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
GILDEONNot long after, they were driving toward La Calma. He glanced at the snoring goblin through the rearview mirror. Ghulik was sprawled on the backseat, hands interlaced on his chest, one ankle casually resting on the opposite knee.One of these days, he might need to put Ghulik into hibernation to prepare him for a potentially intense battle. Gildeon would need his utmost help more than ever.Turning his attention to the man sitting next to him, he asked, “Is that a tattoo?” He gestured briefly at the tip of exposed black ink below Nowak’s shoulder blade.The old professor stared blankly for a second before uttering an “Oh!” as if he’d just remembered what it was.Nowak pushed aside the collar of his white shirt under the blazer. “You're very perceptive, Mr. Ayadi,” he said, though Gildeon already knew the tattoo's placement from Arah's records.“But yes,” the professor added. “A spur-of-the-moment decision. It’s not really me.” He chuckled. “Seems some women these days like men
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