11

THE PLAN IS IN motion. I watch Atlas enter the bookstore. I sense one of the shadow butterflies in his backpack, but its life force is weak. It's almost dead, the magic nearly drained from its body.

But it has served its purpose by returning with him to the mortal realm. Seeing those butterflies in the dream and in reality has undoubtedly brought him here, to Darkest Night Bookstore. To Ophelia.

I hate to see such a beautiful use of shadow magic die in this way, but it's not unusual for other creatures made of shadow to cease existing the moment they enter the human world, even though their magic is enough to keep them intact.

I considered leaving the butterflies with Ophelia. But I knew she wouldn't think of telling Atlas. She didn't desire to reconnect the same way he did.

The dark shadows that took over the insects were not just corruptible to my own whims, but deadly to the butterflies.

I wasn't sure if I could send something through a dream. Now that I know I can, there is so much more I can do to manipulate everything.

I consider entering the bookstore, spying on the conversation between Atlas and Ophelia. Maybe I crave the rejection that Ophelia will give him. I want to see him suffer the way I have.

But anticipation makes almost all things sweeter. There is a pleasure to be had in the chase, in the unknown. I am in control, but there is no need for them to know that. Might as well let them feel as if they're the ones controlling the situation, at least for now.

I fly over to the coffee shop to watch over Reya. She is a mystery that I've yet to unravel. While most people hold their fears somewhere in their subconscious, her mind is guarded.

I can't find the fears that shake her. All I've seen are vivid dreams of different times, things that seem far too real to be just her imagination.

But there is no fear lurking in the depths of her mind, which means I have to dig deeper to find what it is she's afraid of.

I study her closely. The way she ties her apron, the way she washes her hands so thoroughly. Her pink hair is in a short ponytail today, her lips painted a daring shade of purple. Something about her aura draws me to her. I don't understand how her mind is so locked away that my shadows can't reach its depths.

But I also don't want to drain her.

Wild energy like this is different.

My focus right now is on Atlas and Ophelia. They are the ones who've cast me into darkness, after all. I will seek my revenge on them. The butterflies are nothing compared to what I have prepared.

I soar away, landing on a rooftop at the edge of town.

"You're late."

I turn and stare at the interloper.

"Trig. What are you doing here?"

He's leaning against the stairwell door, surrounded by shadows, away from the sun. "The Council is getting a bit pissy about you, so, you know, one thing led to another. I'm keeping an eye on you."

"You mean spying on me?"

Trig is the shadow creature that stopped me from jumping off the bridge that dark and lonely night. He's the one I have to thank for simultaneously saving my life and condemning it to hell.

"Semantics, Rook. Tell me you have a plan besides following that pink haired-nymph around?"

I smirk, though I know he can't see. Umbra don't have faces. Not really. We have glowing eyes and that is all we see of each other. "Of course. She's one of my targets. Or she was, but her brain is locked tight. Bound by some sort of trauma, perhaps."

"A human mind isn't usually locked up. But I assume you have other targets for the quota?"

"Yes. Two."

Trig crosses his shadowy arms, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Your quota is four."

I step closer, letting the sun pass through me. It does not affect my shadows, nor does it prevent me from existing. It does render me invisible to the human eye. But Trig can still see me, is still tracking my steps closer to him as I come to stand beside him against the wall.

"My quota is understood. And I will drain four souls. But until I find two more, I'm working on the two that exist here. And I do have a plan. Tonight, I will cast them in a shared dream. The only escape will be to face their fears. And humans seldom take destiny like that into their own hands."

Trig doesn't seem convinced. His posture is rigid, his glowing eyes looking at me in what I assume to be disappointment.

"Humans will do anything to survive. Their hearts demand it."

"These are no ordinary fears. Tell the Shadow Council I will bring them four auras. They have nothing to fear."

Trig sighs, his arms falling to his sides. "I will be watching you closely, Rook. I have to. Please don't get yourself banished to the nothingness."

Trig is gone before I can blink. He has little faith in me. Sometimes I wonder what it is he saw in me that made him want to save me from the doom I had planned for myself.

I shake my head to clear it of these thoughts. Nothing about that matters now.

The game has only just begun.