THE TRUTH OF THE SHADOW
The hours after Lysander left were the longest of Amara's life. Every creak of the house and whisper of the wind outside made her jump. She kept staring at the mark on her wrist, tracing its glowing lines with trembling fingers.
Lysander's words echoed in her mind.
"You were never normal."
"The bond between us is dangerous."
Amara's exhaustion finally caught up with her, and she dozed off in a chair near the window. Her dreams were fragmented and filled with strange, fleeting images—a silver moon, an endless forest, and a voice calling her name, soft yet urgent.
When she woke, the sun was already climbing over the horizon, bathing her room in light. The mark on her wrist had dimmed but was still faintly visible. It was real. Everything was real.
Hoping to find some semblance of normalcy, Amara decided to head to work at the bookstore. The market square was quieter than usual, though she couldn't help but feel like invisible eyes were watching her.
Inside the shop, the scent of old paper and leather greeted her. She took comfort in the familiarity, but her peace was short-lived. As she arranged books on a shelf, a strange customer walked in—a man with an unsettling presence.
He was tall, with pale skin and unnaturally sharp features. His eyes glimmered amber, and he moved with a deliberate grace that set her on edge.
"Can I help you?" Amara asked, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.
The man smiled, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. "You must be Amara."
Her blood turned cold. "How do you know my name?"
"I make it my business to know important people," he said smoothly, stepping closer. "And you, my dear, are very important."
Before she could react, the bell above the door jingled, and Lysander walked in. His presence was like a shield, filling the space with a dark intensity.
"You shouldn't be here, Azriel," Lysander said, his voice low and dangerous.
Azriel turned to face him, his smile widening. "Always so protective, Lysander. Tell me, how long do you think you can keep her safe?"
"As long as it takes," Lysander replied, stepping between Amara and the stranger. "Leave. Now."
Azriel chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "For now. But you can't hide her forever." With that, he turned and strolled out of the shop, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
Once Azriel was gone, Amara rounded on Lysander. "What the hell is going on? Who was that?"
Lysander sighed, running a hand through his hair. "His name is Azriel. He's a Shadow Wraith—one of the strongest of his kind. And now he knows who you are."
"What does he want with me?"
"You're a Catalyst," Lysander explained. "Your power can amplify his abilities a hundredfold. If he binds you to him, he'll become unstoppable."
Amara's knees felt weak. She sank into a nearby chair, trying to process everything. "So, what… I'm just some kind of prize to these creatures?"
"You're more than that," Lysander said, his voice softer. "The mark chose you for a reason. It's connected to something ancient and powerful—something even I don't fully understand. But you're not alone in this. I'll protect you."
"Why?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "Why do you care what happens to me?"
For a moment, he hesitated, his expression unreadable. "Because I owe you a debt… one you don't remember yet."
"Remember?" she echoed. "What are you talking about?"
"Your memories were taken," Lysander said quietly. "But you and I… we've met before. You just don't know it."
Amara stared at him, her mind spinning. "Why would someone take my memories? What happened between us?"
"That's something only you can uncover," he said. "The mark holds the key. But unlocking its power comes with a price. You need to be ready."
Before Amara could ask more, the lights in the shop flickered. A cold wind rushed through the room, extinguishing the candles and plunging them into darkness.
Lysander tensed, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Stay close to me," he said.
The shadows in the corners of the
shop began to move, stretching and writhing as if alive. Amara's breath hitched as she clung to Lysander's side, her heart pounding in her chest.
From the darkness, two figures emerged—humanoid in shape but composed entirely of shifting black mist. Their glowing amber eyes burned with malice as they stepped closer, their movements unnaturally fluid.
Lysander positioned himself between Amara and the creatures, his voice calm but commanding. "Do not let them touch you. Stay behind me, no matter what."
The creatures lunged.
Lysander moved faster than Amara thought possible, his form a blur as he dodged one shadow's swipe and countered with a burst of dark energy that erupted from his hand. The force struck the creature, sending it crashing into a bookshelf. Books tumbled to the floor, but the creature quickly reformed, its misty body twisting back into shape.
The second shadow darted toward Amara. Instinctively, she raised her hands to shield herself, but a pulse of light erupted from her wrist, throwing the creature back. Amara gasped, staring at the faint glow of the mark on her wrist.
"What… what was that?" she stammered.
Lysander didn't glance back. "The mark is protecting you. It's waking up."
The creatures regrouped, circling them like predators. One let out a guttural growl before lunging at Lysander again, its claws aiming for his chest. He caught its arm mid-strike and forced it to the ground, his hand pressing into its chest as shadows rippled around him.
The second creature attempted to grab Amara again, but this time she felt a surge of energy rise from deep within her. The mark flared, and a shockwave of light exploded from her body, disintegrating the creature on impact.
The remaining shadow snarled before vanishing into the darkness, retreating into the night.