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Chapter 3 - A new light

The shard of metal shook in Damon's grip, slick with sweat and blood from his own palm. His chest heaved as the wraith advanced, slow and deliberate, savoring every step.

"You won't…" Damon rasped, raising the jagged edge, "…take me."

The creature grin widened, teeth flashing under the flickering alley light. It lunged.

Its claws lashed out, seizing his throat in a crushing grip. Damon gagged, the world narrowing to the iron band squeezing his windpipe. His weapon trembled in his hand, arm pinned at an awkward angle. Black spots swarmed his vision.

The pale creature leaned in, its breath cold against his face. Its hollow eyes glistened with hunger.

Not like this.

With the last of his strength, Damon drove the shard upward, jamming it into the creature's chest.

For a heartbeat—nothing. The metal barely pierced its skin. The wraith didn't even flinch.

Then the alley shook.

A sound like shattering glass cracked through the air. It's body convulsed violently, its grin twisting into something grotesque. Black veins spiderwebbed across its luminous skin, pulsing, swelling—then rupturing.

Damon's eyes widened as light burst outward in a violent flash. The force hurled him back against the wall, the wraith's shriek piercing his skull.

And then—silence.

Where the creature had stood, only fragments remained. Charred, obsidian-like shards scattered across the pavement, smoking faintly before dissolving into dust.

Damon coughed, clutching his raw throat. His lungs burned as he dragged in shallow breaths. His hand was empty, the shard of metal gone—vaporized with the creature.

He didn't understand. He didn't care. All that mattered was that he was alive.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. His vision blurred, his heartbeat a ragged thunder. Darkness clawed at the edges of his sight.

And just before it swallowed him, he saw them.

Perched atop the alley wall was a man with hair like pale gold, his sharp blue eyes gleaming unnaturally in the dim light. He leaned forward slightly, studying Damon the way a scholar might study a curious specimen.

"Oh my," the man murmured, voice smooth and cold. "How interesting."

A second presence landed soundlessly beside him. A woman, tall and poised, her long coat fluttering in the faint breeze. Her eyes glimmered like twin shards of steel as she glanced at the smoking remnants below.

"We should hurry," she said softly, though her tone carried weight. "We wouldn't want to attract attention."

Damon's body finally gave in. The world tilted, collapsed into blackness.

The last thing he saw was the two strangers silhouetted against the night—watching. Knowing something he didn't.

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