Tonight, the atmosphere at Lune Noire was different.
The lighting was lower, casting deep shadows along the plush velvet seating and polished obsidian floors.
Everything about it screamed intimate, sinful, and expensive.
A quiet hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the soft pulse of the music. The clientele tonight was elevated, elites gathered in their small, powerful circles, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.
I walked confidently toward the bar, where the alchemists were already at work, crafting their concoctions with the precision of master chemists.
Sliding onto one of the fancy bar seats, I could already feel eyes on me.
I ignored them.
Instead, I focused on the bartender approaching.
A young man, probably in his twenties, with shaggy brown hair and a ten-day stubble, paused in front of me.
I recognized him instantly.
Marcus.
He had been here last night, serving Lara and me.
His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with ease.
"Athena," he said, setting down the glass he'd been drying. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."
I leaned onto the counter, offering a casual smile. "Neither did I."
His gaze lingered for a second before he gave a small nod. "What'll it be?"
I let my fingers drum lightly against the bar, pretending to consider my options. "I'll have…" I trailed off, tapping my lip before finishing, "the Elixir of Passion, please."
Something flickered in his expression, but he only nodded. "Coming right up."
As he got to work, I let my gaze wander around the lounge, taking in the elites who had gathered tonight.
This time, I wasn't just observing. I was looking for something.
Someone. A clue.
Because whether they knew it or not, someone in this room held the key to what happened to me last night.
And I was going to find it.
Marcus slid my glowing neon yellow drink in front of me, the faint shimmer of enchantment swirling beneath the surface.
I looked up, offering a polite smile. "Thanks."
He gave a brief nod before moving to serve a new arrival: a man who had just settled five seats down from me.
I took a sip of my drink, subtly observing.
He was dressed in a long black coat, the sleek material hugging his form effortlessly. His cropped dark hair was sharp, styled with an air of calculated effort. But what truly caught my attention were the black ink tattoos, peeking out from his collar, curling up the back of his ears.
He leaned in, whispering something to Marcus.
Marcus nodded, his movements practiced, but in that split-second, his eyes flicked toward me.
Interesting.
I took another slow sip, pretending to take in the atmosphere, my expression composed, unreadable.
The man grabbed his drink and walked away, his movements fluid, effortless as he made his way toward the curved sectional couch in the left corner of Lune Noire.
He sank into the plush seat, settling himself between four barely dressed women, his presence commanding without even trying.
I might have let it go, chalked him up to just another elite with expensive tastes, until I noticed something else.
Two other men were already sitting there, directly across from him.
Similarly dressed.
Similarly inked.
They didn't just blend in with the posh patrons filling the lounge tonight.
They stood out.
Not in an obvious way, but enough to make the hairs on my arms prickle with awareness.
I swirled my drink, eyes flicking back to Marcus.
He was still working behind the bar, but his posture was slightly tenser now.
I didn't have time to dwell on it.
Because his voice cut through my assessment.
"So, what brings you back here tonight?"
I glanced up, meeting his gaze.
A simple question. But something told me there was more to it than that.
I lifted my glass, taking a casual sip before responding.
"Just felt like unwinding. Lune Noire has a certain… charm."
Marcus gave me a look that told me he wasn't buying it.
"Charm, huh?"
I tilted my head slightly. "Is there a reason it shouldn't be?"
His fingers tightened around the bar towel he was holding, his eyes flicking toward the mysterious man again.
Then, leaning in slightly, his voice dropped lower.
"I can't tell you much. We could both be in danger."
My grip tightened slightly on my glass.
"Danger from what?"
Marcus shook his head. "Not what. Who."
Something cold settled in my stomach.
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Marcus, I need your help, please. My memory is a complete void. Tell me what exactly happened here last night."
Marcus hesitated, his eyes darting once more to the man in the black coat before settling back on me.
"You and Lara were at the bar," Marcus said, his fingers absently tracing the rim of a glass. "Then you left for the ladies' room."
His voice dipped lower, barely above a whisper.
"When you came back… you weren't yourself. You were shaking. Freaked out. Calder was at your side in seconds, trying to calm you down, but..." He hesitated.
I leaned in slightly. "But what?"
Marcus exhaled. "We couldn't understand a damn thing you were saying."
A cold weight settled in my stomach.
"What do you mean?"
His eyes flicked toward the mysterious man before locking back onto mine.
