When it rains, it pours.
The city was swarming with crows. As I gazed out the bus window, I saw them perched on the squares, the streets, the lampposts—everywhere. I had never seen so many in my life. Their dark, beady eyes seemed to follow me, and their ominous presence was impossible to ignore. And crows—crows were never a good sign.
Some say they're harbingers of disaster, others claim they're the devil's servants. Hunters, on the other hand, believe crows are connected to the transcendent, able to smell death and follow it with eerie precision. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain in my mind: the crows were waiting for something.
I pushed through the door of my workplace, greeted by Hajnal's surprised expression.
"What happened?" she asked, brow furrowed.
I shrugged. "I have a bad feeling."
She gave me a knowing look and nodded. "We're closing earlier today."
With Cecil gone for the day, it was just the two of us running the pub. It wasn't much of a challenge—things had been quiet, unnervingly so. It felt as though everyone could sense the tension in the air, the silence before a storm. The usual buzz was gone; patrons filtered in, but none stayed long. Hajnal sighed, her usual sharp tongue absent, replaced by an unusual silence.
By eight o'clock, my boss looked up awkwardly, glancing around the empty pub before announcing we were closing early. For the second hour, not a soul had wandered in. I started packing up, moving quickly, eager to be done with the night. Hajnal handled the paperwork while I stacked chairs and swept the floor with a speed I hardly knew I had.
"Then I'll be leaving," I said as I finished up, heading for the door.
Hajnal's hand shot out, gripping my elbow. I paused, looking back at her. Her face was tight, troubled—an expression I only remembered from when she had cared for the dying Alice. Seers, I knew, were sensitive to the shifts around them, but I never realized just how acute their awareness could be.
"Do you want me to walk you home?" I asked, my voice softer than usual.
She nodded, but it was a half-hearted gesture. Hajnal was strong—stronger than anyone I knew, with very little that could frighten her. I thought back to the day we first met, how she had seemed unshakable even then. But tonight… tonight was different.
It wasn't long after Alex ended up stuck with me, and that meant I had to find food for both of us. Although Alex wasn't fond of the idea of me stealing to survive, he didn't have a better suggestion. He had tried to get a job, but we were just kids, and every place we applied sent us away without a second thought.
One night, Hajnal became one of my targets. She was in her late twenties at the time, her chestnut hair cut short, her slender figure hidden under a red coat. She looked like easy prey.
My movements were silent, quick as lightning—so fast that a human wouldn't have been able to spot me. But her deep brown eyes caught me out, finding me before I even realized it. She was a little surprised at first, but a superior grin spread across her lips almost immediately.
"What kind of monster are you, shitty brat?" she spat, her voice sharp, filled with hostility. And to my surprise, she didn't seem the least bit scared. At that moment, I thought she might be a hunter. My mind raced, calculating the odds—whether I should fight or flee.
I chose to attack. I knew if she alerted the others, I wouldn't stand a chance. In the blink of an eye, my claws burst from under my skin, sharp as razors, and I pressed them against the throbbing artery at the base of her neck. Then we waited. I hesitated.
"What's up, kid?" she sneered. "Are you scared?"
She wasn't afraid at all. That threw me off. She felt the claws at her throat but stood there, unfazed by me or death itself. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. I didn't know how to respond. She slapped my hand away and moved toward me. Her movements seemed terribly slow, though it could have been my heightened senses, used to seeing everything at lightning speed, that made them appear that way.
"What kind of monster are you?" She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
I jumped back, startled, when she reached for me.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," she said, her tone oddly reassuring, as she took a step closer.
I bared my fangs instinctively, but it didn't faze her in the slightest. For some reason, I didn't run, my feet rooted to the spot as if I couldn't move. There was something about her—something in her gaze—that confused me. Despite her rudeness, there was a tenderness there that I couldn't quite place. She didn't feel like anyone else I had encountered. She didn't fear me, nor did I feel any bloodlust from her. It was unsettling.
She placed her tiny hand on my head and crouched to my level. "You're quite a coward," she grinned.
"Shut up, old hag," I snapped, slapping her hand away. "I could kill you in an instant."
But she hit the top of my head, and though the punch didn't hurt, I instinctively covered my head with my hands.
"Who's the old hag?" she asked, clearly offended. "I'm twenty-seven, shitty brat!"
When she tried to reach for me again, her hand pulled back as if she had touched fire. A long, though shallow, gash ran across the back of her worn glove.
"Now look what you've done," she said with mock plaintiveness. "This is my favourite glove."
She didn't even acknowledge the red droplets seeping from her skin.
"You're not afraid..." I said incredulously.
