Rain slicked the concrete in the alley, turning the narrow path into a stretch of glistening shadow. The only sound was the ragged breathing of a man stumbling between overflowing trash bins and graffiti-tagged brick walls. Each step left a smear of blood behind, painting a desperate trail to nowhere.
His leg gave out. He collapsed with a strangled groan, pain lancing up his spine. Grit stuck to the blood on his palms as he fumbled in his jacket, pulling out a cracked phone. The screen flickered. His vision swam.
He never heard the footsteps. Not really. Just the soft scrape of boots on wet pavement. Unhurried. Detached.
A figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, backlit by flickering neon. The glow failed to pierce her silhouette. She wore a hooded coat stitched with pale lines that pulsed like veins. A porcelain mask hung loosely from her belt, streaked with something dark. Her presence made the shadows shift, like the darkness itself recoiled in fear.
She knelt beside him, humming something faint and lilting. He tried to crawl back.
Too slow.
"Poor thing," she said, voice low and amused. "You dropped something."
She plucked the phone from his grasp, fingers brushing his with cold indifference. A moment later, the keypad chirped.
"Hello? Yes," she said softly into the receiver. "I'd like to report a murder."
He froze. His pupils shrank. He tried to speak but choked on his breath.
"It's happening right now," she continued. "Poor man didn't even see it coming."
The word murder echoed in his head like a trigger. His lips trembled. His mind reeled.
She tossed the phone just a few feet away. The line remained open.
She straightened up, looking down at him with a curious tilt of her head.
"Gabriel Voss," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hero designation: Emberbrand. Fire affinity. Class B hero. Registered under Central District League. Cleared for urban defense, probationary clearance revoked once. Hm. Suspicion of unreported engagements. Accused—never charged—for manslaughter during last year's Bluebridge Incident. And of course... involvement in the Graylight Raid that left three villains incinerated, including two unarmed suspects."
His jaw clenched. "I… I didn't mean—They were attacking— I didn't know!"
She laughed. Not cruel. Not loud. Just cold.
"You just committed a murder, Gabriel. That's what the people will hear. That's what they'll believe."
Fire ignited in his palm. In a flare of panic, he thrust it toward her chest.
It hit. Smoke and flame burst outward.
Then silence.
A whisper behind him: "Tsk. You killed an illusion."
He spun.
Nothing. Then—
Her. Behind him. Smiling.
He struck again. This time, the impact split the air with a pop—then red mist sprayed outward. The alley twisted.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
He stumbled, disoriented. The alley was gone. There were no walls. No rain. Just endless black.
His own breath echoed back at him.
"Anyone?! HELP!"
No answer.
But eyes watched. He felt them.
Hands erupted from the dark. Cold. Bloody. Familiar.
One grabbed his ankle. Another his shoulder. A dozen more clawed at him.
"NO! LET GO! PLEASE!"
Faces emerged.
Villains. The ones he'd killed. Faces twisted in agony. Eyes hollow. Skin charred, torn, half-melted. One girl—the youngest—had no jaw.
They pulled.
He screamed.
Pain exploded in his limbs. Something tore.
Still he screamed.
The last thing he saw—
Her.
Standing above him, smiling sweetly. Waving.
"Bye bye, hero."
The darkness consumed him.
All that remained was a crumpled paper origami crow, soaked scarlet.
Then—
"Wait," a voice crackled through the discarded phone speaker. "Who are you? What is your purpose?"
She turned.
Picked up the phone.
Smiled.
"Nyxshade."
The phone snapped in half with a delicate crunch.
And she was gone.
—
The cameras follow everything.
They line the halls like chrome eyes, blinking red in silence. Corners, ceilings, stairwells, even the backs of the vending machines. They say it's for our protection. I say it's surveillance disguised as safety. Control, not care. Heroes love control.
I walk the same path to the cafeteria every day. Same speed. Same posture. Shoulders slightly in, backpack close to my spine, eyes lowered. A ghost in sneakers and navy blue knee socks. One hand in my pocket, the other clutching my sketchbook like it's a lifeline. In a way, it is.
