They were almost there; Zara could hear faint commotion of people dining up ahead. Dishes clinked, laughter echoed. Hunger-inducing aromas of fresh rice, bread, and spicy meat wafted across a nearby alley. It made her nervous stomach grumble for food. She wished there was a faster way to get there already, as she and Saren walked briskly over the stony ground, their heeled shoes clacking and making too much noise on this uncannily quiet street.

Where is everybody? The area—stacked with closed shops and boarded-up inns—felt too vacant, and too hushed for being so near a theater attraction. Zara wanted to see more people. People—particularly families and children—strolling around with smiling faces and talkative mouths that indicated worry-free security. She wanted to be surrounded by the embraces of a jovial crowd of art appreciators. Anything to free herself from the damn stalker that had once again begun pursuing them soon after they had left the beach.

“Who is that?” Saren murmured to herself.

Zara turned her head around for a split second. Their pursuer was finally visible. It was a hooded silhouette, a good distance away, steadily following their path. Its stature was shorter than them both. Zara wondered if it was a woman, but it didn’t seem so. She could make out the leather sandals that were typically worn by men. The thin legs were bare and stuck out of the long cloak. She faced forward again.

“Let’s take the alley,” Saren suggested.

“Why?”

“I bet it’s a shortcut.”

“Are you sure?” Zara asked. “Saren, there might be a dead-end…” And then what?

Saren stopped by the alley’s narrow opening, situated between a bookshop and a bakery. She squinted, as though doing so would help her see all the way to the end of the alley. “Hmm…I don’t think there is. Come on, I can still hear everyone. The food is smelling stronger too. The sooner we get there, the better for us.”

There weren’t many sconces or street lamps lit in this area in the first place. But there were none at all in the alley.

“It’ll be fine,” Saren said, tugging Zara’s hand along.

“How can you see?” Zara asked, walking carefully so as to not trip over a stray object or hit her head on a wall.

“My eyes get used to the dark quickly. Also, it’s fairly kept clean. The people who own these shops must sweep frequently. Even the garbage is piled neatly in that corner over there.”

Zara didn’t bother looking. Because she couldn’t see whatever it was Saren was seeing.

Eventually, her eyes did adjust a little. Then they turned a sudden corner and the moonlight shone down, casting their path in a dim, bluish glow.

“How much farther?” Zara whispered. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“It seemed like it. I wasn’t expecting that corner though…”

“I told you there would be a dead-end!”

“It was not a dead-end. We are still walking, after all. I just assumed the path wouldn’t curve like this. I know it has to lead out somewhere. Everything does.”

“But it’s leading us away from the theater.” The boisterous noises had gotten faint. Meaning, they were moving away from it rather than toward it. “This is bad. Not only is that man still following us, but we don’t know what else could be lurking in here.”

“So you’ve felt him too,” Saren muttered.

“Yes!” Zara hissed. “And even if there is nothing else here, we are stuck in a dark alleyway with no one else around but him.”

Saren sighed. Her feet began to slow. “Perhaps we should do something about it.”

“Excuse me? Like what?” Zara asked incredulously. She really didn’t want to do anything, even though she had the capability to. She was still afraid. This reminded her of the time she was attacked by that shrieking junk user on her way home. It had literally leaped out at her from a dark alley. While the pursuer did not seem like an addict, fending him off may still pose a problem.

Zara was immensely glad that she was not alone in this, but she had to face the fact that having Saren by her side was going to limit her actions. Revan had trained her to primarily use magic to defend herself. She couldn’t use magic with Saren being right there. This wouldn’t be a problem if Zara was advanced enough to where she could use magic more cleverly and discreetly like Revan could. But Zara was still at the stage where her stronger use of magic was still very obvious when emitted. In the end, she may not have a choice. Technically, with a dagger, she didn’t even need magic. The blade was sharp enough to cut and stab on its own. It wasn’t what she wanted to do, but with Saren as witness, what else was there? She slowly removed the sheathed dagger from her pocket, quivering.

