Court of Aether and Shadows (Crowned Monster Trilogy #1)

4. Sweaty Interlude Of Taunting Chemistry

Sweaty Interlude Of Taunting Chemistry

~SPARROW~

T he underground complex sprawled beneath the city like a cancerous growth — a labyrinth of concrete corridors and repurposed industrial spaces.

The air was always slightly damp, carrying the faint scent of mildew and something metallic that might have been blood. You never really know who lost their patience fuse in this hellhole, so no surprises there.

Flickering fluorescent lights cast everything in a sickly pallor, creating deep shadows that seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them.

I had called this place home for the past seven years, ever since Vincent had taken me under his wing. It was either this eerie place that hid so many of us lost souls, or the streets.

And the streets were already brutal enough.

I had to be thankful I had survived their merciless alleyways without being taken advantage of; especially as a woman.

As I made my way through the familiar passageways, my footsteps echoing hollowly, I couldn't shake the feeling that I no longer belonged there. The rough concrete walls felt more confining than ever, the low ceiling pressing down on me like a physical weight.

Foreign territory, despite everything being the same as it always has after all these years.

Two weeks had passed since I'd woken up in Elenore's makeshift clinic. My wound had healed remarkably fast, leaving behind only a faint pink scar that occasionally twinged with phantom pain.

But the dreams... the dreams hadn't stopped.

Every night, I found myself drawn back to that otherworldly realm of shadow and starlight, where the Shadow Prince waited with burning eyes and promises of power.

I shook off the memory as I approached Vincent's office, adjusting the collar of my leather jacket nervously.

The boss had summoned me for a debrief, and I knew better than to keep him waiting. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the heavy steel door, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor.

"Enter," came the curt reply, muffled by the thick metal.

Here we go…

I stepped inside, immediately assessing the room out of habit.

Vincent sat behind his massive desk, a relic of mahogany and brass that looked absurdly out of place in the concrete bunker. Its polished surface gleamed under the harsh overhead lights, marred only by a few carefully arranged file folders and a crystal tumbler half-full of amber liquid.

I realized quickly that he wasn’t alone.

Marco lounged in one of the chairs across from him, trying and failing to look nonchalant. His greasy hair was slicked back, and he wore a cheap suit that strained across his paunch.

My lip curled in disgust at the sight of him, remembering his cowardice during our last mission. For as long as I could remember, Marco and I simply never got along.

Never understood why, but it was as if he carried a vendetta against my very existence. Side glances, far away sneers. His obvious displeasure with my presence made me wonder if I smelled or something.

Clearly it wasn’t my scent or anything, or else Liam would have said something ages ago. The few times where I used to be subconscious about it, I’d confide in him to tell me if I did have an ick smell clinging to me.

My best friend always said I was the best-smelling person in this entire underground. He must have been saying it just to lift my spirits when I was paranoid about Marco’s behavior, but now that I was older — and no longer a people-pleasing newbie — I couldn’t give two shits.

If I ever did smell, it had to be because of some long 72-hour mission that left us sweaty and disgusting after cleaning up the horrendous mess we made killing targets left and right.

"Ah, there she is," Vincent said, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever.

Could say my recovery doesn’t mean shit when there’s no crazy assignments being begged for our utmost attention.

He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, steepling his fingers as his steel-gray eyes assessed me. "Our little Canary, back from the brink of death. How are you feeling?"

So I guess he does care a little.

I stood before his desk, my face a neutral mask that I'd perfected over years in this life. I’d love to roll my eyes but that wouldn’t go over too well, especially with Marco being present to further scrutinize my every move.

"Fully recovered and ready for duty, sir."

Vincent's eyes narrowed, studying me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I’m sure he’s questioning if that’s true, but my masked expression and straight posture can steer him astray from the idea of leaving me behind in whatever mission is next for our special unit.

After a long moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Good. We have much to discuss regarding the... incident at the warehouse."

I felt Marco tense beside me, the leather of his chair creaking as he shifted uncomfortably. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, yet again.

The coward was probably worried I'd throw him under the bus for his pathetic performance during the mission. As if Vincent didn't already know exactly what had happened.

"It was a setup," I said bluntly, deciding to cut straight to the chase. "Someone fed us bad intel. The question is, who had the resources and the motive to do so?"

Vincent's lips thinned into a grim line, the only outward sign of his displeasure.

"That's what we're trying to determine. Marco here has been conducting his own investigation while you were... indisposed."

I couldn't help the snort of disbelief that escaped me.

