ARAHShe bolted back into the amusement park, shoving through the chaotic crowd. Her mind spiraled, unable to fully comprehend everything happening. What had she done to these people? Was it something from her past? Panic threatened to overtake her, but she knew she couldn't succumb to it. If she were to survive the night, she had to stay focused.Screams, frantic footsteps, and racing heartbeats filled the air, merging with her own. She couldn't tune out the noise—every shadow, every sudden movement could mean danger. She even started suspecting everyone who glanced her way. Lights flickered sporadically, mirroring her confusion.She overheard a staff member mention that the police were on their way. All she needed was a safe place to hide until then. Spotting a cap on the ground, she picked it up and tucked her blue hair under it, hoping it would help her blend in. There were no signs of the bald man or the bearded man so far, thank goodness. And the hooded stranger didn’t seem to b
ARAHShe let out a shaky breath, relieved to have finally put some distance between herself and the brutish men. But she knew it wouldn't be long before they found her again—assuming they really did have some weird way to track her. She needed a good hiding spot, and fast. The Horror Maze was still surprisingly up and running, even though there was no one else around anymore. She couldn't tell if the flickering lights were from the chaos or just part of the maze's effects.She stumbled through the hallways, feeling dizzy and out of breath until she found herself in a catacomb-like chamber. Fake skulls lined the walls, and she squeezed into a small cave-like nook. It wasn't the safest spot, but her muscles were screaming for a break. If she didn't stop and rest, she was sure she'd collapse.Her flip-flops had already given out, so she tossed them aside. Dirt, blood, and something yellow—she didn’t want to know what—smeared the teal fabric of her dress. Torn in places, it was a miracle
ARAHShe tried to pry the axe free from the bearded man's head, but her hands were slick with blood and shaking too hard to get a grip.“Go. Move. Come on,” she whispered angrily to herself, clenching her hands.She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then snapped them open, forcing her feet to move.‘You gotta survive this,’ she thought.Abandoning the axe, she rushed out of the room. She ran nonstop until she found herself in a chamber fashioned as a haunted shipwreck on a foggy, dark island. It was surrounded by a pool of water that looked to be about hip or waist-deep. The air was colder here, making her shiver. Ropes, nets, and nautical props filled the space, and mannequins dressed as zombified ship's crew members stood eerily on the deck.An idea sparked. Quickly, she climbed the wooden ladder and hopped onto the ship. Stripping off her jacket, she draped it over a mannequin and positioned it in a shadowy corner to make it look like she was crouching there. The dim lighting ca
ARAH“Take,” he rasped.“Take… me?” she blurted, gripping the mannequin tighter. “Kidnap me? Is that it?” Her eyes narrowed as it dawned on her. “Did someone hire you? My family? Gildeon’s family?”“Take.”Frustration welled in her chest. She wouldn't get any real answers from him. She shuffled her feet, moving away from the bald man who had completely stopped thrashing. But his gaze stayed locked on her, watching her every move, waiting.She sat on one of the barrels, trying to calm her chest, unable to even think about running again. She tuned in to the noise outside. People were still crying and shouting, but there were no police sirens yet. What was taking so long?Her thoughts were miles away when the sudden sound of the bald man breaking free from the net and ropes jolted her back to reality.“Kill!” he growled through the fog, rattling her. Did he mean to kill her now? What changed?No time to think. She scrambled to her feet, raising the mannequin in a defensive stance. But he
GILDEONHis fingers clenched around his phone, the continuous ringing clawing at his gut.“Damn it, Arah,” he muttered, tossing the phone onto the dashboard. The loud clack made Ghulik jump in the seat next to him.Arah going off alone to an amusement park wasn’t part of tonight’s plan. Given her stubbornness, he might have to lock her up from now on.He unfastened the top buttons of his shirt as if to help him breathe, and he reflected further on the situation. The witches wouldn’t kill Arah. Not right away, at least. They’d take her somewhere to drain her power, slowly and painfully. The thought made his knuckles turn white as he gripped the wheel tighter.The amusement park wasn’t far. Chaos greeted him: headlights cutting through the darkness, people fleeing, some on foot. Uniformed staff—at least he assumed they were—struggled to maintain order by the gates. No way he could drive through this mess. He parked by the side of the road, put on his glasses, and hopped out. He weaved th
GILDEONHe couldn’t tell if the cloaked witch was surprised to hear he knew about the coming war. No immediate response, no visible reaction. Even the teenagers remained silent and still.Gildeon put his hands behind him. He was spent—couldn't muster another lethal flame tonight. He could probably still conjure a small fire, just enough to create a distraction.As he prepared to shift a finger, the boy spoke up. “If that time comes, we need to know what you will do, salamander.”“Is this why we’re talking instead of fighting?” Gildeon asked, buying time, aiming to catch the witch off guard. He needed a way to strike without harming the teenagers. They were victims too, and he wasn’t about to use them as collateral damage. Involving innocent lower mortals would only complicate things for him.“Will you interfere?” the girl asked, her voice heavy with the gravity of the situation. Gildeon realized this wasn't a random discussion.This was a warning.“You want me to back off.” It wasn’t