The cloaked man was visible again. He had followed close enough to where Zara could see a smile stretch his mouth. It was definitely a man. The stubble around his jawline gave it away. The top half of his face was still a mystery. He held up a hand as though this was some friendly greeting to a local passing along.

Saren moved in front of Zara like a shield.

“What do you want?” Saren called sharply. “You’ve been following us all day. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you. And don’t think just because we are women we don’t have the means to defend ourselves.”

Zara wasn’t sure what sort of defense weapon Saren had, but she hoped she would whip it out now to save them all the trouble.

“You have sharp eyes.” The man’s voice was very croaky and had an improper, eastern-city accent. “A sharp-sounding tongue too. Exotic. What do you speak?”

“I asked you a question sir,” Saren said. “What do you want from us?”

Behind Saren’s back, Zara quickly unsheathed her dagger. Her breath was shallow and her palms were hot, as if merely holding it was releasing its enchantment over her. She tried to remember what she’d been taught and re-taught, but her mind was beginning to blank. Her eyes blurred in frustration. Why was any of this happening? Why did it have to happen? Why couldn’t tonight have been as simple and as pleasant as she had hoped it would be? It had gone crumbling to dust the second they had stepped off the beach, the minute that beautiful whale descended back into the ocean, taking all the magic of the day with it.

Well, the day wouldn’t be the only thing that crumbled tonight—that is, if Zara could just get a hold of herself.

Zara peered from behind Saren’s steady stature. The hooded man smiled wider now, showing off yellowing teeth. He walked forward on thin, hairy legs. His sandals were worn, as was his cloak. Something glinted at her from the lobes of his ears—jewelry? It must have been. After all, his fingers were also littered with silver gem-embedded rings.

He lifted a gold-bracelet cuffed hand, allowing his sinister rings to gleam under the moonlight. Saren took a step back as soon as he did, bumping into Zara. The man held a sharp, rusty knife.

“Your jewel,” he said, pointing his knife to their bags. “Give it here.”

“You’re robbing us?” Saren exclaimed. “Sir…our jewelry isn’t that nice.”

Zara blinked. He had been following them all afternoon…for the jewelry they had bought from the stalls. Not even from the actual jewelry shops…because the stalls were where the cheaper jewels were at. They were pretty, but not very valuable, at least not enough to resell at a steep price. But with the way this crook had been tailing them all this way, one would assume Zara and Saren possessed jewels fit for the queen herself. This was pathetic.

Zara stepped out from behind Saren. The man leered at her.

“There she is,” he said, his rasp deepening. “I was wondering where you’ve been hiding. Must be nice having this mountain woman around as a shield, ‘ey?”

“Zara stay behind me,” Saren ordered.

“What are you planning to do?” Zara timidly asked her.

“…I don’t know. But I am more able to fight him off than you are.”

“Saren, he has a knife. The most you have in your bag is a beaded tiara with a pointy tip.”

Saren groaned.

Zara inhaled deeply. Even though she felt like she was lit aflame, she steeled herself in case the situation turned ugly. Judging by the man’s impatient grinding jaw, it was already heading in that direction. She moved in front of Saren and held up her dagger.

“Zara, what are you doing? You brought that?”

“Revan always forces me to be prepared. If this man wants our imitation gold bangles so badly, he will have to avoid my blade cutting his throat to get it.”

The man laughed cruelly. “You? Cutting me? A thin little thing like yourself, with a measly little thing like that? Don’t jest with me. The only way you stand a chance here is if you handed that pathetic dagger over to your behemoth friend over there.”

Saren grimaced. “Zara, let me have the dagger.”

“Does it have your name on its handle?”

“No—”

“Then trust me.”

The man waved his knife impatiently. “It doesn’t matter you foolish fucking woman! I could have killed the both of you with my cloak strap tightened over my eyes if I wanted to!”

“Then why didn’t you?” Saren said sharply. “Why don’t you just kill us now, if it’s so easy? Hm?”

Don’t push him! Zara wanted to shout. She clutched onto the dagger as though her life would immediately forfeit should she choose to loosen her grasp even a bit. She tried to control her panting. Her chest heaved up and down, and she was sure her panic was becoming more noticeable to their soon-to-be-violent attacker.

