Chapter 01
A Million Spiral
Moondust City liked to pretend it was safe.
It wore safety like cheap perfume — thick, sweet, and convincing from a distance. The buildings leaned into each other like gossiping aunties. Laundry lines stitched the sky together. Neon shop signs flickered with tired determination. It was small, cramped, and stubbornly alive.
Missy loved it.
Or at least she loved the idea of surviving it.
She had just ended a call with Amber.
"Work hard now, freedom later," Amber had said in her usual determined tone. "We're not staying stuck forever."
Missy smiled at the memory as she slowed her scooter near the alley mouth. The streetlamps ahead flickered like they were thinking about giving up. It was late. Later than she preferred.
The shortcut would shave ten minutes off her route.
Ten minutes mattered when your life was measured in shifts, tips, and unpaid dreams.
She turned into the alley.
The air changed.
It was subtle at first — like someone had opened a freezer door behind her spine. The alley stretched long and narrow, damp brick walls closing in like ribs. Trash bins sat in their usual sulking positions. A cat darted across the path and vanished.
Missy swallowed.
She'd passed here dozens of times. Moondust wasn't glamorous, but it wasn't violent. Petty theft, sure. Petty jealousy, absolutely. But assassination? That was reserved for legends and syndicate dramas, not girls who worked double shifts and argued with customer service bots.
Still.
She felt watched.
The sound came first.
A whispering split in the air.
She slowed the scooter.
Then—
A flash.
Green light sliced across the wall above her head.
Missy froze.
Another flash.
Another whispering cut.
Her breath caught.
Shadows moved along the brick — long, angular shapes tipped with glowing green.
Arrows.
Magical arrows.
Her brain did something rude and useless like pause.
Then the third arrow shot past her shoulder and embedded into the ground with a hiss.
Missy screamed.
"Oh, absolutely not."
She kicked the scooter harder and sped forward, tires screeching against damp concrete. More arrows rained down, their green glow painting the alley in violent streaks. One struck the back of her scooter.
The engine sputtered.
"Come on, come on—!"
Another arrow pierced the wheel.
The scooter jerked and collapsed beneath her.
Missy hit the ground hard, skin scraping, palms burning. She scrambled up without thinking. Survival didn't ask for dignity.
She ran.
Arrows struck the walls around her, clanging, hissing, embedding like accusations.
Who would want to kill me?!
She dodged left. An arrow clipped her sleeve. She dodged right. Another grazed her ankle, heat flashing through her nerves.
Ahead — a large rusted dumpster.
She dove behind it just as three arrows struck its metal surface in perfect alignment.
Silence fell.
Too fast.
Too clean.
Missy pressed her hand over her mouth to silence her breathing.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No chanting.
No arrows.
Maybe… maybe they gave up?
She counted to ten.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
The alley remained still.
Her legs trembled as she slowly stood.
"Okay," she whispered to herself. "You're fine. Just go. Go."
She stepped out.
Took one step.
Two—
And collided into something solid.
Not something.
Someone.
Missy fell backward onto the concrete.
The air seemed to thicken.
She looked up.
And wished she hadn't.
There he stood.
Tall. Broad. Impossibly composed.
Blonde hair slicked back with military neatness. Blue-grey eyes sharp as winter steel. A tailored dark coat falling perfectly over his shoulders.
Behind him stood a line of robed figures, their staffs glowing faint green.
Curgen Green smiled.
Not a pleasant smile.
The kind of smile carved onto gravestones.
He bent slightly, studying her as though she were a stain on polished marble.
"This," he said softly, voice smooth as silk dragged over a blade, "is the pathetic bounty worth thousands of spirals?"
His army chuckled.
Missy's ears rang.
Bounty?
Spirals?
She pointed weakly at herself. "You have the wrong girl. I barely have rent."
Curgen's smile widened.
"The all-powerful and mighty Oxilord. The Emerald Wizard…" he mused. "Is a little girl?"
He laughed.
It echoed.
He grabbed her by the collar and lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing. Her feet dangled uselessly.
She hated that her body betrayed her by shaking.
He studied her face closely.
"So frail," he murmured. "So… unimpressive."
He dropped her.
Missy hit the ground again, breath punched out of her lungs.
Curgen reached into his coat and drew a sleek black gun lined with glowing green runes.
"Who cares," he said, cocking it lazily. "Money spends the same."
Missy's mind did something strange in that moment.
It did not replay her life.
It did not beg.
It thought: Amber is going to be so mad I didn't call her back.
Curgen pulled the trigger—
Purple lightning cracked through the alley like a god clearing her throat.
The gun exploded in sparks.
Curgen staggered back.
The air shifted again — electric, humming.
A figure descended from the rooftop above, boots landing with controlled grace.
Black hair flowed behind her, fading into vibrant purple at the ends. Her eyes glowed with matching violet intensity.
Her coven assembled behind her in silent formation.
Violet Murasaki brushed imaginary dust off her sleeve.
"The bounty," she said coolly, "is mine."
She glanced down at Missy.
Paused.
"It's… a girl?"
Curgen scowled. "Don't tell me you're surprised."
Violet blinked once. "I was expecting… something taller."
Missy, still on the ground, raised a finger. "Excuse me—"
The earth trembled.
The alley cracked open with a deep, grinding roar.
Water surged from nowhere, swirling upward into a towering vortex before collapsing into the shape of a man.
He stepped forward.
Tall. Massive. Bald. Dark skin gleaming like polished mahogany under the moonlight. Golden eyes assessed the scene with calm calculation. A feathery cape shifted gently behind him like living shadow.
Bermilion.
Commander of the Shadow Lake Army.
He looked at Curgen.
Then Violet.
Then down at Missy.
"…This is the target?" he asked quietly.
Missy blinked rapidly.
Target.
Bounty.
Oxilord.
Emerald Wizard.
Million spirals.
What was happening?
The three leaders stood in tense silence, their respective armies forming a triangular stand-off around her.
Curgen scoffed first. "A mysterious client hires high-class assassins for a nobody."
Violet folded her arms. "The payment cleared."
Bermilion's golden eyes never left Missy. "One million spirals."
Missy's brain snagged on the number.
A million?
She worked six months for what—three hundred spirals?
Curgen shrugged. "A mission is a mission."
He glanced at the other two, smirk sharpening.
"First to kill her gets the bounty."
Violet's lips curved.
Bermilion said nothing.
But the ground beneath Missy's hand grew cold.
They agreed.
Just like that.
No drama.
No vote.
No appeal.
Missy pushed herself up slowly, hands raised.
"Okay," she began, voice shaking but oddly polite, "I think there's been a clerical error—"
Green energy flared.
Purple lightning crackled.
Water coiled.
Three armies moved at once.
And Missy realized something horrifying.
They weren't confused about her identity.
They were confused about her appearance.
They expected a monster.
A warlord.
A tyrant.
An Oxilord.
Instead, they got a girl in a thrift-store jacket with scraped palms and overdue rent.
Which meant one thing.
Someone, somewhere, believed she was powerful enough to be worth a million spirals.
The thought should have been empowering.
It was not.
Curgen moved first.
Violet countered.
Bermilion stepped forward.
Magic ignited the alley in a storm of color.
And Missy stood at the center of it all—
Small.
Breathing.
Alive.
For now.
A green arrow redirected mid-air.
Purple lightning split the sky.
Water rose like a tidal executioner.
Missy whispered to herself, barely audible over the chaos—
"I just wanted to go home."
The next second, the alley exploded in light.
And somewhere, far beyond Moondust City, a mysterious client smiled.
To be continued… 🩷