She stopped complaining about her glove, then met my gaze again. I felt like she could see right through me, into my very soul. Then, to my shock, she smiled.
"Of course not. I'm not going to die today."
I couldn't comprehend how she could be so sure of that, but somehow, it only stunned me more.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, just as my stomach growled in response.
Without another word, she pulled a sandwich from her bag and threw it into my hands. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned."
I sniffed it, and I really didn't smell any poison on the food. I was too hungry to care. It had been nearly three days since I last ate, and I hadn't managed to save much food or money. Of course, I told Alex when I gave him his share that I had eaten mine before.
The hunger took over, and before I could stop myself, I took a tentative bite of the sandwich. It was gone in three quick bites.
"Follow me," she said, surprising me further. "I've got some leftovers at my pub. I'll give them to you."
And for reasons I didn't understand, I followed her. From that night on, Hajnal always gave me the leftovers from the kitchen. But not for free—she hired me to work in her pub.
I smiled. "I'm here, don't worry."
She nodded slowly, her eyes softening as I grabbed her bag from the counter. Together, we headed out. Hajnal lived just three blocks away from the pub, in a small two-room house. Though she was in her late thirties, she had no one living with her except for her three cats.
She opened the door and stepped inside, but I lingered in the doorway, following her in. The cats meowed contentedly, greeting their owner, and Hajnal immediately knelt to pamper them, a quiet comfort settling over her.
I tossed my coat onto the rack by the door and made my way to the kitchen, which was painted a faded green.
"Take a bath," I said, "I'll make something to eat."
Despite not having any financial issues, Hajnal's kitchen was poorly equipped. The coffee machine, however, showed signs of regular use. The wooden furniture was old, worn, and on the brink of rot, while the oven seemed to be held together only by sheer willpower.
Her fridge was nearly empty, stocked only with milk, a few eggs, and some shriveled vegetables that might once have been peppers. It wasn't surprising, really—she ate at the pub more than she cooked at home.
A few minutes later, I heard the shower turn on. I scrambled some eggs, poured a glass of water, and then began searching her cupboards for sleeping pills. She didn't need to tell me where they were; my nose led the way.
By the time I finished everything, she was padding into the kitchen in her pink slippers, wearing a nightgown and bathrobe.
It was strange to see her without makeup. At the pub, she always wore lipstick, a touch of pale purple eyeliner, and powder on her face and nose. Now, without all that, I could see the fine lines around her eyes and the faint furrows on her forehead that she usually hid.
She sat at the table, and I followed, sitting across from her. Her complexion had improved—she didn't look as pale, and there was color in her cheeks again—but her expression still seemed tinged with worry.
"Sorry to have troubled you," she sighed, rubbing her temple.
I shrugged. "What matters is that you feel better."
She picked up her fork and dug into the eggs, barely taking a bite before looking up at me with a sharp, assessing glance. Shit. Did I put in too much salt?
"Oh, yes," she said, suddenly remembering something. "Don't expect a raise for this!"
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical, before laughing. If she could still joke about money, she'd be fine.
"Don't worry, it never crossed my mind," I replied with a grin.
She nodded in satisfaction and continued eating. Once she finished, she took a pill and downed the glass of water. She walked me to the door, thanking me for walking her home.
"Lock the door properly," I called as a final word, before stepping back into the night.
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Instantly, I turned toward the dark shadow, but it was only a crow. It glared at me with its cold, button-like eyes, then cawed mockingly before flying off into the dusk.
I didn't go home. A creeping certainty gnawed at me—something terrible was coming.
"Can you tell me about the regalia?" I asked, watching Luna as she poured tea into two mugs.
She slid the blue one in front of me, her fingers brushing the smooth surface of the polished table. Only then did she look up, her expression unreadable.
"What makes you think I know anything about them?" she asked, her tone calm but guarded.
"Your mother was a mage," I said, keeping my voice even. "Mages tend to get involved in matters beyond the mortal realm."
She sighed deeply and sat down, her gaze fixed on the cup in her hands. She held it between her thin, pale fingers, watching the liquid swirl inside. Her hand trembled ever so slightly, just enough to catch my attention.
"Transcendent forces are not to be trifled with," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not saying all of them are evil, but there are some that are. It's something beyond what mortals can control."
"What happened?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity and concern from my voice.
Luna had always been an open book to me, never hiding her emotions, though I couldn't say if it was because she knew it was futile or because she simply didn't want to.
"My father died shortly after I was born," she began, her voice soft and distant. "My mother became obsessed with bringing him back. She researched necromancy, but soon rejected that path." Her eyes lowered to the table, as if the weight of the memory was almost too much to bear. "But there was another way to bring the dead back."