ARAHShe woke to the dim glow of lights. The steady beep of machines and the distant sounds of footsteps and hushed conversations filled the thick silence. The room smelled of antiseptic and clean linen, and the air was cool against her skin. She was lying on a bed, not too soft but still comfortable, with a tube connected to her hand.Where was she? A hospital? She tried to move, but a familiar ache shot through her ribs as if she’d been kicked there. Her muscles were sore, her throat raw, and her mouth dry.She turned her head, pain flaring in her neck. Gildeon was asleep on the couch, one leg propped up on the other, his elbow on the armrest, his head resting on his fist. She noticed now that his clothes were dirty and torn, with dried blood on his sleeve and collar. It wasn’t his own, as he didn’t seem to have been hurt anywhere. Still, what had happened to him? All she remembered from their last encounter was what she had told him right before everything went black.Her chest tig
ARAH“Come on, Arah, tell us the truth.” Tonio leaned forward from the couch, his eyes more insistent than teasing. “It was you who killed those fugitives, wasn’t it?”It hadn’t been a week since the incident, and this was the first time she’d let her friends come over. They wanted details—details she couldn’t share. All they knew was that she and Gildeon had a dinner date, strolled around the amusement park afterward, and ended up separated in the chaos.“Nope. Do I look like I can take out two brutes all by myself?” Arah took a chunk of seafood lasagna Tonio had brought from his restaurant. The mouthwatering smell of cheese filled her senses.Tonio and Mabel narrowed their eyes at her, tilting their heads almost in unison. She nearly choked, trying to suppress a laugh.“There were witnesses, sis!” Mabel waved her phone. “They said it was a girl in a dress with blue hair. Kinda on the nose, don’t you think?” She pouted, scrolling through her phone again. “It sucks that no one got a d
ARAHThe talons dug into her ribs, tight enough that she could barely breathe. Every movement sent sharp jolts through her side. Above, the wind roared past—a cold, biting force that turned her breath ragged and thin. She could feel the heat of the dragon’s underbelly, a stark contrast to the freezing air, like the sun trapped in scales.The wings beat in a steady, monstrous rhythm. Each downward stroke sent a tremor through her body, making her stomach lurch. The sheer power of it swallowed everything else, drowning out even her own pounding heart.She twisted, trying to turn her head, but the grip was unyielding. “Where are you taking me?” she yelled at the beast.Dragon Zylas answered with a roar—a gut-rattling sound that made her ears ring. Around her, the fog was still thick, high up in the sky. She couldn’t see anything else. Were they still above the prison compound?She struggled against the talons again, but it was futile. Not even her tattoos could help her now. They had sun
GILDEONThe apparition stalking toward him wore Commander Haemos’s shape. The details wavered and blurred, but Gildeon could still make out the rage-twisted expression on the ghostly face. Haemos’s fog sword flashed through the mist, a broad arc aimed straight at him.Gildeon shot backward, his eyes darting to Arah. She was squaring off against a spectral enemy of her own. He already knew Drusden was using their fears and regrets against them. But who could be Arah’s demon?Gildeon tensed, ready to rush to her side, but Fog Haemos cut him off, blade slashing in a tight swing. He ducked, but not fast enough. Steel bit into his shoulder. He grunted, blood spilling onto his hide. He’d been too distracted by Arah to harden his dragon scales in time.With a snarl, he wrapped his clawed hand around the fog blade, yanking it free from his shoulder. Agony rippled through him, but he didn’t flinch. Muscles strained as he drove the sword back into the ghostly figure, the force sending Fog Haemo
ARAHThe moment her fingertips brushed his beastly face, a cold shock slammed into her, so sharp it stole the breath from her lungs. Her vision blurred, darkness swallowed her whole, and before she could resist, her eyes fluttered shut—When she opened them again, she was somewhere else. Her breath hitched as she took in the sight around her.Corpses.Men. Women. Children.Her people.Arah’s stomach twisted. Sylph bodies lay scattered across the blood-streaked ground. Their lifeless blue eyes stared into nothing. Some bore deep claw marks, some were nearly split in two, and others had been brutally ripped apart, as if a pack of rabid wolves had torn through them.The village lay in ruins, smothered by the stench of death. Salamander warriors moved through the carnage, their heavy footsteps crunching over bodies—as if to ensure no one had survived.Tears welled in her eyes. This wasn’t a noble battle. This was a massacre.A few feet away, she spotted Gildeon in his leather armor. His b
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