Cassidy had a new beau who surprisingly played football and so I watched myself been whisked to the football field where a lot of other students were crowded.
It was three days after Maren and Darian's tragedy and even if the grief didn't whimper in public, a lot of us were trying to pretend things were back to normal but what did normal mean.
The scent of freshly cut grass heavy in the air mingled with the sweat and shouts of the other students crowded around. Sunlight bounced off the goalposts, glinting on helmets and I couldn't help but notice how Daniel moved—fluid, confident, and disturbingly easy on the eyes.
He was not a tall person but he had a head of blonde hair that glimmered like gold in the sunlight. Cass had met him 48 hours ago on Tinder and they had been dating for six hours now. I roll my eyes. Anyways he wasn't a werewolf. He was human and that was a safe factor.
"Daniel is basically underrated" Cass whined, tugging at my sleeve like she had discovered the secret of the century. "No one even knows he exists, but the boy's a freak on the field. Watch him."
I squinted toward the goalpost as Daniel caught the ball mid-stride, weaving through the cluster of students like they were mannequins. Heads turned. Whistles blew. Some of the girls near the bleachers giggled like schoolgirls in a rom-com.
"Ugh, and he's so unbothered," Cass added, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial, half-giddy tone. "Like, he literally walked in here thinking he's just grabbing a ball, and bam—instant legend."
A group of juniors nearby were already whispering in tight circles, throwing sly glances toward him. I caught snippets:
"Did you see him spin past Taye? Like he's not even human."
"Bet he's on something… steroids maybe?"
"No, it's the hair. Blonde hair is obviously magic. Everyone knows that."
I snorted, trying not to smile. Teenage gossip had this ridiculous power, like it could elevate a normal human into a myth in five seconds flat. Meanwhile, Cass was bouncing slightly on her toes, practically vibrating with the need to narrate every single play.
"Six hours," I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself. "They've been dating for six hours. And she's already performing commentary like a sports analyst."
Cass shot me a sharp look. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Night. You're just jealous."
I laughed dryly. Jealous? Please. The boy was cute, I'll give him that, but cute wasn't exactly going to help in a world crawling with Magians, wolves, and council secrets. Still, I had to admit—there was something magnetic about him. Something that made even the usual static of grief and whispered rumors fade, just for a second.
"Watch this next trick," Cass said, pointing dramatically. "He's going to make a goal from halfway across the field. Halfway. Watch."
And of course, Daniel caught the pass, spun, and with a kick that made the net quiver, sent the ball screaming into the goal. The crowd erupted. Whistles. Cheers. Some of the girls squealed so loud I was half expecting the school's principal to appear personally to scold them.
Cass grabbed my arm and squeezed. "See?! Underrated, right? Who even isn't impressed?"
It wasn't the squeeze, I know. It definitely wasn't the heat of the sun . But the moment Cass's hand touched my sleeves, something flashed in my eyes.
It came with a migraine slamming into my skull, sharp, insistent, like a bell clanging inside my brain. My vision blurred at the edges, the crowd dissolving into shadows and smoke. The chatter, the whistles, the squeals—all faded into a low, hollow hum.
Then I saw him.
A man. Tall, broad, dark hair streaked with silver, jaw sharp as a blade. He looked fortyish at most. His face was perfect and strange all at once, unfamiliar yet burning into me as if he'd existed in some corner of memory I couldn't claim.
He was in a cellar—or something like one. The walls were brick, damp, faintly glimmering with moss and candlelight. Dust motes danced in the beams from the cracked windows above. Chains clinked.
He was grasping at a chain, wrists pulling against the metal, fingers white from the effort. The effort wasn't just physical; it was survival itself, a fight against whatever invisible weight was dragging him toward death. His eyes met mine through the darkness, wide, pleading, desperate.
"Night… Carter…" His voice was hoarse, a rasp that scraped through my chest like broken glass. The sound was intimate and terrifying all at once. He was calling me. Me.
I could see the shadow of the noose, the knife-edge glint in the darkness, the way the light flickered over the strain in his muscles. Every inhale he drew rattled through the air, a reminder that time was vanishing. His struggle was raw, urgent, alive.
And then he shivered, his eyes locking on mine. "Please… help…"
The cellar walls seemed to pulse, brick bleeding into shadow, floorboards groaning. My chest constricted, my fingers itched to touch him, to reach through the veil of reality. But I was frozen, tethered by the migraine, by the dread, by the knowledge that death was patient and clever.
I snapped back into reality with a haunted gasp.
"Are you okay,Night " Cass asked, turning my face this way and that "You look like you have just seen a ghost".
I was back on the football field, the sun blazing, Cass's squeal of delight slicing through the ringing in my head. Daniel kicked the ball, the crowd erupted, and yet I could still feel the pull of that cellar, the sound of chains, the rasped whisper of a man pleading for my name.
"Someone is about to die" I said hoarsely.
"Here we go again" Cass rolled her eyes "Oh please, Night Carter. Lets not do this. We still haven't recovered from the deaths of Maren and Darian. Dont you think we need a breath of fresh air, like maybe a taste of something cheery. Like Daniel . On the football field " She clicked her fingers for emphasis "My Daniel. On the football field".
Retorts fled my throat because my chest was tight in a shiver. Damn. It had looked so real. My fingers itched to do something—anything—but all I could do was stand, heart hammering, staring at the sunlight like it could keep the shadows at bay.
"Cass," I hissed finally, tugging at her sleeve. "I'm serious. Someone—some man—he's in trouble. Chains. He's dying. And he—he called my name."
Cass gave me a slow, deadpan stare, one eyebrow arched like a cat . "Night… you always see people dying. "
"I'm not joking!" I grabbed her arm harder. "This isn't—look! I feel it! Something's coming, Cass. He's struggling. He's begging me… he's—"
"Night, breathe," she interrupted, hands on her hips now, smirk curling her lips. "You're shaking like you've just seen a ghost, and honestly? You probably did. Or Daniel kicks the ball too hard and ghosts are now in the football field air. I don't know."
I glared. Glared like she could see the shadowy chains, the knife's edge glint, the fear that clawed at me. "Cass! This is real! I can't explain it—he's alive, but for how long? I need to—"
"Night," she sighed, leaning closer, voice dripping mock sympathy, "you're cute when you panic. Really. Very cute."
My teeth ground together. My chest felt tight. I needed to find Jordan Files.
Who was the man in the cellar.