"I mean, you were talking, but none of it made sense."
I stared at Marcus, his words settling over me like ice.
"What do you mean none of it made sense?" My voice was steady, but my grip on my glass tightened.
Marcus hesitated, sneaking another glance toward the mysterious man before leaning in slightly.
"It was like you were speaking in fragments, half sentences, words that didn't connect. Almost like… like you weren't fully here."
A slow chill crept up my spine.
"And what did Calder do?"
Marcus shrugged. "He tried to get you to focus. He kept asking you what was wrong, but you weren't answering. Just kept mumbling, looking around like you were seeing something the rest of us couldn't."
The pulse in my wrist thrummed, my heart hammering harder now.
I was seeing something they couldn't?
I swallowed hard. "And where was Lara?"
That was when Marcus froze.
It was instant, his fingers going rigid around the bar towel, his jaw locking up for the briefest second.
Then, he covered it up, too quickly.
He turned back to me, flashing a too-bright smile, swapping my nearly empty cocktail for a glowing blue one.
"With him-who-shall-not-be-named."
My stomach dropped.
"And who's that?"
Marcus grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'd love to tell you, Athena. I really would."
"Can you at least give me a description?" I pressed.
Marcus hesitated, fingers gripping the counter a fraction too tight. Just as he opened his mouth, a figure slid into the seat beside me, the air shifting instantly.
Smooth. Effortless. Like he belonged there.
I felt it before I even turned my head.
Marcus straightened so fast that it was unnatural, grabbing a nearby bottle and pretending to be busy on the other side of the bar, avoiding eye contact entirely.
That was all I needed to know.
Whoever this man was, Marcus wanted no part of him.
A smooth, low voice murmured beside me.
"What is a lovely lady like you doing here all alone?"
I turned, finally meeting the mysterious man's gaze.
His eyes were dark, unreadable, sharp against the glow of the bar lights. Up close, his features were striking, chiseled and deliberate, like someone who never did anything without intent.
The tattoos curling up his neck seemed almost alive in the dim glow of the lounge, shifting with the movement of his pulse.
Something about him felt off.
And yet, I forced a smirk, tilting my head slightly.
"Who says I'm alone?"
"Smart girl," the mysterious man mused, the corner of his mouth lifting in subtle amusement.
"Berach," he finally introduced himself, voice smooth, deliberate. "And you are?"
I tilted my head slightly, mirroring his expression. "Athena."
His gaze flickered, just for a fraction of a second, like he recognized the name.
I filed that reaction away.
"Interesting," he mused, leaning against the bar, completely at ease. "Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Quite the name to live up to."
I took a slow sip of my drink, watching him over the rim of my glass. "And Berach? Does your name carry the same weight?"
His smirk widened. "Depends on who you ask."
I let out a small laugh, keeping my voice light. "And if I asked around here?"
His eyes darkened slightly, amusement flickering behind something else. "Then you'd be asking the wrong people."
I leaned in just enough to appear engaged, but every part of me was on high alert.
He knew something.
And I was going to find out what.
I let the conversation flow naturally at first, but the moment I pushed him further, his demeanor changed.
"You were here last night," I said casually, my fingers lightly tapping against my glass. "Weren't you?"
Berach's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes sharpened.
"And if I was?"
I shrugged. "Then maybe you saw something interesting."
His smirk deepened, but his eyes darkened. "Depends on what you call interesting."
I tilted my head slightly, keeping my expression composed. "I don't know, a girl freaking out at the bar isn't exactly an everyday occurrence, is it?"
His fingers tapped lazily against the counter, the rhythm slow, deliberate. Then, he let out a low chuckle.
"You're really digging, aren't you?"
I lifted my drink, letting the rim touch my lips but not drinking yet. "I like knowing what I missed."
His gaze flickered.
"And what exactly do you think you missed?"
I tilted my head slightly. "You tell me."
A beat of silence.
Then he laughed. Low and smooth, like I had just said something amusing.
"Athena." His voice curled around my name like a whisper meant only for me. "You want answers? You're not going to find them sitting here."
He flicked a glance toward the back of the lounge, toward a hallway cloaked in dim light.
"Come with me."
Something in my stomach twisted.
I could feel Marcus's eyes on me.
When I glanced at him, he wasn't even pretending to be busy anymore. His hands were flat against the bar, knuckles slightly tense, his entire body locked in that perfect stillness only people trained to conceal tension could pull off.
