5

Morning light fractured across my blinds, too bright, too sharp. I turned my face into the pillow, but the warmth of sleep had already broken. My body ached as though I’d lived every shadow of the night in truth, not memory.

The memories pressed against me, heavy and insistent. Redakai’s voice echoed in my head, calm and commanding, impossible to ignore. I sat up slowly, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. The room felt different, thinner somehow, as though the barrier between me and him had frayed overnight.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, toes curling against the cool floor, and exhaled. The city was awake, humming faintly through the window, but beneath its noise, there was something else. A current. A pulse. A presence.

Redakai.

The name slid through me unbidden, carving both fear and longing in its wake. I rubbed my arms against the chill, but the shiver came from somewhere deeper. He was closer, I could feel it, not just in memory, not just in dreams. Something was moving, shaping the city, drawing me nearer whether I liked it or not.

I rose, moving through the small rituals of morning, though my mind stayed elsewhere, tangled in shadows and fragments of him. Today would not be ordinary. I knew it before my feet even carried me to the window. The city itself seemed to shift, bending toward him, whispering that the inevitable was coming.

By the time I stepped outside, the streets were alive with movement. Cars rolled by in steady streams, horns blaring with the impatience unique to this city. People hurried along sidewalks, oblivious to the unseen currents threading through the world they thought they knew. All of it was normal, so deceptively safe.

My phone buzzed as I turned the corner. Sarah.

Finally. You alive? Or am I planning a tragic memorial already?

A wry smile tugged at my lips. I tapped back quickly: Alive. Mostly. Where are you?

Coffee shop by the library. Get here. I need caffeine, and you need to stop ghosting me.

Her reply came before I even pocketed the phone. Typical Sarah. No hesitation. No allowance for silence. She didn’t realize how much I relied on that, her relentless light cutting through the fog of my nights.

The café came into view within minutes, its windows glowing with warm light. I paused at the door, hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, the sound of laughter inside felt foreign, like a world that belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn’t seen shadows move on their own. Someone who hadn’t felt the weight of ancient eyes following her.

The door pushed open before I could move. Sarah appeared, coat flaring behind her, smile as bright and chaotic as ever. *“Kaisha! About damn time! I was about to come drag you out of your cave.”

Her presence hit me like sunlight: loud, unfiltered, impossible to ignore. She looped her arm through mine without waiting for permission and tugged me inside.

“Coffee,” she declared, steering me toward the counter. “And maybe sugar. Lots of sugar. Because you look like hell, babe. Long night?”

I almost laughed at the understatement. Long night didn’t even begin to cover it. But I forced a smile, letting her chatter wash over me as we ordered. Sarah was grounding, even when she didn’t realize it. Her energy filled the space, kept me tethered to something real.

But even as she spoke, I felt it: the faint thrum at the edge of awareness. A whisper of shadows threading beneath the city’s heartbeat.

Redakai.

I stirred sugar into my coffee, staring at the swirling dark liquid, trying to silence the truth pounding through me. He was moving, shaping, drawing me nearer. And I had no idea if I was strong enough to resist when the moment finally came.

I sipped, careful to let the mundane ritual anchor me, but it did little to calm the rising tide of apprehension. My mind kept returning to the forest, to the rare herbs I had been tasked to collect, to the precarious balance of the coven’s fragile new lives.

A shiver ran through me, the pulse in my chest surged. The wind carried scents that had nothing to do with the city: the dampness of moss and soil, the faint tang of something metallic.

I glanced at Sarah, bright and oblivious, still talking animatedly. Guilt flickered briefly.

I needed to leave, Now.

“I… I have to run,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. Sarah turned to me, eyebrows raised.

“Run? What! You just got here,” she protested.

“I…know, but…look I can’t explain,” I told her, forcing a smile that felt brittle even to me. “But, I need to go… I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Her eyes searched mine, suspicion flickering. “You better.”

“I know,” I said, stepping back. “I’ll call you.”

I didn’t wait for more. The door swung open, the morning air cool against my skin. The city’s normalcy didn’t reassure me; it mocked me. The pulse in my veins surged, growing impossible to ignore.

A short time later, I was once again seated before my laptop. The story pressed at my mind, demanding release. Opening the lid, my hands hovered over the keys as the memories took shape again, starting where the forest ended and the fortress loomed, dark and foreboding, ready to pull me back into Redakai’s world.