When fate and worlds collide

25 | Quarantine Shadows

I made my way back down to the quarantine zone, keeping to the shadows, my eyes scanning the activity as if reading the currents of energy in the air. Jax moved among the survivors with an ease that surprised me—calm, steady, almost magnetic. He comforted the grieving, played with the children, guided the elderly. There was a quiet authority in him, earned through effort and sacrifice rather than proclamation. And yet, he never declared himself their leader. They followed him because they trusted him, not because they had to.

I studied his daughter as well, testing the edges of her Aura with my own. Astonishing. Powerful beyond her years, almost rivaling mine. A twinge of curiosity—and a hint of challenge—rose inside me.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice him approach until his voice cut through the quiet.

“The shadows almost seem to cling to you,” he complimented. I jerked my head toward him, eyes locking with his at the gate. “Almost as if they welcome you.” A small smile tugged at his mouth.

I smirked despite myself. “The shadows are just afraid of the consequences if they don’t obey.” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’m slightly surprised. Not many manage to sneak up on me unnoticed. You’ve done it twice since we met.” His eyes widened as if he’d just realized something.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” I let out a bark of laughter.

“I’m not offended,” I replied, tone calm. “I’m impressed. Even some of my best students haven’t managed what you’ve done—accidentally or otherwise.” I leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.

“Students?” he pressed, catching the word.

“Yes. A few Auras I train personally.” I watched his reaction carefully, noting the quick glance back at his daughter, the flicker of uncertainty. “I can train her if you’re worried about what might happen,” I added quietly.

His head snapped back to me, eyes sharp. “How did you—?”

“First Gens can sense the powers of others,” I explained. “When trained well, we can also hide from one another. I felt hers the moment I came close.”

Jax rubbed his face, obviously wrestling with some internal conflict. “She doesn’t need to…you know…join your pack…or whatever.”

“First Gens don’t need an Alpha to stabilize their powers,” I replied flatly. Relief washed over his face.

“I only realized six months ago,” he admitted. “She started displaying strange behaviors in the community. Some were skeptical, others didn’t care. But there were some who…” His voice trailed off. “…fear does strange things to humans when faced with the unknown.” I understood entirely what he meant.

I tilted my head slightly, watching him. “Was her mother an Aura because of the fall…or did it happen because she was bitten?” I let the question linger, reading his expression for the lie most people told. Being bitten was a death sentence without an Alpha nearby, or if you were surrounded by those who already saw you as one of the monsters.

Jax’s jaw tightened. His answer, or lack thereof, would tell me everything.

“Bitten,” Jax replied quietly. “While she was pregnant with Clarice.” I frowned. The girl looked older than four—closer to eight, if I were being honest. My gaze drifted back to her, sitting on the concrete floor and playing with the broken doll she’d brought with her, humming softly as if the world hadn’t ended before she was born.

“We were trying to find somewhere to hide just after the fall,” Jax continued. “Back when everything was still chaos. We were caught outside at night.” His voice wavered. “There was so much blood. So much screaming. People being ripped apart, drained dry. We never saw the thing stalking us. By the time I did… it was already too late.” He dragged a hand through his hair, blinking back tears. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, goosebumps rippling across my skin as the implications settled in.

“She was…bitten by a Nightmare?” I asked softly.

In four years, I had never seen or heard someone being bitten by those creatures and live. Nightmares didn’t toy with their food. They slaughtered. They drained. They left nothing behind to change. Something about this story didn’t sit right—and my instincts were rarely wrong.

“At first, we thought we’d been lucky,” Jax continued. “The creature ran off after biting Mary. But after a while… I started to wonder if it had a reason.”

“Nightmares don’t plan,” I answered flatly. “They hunt alone. Extreme violence. No restraint. As far as we know, there are no Auras made by them. They don’t leave survivors long enough for a change.” My chest tightened. Even First Gen Auras—myself included—only ever carried the echo of a wolf-like beast. I’d never seen anything else.

“I know,” he replied. “I’ve seen what they do.”

I turned back to him. “What happened to your wife?” He flinched.

