Rain had a way of making even the busiest city feel quiet. Valora's streets were wet mirrors reflecting neon signs, but to her, they looked like an open stage, daring her to perform—or maybe daring her to fail.
She ducked under a flickering street lamp, black boots splashing through puddles. Hair plastered to her face, she muttered, "Of course, it rains the day I decide to wear this coat." Wiping a strand of hair from her eyes, she caught her own reflection in a shop window. Sharp eyes, sharper tongue. Don't let them see you sweat.
Ordinary. That was what she was supposed to be. Normal.
Funny thing about ordinary: it didn't suit her.
She turned a corner and nearly collided with a man in a trench coat, papers scattering across the sidewalk.
"Oh, brilliant! You're just throwing my taxes into the storm for fun, right?" she snapped.
He blinked, startled. "I—I'm sorry. Didn't see you there."
"Clearly," she muttered, kneeling to help him. Her fingers brushed the paper, and for a split second, she felt… something. A flicker. A warmth like the echo of a heartbeat not her own. She shook it off. Probably just static.
"Thanks," the man said finally, straightening. "You're… fast."
She smirked. "Fast, clever, deadly if cornered. Pick your compliment."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure whether she was joking. She left him standing there, soaking wet and mildly confused, and strode onward. Always leave them guessing.
By the time she reached her apartment building, the city was alive with the hum of evening traffic and the chatter of neon signs. She climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator—exercise, or maybe stubbornness. Both.
Inside her small apartment, she kicked off her wet boots and tossed her coat over the chair. The familiar clutter of books, sketchpads, and half-empty mugs greeted her. Ordinary chaos, she thought with a smirk. Just like me.
She sank onto the couch, phone buzzing with notifications she mostly ignored. Friends? Boring. Social media? Dangerous if overused. Work messages? Hilarious.
Her phone pinged again. A new email. Subject line: "Are you ready?"
She frowned.
Who sends a subject line like that without context?
Click.
"Tonight, everything changes. Find the alley at 9:00 PM. Be alone. Or don't show up."
She blinked, reading it twice. Then she laughed. A soft, dangerous laugh.
"Of course," she muttered. "Why would anything ever be normal?"
Hours passed. She wandered the apartment, pacing, plotting, and talking to herself—because talking to yourself is always normal, right? By 8:55 PM, she was in position, leaning against a brick wall near the alley mentioned in the email. Umbrella? Ha. Too obvious. Black hoodie? Perfect. Boots laced tight, she waited.
9:00 PM struck like a bell toll.
A shadow moved.
She didn't flinch. Shadows didn't scare her. Humans did. Some humans were worse than shadows. And some… were interesting.
A figure stepped from the darkness, tall, with a coat as black as the night. Rain streaked down his face, but the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable: danger. And challenge.
"You got my message," he said, voice smooth but edged with something sharp.
"I did," she replied, voice calm. "And you're late."
He smirked. "Punctuality is overrated when the stakes are… high."
Her lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. "I like a man who underestimates me. Makes him easier to play."
He studied her for a long moment, rain dripping off his hair, tension radiating in waves. Then he tilted his head. "You're clever… but are you ready?"
She tilted her head back, staring at the stormy sky. "I'm always ready. The question is… are you?"
Before he could answer, movement from the alley behind him caught her eye. A group—too many, too fast—emerged from the shadows. They weren't human. Not really. Something about the way they moved—predatory, precise, almost elegant—made her stomach tighten.
Fun had just arrived. And fun could be lethal.
She whispered under her breath, a grin forming. "Finally. Let's dance."
The rain fell harder, thunder rolling over the city. In that dark alley, with danger closing in from all sides, she realized one thing: ordinary life was over.
And she wouldn't survive if she didn't embrace the chaos.
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Who are these figures?
Is she ready for what's coming?
Will she survive—or is this the first night of her dark, twisted new life?