The trek to Jamana Mountain felt like walking back into a dream I had tried to forget. This was the place that raised me, but as we climbed, the air felt heavier, tainted by the cryptic warnings of the Tasukai receptionist.
"Hey, Ash," Jasmia whispered, her voice barely audible over the crunch of dry brush. "What exactly is the Association? Is it really legal to just... kill?"
Nightshade didn't look back. He walked with a lazy, predatory gait, his silver-white hair catching the fading light. "Tasukai isn't recognized by any flag or throne," he replied. "We're an underground ghost. To the government, every one of us is an enemy of the state."
"They know about us?" Jasmia pressed.
"They know the shadow exists," Nightshade said, his voice dropping into a low, chilling register. "But they don't know the faces in the dark. Every mission is a gamble. You have to understand—this world is already cursed. Because of 'gifted' people like us, the government doesn't just build walls; they build counters."
He stopped, turning to look at us. The intensity in his eyes was suffocating. "I have a theory. Our blood is physically, molecularly different. The government isn't just watching us, they're harvesting us. They want to create 'Potential Syringes'—artificial gifts for the powerless that are even more volatile than our own."
The revelation hit like a physical blow. 60% of the population carried the gift, yet the remaining 40% held the keys to the world's hatred. Was it fear? Or was it the jealousy of a world out of balance?
"How do you know all this?" Lori demanded, his hand hovering near his belt. He was skeptical, his protective instincts on high alert around Nightshade.
"Connections," Nightshade stated simply, his smirk returning. "I have many. We share what we bleed for."
By 5:00 PM, the mountain began to swallow the sun. The wind howled through the ancient trees like a wounded beast. I felt a shiver travel down my spine—not just from the cold, but from the memories of the wolf-beasts I used to hide from in these very woods.
"She lived here?!" Jasmia and nightshade exclaimed when I pointed out a familiar trail.
"Yes," I said firmly.
"I wish I'd met you sooner," Nightshade sighed, his gaze lingering on me a second too long. "I would have looked after you."
Lori shot him a look of pure irritation, stepping closer to my side. "Focus, We're here for a dragon, not a walk down memory lane."
As the temperature plummeted, I began to tremble. Without a word, Nightshade stripped off his heavy leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm, smelling faintly of vanilla and cold steel. He patted my head gently, his touch lingering just long enough to make my heart skip a beat.
I hated how much I liked it. I hated the way his presence felt like a calm center in the middle of a storm. I guess I have a bad taste. Lori saw it, his jaw tightening as he looked away, pretending to be occupied with the treeline.
We hadn't gone another mile before five men stepped out from the thicket. Bandits. They looked us over with predatory grins, laughing at the "kids" trespassing on their mountain.
"Enslave them," their leader barked, his muscles surging as his skin turned to a shimmering, metallic silver. "The higher-ups pay a premium for 'disasters' with potential."
Nightshade didn't move. He subtly shifted his position, his hand brushing against my hip as he moved me behind him. It was a protective gesture, but the way his fingers lingered felt possessive.
The silver-skinned bandit lunged.
Nightshade didn't draw a weapon. He simply caught the massive, metallic fist in his palm. A brilliant red aura erupted from his skin, and the Absolute Undo took hold. The bandit's silver skin withered away, turning back to soft, vulnerable flesh.
Then, nightshade changed.
His hair bled to jet black. His eyes turned a deep, intoxicating scarlet. Fangs lengthened against his bottom lip, turning his handsome features into something terrifyingly beautiful. He looked like a deadly angel carved from shadow.
"I think... that's him," one of the other bandits whispered, his voice cracking with terror. "That's Nightshade Ash!"
They fled into the woods before the first drop of blood could hit the ground. Nightshade stood there, his scarlet eyes vacant and glazed. He looked dizzy, drifting into the "rampage" he had warned me about.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice trembling with slight worry. I reached out, placing a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart hammering—a frantic, heavy rhythm.
He looked down at me, his gaze darting from my lips to the pulse point on my neck. The air between us turned electric, heavy with a hunger that wasn't just about magic. He looked like he wanted to devour me.
Lori sensed the shift instantly. He stepped between us, slamming a hand onto Nightshade's back. "Yo, Ash. You good?"
As nightshade's eyes faded back to his white hair returning to its pale shade. He breathed heavily, running a hand through his mess of hair.
"I'm okay," he said, his voice returning to that familiar, mocking coldness.
But I knew he wasn't. I had seen the craving in his eyes—a raw, desperate hunger for my blood. He was a monster, a disaster, and a predator. And as we continued up the mountain, I realized with a surge of guilt that I couldn't stop looking at him.