I jolted upright, heart hammering in my chest, my thoughts a tangle of confusion. My surroundings blurred, memories slipping through my fingers like water. How did I get here?
Panting, I tried to steady myself, but then, a screech.
The slow, grating sound of metal scraping against metal slithered into my ears, sending a violent shiver down my spine. My breath hitched, my senses snapping into focus as reality clawed its way back to me. A single tear slipped down my cheek.
Just a dream. A memory.
But the real problem wasn't in my head. It was out there. The thing—whatever it was—that was making that dreadful noise.
"Buddy, you awake?" I asked, fully aware my shadow neither slept nor spoke. But talking to it made me feel… less alone.
It shifted slightly in response.
"Good."
I moved cautiously toward the curtains, drawing them back just enough to peek through. The first thing I noticed was the sky—the sun had sunk into early evening. Eighteen hours. That's how long I'd been out. No wonder I felt rejuvenated, though my shoulder still throbbed.
The second thing I noticed…
A face.
Or rather, something close to one.
It was humanoid, mostly, except for the fact that its entire head was the size of a human torso. No eyes, no nose—just a single, gaping hole where a mouth should have been.
Every muscle in my body locked up. I wanted to move, to bolt, to throw myself backward as fast as humanly possible, but terror anchored me in place. And look, I'd love to say it was because I logically deduced that, without eyes, it couldn't see me. But the truth? I was simply too scared to function.
And don't judge me. You'd have pissed yourself, too.
The creature stood completely still. The hole—its mouth?—quivered slightly, almost like it was… listening.
The second I even thought about shifting my weight, the hole froze.
And that's when it clicked.
That wasn't a mouth.
It was an ear.
That's messed up, I thought.
I forced myself to stay frozen, my shadow coiling at my feet, ready to launch me out of harm's way at a moment's notice. But the creature never moved. Moments passed—agonizing, breathless moments—until, at last, it leapt away from the building.
The second it disappeared, my legs gave out. I collapsed in a graceless heap on the floor, sucking in ragged breaths.
I'd barely escaped.
Judging by the sensation radiating from my Wraith abilities, that thing was easily on par with the Headless Banshee. And I wouldn't have stood a chance.
"Well, dodged that bullet," I muttered, dragging myself to the kitchen in search of food.
Nothing.
Right on cue, my stomach growled—loudly—a painful reminder that, no matter how well I fortified this place, I couldn't survive here forever.
With a resigned sigh, I sank back onto the couch, my mind drifting to the dream I had—the memory.
The first time I had... Cahooted, with Kaya
Not that it was just about our passionate comfrontations—she was more than that. She was everyone I could have hoped to be in my life, all in one person.
I had to save her. And Harry. They were all I had left.
I'd lost my family once. I wouldn't lose another.
Determination flooded my veins, chasing away the lingering fear. I shot to my feet and resumed my scavenging—not for food this time, but for weapons.
Kitchen knives wouldn't do much against Wraiths, but a cleaver? That had potential. I strapped it to my side along with my claw, fashioning makeshift sheaths from bandages and torn cloth. A few small bottles of alcohol caught my eye, and for a moment, I considered taking a sip. After everything I'd been through, I damn well deserved it.
But logic won out.
Getting tipsy while creatures of nightmare prowled outside? Not my brightest idea. Instead, I repurposed them into Molotov cocktails, securing them along with a lighter.
I was ready.
…Or maybe a little too ready, considering the sun was still up and the night hadn't even begun.
So, with nothing better to do, I resumed my conversation with my shadow.
"You think people would call me crazy? Y'know… 'cause I'm basically talking to myself?"
In response, my shadow—dramatically—detached from my feet and strolled toward the bathroom.
"Hey, where do you think you're going? Are you even allowed to do that?"
No response. Just pure, unbothered defiance.
I let it go.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how cocky or rebellious it got, it was still mine. My shadow. My power.
And I was going to need it.
Before stepping outside, I performed a ritual of sorts—something I always did before leaving.
From beneath my shirt, I pulled out a necklace. My father's necklace.
The chain itself was plain silver, unremarkable. But the pendant—it was striking. A deep, rich green, mirroring the color of my eyes.
I couldn't remember my father. Not his voice, not his face. Nothing.
But my mother had told me he bought this pendant the day after I was born. Said he chose it because it reminded him of me. Of my eyes.
And whenever I felt out of place—whenever I stared at my reflection, wondering why my eyes felt like they didn't belong—I held onto his words:
"You're special. More of a beautiful soul than any out there."
That was the only connection I had to him.
Well—technically—to my mother. She was the one who told me. But you get the point.
With a quiet sigh, I tucked the necklace back under my shirt, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and shrugged on my overshirt. The fabric was worn, a claw-shaped tear marring the left sleeve.
"I'll have to treat you better," I murmured, brushing my fingers over the rip.
Then, drawing in a deep breath, I stepped forward and opened the door.