It Will Come Back

Shadows of the Past

Asmara stood before me, his presence commanding despite his small stature. His piercing blue eyes, vibrant as a summer sky, radiated wisdom as they always had. The faint glow of his skin shimmered under the soft light of the ancient room.

“Asmara, my oldest friend,” I greeted, a rare smile spreading across my face as I inclined my head.

“Ravi, the Fae of Pleasure,” Asmara replied smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms, his gaze assessing as he took me in. “What brings you here today? Have you come back for more lessons in the art of indulgence?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Ah, as tempting as that is, not this time. I’m here because of something much stranger.”

Asmara arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his gaze. “Stranger than your usual escapades?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “My Fae…she’s starting to realize what she is—who she is. But something’s not right, Asmara. Something’s happening to her.”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Go on.”

“She’s been having premonitions of murders,” I began, my tone low, the weight of my words heavy in the air. “And not just random murders. These are vivid, detailed, and somehow connected to her. I’ve never heard of a Fae with this kind of ability before. Premonitions aren’t in our nature, are they?”

Asmara’s face tightened, his head tilting slightly as he processed what I was saying. “No…that’s not common. Not among us.”

“And here’s the worst part,” I continued, pacing slightly to keep my growing unease in check. “These murders—they’re not just normal killings. The murderer…it might be one of us. A Fae.”

Asmara’s blue eyes widened slightly. “What are you talking about, Ravi? A Fae committing murders?”

I nodded grimly. “It’s not human, that much I know. The creature…it shifts between forms—living and dead humans, cycling through them like it’s wearing costumes. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”

Asmara rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression darkening. “If what you’re saying is true, we’ll need the Arealia Book of the Enchanted Ones. Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking briskly toward the far end of the chamber. The long, winding bookshelves of the Citadel’s library towered above us, their contents ancient and arcane.

I followed him, unable to resist a smirk. “Oh, do I love an intellectual Fae,” I teased, clapping him on the shoulder.

Asmara shot me a withering glare but winked playfully. “I am the only intellectual Fae in this Citadel, Ravi. Don’t forget that.”

I raised my hands in surrender, grinning. “Fair enough, you’ve made your point.”

As we reached the enormous tome, he carefully retrieved it from the shelf, the leather-bound cover crackling with age. Dust scattered into the air as he set it on the table, and I waved a hand in front of my face.

“When was the last time you opened this thing? The Dark Ages?”

“1933,” he replied, flipping the brittle pages carefully. “It was during the Beast of Bluran Hill incident. Now that was a nightmare.”

I grimaced, remembering the bloodbath that had unfolded back then. “Don’t remind me.”

Asmara continued flipping through the book until he landed on a section titled Skinwalkers. He muttered an incantation, and the book responded, glowing faintly as the pages began flipping themselves. The gust of wind it created made me step back instinctively.

“Skinwalkers?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the intricate illustrations on the page.

Asmara nodded. “Yes, Skinwalkers. They’re shapeshifters, but even among their kind, there are many breeds and hybrids. Look here.” He pointed to a line of fine script. “There are over five hundred breeds of pure Skinwalkers, and more than three hundred mongrel hybrids.”

My stomach sank. “That many?”

Asmara didn’t look up. “Yes, but most of them are extinct or isolated to specific regions. Still, the shifting into both the dead and living is…unusual.”

“Could it be the same kind of Skinwalker that killed Lux’s mother?” I asked hesitantly.

Asmara’s fingers paused on the page. He looked at me sharply. “A Fearwalker?”

I nodded, the memory clawing at my chest. “Yes. A dark Fear Fae killed her. It wasn’t just a killing—it was a massacre.”

Asmara’s glowing eyebrows furrowed as he flipped to another section, muttering under his breath. “Fearwalkers are dangerous enough on their own. But one that can manipulate both the living and the dead? That’s unheard of. If that’s what we’re dealing with…”

I cut him off. “No, I’m not saying it’s a Fearwalker. I’m just giving you the details of what happened to Lux’s mother.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Regardless, this is serious. If it’s a Fearwalker—or something worse—it won’t stop. Not until Lux and everyone she cares about is dead.”

The weight of his words settled over me like a dark cloud. My chest tightened, fear creeping into my thoughts.

“What do we do?” I asked quietly.

Asmara snapped the book shut with a finality that made me flinch. “Find out more. Bring me everything you can—details, visions, anything. Until then, my hands are tied.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Asmara.”

He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his blue eyes softening for the first time. “Be careful, Ravi. Protect her. You may not be able to stop this thing, but you can slow it down. I’ll be here when you need me.”

I left the Citadel with a heavy heart, Asmara’s warning echoing in my mind. If it was a Fearwalker—or worse—then time was running out. And Lux’s life, along with the lives of everyone she loved, hung by a thread.