Lucien's eyes opened to darkness.
For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was still alive. The ceiling above him was wooden, faintly cracked, with shadows trembling across it from a flickering candle somewhere nearby. His breath came out shallow, uneven.
Everything was quiet, too quiet.
He turned his head slightly. The smell of damp wood and old dust filled his lungs, and the air felt thick, heavy, like it hadn't been breathed in a while. Somewhere outside, rain tapped against the roof in slow, uneven rhythms.
Lucien blinked again. His mind was still foggy.
He remembered flashes, headlights, the roar of the van, Gideon's voice saying "No hard feelings", then the gunfire, and the pain, sharp and searing, cutting through his chest. He remembered falling, the sound of his own heartbeat fading like a dying drum.
And then… nothing.
But now he was here.
He pushed himself up from the bed, wincing instinctively. But there was no pain. None.
He looked down. His shirt was torn but clean. His hands were steady. His skin, where the bullets had torn through was unmarked. Smooth. Warm. Alive.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
He touched his side, pressing where the wound should've been. Nothing. His pulse raced. He checked again, as if disbelief could will the scars back into existence. But there was nothing, not even a faint trace.
Lucien's breathing quickened.
"This can't be real," he muttered. "Maybe… maybe it was just a dream."
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to piece things together. But his head ached, a dull throb behind his eyes. The rain outside picked up, drumming harder now.
He swung his legs off the bed. His boots were still on. His jacket, bloodstained before, now looked clean, almost new.
He stood slowly, scanning the room.
It was small, wooden, maybe an attic or an abandoned cabin. A table stood near the corner, covered in half-melted candles and empty glasses. The faint smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of burning wax.
He took a cautious step toward the window.
That's when a soft voice said, "You're awake."
Lucien turned sharply.
A girl stood in the far corner, her silhouette outlined by the dim light of the candle.She was the same girl he saw in the casino. She couldn't have been older than him maybe early twenties.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Lucien's voice came, low and wary. "Who are you?"
The girl took a slow step forward. "You can call me Mira."
Lucien's gaze darted between her and the door. "Where am I? How did I get here?"
Mira tilted her head slightly, as if she found his confusion expected. "You got shot," she said simply.
The words landed heavy in the room.
Lucien froze. His throat tightened. "So… it wasn't a dream."
She shook her head once. "No. It wasn't."
Lucien's eyes dropped to his chest again. His fingers brushed his ribs. Smooth. Whole. Alive. "Then how… how am I still breathing? Why is it gone? The wounds, there's nothing."
Mira watched him quietly, her face unreadable. Then she said, "You used your power."
Lucien blinked. "My what?"
"Your power," she repeated softly. "You don't know it yet, but it's a part of you. It saved you."
He let out a disbelieving laugh, rubbing his forehead. "That's impossible. I'm not whatever you think I am. I'm just…"
But the words caught in his throat. He didn't even know what he was anymore.
He remembered Elara in the hospital bed, pale, fading and the promise he'd made before the heist. I'll make sure you come back to me again. I promise.
He clenched his fists. "No. This doesn't make sense. People don't just heal from two gunshots. I should be dead."
Mira's expression softened, almost sympathetic. "You were. For a while."
Lucien stared at her, lost between anger and disbelief. "You're joking, right?"
She stepped closer until the candlelight touched her face, pale, flawless, eyes glinting with something not quite human.
"When you used your power, I felt it, so I came for you," she said quietly. "You had no pulse. But you unconsciously used your shadow power."
Lucien frowned. "Shadow? What are you talking about?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned her hand palm-up. The air above it shimmered, and then darkness began to pool, thick and smooth like liquid smoke.
Lucien took a step back.
The shadow crawled up her arm, curling around her shoulder. The edges of her shape started to blur, her skin turning translucent, her outline dissolving into a swirl of dark mist.
"Mira…" he whispered, his heart pounding.
Her voice came through the air, deeper now, almost echoing. "You're one of us, Lucien. You just don't understand it yet."
