PresentGILDEONHe blinked away the sweat dripping into his eyes. Hot breaths burst from his mouth. His mind was a storm. What had just happened? He’d relived every damn second of his past, and now thick fog surrounded him again. He turned, squinting at the car headlights bearing down on him, engine still running, driver’s door hanging open.How was he standing in the middle of the road when he’d just been driving a minute ago?The world reeled. His head throbbed. His heart pounded like a drum. More thoughts of the past flooded back. Images of the rooms where Siegfrid and Irmeena were held for weeks. He remembered every fucking detail behind those closed doors—the beatings, the screams, the tearing flesh, the cracking bones, the stench of blood and fear.And the desperate urge to end it all himself right then and there.He shut his eyes as the sylph girl's pained voice echoed in his head. “You lied to me!” Her cries, the hatred in her blue eyes, her small body shaking in grief and ang
ARAHShe woke up late in the morning. Last night, she had waited hours for Gildeon to come home, but he never did. The door to his room was slightly open. Peeking through, she saw his bed was untouched.A soft snore drifted from the living room. Was he sleeping over there?Combing a hand through her hair, she padded down the hallway and found Gildeon lying sideways on the couch, his hands tucked under his arms. Her mouth fell open, and her hand froze in her curls.Why didn’t he sleep in his room?His clothes were the same as yesterday, and his dark hair was disheveled. Even with the AC low and the heat outside, he looked cold. She approached quietly and leaned over, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever, thank goodness, but his breathing sounded tired. He also smelled musty and herby.“Where the hell have you been?” she whispered. Deep inside, she was still hurt from last night, from him leaving her alone just like that again. But seeing him like this, she was more w
ARAHShe craned, scanning the store for any sign of the cat. Nothing. “The black one who just—”“Hey, cute boy!” A husky, melodious voice cut through her words. The green-eyed guy leaned casually against the counter, a basket brimming with pet toys next to him. “How much for all of these?” His intense gaze locked onto hers, even though he was addressing Jeric.Jeric excused himself and moved behind the counter. The green-eyed guy turned away, but his unsettling smile lingered in her mind. Arah had met plenty of quirky people, but he was the first to creep her out.Shaking off the unease, she grabbed a basket and slipped in a bag of kibble, cans of dog food, and some new treats for Barky. When she returned to the counter, the green-eyed guy was already gone.She set her basket down.“You okay?” Jeric asked, ringing up her items. “Mrs. Garcia doesn't let her cats in the shop anymore after someone tried to steal one of her Bengals last week.”Arah grimaced. It was maddening how people co
GILDEONHe shoved his phone into his pocket, lips tight as he tried to remember who the fuck Jeric was. Arah had introduced him to several people, but he barely paid attention. Something about that guy’s voice had grated on him. He didn’t like Arah hanging out with just anyone, especially now, with threats everywhere.“Aw, man!” the witch beneath him cried out, his voice strained. “You already broke my other arm. Give this one a break, please!”Gildeon realized he was twisting the witch guy’s left arm harder than intended. He loosened his grip slightly but kept his shoe firmly pressed against the back of the guy’s neck. One wrong move, and it would crack under his heel.A wave of chatter and laughter drifted from the viewing deck around the gigantic Saint Nicholas Cross in the distance. More noise came from the stone steps below, blending into the afternoon wind as tourists snapped photos and videos.“You shouldn’t be beating me up here,” the witch said, blowing labored breaths throug
ARAHJeric offered to escort her home. He admitted to overhearing her conversation with Gildeon and catching the word “threat.” She tried to assure him everything was fine, but he insisted. Eventually, she agreed. Maybe it was a good thing. Whoever meant her harm might think twice when they saw her with a man.Not that she wouldn’t defend herself if someone came after her, but she would rather avoid another life-and-death situation. She preferred to run in the other direction than push herself to the limit again. Who in their right mind would want to be on the brink of death or cause someone else’s death anyway? Maybe someone without a conscience? Someone who’d already lost it? The memories of that tragic night still haunted her, but she was thankful that they were now rarer and more tolerable.Jeric asked Ella to cover his shift, and then they both went home—her on her scooter, him on his motorbike.Back at the house, she prepared some snacks. “Do you want juice? Coffee? Tea?” she as
ARAHRelief washed over her as she recognized the ash-blonde strands of hair peeking out from the rider's white helmet.“Who is it?” Jeric asked from behind. She heard a soft clatter of glass on the table and Barky's whimpering.“It’s Mabel.” Arah pulled open the door and waited for Mabel to dismount and stroll toward the porch. Strapped around her was a leather messenger bag, contrasting with her bright crop top and shorts.“Hi, sis!” Mabel greeted with a teasing smile. “Why the intense look? Expecting someone else?”Arah relaxed and shook her head. “No, come in,” she said, widening the door. “I didn’t expect you to drop by today.”“Oops, my bad. Forgot to call you first.” Mabel reached inside her messenger bag and pulled out a fancy-looking card. “You weren’t at the studio, so I came straight here.” She handed it to her.The card had intricate floral patterns along the edges, colored in rich brown, and gave off a sweet fragrance. It was an invitation to an engagement party on Friday
GILDEON“Why did Master choose this job?” Ghulik’s raspy voice cut through the room as he lounged on Gildeon’s desk, looking like a mole rat ready for a witch’s sacrifice. “Ghulik is bored, Master!”If Gildeon had his way, he’d have Ghulik shadow Arah nonstop until this witch business blew over. But with her always keeping Barky by her side, even in the studio, it wasn’t possible. Any confrontation would just confuse her. Besides, Gildeon had needed Ghulik for more critical tasks these last few days.Ghulik spewed a string of curses, taunting the students and mocking them one by one. No one could see or hear him anyway. Eventually, the goblin tired of his own antics. He vanished from the desk, crawling under the chairs of every girl in a skirt.Gildeon let out a slow, controlled breath and turned to the whiteboard to write something briefly, masking the sudden dead air.‘Get out of there, or I’ll burn your eyes,’ he warned telepathically. ‘I already told you to stop doing that.’The g
GILDEONA thick silence blanketed the class. It could’ve been the confident look on Lexi’s face, the conviction in her voice, or her bold words that had everyone on edge.He watched her for a moment. This wasn't shallow defiance or a whim—she meant every word.Then she giggled, the playful sound cutting through the quiet. Tossing her black hair over her shoulder, she rested her arm on the back of her chair, glancing around with an amused glow in her eyes.“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound intense,” she said coyly. “Come on, loosen up, guys!”The bell rang.Murmurs and soft laughter rippled through the class.“Let’s wrap it up here.” Gildeon straightened up and clapped his hands. “We’ll continue the discussion next class. Have a great day, everyone!”“Bye, Sir!” the students chorused.Chatter filled the room as students grabbed their things. Some guys whispered about Lexi. Chairs scraped the floor, pens clattered, bags zipped, and feet shuffled out.Gildeon walked behind his desk
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’