Marco shot me a venomous glare before puffing out his chest, his voice taking on a pompous tone that grated on my nerves.

"I've made significant progress," he boasted, smoothing down his ill-fitting jacket. "I have leads on several potential informants who might have leaked the information. There's a new player in town, calling themselves 'The Starlight Broker.' Word on the street is they've got dirt on everyone, even the big families."

"Oh really?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "And I suppose you obtained this information through your stellar investigative skills? The same skills that had you cowering behind crates while actual professionals did the work?"

Marco's face flushed an ugly shade of red, blotchy patches appearing on his neck. He leaped to his feet, fists clenched at his sides, the chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor.

"You little bitch! I saved your ungrateful ass back there! If it weren't for me?—"

I stepped into his personal space, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"The only thing you saved was your own pathetic hide. If it weren't for Liam and me, you'd be rotting in that warehouse right now, bullet between your eyes."

"Enough!" Vincent's voice cracked like a whip, freezing us both in place. The crystal tumbler on his desk rattled from the force of his fist coming down. "I will not have my top operatives bickering like children. Marco, sit the fuck down. Sparrow, control yourself."

We both complied — not like we had much of a choice to rebel — though I could feel Marco still seething beside me. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

I didn’t give a shit though. I despised being looked down upon; labeled a weak waste of space in a world where having a cock seemed to outweigh having the brains, agility, and talent to be the leader of the pack.

I may be young, but no fucking way would anyone walk over or attempt to dismiss the hard work I engrave with every action I initiate.

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare display of frustration from the usually stoic boss. When he spoke again, his voice had regained its icy calm.

"Now," he continued, fixing us both with a steely glare, "let's focus on the matter at hand. Sparrow, your skills and reputation have made you a valuable asset to this organization. Many of our... associates have been inquiring specifically about your services."

Huh?

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, colder than the perpetual dampness of the underground. I knew what that meant – more dangerous jobs, higher stakes, and a tighter leash.

Vincent confirmed my fears with his next statement, each word deliberate and weighted with threat.

"I hope I don't need to remind you of the debt you owe this family," he said, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made me want to squirm in my seat. "We took you in when you had nothing. Gave you purpose, training, a roof over your head. It would be... unfortunate if you were to forget that loyalty."

The threat was clear, and for a moment, I felt that old, familiar anger rise within me like bile.

But something had changed.

The dreams, the glimpses of another world... they had awakened something inside me. A hunger for more than this life of violence and servitude.

A sense and knowing that I was meant for something greater than being a pawn in Vincent's games.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady as I met his gaze.

"I understand, sir. My loyalty is not in question."

Vincent held my gaze for a long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied.

"Good. Now, I want a full report on the warehouse incident. Every detail, no matter how small."

Good. Off my leash…for now.

As I launched into my account of that night, I could feel a headache building behind my eyes. The fluorescent lights seemed too harsh, their incessant buzzing grating on my nerves.

The air felt thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Fragments of my dreams kept intruding — the scent of night-blooming flowers, the touch of clawed hands on my skin, the taste of starlight and shadow...

I stumbled over my words, blinking hard to clear my vision.

The room seemed to waver for a moment, the concrete walls melting into shadows that writhed and reached for me. The shift in the environment wasn’t what was disturbing in the depths of my mind.

What ignited goosebumps along my flesh was the strong presence that stood behind me. The magnitude of power that yearned to be present and acknowledged by anyone who dared threaten me.

It was so strong, that I struggled with every thread of resistance to not look over my shoulder and prove that the familiar aura of the monstrous entity wasn’t standing behind me.

Ready to protect me from these commoners who dared believe they were somehow better than me.

Vincent's frown deepened, a flicker of something almost like concern crossing his face.

"Are you alright, Sparrow? You look pale."

I shook my head, trying to focus on the here and now.

"I'm fine, sir. Just a headache. May I be excused? I can provide a written report if you prefer."

Vincent studied me for another long moment before waving his hand in dismissal. I had to look pale enough to leave him actually concerned with the expression forming on his face.

"Very well. Get some rest. I expect that report on my desk first thing tomorrow."

I nodded, relief washing over me as I stood to leave on unsteady legs. As I reached the door, my hand on the cool metal handle, Vincent's voice stopped me one last time.

"And Sparrow? Take care of yourself. You're no good to me if you burn out."

No good…

The words might have sounded caring from anyone else, but from Vincent, they were just another reminder of my place in his world.

A tool to be maintained and manipulated, nothing more.

