't have to worry as much about collateral damage...’ Vienna’s words from earlier echoed in her mind. Arah hated the very idea of it. Unless those people were deliberately causing harm to others, they shouldn’t be caught in the line of fire for someone else’s fight.“The enemies did all that?” she muttered under her breath, wondering how powerful they were.“Actually, they’ve bro
ARAHFear coiled around her ribs like a vice.“I-it’s me,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.Gildeon didn’t flinch. His lips remained curled back, exposing sharp teeth. His expression was predatory, enraged. In his eyes, she was someone else—an enemy.What had Drusden done to him?She tried to choke out his name again, but her throat tightened, the pressure crushing her windpipe. Her pulse pounded—a frantic drumbeat against his grip. The steam curling from his scaled body rolled over her in suffocating, blistering waves.How the hell was she supposed to stop this?Through tear-blurred eyes, Arah caught a flicker of movement—an outline shifting, pulsing like a mirage behind Gildeon. Her eyes widened as she remembered her creature-helper.Gildeon hissed, his body tensing as his free hand shot back, claws poised to seize whatever had latched onto him. The creature clung to his neck, jaws clenched, its form flickering in and out of focus.The grip around Arah’s throat sl
ARAHDays passed. Drusden had recovered, but he remained at Roselia’s farmhouse.Roselia taught him about the old world and the ways of hedge witches. Drusden then hunted the dark witch responsible for the devastation—and eventually killed him.Together, they worked to cleanse the village of its plague and heal the people.Arah witnessed something shift between Roselia and Drusden. It was likely during this time that they began developing feelings for each other.Drusden also bonded with young Alaunus, though their connection was anything but paternal. He spoke to Alaunus about mankind’s corruption and the rewards of embracing a higher power as a witch.Roselia noticed it too, and Arah was sure it bothered her.Then came the day Drusden told Roselia everything—about Zephyr, about the vision of an army—an elite force of witches transformed into higher mortals meant to help Zephyr rule over Earthland.Arah wouldn’t have been surprised if Roselia had kept this knowledge even from Gildeon
ARAHTo say this was a massive shock would be an understatement. The idea of a lower mortal becoming a higher mortal was probably the last thing she had ever expected to hear.How could that even be possible? Flying to Shamibar in Zylas’s dragon form was already mind-blowing. But the idea of altering the very nature of a mortal by merely passing through the Mad End’s Wall? That was a whole different realm of insanity.No matter how she tried to make sense of it, the logic eluded her. Unless Zephyr was lying to Drusden. Maybe the sylph simply said whatever he needed to get what he wanted.“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she whispered.In the next memory, Zephyr was gone. Arah barely had time to take in her surroundings before Drusden crumpled to the ground. Blood seeped from his ear as he fought to stay conscious.The stench hit her—a suffocating, sickly blend of rotting meat, unwashed bodies, and the sharp tang of smoke. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat
ARAHThe next memory swept her onto the battlements, where she had a clear view of the invasion unfolding below. This was a different place, a different time. A different nation. The people spoke in foreign tongues.Men in ragged clothing, their faces twisted with barbaric fury, slaughtered civilians with swords and axes. Limbs were severed, bodies crumpled in pools of blood. Women screamed as they were dragged away—some ruthlessly stripped of their clothes, preyed upon by these animals. Children’s throats were slit without hesitation.Arah grimaced in horror at every atrocity, her stomach churning. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget—to block out the carnage. But every anguished scream, every whispered prayer of the helpless, cut through her like a blade, carving into her heart and twisting her gut.Zephyr’s voice interrupted her thoughts.“Look at them,” he said to Drusden as he stood on the parapet ledge, gazing down at the massacre below. “Look at how your kind d
