The moon hung low over the city of Varrowspire, its pale light washing over blackstone towers and streets strung with silver lanterns. The air buzzed with music — the low thrum of bone-drums, the eerie trill of necro-flutes.
Fifteen-year-old Dillon Veyra darted through the crowded market square, weaving between stalls draped in velvet and charms carved from obsidian. Everywhere he looked, there were masks — grinning skulls, shadow-beasts, and wraiths with long curling horns. The Festival of Shadows only came once a year, marking the night when the veil between the living and the dead was said to be thinnest.
Selene Veyra, his mother, walked ahead, her black robes trailing like whispers across the stone. She was a high-ranking necromancer in the Coven of the Veil, and though Dillon had grown up in her shadow, tonight she seemed distracted. Her gaze kept drifting toward the distant city gates.
"Stay close, Dillon," she murmured without looking back.
He grinned and jogged to her side. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I can take care of myself."
Her eyes softened, but only for a moment. "Not from what's coming."
Before Dillon could ask, the crowd erupted in cheers as the parade began. Skeleton steeds clattered down the cobblestones, their riders carrying banners stitched with black flames. Dancers swirled past in robes that shimmered between shadow and silk. Dillon's heart pounded — he lived for this kind of magic.
But then, in the corner of his vision, he caught a flicker of gold.
A man stood at the edge of the crowd, half-hidden beneath a hood, his staff glowing faintly with warm light. He didn't belong here — golden light was the magic of holy priests, the sworn enemies of necromancers. And the way he was watching Dillon made his skin prickle.
He turned to tell his mother, but she was already gone.
A/N:sorry for the rush guys 😭😭
I'll make it up to y'all in the next chapter
See ya