I felt a surge of resentment, quickly suppressed.

Now wasn't the time for rebellion.

Not yet.

It didn’t hide the sprout of anger that began to boil inside me. The sense of belonging fretted even further away from my grasp — desperate to be nothing but a plop of memory than dare be a present factor that made me feel this urgency to remain.

I made my way back to the sleeping quarters, my head pounding and my thoughts in turmoil. The narrow corridors seemed to close in around me, the shadows in the corners deeper and more menacing than usual.

By the time I reached my room, I was gasping for breath, feeling like a caged animal. The world was spinning, my body far too hot for my own well-being.

The small space I called my own felt suffocating.

Bare concrete walls, a narrow cot with sheets that had seen better days, a battered dresser that held the few possessions I'd accumulated over the years. It was spartan, functional, and utterly devoid of personality.

Just like Vincent wanted us – interchangeable parts in his criminal machine.

I knew sleep would be impossible, despite my exhaustion.

The dreams waited for me there, tempting and terrifying in equal measure.

With a frustrated growl, I changed into workout clothes – a black sports bra and form-fitting leggings — and headed for the gym.

Physical exertion had always been my go-to method for clearing my head. Maybe if I pushed my body hard enough, I could drown out the whispers of that other world that kept calling to me.

I can only hope. This isn’t the time to show weakness.

I wasn’t sure if Liam was around, so I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I’d need to rely on anyone else. With that being said, I’d be no good tossing and turning in my scratchy cot.

A bit of movement will get the blood circulating. I’m sure that will help with this blasting headache from hell.

The gym was deserted at this late hour, the cavernous space filled only with the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint whir of air conditioning.

The scent of sweat and metal hung in the air, a familiar comfort. I was always someone who enjoyed picking up on the various scents around me. I never really understood why or the importance revolving around it, but I also didn’t hate it.

I’d accepted it was a trait that just made me unique, which now being in this field makes me favored.

Loyalty. Hmph. What’s the point of all that when you’re nothing but a tool to be used and abused?

I made my way to the heavy bag in the corner, not bothering with wraps or gloves. I wanted to feel every impact, to ground myself in the reality of flesh and bone.

Taking a few deep breaths to center myself, I zone out the world around me — my focus on the hanging bag that was now my marked target.

As I fell into the familiar rhythm of punches and kicks, I let my mind wander.

What was happening to me? These dreams and visions felt more real than the world around me sometimes. And the Shadow Prince...who is he? A lover? A commitment worth venturing for?

Just the thought of him sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. I’d be lying if I pretended the pleasure he delivered with each interaction didn’t leave me breathless and wet the moment I woke up, every single time.

The amount of cold showers and thrown-out panties, soaked in my slick have made my spending go up lately. The thought makes me smirk while I try to tell myself the next time I see him, I should tell him to give me some money to invest in better underwear and pay my share of the hydro.

My smile only grows.

I landed a particularly vicious roundhouse kick, the bag swaying wildly on its chain. The pain that shot through my leg was oddly satisfying, a reminder that I was still here, still human.

I can still fight…feel…be valuable in my own unique way.

My knuckles were split and bleeding, leaving smears of crimson on the black leather of the bag. I was panting heavily, drenched in sweat, and vibrating with exhilaration, proving I was alive and wouldn’t allow my spark to be stolen just because people like Vincent or Marco didn’t see my value.

Only see my worth now because others are inquiring. Funny.

Even as I tried to focus on the physical sensations and the burdens of my current circumstance, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

My instincts, honed by years on the streets and in this underground world, were screaming at me that something was off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a prickle of awareness racing across my skin.

I spun away from the bag, scanning the gym with narrowed eyes. The shadows in the corners seemed deeper than they should be, writhing and shifting in ways that defied natural law. And there, just at the edge of my vision – a flash of movement, a glint of eyes in the darkness.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and blood roaring in my ears.

Slowly, I turned towards the source of the movement, every muscle tensed for action. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat, my eyes widening further to take in the sight.

A creature crouched in the shadows, its form fluid and indistinct. It was vaguely lupine in shape, but far larger than any wolf I'd ever seen.

Its body seemed to be made of living shadow, wisps of darkness curling off its form like smoke. But its eyes... its eyes were unmistakably intelligent, fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

They glowed with an inner fire, gold and red like the embers of a dying sun.

I blinked, and in that instant, it was gone.

The shadows were just shadows again, the gym empty with just me and the equipment. Yet, the feeling of being watched lingered, raising goosebumps along my arms.