The school smells like lemon-scented floor polish and institutional denial. Magic buzzes faintly in the walls — containment glyphs, warded locks, enchanted reinforcement beams. They've turned this place into a fortress.
For children.
Welcome to Duskfall Academy, where nothing makes sense except the facade.
I step into the cafeteria just as the line gets long — perfectly timed, naturally. I've studied the rhythm. Learned to slip in and out of sight without drawing notice. Just another quiet girl clutching her tray.
"Calla!"
Too late.
I look up just in time to see a hand waving like a flag over the crowd.
"Over here!" Juno's voice carries even when she tries to whisper. Like everything about her, it's bright. Clear. Commanding.
I offer a smile. Small. Shy. Walk over carefully, tray in both hands, notebook tucked under my arm.
It's always the three of us:Juno Albright. Ari Vos. And me — Calla Myre.
Juno's practically a poster child. Blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, skin glowing like she bathes in moral superiority. Eighteen. Combat division. Light and Reinforcement magic. Top of her class. Straight A's. The prodigy everyone admires.
She's the person I'm supposed to become. She's also the person I hate the most.
Next to her, slouched in a seat with one boot on the edge of the bench, is Ari Vos. Sharp-eyed, always fidgeting with something — a pen, a hairclip, a loose thread. Seventeen like me. No magic. Recon division. She's our school's walking news terminal and the only person I know who treats curiosity like it's a weapon.
I sit down quietly, as I always do. Lower the volume of my presence. And wait.
Juno leans forward. "Did you guys hear about the murder?"
Ari's eyes flash behind her glasses. "Heard about it this morning. Thought it was a hoax at first. A hero — actually killed. Doesn't happen often."
I blink.
It wasn't a hoax. It was me.But they don't need to know that.
"That's… scary." I tell her.
Juno nods, reassuring as always. "Don't worry. The Hero Bureau will catch the killer soon."
Ari shakes her head, ponytail swishing. "Except no one's caught anything. The killer vanished. No trace. Not a footprint, not a magical residue spike. Nothing."
She leans in, lowering her voice.
"They're calling her Nyxshade. That's the alias."
I nearly drop my fork.
Juno raises a brow. "Nyxshade?"
"Yup. Code name came from the Bureau leak. Apparently she's the one who called the police herself, right before the kill and after the kill. Voice disguised, obviously. Left the hero strung up in the alley with a crow origami soaked in blood. Symbolic, right?"
Yes, I think. Very."She… called the police?" I ask.
Ari nods with too much excitement for someone discussing a corpse. "From a public phone, two blocks away. Full voice modulation. Warded the phone booth against scrying first. The footage from the nearest camera got magically corrupted. Police say it was like chasing a ghost."
Juno frowns. "How do you know all this already?"
Ari grins. "Connections."
Of course. Ari always knows. That's what I like about her.
She might not be able to blow things up with light or vanish into shadows, but she could find out if you cheated on your midterms before you even did it. Her mouth runs like a faucet, but her instincts? Razor-sharp.
"I can't believe you're just casually dropping classified info," Juno scolds, arms crossed.
"Oh, please," Ari sighs. "It's going to be public by tomorrow. I'm just… ahead."
"That doesn't make it okay." Juno's voice hardens. "Spreading details like that could compromise the investigation."
Ari shrugs. "I just wanted to tell you two."
My mouth moves on autopilot. "I'm sorry. I didn't think—"
Juno softens. "No, no. You don't have to apologize, Calla. Just… be careful."
I am careful, I think.
I stab my fork into a piece of cantaloupe, watch the juice bleed into the tray.
They sit beside me like friends. Like they know me.
But they don't.
They don't know what's really in my notebook. They don't know what magic really hums in my bones. They don't know how good it felt, watching the light drain from his eyes. They don't know that Nyxshade is sitting two feet away from them, smiling with soft eyes and a heart full of knives.
I swallow the cantaloupe. Sweet. Soft.
"Nyxshade," Ari says again, eyes gleaming.
I smile faintly. "Sounds… scary."