The room dimmed as the shadows pulsed around her, swallowing the candlelight. Then, slowly, the darkness retreated, slipping back into her body like it had never been there.
Lucien stared at her, wide-eyed. "What are you?"
"The same thing you are," she said softly. "A shadow."
His voice was a whisper. "I'm not… like you."
Mira looked at him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "You will be."
She turned back toward the window, the rain casting streaks of silver down the glass.
Lucien stood there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of anything, the healed wounds, the girl, the shadows. His hands trembled. Every part of his mind screamed that it couldn't be real, but the weight of it pressed on him like gravity.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now. "What do you want from me?"
Mira didn't turn around. "You have something in you that's dangerous?"
Lucien frowned. "What?"
She looked over her shoulder, eyes glowing faintly under the candlelight. "One of our kind has inhabited you and should be destroyed."
Lucien thought of Elara again, her pale face in the hospital bed, the promise he had whispered into the air: I'll make sure you come back to me again. I promise.
But then a cold shiver ran down his spine. Mira's eyes, faintly glowing in the dim light, held something heavier, a truth he wasn't ready for.
"There's something inside you, Lucien," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made him flinch. "Something that shouldn't exist, not like this. If left unchecked… it will destroy you and the world. I..."
Her hand rose slightly, almost involuntarily, as if she held a weapon in her invisible grip. "I should destroy it. I should destroy you."
Lucien's heart skipped a beat. "No… I can't die. I promised her. I haven't… I haven't kept my promise yet. I can't…"
He pressed his hands to his chest, feeling the strange warmth and pull beneath his ribs, deep where the shadow stirred. It was alive. Hungry. Dangerous.
Mira stepped closer, the shadows around her flickering like liquid ink in the candlelight. "I see it," she said, voice softer now. "But… maybe there's another way."
Lucien frowned, confusion and fear mixing into a tight knot in his stomach. "Another way?"
She nodded slowly. "You're strong, far stronger than you realize. But the thing inside you… it can't just be destroyed. If I tried, it would take you with it. But if you learn to control it… if you train, if you master it… you could destroy it yourself. You could survive. You could keep your promise."
Lucien's chest heaved. "Train? How? I don't even understand what it is!"
Lucien swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists. The memory of Gideon's gunfire, the pain, the brush with death, all of it came flooding back. I can't die. I won't. I promised her.
"I… I don't know if I can," he whispered.
"You can," Mira said firmly. Shadows curled around her like smoke. "But you have to accept it. You have to accept that the danger is inside you. If you fight blindly, you'll lose. You must train. You must let it out, not to harm others, but to face it head-on."
Lucien's gaze fell to the floor, his chest heaving. His mind raced with the fear, the memories, the anger, and the promise he had made to Elara. I won't die. I can't. I have to survive for her.
Mira's voice broke through his thoughts. "I'll guide you. I will help you control your power."
He hesitated, a shiver running down his spine. His shadow stirred inside him like a living thing, restless and aware. He could feel it pressing against the walls of his mind, clawing, demanding release.
"I… I have to keep my promise," he said finally, his voice low but unwavering. "I won't die. Not yet."
Mira nodded. "Good. That's the spirit. You won't die today. But you have to face it. Soon. You have to face what's inside you. The longer you run, the stronger it gets. The harder it will be to control."
Lucien's hands trembled, but determination burned behind his eyes. "Then… teach me. Show me how to let it out. I'll do it."
Mira's faint smile returned. Shadows flickered across the room as she stepped closer. "Good. I'll stay with you. But you must be ready, the thing inside you won't be gentle. It will test you. Push you. Make you doubt yourself. But if you succeed, you'll have the strength to defeat it. To survive. To keep your promise to her."
Lucien took a deep breath, feeling the strange pulse within his chest. His resolve hardened. I won't die. Not now. Not ever. I will keep my promise.
Mira stepped back and whispered, "Then let's begin."