"What the fuck," I whispered, running a shaky hand through my sweat-damp hair. Was I going crazy? Hallucinating from stress and lack of sleep?

Or was the barrier between worlds thinning, allowing glimpses of that other realm to bleed through?

It sounded so preposterous to even think like that. As if those legends Elenore was talking about were some reflection of a reality that I’d yet to accept.

C’mon, Sparrow. None of that shit is real. Fables. Tales. Bedtime stories.

Determined to shake off the unsettling experience, I threw myself back into my workout with renewed vigor. I moved from the heavy bag to the speed bag, the rapid-fire impacts echoing through the empty gym.

Then it was on to bodyweight exercises — pushups, squats, burpees.

I pushed myself to the limit and beyond until my muscles screamed and sweat poured down my face, soaking my clothes and leaving a sheen on my skin.

As I finished a set of mountain climbers, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I staggered, catching myself on the wall as the room spun around me.

The phantom pain from my barely healed wound flared to life, a burning sensation that radiated outward from my side. It felt like liquid fire in my veins, spreading through my body with each frantic beat of my heart.

Ugh…okay. Maybe this was stupid to do when you’ve just healed from an injury.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself.

Just breathe, Sparrow. Breathe.

Coaching myself for a few seconds makes all the difference, as the spinning sensation begins to diminish to a lull. I let out a sigh of relief.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed.

The utilitarian gym of the underground complex was gone, replaced by a vast training hall that took my breath away. My jaw had surely dropped by now, my eyes cascading over my new surroundings in awe.

The floor was polished obsidian, shot through with veins of silver that seemed to pulse with inner light. The walls reached up impossibly high, lost in shadows that writhed and danced like living things.

Weapons of every description lined the walls – swords, axes, spears, and others I couldn't even name. Each one radiated power, singing a silent song of battle and bloodshed.

I was drawn to them, my fingers itching to wrap around their hilts and feel their weight.

But it was the figure in the center of the room that truly captured my attention, driving all other thoughts from my mind.

There, the Shadow Prince stood; bare-chested and magnificent.

His obsidian skin glistened with sweat, the red markings that covered his body pulsing in time with his rapid breathing. The play of light and shadow across his sculpted muscles was hypnotic, each movement a study of power and grace.

He held a sword in each hand – one blade of deepest black that seemed to devour the light around it, while the other shimmering silver glowed with an inner radiance.

As I watched, transfixed, he moved through a series of forms with inhuman speed and precision. The blades became blurs of motion around him, singing as they cut through the air.

It was beautiful and terrifying, a deadly dance that spoke of centuries of training and battle. The average human shouldn’t be able to track such movements, and yet I could see through it all.

I even dare to confidently say I could keep up if given the opportunity to face such a worthy opponent.

I couldn't look away, my breath coming in short gasps that had nothing to do with my previous exertion. All of this made me feel so much, but also, I also felt this level of exhilaration that kept me on my toes.

Like this was where I should be training — learning — improving my talents that have been sealed away as a form of protection.

Wait..sealed away? What…am I even thinking about?

The Shadow Prince came to a striking stop, his golden eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that stole what little breath I had left. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other — the stillness building while the air between us charged with an electric tension that made my skin tingle and my heart race.

Then he was moving towards me, the swords dissolving into shadows and twinkling radiance as if they had never existed.

Oddly enough, I expected my body to still be in some sort of frightened state. As if I was being caught red-handed and hadn’t yet grasped an escape route.

Instead, I found myself stepping forward to meet him, drawn by a force I couldn't explain and didn't want to resist. It was a tad alarming, with how intense it was, but this underlying need to not run away from what felt like destiny screams to be compelled.

To give in and allow myself this pleasant gift.

We met in the center of the room, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

His scent enveloped me – thunderstorms and dark forests and something uniquely him . It was intoxicating, making my head spin and my knees weak. Every nerve ending was alive with awareness, my body hypersensitive to his proximity.

"My little Songbird," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt in my bones, and his voice was so much more human. It wasn’t tainted with that heaviness of power that would echo down to my very soul.

If this was in the realm of my dreams, I may have missed the predatory depths of his tone, but here, in this vibrating instant, I felt more connected to him than ever.

That he wasn’t only real, but that we could potentially be on the same level.

He reached up to cup my face in his large, clawed hand. The touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn't help but lean into it as a whimper escaped my parted lips.

Everything was so real. So vibrant and true. It almost felt too much, but then again, it felt…right.

"You're getting stronger,” his praise leaves me ecstatic. “Learning to bridge the gap between worlds."

