Shadows of The Arcane

The city buzzed, restless, like it couldn't sleep. Neon signs blinked on and off, dying stars spitting light, while horns blared down streets slick with rain. The air hit her nose hard, wet asphalt, gasoline fumes, and that stale cigarette stink lingering everywhere.

Evelyn "Evie" Carter yanked her coat tight, hurrying along the sidewalk, boots tapping soft and quick. It was late, way too late for a lone woman out here, but the library had sucked her in again, hours slipping away like they always did.

Books were her thing. Always had been. That musty smell of yellowed pages, the hush of nobody around, it was her bubble, the one spot she didn't feel like some tiny, pointless speck.

Tonight, though, something chewed at her brain. A weird itch she couldn't scratch.

Streets were off. Too quiet. No chatter drifting from corners, no car radios thumping, just this creepy, dead silence swallowing everything. Streetlamps flickered, weak and buzzy, splashing warped shadows over cracked pavement.

She muttered to herself, "You're imagining it, Evie, chill and kept walking."

Then she heard them.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Matching hers, step for damn step.

Her breath snagged. She sped up, fingers digging into her bag strap. Alley ahead, was sketchy but it'd chop her walk home in half. She'd done it tons of times. Just move fast, right?

She darted in, narrow as hell, heart banging loud in her ears. Walls loomed, plastered with torn gig flyers and graffiti, "Rusty 4eva" scrawled in red drips. One streetlight hummed, flickering, throwing long, freaky shadows across the wet concrete.

Then, out of the black, a guy stepped up. Tall. Face drowned in shadow.

Evie stopped cold.

She barely twitched to bolt before more shapes slunk out behind her, one, two, four, four, crap, she was done.

The tallest one swaggered forward, voice oily and smirking. "Hey there, sweetheart."

Her gut twisted, oh no, oh no.

"Gimme your bag," another barked, all gravel and spit.

A mugging. Just that. Had to be. Right? She swallowed, throat like sandpaper, forcing words out steady. "I don't have money, seriously."

The first guy chuckled, dark and mean. "Ain't your cash we want, sweetie."

Her pulse hammered. That tone, slimy, wrong, screamed this wasn't about her wallet. It was her they were after.

She shuffled back, but a hand, clammy, rough, snapped around her wrist. She yelled.

Then, chaos. A blur, fast as hell. A wet crack, bone smashing bone. The guy holding her reeled, blood pouring from his busted nose, swearing through his fingers.

A shadow stormed in, fists flying, elbows cracking skulls like it was nothing. One thug hit the ground, groaning, curled up tight. Another lunged, knife glinting, dumb move, only to lose it in a flash, blade skittering across concrete.

Evie flattened against the wall, eyes bugging out. This guy wasn't just winning, he was owning them.

One tried to run, too late. The stranger snagged his collar, slammed him into the bricks so hard the air shook. "Who are you?" Low, deadly, cutting through the mess.

The thug shook, gasping. "J-just hired us, man, to grab her!"

"By who?" His grip tightened, knuckles popping.

The guy jerked, then cracked. Body spasmed, eyes rolling back, and he dropped. Limp. Gone.

Evie's breath stuck, choking her. What, what the hell?

He was dead. Not from the stranger, though, something else, something invisible, like his spine just snapped itself.

The others saw it, bolted, shoes slapping away into the city's hum.

Quiet hit, hard.

Evie pressed a shaky hand to her chest, gulping air, trying not to lose it.

Then she looked, really looked, at him.

Tall. Shoulders wide. Black coat, dark jeans, beat-up combat boots. He stood loose but coiled, like a wolf sniffing for trouble.

Those eyes, though. Ice blue. Sharp. Cold as hell. They locked on hers, and a shiver ripped down her spine.

Neither said a word. Too long.

Then he broke it. "C'mon, you're with me."

Her fingers dug into her coat. "W-what?"

His gaze flicked to the corpse, then back. "Those guys? Not random. They wanted you."

She swallowed, hard. "Why, why me?"

His jaw went tight. "That."

She followed his look, to the pendant dangling at her neck. Mom's pendant. All she had left for her.

Her pulse thumped. "It's just some necklace."

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "No. It ain't."

Dread sank in her gut, heavy and cold.

Tonight wasn't right. He wasn't right.

She stumbled back, shaky. "Who, who are you?"

He watched her, too long, before answering. "Nathan Cross." His voice was steady, but something dark lurked in it, dangerous. "You wanna live? Move. Now."

Her breath came fast, ragged. Run? Scream? Yeah, she should.

But her gut knew, he was why she wasn't dead already.

And deep down, she felt it.

This was just the start. The real mess was coming.