The man’s nasty yellow smile returned. “You are both such pretty looking creatures. Feisty too. You would sell above normal market price. Especially you, tall one. Maim you, I will. But kill? It would be such a waste.” He readied his knife. “I don’t need your imitation jewels. I just want the real one. The one you—” He nodded toward Saren. “—were wearing earlier before you changed into those lovely garments you have on now. Garments that really suit you so well. I don’t want to have to tear it apart.” His grin seemed to become nastier by the second. “But if you refuse me, I will.”

Zara gave a jolt. She looked at Saren’s chest, void of the green gem and replaced with a necklace more suited to the purple colored outfit she wore now. Zara had been so distracted since entering the salon that she hadn’t thought at all about the fact that Saren had switched out the very jewel that was supposed to stay in contact with her skin all the time. What was going to be the consequence of this? How would this affect Revan’s plan? Did any of this even matter right now?

Zara couldn’t even think properly. Her mind swam, then sank deeper than an ocean floor.

Saren touched her current necklace with a deep frown. “What are you saying? My necklace?”

“Not that one. The emerald that glistens with the sunlight. The gem that flickers when its power is released.”

The alley suddenly felt like it had tilted. Zara’s heart rushed and pounded at once. The silence hung around their heads like a giant noose.

What did he just say?

“I…” Saren shook her head, dazed. “What does that mean? I’m confused…”

She was touching her neck, her eyes zigzagging like a woman descending into madness. Now was not the time for this. Zara couldn’t have Saren going into one of her trances right now. The vile man in front of them…he clearly knew about the gem. Its power. Who the hell was he?

The man let out a low chuckle. “Surprised? I thought so. I don’t know where you got that gem sweetheart, or who gave it to you. It’s obvious that a fine woman such as yourself receives many gifts like this. I’m sure it was from some man infatuated with you or whatever. But whoever he is, it must have cost him a fortune. That particular gem…I know of it. I’ve seen its sort, many years ago. The gem holds an abnormal shine, and sometimes beneath its surface, it appears to be like smoke wisping about like ghosts—said to be the forbidden power from the weird spirits of the north at work. It’s extremely valuable. I know of a man who became rich off it after selling it in the hidden market. I don’t know if any of the legends are true, but hey, I’ve always been fascinated with all things forbidden.”

Zara gave a quick look back at Saren, who seemed to be contemplating what the man had revealed. Her eyes were wide and concentrated on nothing. Her expression wasn’t of shock or bafflement over hearing a tale that—to a normal citizen—would be a far stretch. Instead, it was almost like she was trying very hard to remember something that she was already supposed to know. Zara did not like this. At all. She wished she could tell the stalking man to shut his mouth.

A trickling sensation between Zara’s legs soaked through her dress from the back. She instinctively, yet discreetly, ran her fingers over the wet spot to try and stop the inevitable mess, but then realized how pointless it was right now. She’d be more embarrassed about her situation if her entire life wasn’t at stake.

He snickered. “With you two, and that glorious gem, I’ll never have another worry in my life ever again. I’ll be living better than the fucking king himself! So hand it—and yourselves—over. I’ll hate for this to get too messy.”

The moon rose higher into the sky. When the light touched her face, Zara’s heart rate steadied. She had been simmering in her own rage as the man talked and talked—a rage that seemingly came from nowhere, when she had been nothing but frightful before it. Her emotions had taken a turn sharper than her dagger’s blade, and it was doing so yet again.

She could see the man’s eyes now. The dark hood had slipped up, and in the shadowy light, she could see that they were the color of steel. They popped against the deep tone of his leathery, scarred skin. If he were a better man, those traits might have been something to admire.

Zara glared straight at him, her gut stirring. Perhaps…she could still find something to admire anyway.

The man’s shining gaze narrowed in on her and twitched with curiosity and wariness. “What is it, pretty eyes? You really wanna do this with me?”

Zara stepped forward, refusing to blink away. She could sense this man’s pulse rising; his scent was old musk, sweat, and dirt.