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of his skin against mine. When I opened them again, I found him watching me with a mixture of pride and hunger that made heat pool low in my belly.

"What's happening to me?" I whispered, voicing the question that had been haunting me for weeks. My voice sounded breathy and foreign to my own ears.

So vulnerable with feminity I normally never allowed to grace my limbs, let alone my tone of voice. I’d gotten so used to doing things to make me as manly and emotionless as I could, or else I’d never be taken seriously in the underground.

But here…with him…I could be soft and tender. Could let my eyes seek his undivided attention and allow my body to react to his masculine presence with sexual vigor.

His thumb brushed across my cheekbone in a surprisingly tender gesture.

The contrast between his obvious power and this gentleness was intoxicating.

"You're awakening," he said, his voice deepening with something that sounded like pride. "Remembering who you truly are. What you're capable of."

I searched his face for answers, drinking in every detail.

The sharp line of his jaw, the full lips that promised both pleasure and pain, the slight points of his ears that marked him as something other than human.

"And what is that, exactly?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Who am I in this world?"

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, equal parts tender and predatory. His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. The gentle tug sent shivers down my spine.

Does this man — shadow being of power — realize such simple things would have me on my knees in a heartbeat? I can only imagine doing a glimpse of the sinful deeds we perform at the root of my dreams.

"You are mine," he said, his voice deepening with possession and that dangerous depth that returns to reinforce what my shadow prince enjoys revalidating.

The words should have angered me, should have made me want to pull away and assert my independence, but goodness, they do something different.

Instead, they ignited a fire in my blood, a yearning I couldn't explain.

"My queen, my warrior, my other half. The human world may have claimed you for a time, but your true heritage is calling you home."

His words stirred something deep within me, a recognition that both thrilled and terrified me. I thought of Elenore's tales of the Fae, of humans who could cross between worlds.

Was that what I was?

The idea was both exciting and overwhelming.

"I don't understand," I said, frustration coloring my voice. My hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms while admiring the beads of sweat that continued to fall along his chiseled chest. "These dreams, these visions...they feel so real. You…feel so real,” I take a second to inhale and exhale his divine yet seemingly forbidden scent. “But how can they be? How can any of this be real?"

The Shadow Prince's expression softened, a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the powerful exterior. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine —the contact sent a jolt through me, like a current of electricity connecting us.

"It is as real as you allow it to be," he said, his breath warm against my lips. "The barriers between worlds are thinning, and you stand at the crossroads. You must make a choice, my love. Embrace your true nature, or forever be torn between two realms."

I shook my head slightly, overwhelmed by the implications.

"How? How do I even begin to understand all of this?"

His hand at the nape of my neck tightened slightly, not painful but grounding.

"Trust your instincts," he murmured, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. "Listen to the whispers of your blood. Seek out the legends of your mother's lineage – the answers you need lie there."

My mother’s lineage?

I could barely remember the sight of my Mother when I was but a child. How would I possibly discover more about her family when never given a fighting chance to know her?

To be loved by her.

Before I could respond, he closed the remaining distance between us, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

It was possession and promise all at once, his mouth demanding and giving in equal measure. I melted into him, my hands sliding up to clutch at his broad shoulders.

The kiss deepened, and with it came a flood of sensations and images. I saw flashes of battles long past, of a world balanced on the knife-edge between light and shadow. I felt the pulse of ancient magic in my veins, a power that both exhilarated and terrified me.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, I felt changed.

As if some fundamental piece of myself had shifted into place. The Shadow Prince's golden eyes burned with an intensity that left me weak-kneed, his pupils dilated with desire.

"I have begun the work of avenging you," he said, his voice a low growl that sent heat pooling low in my belly. "Those who sought to harm you will pay dearly for their transgressions. Watch for the signs, my love. They will guide you on your path."

His hands roamed down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I arched into his touch, craving more.

"What signs?" I managed to gasp out, my thoughts scattered by the sensations he was evoking.

He smiled, a predatory flash of teeth that should have frightened me but only heightened my arousal.

"You'll know them when you see them," he murmured, leaning in to trail kisses along my jaw. "Trust your instincts, little Songbird. They won't lead you astray."

I tilted my head back, giving him better access to my neck. He took full advantage, his lips and teeth and tongue working in concert to drive me wild.

"I still have so many questions," I panted, my hands exploring the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.

How he chuckled in return, the sound vibrating against my skin.

