On the very top floor of Sky Tower, there was a party. Champagne glasses caught the warm light of crystal chandeliers as the city's elite swayed to the strings of an orchestra. Outside, rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows, and far below, the ocean churned black and restless.
The soft melody from the party drifted upward through the building, barely audible over the howling wind. Lightning cracked open the sky.
That flash of lightning illuminated a figure standing there. She was covered in blood. Some of it was hers. Other wasn't. In her hands, she held twin daggers with blades as black as the night itself. The lightning from the storm reflected off the dark metal, and blood ran down the blades in thin pink rivulets.
Her face was hidden behind a mask as white as bone with purple veins swirling across it like lightning. Only her gray eyes were visible. They were cold, deep, and unreadable, like the darkest midnight in winter.
They called her Night. Though nobody knew who she was underneath that mask. Some said she was the daughter of death itself because wherever she appeared, death followed.
And tonight, it seemed, the death was meant to be hers. She understood it. And yet, she wasn't afraid.
A dozen men formed a rough circle around her, some pointing weapons at her head.
"You do realize you are making the biggest mistake of your life?" she asked, her voice was surprisingly light, almost casual.
"Enough games, Night!" one of the men barked, rain streaming down his face. "Tell us where the key is."
She tilted her head slightly, the purple veins on her mask catching another flash of lightning.
"I've told you people a dozen times already, I don't have whatever key you're looking for." Her voice carried the faintest trace of amusement. "But let's pretend I did have it. You really think I'd just hand it over to you?"
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," another voice called out from the circle of armed men. "Give us what we want. Maybe we'll let you die quick."
A soft laugh escaped from behind the mask, musical and chilling. "How generous of you."
She looked at the men surrounding her and then at the storm-dark sky above. A soft sigh left her lips. "Well, looks like tonight's the night I die. But if I'm going to hell, I'm dragging every last one of you with me."
Her eyes slightly narrowed, and then she moved. She appeared behind one of the men. Her blade whispered against his throat before he could draw his next breath. Before he could react, she slashed it across his neck.
The others spun toward her, aiming at her, but she was already gone, appearing behind another man. This time, her dagger punched through his ribs, finding his heart. She twisted the blade and moved again before his body hit the wet concrete.
Lightning split the sky again and again, each flash revealing a different frame of the deadly dance.
Minutes dragged by, and the dozen men who had attacked her lay motionless on the wet ground around her. But as quickly as they fell, others appeared.
She was now standing near the edge, swaying slightly. Her breathing was ragged, coming in harsh, gasping breaths. A mask lay in pieces several feet away, cracked apart by a lucky strike from a now-dead man.
Lightning flashed across the sky, and for the first time in years, the world saw her face.
She was just a beautiful woman. Maybe in her mid twenties. The storm whipped her long, black hair across pale skin that was streaked with blood and rain. Even soaked to the bone and bleeding from a dozen wounds, she was absolutely stunning. She had that kind of ethereal beauty that made you forget to breathe for a second.
She moved her gaze around her. Every inch of her body was screaming with pain. Her dark clothes were torn in several places, revealing deep cuts underneath. But her face didn't show any of it. She wasn't scared, wasn't even angry. There was nothing but an eerie, unsettling calm behind her icy gaze.
Someone let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned. All this time, the nightmare that haunted the whole world was just a pretty little girl."
She ran her tongue over her split lip, tasting copper. "That pretty little girl just put down more than two dozen of your friends."
Her smile crept in slowly, curling one corner of her mouth upward. It wasn't warm. It wasn't even human.
"Want to be next?"
The man who'd spoken took an involuntary step back.
A man near the front snarled, "You've lost, Night! No matter how untouchable you thought you were, it ends tonight. Right here."
She could feel it, too. Her end was coming.
These people hadn't come unprepared like the others. She could feel the poison creeping through her body, which was making her reflexes slower and her vision cloudier with each passing minute. They must have coated their weapons with poison, cutting off any way of her escape.
Smart. She almost respected it.
She'd just come out for what she thought was a simple job tonight. She never thought it would turn into an ambush, with the excuse of looking for a key.
She tilted her head, strands of wet hair sticking to her cheek.
"I am curious, you know, to find out who started this rumor that I have this key," She murmured.
"Shut up! Who cares about that? What matters is that today, you're going to die. Though..." the man in front snapped. His eyes ran up and down her body, and his lips curved into something ugly. "Maybe we can have some fun before we send you on your way."
Several other men nodded, agreeing with him.
"Yeah, it'd be a waste of beauty to just kill you like this. You've been messing with us for so long. The least you can do is repay us for all the trouble."
"Oh?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet. "You want me to pay you back?"
She chuckled, amused. Her gaze found the speaker. When her gaze locked onto him, he took a step back without thinking. "Are you worth it?"
Her hand moved, and a small knife, barely the size of her finger, flew through the air and hit the man right between his eyebrows. He was dead before he hit the ground.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Multiple gunshots exploded through the sound of rain and thunder.
She gasped as white-hot pain exploded throughout her body. Her hand flew instinctively to her chest. She could feel the warmth spreading beneath her fingers, could taste the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth.
Her vision blurred, whether from the poison or blood loss, she couldn't tell. She stumbled backward toward the building's edge. She took one stumbling step back, then another. Her heel found the rooftop's low barrier, and suddenly there was nothing behind her but forty stories of empty air and the churning ocean below.
"So this is how my story ends," she murmured, blood painting her words red.
.
.
On the floor below, the party continued. A man stood near the tall window, a glass of champagne held loosely in his hand. He was younger than most of the other guests. Around him, many people were stealing glances in his direction, but none dared to approach.
He was dressed in a midnight blue suit, the top two buttons of his shirt open, revealing the line of his pale neck and collarbone and the glint of a silver chain that disappeared beneath the fabric. His black hair fell messily across his forehead. His expression was distant, almost bored, his gaze cast out into the storm beyond the windows.
Suddenly, a figure plummeted past the window.
For a single, suspended heartbeat, time slowed. Their eyes met through the rain-streaked glass. He saw a pale, beautiful face framed by long dark hair. And on her blood-stained lips, the faintest, most haunting smile he'd ever seen.
And then, she was gone.
"Someone fell!" a woman screamed behind him. "Oh my God, someone just fell from the roof!"
The party erupted into chaos. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. The orchestra's waltz faltered into silence. Guests rushed to the windows, pressing their faces against the glass. But all they saw was the night rain and the relentless ocean below.