The Bayou Widow

  The neon sign flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow over the fog-drenched alleyway. The Bayou Widow wasn’t the kind of place you found unless it wanted to be seen. The scent of aged whiskey and damp earth clung to the air, mixing with jazz’s slow, melodic hum drifting through the half-open doors.

  Cassian adjusted his jacket, feeling the weight of unseen eyes settle on him the moment he stepped inside. The pub was alive with creatures that didn’t belong in the human world—a group of vampires hunched over a blood-red cocktail, a hulking werewolf nursing a bottle of something strong, and a shadowy figure in the corner whose form shimmered between reality and something less tangible.

  He stuck out like a sore damn thumb.

  Ignoring the stares, he went to the bar, his boots scuffing against the worn wooden floorboards. The bartender—a fae with luminescent green eyes and long golden hair pulled back in loose waves—paused in polishing a crystal glass to give him a once-over.

  Cassian knew that look. It was the kind people gave when they saw something out of place and decided whether it was worth dealing with.

  He leaned against the bar, voice low. “I’m looking for Selmira Starfall.”

  The fae smirked, amusement flashing in his gaze. He said nothing, just tilted his head toward a booth in the back before setting down a glass of something silver and faintly glowing.

  Cassian sighed but didn’t argue. He pushed off the bar and made his way to the dimly lit booth, the atmosphere shifting as he moved further into the shadows. He barely had time to sit when a presence curled around the edge of the space like cold starlight slipping through a veil.

  Then, she appeared.

  Selmira Starfall

  She moved like midnight incarnate, her commanding and effortless presence, as though she had stepped through the threads of fate to arrive at this moment. Her silver-streaked raven hair framed a face both ethereal and haunting, eyes the color of the night sky alight with an inner glow. Dark sigils trailed beneath her lashes like celestial tears, and the intricate embroidery on her cloak shimmered under the candlelight, woven with constellations of a sky long forgotten.

  She sat across from him without a word, her gaze holding him still before it flicked to the parchment in his hands.

  Cassian slid it across the table. “I need to get into the Lux Arcana.”

  A soft laugh escaped her lips—low, knowing, edged with amusement. “Oh yes, I know all about you, Cassian.” She leaned back, tapping a painted black fingernail against the tabletop. “Selyne has spoken highly of you.”

  Cassian stiffened slightly, but Selmira waved a hand to dismiss his tension.

  “But no one simply walks into the Lux Arcana, supernatural or otherwise,” she tilted her head. “And since you are now just as hunted as the rest of us, we’re going to need some extra hands if we want to avoid any… nasty business.”

  She slid out of the booth, her movements fluid, filled with purposeful grace. “But tonight? We prepare.” She extended a hand, palm upward, an unspoken invitation wrapped in inevitability. “Come with me, Cassian.

  There’s no time to waste.”

  Cassian exhaled, already knowing he didn’t have another option.

  He took her hand.

  The Preparations Begin

  The French Quarter at night was a creature of its own—one that thrived on the pulse of magic hidden beneath the gas-lit streets and old iron balconies. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and whispers curled through alleyways where no voices should have been. It was alive, but in a way that had little to do with the mortals who stumbled from bars, oblivious that not all monsters lurked in the dark—they walked among them.

  Selmira led Cassian through the labyrinthine streets with the confidence of someone who had long since ceased being prey.

  “First thing’s first,” she said, stepping into a dimly lit apothecary between a tarot shop and an abandoned bookstore. “If we’re walking into Lux Arcana, we need more than sharp steel and quick reflexes.”

  The shopkeeper—a skeletal-looking man with silver rings stacked along every bony finger—glanced up from behind the counter. His eyes flickered with recognition as he saw Selmira, then landed on Cassian with mild disinterest.

  “What’ll it be, witch?” he rasped.

  Selmira moved toward a glass case filled with small vials of enchanted oils and powders, her fingers skimming over them as she murmured under her breath. “We’ll need arcane sigils, ones that disrupt tracking spells. Something that will keep us of the Thalrasi maps.”

  The shopkeeper huffed but began gathering supplies.

  Meanwhile, Selmira turned to Cassian and arched a brow. “And what do you bring to the table?”

  Cassian crossed his arms. “I’m good in a fight.”

  Selmira let out a soft hum of amusement. “That’s lovely, truly. But Lux Arcana is not a place where fists and steel solve problems.” She tossed him a small charm made of obsidian and lunar thread. “That will help—at least for a little while. Keep it close.”

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  Cassian caught it, the stone strangely warm against his palm.

  Final Stop: A Weapon for the Shadows

  After securing the charms, the two made their way to a blacksmith—not for steel, but for something far rarer.

  The forge was hidden beneath an old jazz club, the rhythmic thrum of a bass guitar echoing down the stone staircase. The underground workshop was filled with the scent of iron, fire, and something older than time.

  Behind the counter, a woman with eyes like molten gold inspected a curved dagger under the flickering forge light.

  “You’re late,” she said without looking up.

  Selmira smirked. “Had to make sure he wasn’t going to die the second we walked through the door.”

  Cassian frowned. “That’s comforting.”

  The smith finally looked up, her expression unreadable. “You’ll need something light, fast, and quiet. The kind of weapon that won’t draw attention—until it’s too late.”

  She turned and pulled a blade from a wall lined with relics—a dagger etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the dark, its handle wrapped in what looked like woven shadows.

  “This,” she said, “is for the ones who walk unseen.”

  Cassian took the blade, feeling the weight of something far more dangerous than steel settle into his grasp.

  Selmira tilted her head, satisfied. “Now,” she said, turning toward the door, “we’re ready.”

  Cassian tucked the blade at his side, rolling his shoulders as the weight of what was coming settled like a storm on the horizon.