"And you'll have answers, in time," he said, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze, the magnificent weight of power blazing in the depths of his pupils. "But for now, let me show you a taste of what awaits you in this world."

With a fluid motion that took my breath away, he lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried me to the far wall of the training room, pressing me up against the cool obsidian surface.

The contrast between the cold stone at my back and his burning heat against my front was exquisite.

His mouth found mine again, the kiss deeper and more demanding than before. I met him with equal fervor, pouring all my confusion, longing, and desire into the connection. One of his hands tangled in my hair, angling my head for better access, while the other roamed my body with possessive intent.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, lost in a haze of sensation and building pleasure. Time seemed to lose all meaning, the world narrowing down to just the two of us and the fire building between us.

Every touch, every kiss, every shared breath felt like it was awakening something within me — some dormant power that had been waiting for this moment.

Just as the tension reached a fever pitch, just as I felt myself teetering on the edge of something monumental, my shadowed prince pulled back slightly.

His eyes, now glowing with an inner fire that matched the heat in my veins, held mine captive.

"Remember this," he said, his voice rough with passion and something deeper, more primal. "Remember how it feels to be truly alive, a powerful being of your own. This is who you are meant to be, my love. My queen. My equal."

I wanted to respond, to tell him that I never wanted this moment to end. But before I could form the words, I felt the familiar tugging sensation that signaled my impending return to the waking world.

Panic clawed at my throat as I felt myself slipping away.

"Wait!" I gasped, clinging to him with desperate strength. "I don't even know your name. How will I find you again?"

His smile was both tender and fierce, a promise of things to come.

"Names have power in our world, little Songbird,” he reveals like a deadly secret. “But know this – I am the Shadow Prince, ruler of the Twilight Court.” He pauses as if to ensure his revelation engraves itself in my frazzled mind.

“And you, my love, are the key to our salvation."

With those cryptic words ringing in my ears, the vision shattered.

I found myself back in the underground gym, on my knees and gasping for breath. My body ached from the intense workout and the phantom sensations of the Shadow Prince's touch.

But it was nothing compared to the turmoil in my mind.

As I struggled to my feet, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the mirrored walls.

For just a moment, I could have sworn I saw something different —mismatched eyes, one blue and one red, and hair that shimmered between black and white. My skin seemed to glow with an inner light, and there was a wildness to my features that both thrilled and disturbed me.

I blinked, and my normal reflection stared back at me.

But the memory lingered, along with the Shadow Prince's final words.

Seek out the legends of your mother's lineage. Watch for the signs.

As I made my way back to my quarters on shaky legs, I knew that everything had changed. The human world suddenly felt less real, less solid , than the realm I visited in my dreams.

The underground complex, with its concrete walls and fluorescent lights, seemed pale and lifeless compared to the vibrancy of the Twilight Court — if that was even the name of the world I kept visiting where my Shadow Prince resided.

Odd to admit, for the first time since I'd lost my mother, I felt a spark of hope ignite in my chest. There were answers out there. A truth about myself and my heritage that I had never known.

And I was determined to find them, no matter the cost.

As I entered my small room, I was struck by how confining it felt now.

The bare walls and sparse furnishings that had once been a comfort in their simplicity now felt like a prison. I longed for the opulence of the Shadow Prince's realm, for the feeling of power and belonging I'd experienced.

I collapsed onto my narrow bed, exhaustion finally catching up with me. But even as my eyes drifted closed, my mind raced with possibilities.

What did it mean to be the "key to salvation" for the Twilight Court? How was I connected to that world of magic and shadow?

As I drifted off to sleep, I could have sworn I heard the Shadow Prince's voice one last time:

"Soon, my love. Soon we will be together, and all the worlds will tremble before us."

Such words of certainty and promise filled me with fierce anticipation.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever mysteries I had to unravel, I knew one thing for certain.

I was done being a pawn in someone else's game.

It was time to embrace my true nature, to seek out the power that sang in my veins. And when I did, when I finally understood who and what I truly was, I would return to my Shadow Prince.

Not as a supplicant or a servant, but as his equal.

As his queen.

With that resolution burning in my heart, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

For the first time in years, I felt truly at peace.

The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and mystery. But I was ready to face it head-on; a weird and yet empowering confidence to carry in my heart.

Soon, I’d no longer be just Sparrow — the street rat turned assassin everyone used and abused to get their missions done and gave scrap change instead of the millions I deserved to rid them of their hindrances.

I’m something else…something so ancient and powerful…this world…no…both worlds will never accurately predict would be heading their way.

A force no one will ever see coming.