The storm broke as suddenly as it had come.
The shadows scattered, melting back into the alleys and rooftops, as though they had never been. But the air remained heavy, and the silence that followed was worse than the screams.
Darian stood frozen in the square, his heart pounding. He could still feel it that rush, that power. For a breathless moment, when the shadow lunged at him, he had almost listened. Almost commanded it to kneel.
And the terrifying thing? He knew it would have obeyed.
The voice lingered, low and amused.
You tasted it. Don't pretend you didn't like it.
He pressed his palms to his face, forcing the whisper back. The market was nearly empty now, the crowd having fled. Only a few overturned carts, shattered jars, and the smell of rain remained.
And her.
Elira stood across from him, chest heaving, a faint glow still fading from her hands. She clutched her satchel close, eyes narrowed as if weighing him.
Darian felt her gaze burn into him, and for a moment, he wanted to speak to ask if she'd seen what he had, if she understood. But when he opened his mouth, the voice hissed again.
Careful. She is not for you. She is against you.
His jaw tightened. Instead, he turned, shoving his hands into his cloak pockets, pretending not to notice her.
But Elira wasn't so easily dismissed. She stepped forward, boots splashing in shallow puddles. "What are you?" she asked quietly.
The question cut deeper than he expected.
"I'm no one," Darian muttered, not meeting her eyes. "You should stay away from me."
Her brow furrowed. "I saw it," she pressed. "The board. The pieces. The way they moved. That storm wasn't natural, and neither are you."
Darian finally looked at her, anger flaring. "And what about you? I saw the light around your hands. Don't act as if you're ordinary either."
For a moment, they stood in silence, staring each other down. Two strangers bound by visions they could not explain, both afraid to admit how deeply it rattled them.
Elira's voice softened. "The gods sent me a warning. A shadow walks among us. Something tied to the old war. And..." She hesitated. "It feels like it's tied to you."
The words struck like a blade. Darian's stomach twisted. Was she right? Or worse did she already know?
He forced a scoff, masking the unease clawing at him. "Then you've chosen the wrong man. I'm no shadow. Just a poor fool with bad dreams."
But as he walked away into the rain-slicked streets, he couldn't shake the thought: What if she's right?
And Elira, watching him disappear into the mist, whispered to herself, "Then why do the gods point to you?"