“What are you doing?” Saren hissed. But Zara paid her friend no mind.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “Is that bag where my precious stone is? Just drop it right here and come—”

But Zara had tossed her bag to Saren’s feet before he could finish talking.

“No,” Zara spoke, eerily calm. “You come to me.”

A cool draft blew into the alley. Zara ran two of her fingers smoothly over her blade. She was surprised to see the trail of blood coming off her hands. Had she cut herself already?

No. This blood had an all-too-familiar stench to it. It reminded Zara of the time she’d purposely soiled her fingers in its wretchedness, all for a lesson she had yet to put into actual use.

She bit her lip, hiding a realizing smirk. Tonight may just be the night.

The wind blew colder. Saren shivered. “What’s happening?” she whispered. But her question was ignored.

The man pointed his knife at Zara’s face. “Drop that thing before you hurt yourself. Now.”

A new sense of superiority swelled up inside her. She stepped forward, raking her eyes up and down his shorter appearance. She had been dumb to be afraid of this little runt at all. What was he really going to do? He would not kill them. He would not dare actually stick that knife into her face. Then she would no longer be the whole, unsullied product for him to profit off of for his sick “business”.

Zara arched a brow. “No.”

“What did you say?”

Her response was to hold the enchanted dagger up, letting the natural light shine down on the bloody silver.

“What in all the hells,” the man muttered. Her mild magic had stunned him enough to take a step back.

“Zara!” Saren shouted out, bewildered by the sight of it all.

“Stay,” Zara told the man.

The man’s face contorted into an ugly scowl. He lunged with the intent of jabbing Zara’s shoulder.

“No!” Saren squealed.

But before she could move, the attacker frantically fell forward as though he’d been caught on something. Zara whacked his arm with her wrist. The man howled as the knife swung out of his flailing limb and clattered to the nearest wall. Saren quickly made a grab for it.

“What the fuck?!” the man bellowed. He looked down at his foot, only to find it molded into the ground. He howled again as he tried to move it. “Agghhh. What’s happening?! This hurts! I can’t move!”

As he hyperventilated, Zara coolly stepped to his side. He was so busy panicking over his useless foot that he didn’t even notice her close proximity. Though he finally stilled once she brought her blade to his cheek.

“Shhh,” she cooed, “stay still.”

The man’s bright silvery eyes, once so arrogant and unfeeling, were now rounded in terror. It was a beautiful sight.

“Y-You—”

“Shh…keep still. And it won’t hurt.” She ran the sharp edge down delicately, not willing to hurt him with it yet.

His pupils were larger, and best of all, he was obeying her. Zara tilted her head, studying him in wonder. She was so near to his face. If she leaned down a little more to meet his height, their lips could touch. She could make him do whatever she desired. That thought alone made her stomach flutter pleasurably.

“Your eyes,” the man whispered.

“Hm? Do you like mine too?” Zara whispered back.

“They’re…I don’t know. They’ve changed.”

“Oh? How have they changed?”

The man swallowed, but did not answer her. Zara offered him a false smile. With her free hand, she gently removed his hood.

The man did not have a lot of hair. The sparse strands were white and black, like a skunk’s. His earrings were pure diamonds. They suited a scum thing like him well enough.

“What are you?” the man asked.

Zara pressed the dagger into his skin, inciting a tiny whine out of him. It was delightful to her ears. He went down on his knees with a pitiful whimper. Zara stared down at him, like he was nothing more than a piece of flesh for consumption.

The man glimpsed at his stone-mangled foot, then slowly looked back up at Zara. Fear colored his entire being. The night was deathly cold—uncommon for this city, but welcoming for Zara. An unusual foggy mist had settled into the alley, surrounding them in a damp, frightening hug. Above the man was a demon that wasn’t about to show him mercy, and he knew it.

“W-What are you?” he repeated, even though he obviously knew.

Zara knelt down next to him, placing the tip of her dagger on the side of his neck. She knew the spell by heart, and relayed it in her head. To the man himself, she answered softly into his shivering ear, “Forbidden.”

The man’s throat bobbed, and his body quaked. “L-Look. Y-You can keep the gem. I don’t want it. I want nothing to do with this. I saw nothing—”

“Quiet.”