My throat tightened, and I struggled to keep my voice steady, though the question hovered between us unspoken. Thankfully, Luna continued without needing any prompting.
"Regalia," she said, almost to herself, "also known as the crown jewels, created by the First King. The very first." She looked up at me, her gaze steady, though I could see the caution in her eyes. "You've never heard of him, have you?"
I shook my head, confusion rising within me. "No."
She nodded slowly, taking a breath before continuing. "The first king wasn't like the kings we have today. He wasn't just the ruler of a territory. Back then, there was only one king—the strongest, the wisest sorcerer, whose power was acknowledged by all."
For a long, heavy moment, silence hung between us. I struggled to process her words. Could such power even exist?
"This king created many relics during his lifetime," she continued, her voice thick with a mix of awe and unease. "The twin swords, the crown jewels... But the regalia, those amulets, my mother suspected that..." She bit her lip, pausing as if she wasn't sure she should continue. "She thought they were pieces of a key—one that could break the barriers between worlds."
"What?" I could hardly believe what I was hearing. The shock must have been clear on my face, because Luna quickly glanced at me before continuing.
"I didn't understand it all, either," she admitted with a shrug, her uncertainty palpable. "At the time, my mother was teetering on the edge of madness. Or maybe she had already fallen over it. But there's one thing I know for sure—those gates must remain closed. If they could be opened, no one knows what would be unleashed upon us."
(...)
I blinked sleepily at my cocoa, the warmth doing little to shake off the lingering fog of a night spent tossing and turning. Maybe I should've swiped a handful of sleeping pills from Hajnal yesterday—or at least asked Luna for some of her voodoo elixir...
"I shouldn't have gotten up today," I muttered to myself. "Hey, Alex! Do you think it was a mistake to get up today?"
Alex was busy making breakfast, his hands moving with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times.
"If it were up to you, you'd never leave that bed," he teased without looking up.
I grumbled something under my breath, annoyed. Meanwhile, Rolo was happily reading his book, occasionally sipping his cocoa with the focus of someone deeply engaged in a life's work.
Alex put down the scrambled eggs in front of me. Then he turned to me, his expression serious. "Hey, is Elsie... you know, alright?"
I raised an eyebrow, letting a smirk play at the corner of my lips. "Oh, she's alive and well. Though she did blow up two research facilities."
Alex's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, clearly not expecting that. "Wait, what? Two? Are you—"
I waved my hand dismissively. "Yeah, that's one way to describe it. But don't worry, she's fine."
Alex froze for a moment, blinking at me. The shock on his face quickly melted into a forced smile. "Well, I'm glad she's... okay," he said, his voice tight, though his attempt to mask the worry was obvious.
I snorted, trying to hold back a grin. "Yeah, she's fine," I said, the tension finally breaking as we both slipped into a more relaxed silence.
In less than half an hour, we were on our way to school. As soon as we stepped outside, the chill of the morning hit us—and then, just as suddenly, we froze. The garden was teeming with crows.
"What the hell is this?" Alex groaned, his eyes widening at the sight.
Rolo looked a little pale, his usual carefree demeanor faltering. I tried to glare at the birds with all the hostility I could muster, but they just cawed back mockingly.
I decided that the cat would scare them away, fully convinced that my brilliant idea would work. Alex, of course, immediately scoffed at it and snatched the cat out of my hands before I could even make my move.
While I was busy proving that the cat could easily handle the crows, Alex was proving that the cursed birds were more than capable of clawing the cat's eyes out. Meanwhile, the damn cat was sneaking back toward the house, clearly preferring its cozy spot indoors over being part of our grand plan. Coward.
We tried in vain to scare the wretched birds away, they were only willing to fly a few meters away, and they wouldn't even fly over the fence. Finally, we gave up and headed for the bus stop.
We tried—unsuccessfully—to shoo the birds away, but they only flew a few meters before circling back, not even willing to fly over the fence. After a few more minutes of futile attempts, we finally gave up and made our way to the bus stop.
We caught the bus, but not without a few mishaps along the way. We missed our first two lessons, thanks to a string of accidents that seemed to plague the roads that morning. After every five kilometers, we found ourselves stuck in another traffic jam. By the time we finally reached school, I had counted three serious crashes. We ended up arriving just in time for the third lesson.
You'd think there couldn't be any more disasters that day. Well, But no, Moses was waiting for us outside the classroom, and while his greeting wasn't the disaster, what he said next certainly was. Yesterday, the bunk next to his house had burned down.
The bell rang, and Moses waved us off before darting across the hall to his class. I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease settling in my gut.