ARAHZephyr brought Drusden to Yonah’s temple. And as she had with Marianne, Arah watched Drusden enter the Dark Plane with Zephyr’s help. It took longer this time, and at one point, she thought Drusden would die right there on his knees.When Drusden snapped back to consciousness, his palms slapped against the stone floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat beading on his forehead. His skin was ghostly pale, his wide eyes unfocused—like a man who had stared into the abyss and seen something stare back.“What have you sacrificed, human?” Zephyr asked, crouching before him.Drusden slowly lifted his head, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. “My spirit will live on even after death,” he said softly. “I will never be able to reunite with my family.”Arah couldn’t begin to imagine the misery Drusden would endure for the price he paid.A small smile appeared on Zephyr’s lips. “For that sacrifice, the power you obtained must be great. Show me.”Without a word, Drusden exhaled, and a bi
ARAHAnother death was reported—a woman who sold milk and eggs, saving every coin to buy medicine for her bedridden father.Arah watched as Drusden slammed his fists onto the desk, sending a quill and inkpot rattling, scrolls tumbling to the floor. His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring as he ducked his head, a muscle ticking in his temple. Even his men, though silent, shared his frustration.She still didn’t know how the deaths were connected to the ministers, but she believed in Drusden’s suspicions. This whole thing reeked of injustice. And more than anything, she wanted to see what he would do about it.The next day, Drusden and his men arrived at one of the ministers’ workshops. The place reeked of ink and damp parchment—likely the very goods being produced here.“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Inspector,” one of the workshop guards stammered, his face pale. “The ministers won’t take kindly to this.”Drusden barely spared him a glance. “I’m not here for their kindness, boy,” he said sharp
ARAHDrusden looked almost the same as he did in the present—just younger. His brown hair was longer, and his face was more open, easier to read. There was no trace of his usual smugness. Instead, he was serious. Dutiful. His tone lacked the usual edge of playfulness she had grown so used to.How could he be the same Drusden, yet different at the same time? Maybe witch power really could change people after all.She followed Drusden through the streets until he stopped in front of a small house. Sympathy softened his features as he spoke to the victim’s wife. Inside, four children sat around a table—faces thin, clothes worn—with nothing but bowls of plain porridge in front of them.Arah felt a tug in her chest. It was obvious they weren’t eating enough. And now, with their provider gone, how would they survive?“I am deeply sorry,” Drusden said.The woman broke down, shoulders trembling as she wept.Drusden’s gaze flickered to the children, their wide eyes full of questions they were
ARAHIt was up to her to pull him out of it.The weight of that realization pressed down on Arah like a boulder. She was determined—of course, she was—but how was she supposed to do it? The thought of failing, of not being enough to help Gildeon, curled around her ribs like a vice.She shook her head, shoving the doubt aside. This wasn’t the time for uncertainty. Gildeon needed her, and that was all that mattered.She sprinted down the prison hallway, dodging jagged chunks of fallen stone and splintered beams. Behind her, the sounds of battle raged—Roselia and Lokius locked in a deadly clash.Then, a sharp cry of pain.Roselia.Arah faltered, her body twisting instinctively toward the sound. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn back, to help. But she knew Roselia wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t forgive Arah for wasting time—not when Gildeon’s life hung in the balance.Gritting her teeth, Arah forced her feet forward.Outside, the fog wall loomed before her—a towering, imp
GILDEONIn a blink, he was back in Drusden’s throne room. He dropped to his knees, palms flat on the cold floor, breath ragged. He hadn’t even realized he’d shifted back to his mortal form. His chest tightened, a storm of emotions threatening to tear free.His mysterious birth mother. His father’s death…He slammed his palms against the floor, frustration boiling over. Haemos and Kohina knew who he really was. Why the fuck had they kept it from him?Footsteps. Brown boots halted in front of him—Drusden’s. The Headwitch crouched, head tilted.“If you need a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available, salamander,” Drusden mocked.Gildeon’s glare burned as he met the bastard’s smug face.“Not gonna lie. Your father’s memory might be my favorite one I’ve delved into.” Drusden paced, dragging from his cigarette. “Learned a lot about your kind. Shame we never got the real answer about your mother.”He stopped, gaze lifting to Dragon Zylas as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “I really thought I’