She inhaled once—deep and shaky—then pressed her fingertip to the ward.
The magic hissed. Angry. Alive.
I watched, breath caught, as she slowly traced a glowing line through it. The ward fought back, sparks dancing at her touch, but Maddie didn’t flinch.
“I need more time,” she gritted out.
The ward pulsed like a net tightening, trying to reject her intrusion. But slowly—so painfully slowly—it began to open. A thin gap appeared, no more than the width of a person. Barely enough.
The edges of the magic vibrated violently, unstable and furious.
“Go,” she rasped, sweat dripping from her chin now. Her arms were shaking. “I can’t hold it long.”
I stepped forward, shadows already crawling up my arms. As I passed her, I touched her shoulder gently.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “I won’t forget this.”
I felt my magic come alive under my skin. It was like welcoming back a piece of my soul. Raw power filled me and I knew what I had to do.
My body melted into shadow, slipping through the breach like smoke—silent, unseen.
I didn’t look back.
Not at Maddie. Not at the tower.
Because if I did, I might never leave.
**
Outside, the world was swallowed in darkness—thick, endless, and silent. I slipped through the open air like mist, weightless in shadow form, heading for the grate I’d marked on my first fateful encounter with the Shades.
A chain-link fence had been erected around it since then—new, crude, and too late. It wasn’t enough to stop me. I seeped through the narrow gaps, one wisp at a time.
The air was damp and familiar. The smell permeated my skin.
And just like that, I began the journey back to the world I thought I’d left behind.
The tunnel swallowed me whole.
I phased again to get through the next sealed grate—just long enough to slip between rusted bars slick with filth and time.
The magic clawed at me this time, dragging its price deeper. I barely made it through before I collapsed, solid once more, gasping against the cold stone.
Everything spun.
My limbs felt heavy. My chest ached. I pressed my forehead to the ground and tried to breathe through the crushing fatigue, but the air was thick with rot. Mould, sewage, ash—familiar scents that clung to the underbelly of the city like disease.
I forced myself up, palms scraping against gritty stone as I rose to unsteady feet. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to give way. But I couldn’t rest. Not here.
Not now.
And then, I stepped out.
The city greeted me with open arms—and a stench like rotting meat and smoke.
The street beneath my feet was slick with grime, puddles reflecting a sickly amber glow from flickering lamps overhead. Smoke curled from cracked chimneys. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked—sharp and guttural—followed by a crash and a scream that was quickly silenced.
Buildings leaned into each other like drunks, windows broken or shuttered, doors bolted tight against the night.