The man obeyed, because he had to. Zara’s lips curled. She found this so amusing. She wanted more.

“You want me?”

He nodded like he didn’t have a choice. Zara was pleased.

“Give me your jewels then, pretty eyes,” she said.

He forfeited his diamonds, his rings, and his golden bracelet. Zara held them out behind her without a glance back, simply waiting for Saren to retrieve the items in her palm, which she so dutifully did without being told.

With that out of the way, Zara veered closer. The man’s gaze raked over her face and her chest as she breathed in and out.

“Are you a spirit?” he asked lowly.

The fogs thickened. Zara ran her tongue quickly over her dry lips. “No.”

“…Oh…the gods almighty,” he whispered. “You’re the devil. You’re real. You…you’re a fucking witch.”

Zara nodded. She planted her lips gracefully over his. They were very rough and tasted faintly of pipe smoke. He did not resist her advances. She made a shallow cut in his neck, letting the blood on her blade mix with his.

Zara pulled back. Her work here was done. “You are very observant. What is your name?”

“Ronny.”

“Ronny,” the name slipped off her tongue like a sweet candy. “It’s a nice name. Ronny, I may need you again someday. When I call for you, will you promise to come to me?”

The man, Ronny, gave her a firm nod.

“Good. When your debt has been paid, you will be released.” Zara stood back up, and allowed her fog to consume him. He did not protest, because he could not. She did not grant him any will to do so.

When the fogs cleared, only his deformed foot—half flesh, half stone—was left behind as the only evidence of their disturbing encounter. There was nothing Zara could really do about that, for the man now had to deal with only one foot in whatever dark realm she’d sent him to, awaiting her first call.

The mists dissipated and the air warmed back to its original state. When Zara turned around, Saren was staring at her, grimly.

It then began to sink in the gravity of everything. What just happened? Her rambled mind raced dreadfully. What did I do? That man…did I really…?

Acidic bile rose up her throat. She had not acted as herself at all. It was as though she’d been consciously watching another woman akin to a temptress take over her body, and she’d just let it happen without doing anything to stop it. But it was her who had done it all in the end. For the first time, Zara had carried out blood magic—in one of the worst ways possible. Like a truly atrocious witch.

Saren’s here. She knows. What have I done?

Zara did not think she could have controlled her own actions tonight. It all just came to her and left in one swoop. She stared down at her blood-smeared dagger, wondering if she would ever have total control. Trembling, Zara regarded Saren, anticipating the worst.

But Saren did not do anything Zara expected her to do. She did not yell, she did not curse, she did not back away, and she did not run. She instead nudged her head at Zara’s dress.

“You’ve soaked through. Change out of it. Then we’ll go.”

Zara swallowed painfully. “Saren…um, I think I should explain to you—”

“You don’t need to.” Saren gave her a small smile of understanding. “It’s okay. I had a hunch. We’ll discuss it all later. Right now, change your clothes. Then, we will enjoy the night while we still have it.”

As Zara numbly unwrapped her dress from her body, Saren handed her a new attire from the bag, along with some freshly ripped white cloth, and spoke again.

“Thank you, Zara. You saved us both tonight.”

Zara paused her movements, gazing at Saren under a new light. She shrugged bashfully.

“I don’t need thanks. You are my friend. I will protect you…with any power I have.”

Saren grinned as she held up Ronny’s knife. “And I, to you. Next time.”

They laughed as though nothing deranged had happened to them at all. Saren placed the rusty knife carefully into her bag, and once Zara was cleaned up and dressed in the plain beige blouse and black trousers she had thankfully bought on a whim today, they made their way out of the alley, paying no mind to the disfigured foot meshed into the ground, as though it was just another piece of stray rock or trash. Whoever was next to somehow wander through this alley and discover it in daylight would be met with a gruesome surprise.

The girls made it to the outdoor theater with time left for food and drink. They were also met with the sight of Revan’s carriage approaching the site as well. He was very tense—Zara could sense it from the carriage without even seeing him.

When a waiter passed by to offer them some grape wine, Zara took two glasses. Saren was right. For now, everything would be best left ignored.