His eyes met mine for a second, a warning.
Don't go.
But Berach was already standing, waiting for me.
I had a choice.
I took a slow breath, then downed the rest of my drink, setting the empty glass onto the counter with a soft clink.
And then I stood.
Berach's smirk deepened, like he already knew I would. Like this had been inevitable.
He extended a hand toward the hallway. "After you."
I walked past him, feeling his presence right behind me as I stepped into the darkness.
The further we went, the quieter it got.
The music from the lounge faded, swallowed by the silence of the dimly lit corridor.
I walked steadily, refusing to show hesitation, even though every instinct in me was screaming that this was a bad idea.
We turned a corner.
Berach came to a halt, his stance unnervingly relaxed.
I turned to face him, arms folding tightly across my chest. "Alright. Start talking."
But before I could register the shift in the air, the lights snapped out.
A wave of darkness swallowed the space, so thick and absolute it was like the walls themselves had vanished.
I inhaled sharply, pulse spiking. "Berach?"
Silence.
A slow, creeping cold coiled through the air.
Something was wrong.
The sound of movement rustled behind me, not footsteps, not fabric, but something else.
Something crawling.
"What the hell is going on?" I called out, stepping back, straight into something solid.
I whipped around. Nothing. Just blackness.
Then, the shadows moved.
Tendrils of pure darkness slithered from the walls, curling toward me like snakes scenting their prey.
I staggered back, my breath catching. This wasn't normal. This wasn't right.
Before I could blink, they lashed out.
Cold tendrils coiled around my ankles and wrists, tightening with an unforgiving grip.
I gasped, struggling, but the force only strengthened, dragging me backward until I was slammed against the wall.
A choked cry escaped as pressure squeezed around my stomach, pushing, suffocating.
The tendrils wrapped tighter, weaving over my arms, my throat, crawling beneath my skin like something burrowing deep inside me.
This wasn't a nightmare.
This was real.
And I was powerless against it.
"Why won't you fight back, little one?"
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, deep and laced with amusement.
The shadows tightened, pain splintering through my ribs.
"Come on… do you really want to die tonight?"
A whimper escaped before I could stop it, my chest burning as the tendrils pressed harder, wrapping like vines around my stomach, my arms, my neck.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
I had nothing to fight back with.
A sharp, slicing pain tore through my skin, burning as though the shadows themselves had claws.
I screamed.
"I can't..." My voice cracked, hoarse and desperate. "I can't fight back."
A slow, mocking chuckle.
"Is that so?"
The pressure doubled, crushing against my ribs, my stomach, my wrists, digging in, slicing, suffocating.
The pain was unbearable.
I gasped, barely able to whisper. "I… have no… magic."
The moment the words left my lips, the shadows froze, as if caught between action and hesitation.
They slowly began to retract, unraveling from my body like retreating smoke.
The crushing weight lifted, and I slumped forward, my limbs trembling from the strain. But I barely had time to catch my breath.
A sudden chill prickled at my skin.
A breath, cold, deliberate, ghosted against my ear.
I shuddered, unable to move, my skin crawling from the sensation.
An icy hand pressed firmly against my forehead, sending a sharp, splintering pain through my skull.
A strangled gasp escaped my lips as my mind fractured, splintering under the force invading my consciousness. Something was searching.
I couldn't stop it.
The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt, cold, sharp, invasive. It slithered through my mind like a living thing, prying, unraveling, hunting for something I didn't understand.
I wanted to scream. I couldn't.
Dark, overlapping whispers curled around the edges of my awareness, their voices dripping with intrigue.
"She's fully human."
Another voice, this one sharper, edged with curiosity.
"She's not lying. She has no magic."
The hand shifted, trailing down slowly, as if considering something new.
I flinched when frozen fingers brushed against my arm, tracing the mark etched into my skin, the Ancient Rune.
For a heartbeat, the whispers stilled.
The weight of unseen eyes bore down on me, the air thick with something unreadable.
Then, a voice, colder, deeper, heavier than the others.
"The Ancient Rune chose a human. Interesting."
A pause, long enough for dread to coil deep in my chest.
"It's not her. I was right."
The cold touch withdrew completely, leaving my body shaking, raw, drained.
The last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole was the final, ominous confirmation.
"It's the other one."