  The night was far from over.

  And Lux Arcana awaited.

  Fire & Memory

  The clearing was alive with heat.

  Flames danced in the night air, casting shadows that flickered wildly against the trees. Elysia stood in the center, sweat glistening on her skin, her hands raised as fire coiled between her fingers like a living thing. The ground beneath her was scorched, the scent of burnt earth thick in the humid air.

  Across from her, Ronan watched—his stance wide, arms crossed, the glow of the fire reflecting in his golden eyes.

  “Again,” he commanded.

  Elysia scowled, flicking her wrist and sending a fire-like arc toward him. Ronan sidestepped it quickly, his movements sharp and precise, but the flames curved unnaturally—reaching for him before dissipating in a hiss of embers.

  “Sloppy,” he said. “You’re still thinking too much.”

  Elysia gritted her teeth, her fingers tightening into fists. The fire pulsed, rising higher, feeding off the frustration seething in her chest. She had power now. She could feel it. But Ronan was pushing her—too hard, too fast.

  “You wanted me to control it. I’m controlling it.”

  “You’re containing it. That’s not the same thing.” Ronan’s voice was firm, unrelenting. “Fire isn’t meant to be caged, Elysia. It’s meant to be wielded.”

  He surged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Their bodies collided, Elysia’s breath catching as his arm knocked against hers, sending her balance tilting. Instinct roared to life—fire flared between them, a violent surge of heat meant to force him back.

  But Ronan didn’t flinch.

  He moved through it, his hand catching her wrist, twisting her momentum against her. Before she could react, he had her pinned—her back against a tree, his breath warm against her skin, his grip like iron.

  And then—

  A memory slammed into her.

  A different night. A different fire.

  Pain laced through her ribs, cold seeping into her bones even as heat crackled all around. She was dying. She felt it—her body failing, her strength slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

  And Ronan was there. Holding her. Whispering her name like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

  “Stay with me. Please.”

  Elysia gasped, shoving him back.

  Her eyes locked onto his, wide with shock, and her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.

  “You were there,” she whispered.

  Ronan stilled, his expression unreadable, but his hands clenched at his sides—a tell.

  “I was always there,” he said, voice low, raw.

  The fire around them flickered and died.

  Silence stretched between them, heavy with something neither of them could name. Elysia’s heart pounded against her ribs, the phantom ache of something long lost still burning beneath her skin.

  Ronan held her gaze, but she was the first to look away this time.

  Later That Night

  The moon was a silver blade hanging over the bayou, its reflection fractured across the water. Elysia stood alone, arms wrapped around her, staring up at it, searching for something she couldn’t name.

  Her mind replayed the memory repeatedly, like an ember she couldn’t smother.

  She knew that feeling. She knew that moment.

  And deep down, she knew the truth already.

  Ronan wasn’t just in her past.

  He was the reason she had one at all.

  And now… she had to figure out what that meant.

  The Ghost of the Wild Hunt

  The alley behind La Belle Morte was empty—at least, to those who didn’t know better.

  Cassian did.

  He felt the presence before he saw him. A shift in the air, something like a breath stolen between seconds. The kind of quiet that didn’t belong in a city like New Orleans, where life never truly stopped moving.

  Selmira walked ahead of him, unbothered, her long cloak trailing behind her as she stepped into the deep shadows between the flickering gaslights. Cassian followed, fingers flexing at his sides, his senses sharpening.

  Then, he felt it.

  The weight of a gaze that didn’t belong to the living.

  A slow clap echoed from the darkness, measured and mocking.

  “Tell me, Selmira,” a voice drawled, low and edged with amusement. “Is this really the best you could find?”

  Cassian’s shoulders tensed. He turned toward the sound, but Kaelor Draven was already there.

  He moved like something half-unreal, the faint shimmer of an afterimage trailing behind him. His ashen silver hair was streaked with black, his golden eyes flickering like dying embers in the dark. He was tall, lean, and predatory, dressed in a weathered cloak that seemed to shift between fabric and shadow.

  Kaelor’s gaze dragged over Cassian like he was appraising a weapon and finding it dull.

  Cassian gritted his teeth.

  Selmira only smirked, entirely unsurprised. “You’ll have to forgive him, Kaelor. He’s not used to ghosts.”

  Kaelor tilted his head slightly, watching Cassian as if waiting for him to react. When Cassian didn’t, the fae hunter let out a slow hum. “Hm. He’s either stupid or disciplined. I’m not sure which yet.”

  Cassian rolled his shoulders. “You always talk this much, or is this a special occasion?”

  Kaelor’s expression barely flickered, but Cassian caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  Selmira sighed dramatically. “Play nice, boys. We don’t have time for posturing.” She turned toward Kaelor, her voice turning cool. “You owe Selyne and me this favor. We need another set of hands before we walk into Lux Arcana.”

  Kaelor leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed. “You’re walking into Lux Arcana, and you want me to come along?” His tone was amused but edged with something sharper.

  Selmira raised an elegant brow. “I wasn’t aware you had better things to do.”

  Kaelor exhaled through his nose, his gold eyes flicking between them. “You know I don’t.” A pause. Then, almost reluctantly, “I made a promise. I’ll help.”

  Cassian observed him. “But?”

  Kaelor smiled. It wasn’t reassuring.

  “But I don’t like dead weight.” His gaze locked onto Cassian’s, full of quiet challenge. “If you slow me down, I’ll leave you behind.”

  Cassian smirked. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

  Selmira sighed, rubbing her temples. “If you’re both done measuring your egos, we have work to do.”

  Kaelor chuckled, the sound dry and knowing. “Fine.” He stepped forward, his presence shifting like a shadow stretching beneath the moon. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you, pup.”

  Cassian’s fists clenched.

  This was going to be a long night.

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