Adrian's POV
Something's wrong with my magic.
I press my hand against my chest, feeling the strange pulse beneath my ribs. It's been getting worse all morning—this weird thrumming, like a second heartbeat that doesn't match my own.
And it's pulling me east.
"This is stupid," I mutter, but my feet keep moving anyway. "You've got enough problems, Blackwood. Don't go looking for more."
The Borderlands stretch around me—my territory, my wasteland, my prison. I've been hiding here for fifteen years, ever since I escaped the Guild. They want me back. They want what's inside me. But they'll have to kill me first.
The pulse in my chest grows stronger. Whatever's causing it just entered the Borderlands. Something powerful. Something that makes my shadow magic react like it's recognizing a long-lost friend.
I break into a run.
My tattoos start glowing—the shadow marks covering my arms, my chest, my back. They're not just decoration. They're seals, keeping my power from exploding and taking half the wasteland with it. But right now, they're burning hot against my skin.
What are you? I think toward whatever's calling me. What do you want?
The answer comes as a wave of pure magical energy that nearly knocks me off my feet. Light and shadow mixed together. Impossible. Those two forces destroy each other. They can't exist in the same space.
But I'm sensing exactly that.
I run faster, shadow magic propelling me forward. My boots barely touch the ground. The pull is so strong now it's almost painful, dragging me toward something I don't understand.
Then I see her.
An elf girl, collapsed face-down in the dirt. Even from here, I can see the corruption eating her alive. Black veins cover her arms, her neck. Shadow mist leaks from her fingers, killing everything it touches. She's Shade-Born—a walking corpse, basically. Most don't last three days.
I should keep walking. I don't need this kind of trouble.
But then I sense her magical signature, and everything in me goes still.
Light and shadow. Mixed perfectly. She's dying, yes, but she's also adapting. Her body is trying to balance both forces instead of letting them destroy each other. I've never seen anything like it.
I've been searching for something like this for five years.
"Well, well," I say, kneeling beside her. "Aren't you interesting."
Up close, she's even worse off than I thought. The corruption has reached her heart—I can sense it eating through her chest cavity. She has hours, maybe less. Her face is half-covered in those black veins, but I can still see she's beautiful. Silver hair streaked with black. Delicate elven features. The kind of girl who's never had a hard day in her life.
Until now.
I press my hand to her chest, right over her heart, and send a pulse of my own shadow magic into her. Her body jerks. The corruption reacts to my magic like recognizing itself. Good. That means I can work with this.
"Don't die yet, princess," I mutter. "I need you."
My tattoos flare brighter as I channel more power into her. It's a temporary fix—like putting a bandage on a cut that needs stitches—but it'll keep her alive long enough to move her.
The question is: do I want to?
She's Shade-Born. Which means she's been exiled from wherever she came from. Which means people will be hunting her. Which means trouble I absolutely don't need.
But that magical signature...
I've been searching for a way to stabilize my own power for years. The thing the Guild put inside me is eating me alive from the inside out, just slower than this girl's corruption. I've tried everything—spells, rituals, forbidden magic. Nothing works.
But maybe, just maybe, someone who can hold both light and shadow could be the answer.
"Okay, princess," I say, lifting her into my arms. She weighs almost nothing. "You and I are going to make a deal. I keep you alive, and you help me figure out how to not explode. Sound fair?"
She doesn't answer. Obviously. She's unconscious and dying.
I start walking toward my camp, the girl limp in my arms. Her corruption pulses against my chest, calling to my own darkness. It feels... right, somehow. Like two puzzle pieces clicking together.
Then I feel it.
Magic. Lots of it. Coming fast from the direction of Starfall Kingdom.
I duck behind a dead tree and lay the girl down. Through the gray wasteland, I see them—six elven warriors, all wearing light armor and carrying weapons that glow with pure light magic. Hunters.
They're tracking her. Of course they are. Starfall never just exiles their Shade-Born. They hunt them down and finish the job.
The lead hunter stops about fifty yards away. He's tall, blonde, handsome in that perfect elven way. He holds up his hand, and magical light spreads out from it like a net, searching.
"The abomination came this way," he calls to the others. "Her corruption trail is fresh. Spread out. When you find her, kill her quickly. It's a mercy."
My jaw clenches. So they're not even pretending to give her a chance.
The girl—this princess who someone clearly threw away—doesn't deserve to die like this. Hunted down by her own people like an animal.
I look down at her. She's still unconscious, still dying. If I leave her here, the hunters will find her in minutes. If I take her with me, I'm choosing a fight I might not win.
The smart choice is obvious.
I pick her up anyway.
"You better be worth this, princess," I whisper.
Then the girl's eyes snap open—not her normal eyes, but eyes filled with pure shadow, black from edge to edge. Her hand shoots up and grabs my wrist with impossible strength.
Her voice comes out wrong, layered with darkness: " He's coming. The one who made me. Run. "
Then she passes out again.