“During the last few months of the pregnancy, she started acting… wrong. Sleeping through the day. Wandering at night. She wouldn’t eat or drink unless I forced her—and even then, it never stayed down.” His breath shuddered. “She grew frail. Volatile. She bit the priest who came to bless her in case she didn’t survive the birth.”

My brows shot up.

“She was changing,” I whispered.

Jax nodded once. “She became animalistic. Hissing at loud noises. Scratching, biting anyone she didn’t like getting close. She wasn’t my wife anymore.”

“When someone’s bitten by a Feral, there’s a small window to find a pack willing to take them in,” I said carefully. “Otherwise, they lose themselves and turn. We’ve learned that the hard way. But a Nightmare…” I looked back at Clarice, who had gone unnervingly still, her eyes fixed on us. “I don’t know how you stop that change. Or if you even can.” I met his gaze again. “What happened to her?” Jax looked away. The kind of look people wore when they’d been forced to survive by doing something unforgivable.

“We didn’t know what she might do to the baby,” he said. “If we even managed to keep her alive long enough to give birth. Our leader ordered her chained to the bed. Said if Clarice came out anything other than human, they’d both be killed.” The air left my lungs in a sharp rush.

“What the fuck.” Humans did awful things when afraid. But this? This was rot, all the way to the core.

“After Clarice was born,” Jax continued, voice breaking, “I was ordered to kill my wife myself. As punishment. For bringing her into the camp.” My hands curled into fists. Ferals didn’t scare me half as much as people like that.

“Is that why you left your original haven?” I asked.

He nodded. “When Clarice started showing signs… most wanted her gone. Others wanted her dead. They knew what happened to her mother.” His jaw tightened. “The ones who left with us believed she deserved a chance. That it wasn’t her fault.” A bitter smile flickered. “For that, we were exiled.”

“And you thought coming here would keep her safe?” I asked.

Jax met my eyes without flinching. “Clarice is the one who told us to come.” My spine went rigid. “She said we needed to find the safe haven,” he went on. “That we had to find the Lady Aura.” A cold shiver slid down my back. A four-year-old—who looked twice her age—should not know about the Tower. Or me. “I told myself it was just imagination,” Jax said. “Kids hear stories. They fill in the gaps. I didn’t think much of it.”

“But…now you do,” I said.

“I didn’t,” he admitted, “until you dropped three stories out of the air and saved my ass.”

I forced my breathing steady. “Coincidence.”

“Is it?” he countered mildly. “Because it felt a lot less like one after I found out you’re the most powerful Aura anyone’s ever met.”

Every warning bell in my head should’ve been screaming at me to send them away. To lock this down. To protect the Tower. But as we stared at each other, my heart hammering, worst‑case scenarios colliding in my mind—

I stayed calm.

“Will you train my daughter?” Jax asked quietly. My gaze slid back to the blonde girl. Clarice lay on her makeshift bed, tongue caught between her teeth as she coloured, utterly unaware that her existence had just shifted several power structures at once. If she was Aura by birth, she would be invaluable to the Tower—especially with the level of power humming beneath her skin. But if Jax was right about her mother… then Clarice wasn’t just rare.

She was unknown.

And unknown things got people killed.

“I’ll need to discuss it with my Alpha,” I replied, already turning away.

“—Aiya.” I paused, half‑turned as Jax said my name.

“Will he hurt her?” I studied him then—really studied him. The tension in his shoulders, the way his fear coiled tightly around one single point in the world. Not himself. Not his future.

His daughter.

“No harm will come to Clarice,” I answered evenly. “You have my word.” His shoulders sagged in visible relief. “But I can’t make a decision this large—or this dangerous—without Liam.” I exhaled slowly. “Going behind my Alpha’s back on something like this would end badly. For me. For you. For Clarice.” A pause. “I’ve already caused enough trouble by ignoring his authority in the past. I won’t put you both in danger by doing it again.” Jax nodded, though the unease didn’t fully leave him.

“Thank you,” he replied softly. “Truly. I’m glad we crossed paths that day.” I lingered a second longer than necessary, my eyes holding his, then turned and walked away before he could say anything else.

He didn’t need to know that some nights, I still wondered whether the kinder choice would have been leaving them both to die.