Naja’s POV

  I had never been one for dates. Too much time spent in hospital wards, too much weight on my shoulders, too many ghosts whispering in the back of my mind. But somehow, Doran had worn me down, with his easy smirk and reckless charm, and now I was here, stepping into a quiet tavern on the edges of the city, wondering how in the world I had let myself agree to this.

  The tavern was warm, its dim lantern light casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. It smelled of spiced cider and roasting meat, a welcome change from the sharp, sterile scents of the hospital. A few patrons sat in the corners, engaged in quiet conversation, and for once, I wasn’t surrounded by pain and suffering.

  Doran was already there, leaning casually against the bar, his arms crossed, that ever-present scar running down his cheek catching in the glow of the lanterns. He grinned when he saw me, pushing away from the counter and strolling toward me with the confidence of a man who knew he had won.

  “You showed up,” he said, the amusement in his voice clear.

  I rolled my eyes, tugging my coat tighter around myself. “Don’t act so smug about it.”

  “I’m not smug. Just… pleased.” He pulled out a chair for me at a small table in the corner. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”

  Neither was I.

  I sat down, smoothing my hands over the worn wooden surface, my fingers itching for something to do. Doran ordered drinks, and for a while, we just sat in silence, the ambient noise of the tavern filling the space between us.

  “So,” he finally said, resting his elbows on the table, “why’d you agree to this?”

  I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  He smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The drinks arrived, and I took a sip, letting the warmth settle in my chest. Doran, despite his usual bravado, wasn’t pushing. He just watched me with that same infuriating patience, waiting.

  Fine.

  “You’re different,” I admitted after a moment. “Most people don’t go out of their way to help magicals. You didn’t have to step in that night.”

  His smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Didn’t feel like a choice, really. Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  I studied him, looking for the catch, for the insincerity, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

  “What about you?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type to chase after magicals for fun.”

  He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before answering. “I grew up in a part of the city where magic wasn’t common. People feared it. Hell, I probably did too, once. But I also watched people use that fear to justify cruelty.”

  His voice had taken on a more serious edge, and I found myself listening closer.

  “My father was in the city guard,” he continued. “He used to say that justice wasn’t about power, but about balance. About standing between those who needed protection and those who wanted control.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And which side do you think you stand on?”

  He grinned. “Haven’t figured that out yet.”

  The conversation drifted from there, moving from childhood stories to the differences between magical and non-magical lives. I talked about growing up in a hospital, about learning to heal before I even understood what it meant to live. He talked about growing up without magic, about learning to rely on instinct and sheer stubbornness.

  Before I realized it, hours had passed.

  And I was enjoying myself.

  It was strange—this feeling of lightness, of laughter that didn’t feel forced, of conversation that wasn’t wrapped in death and survival. Doran was surprisingly insightful, asking questions that made me think, challenging me in ways most people didn’t dare to.

  I had been prepared for an evening of tolerating his presence. I hadn’t been prepared to like it.

  As we walked through the quiet streets, the weight of the evening settled on me. The laughter, the ease of conversation—it had been good. Too good. And maybe that was why, as we neared my apartment, I felt the words spill from my lips before I could stop them.

  “The Cleansing killed me a few weeks ago.”

  Doran stopped mid-step, turning to face me, his expression unreadable. “What?”

  I let out a slow breath, folding my arms as if I could physically brace myself. “I was killed. My best friend, Zara brought me back, she is a necromancer. If she hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  Silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I regretted saying anything at all. But then Doran reached for my hand—not forcefully, not in pity, just steady, grounding. “That must be… a lot to carry.”

  I huffed out a dry laugh. “You could say that.”

  His thumb brushed over my knuckles absently, his gaze searching mine. “You’re here now, Naja. That has to mean something.” His voice was steady, without expectation, just quiet understanding. And for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

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  I swallowed past the lump in my throat, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  I was confused by his reaction. “You’re not frightened by the fact that I was killed by a serial killer? You don’t want to ask anything about it?“”

  Doran tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Should I be?”

  I blinked. “Most people would be. Most people would have a hundred questions.”

  He let out a quiet breath, his fingers still loosely wrapped around mine. “I’m not most people. And I figured if you wanted to tell me the details, you would. I don’t need to pry.”

  That caught me off guard. Everyone else—Everyone I knew, even those at the hospital—had wanted to dissect what happened, to make sense of the impossible. But Doran? He simply accepted it. Accepted me.

  “Does it scare you?” I asked, studying him closely.

  His lips quirked in a half-smile. “I’d be an idiot not to be a little unsettled. But you being here, alive, standing in front of me—that’s what matters. Not how close you came to staying dead.”

  Something shifted in my chest, an unfamiliar warmth threading through my ribs. I had expected curiosity, maybe even fear. I hadn’t expected this kind of quiet understanding. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  We reached my apartment door, and Doran hesitated before speaking. “Come out with me again.”

  I raised a brow. “Are you asking or telling?”

  His grin returned, though softer this time. “Asking.”

  I smirked. “Then ask properly next time.”

  He chuckled, stepping back. “Fine. But you’re not saying no.”

  I rolled my eyes but didn’t deny it. Before I could say anything else, he leaned in, pressing a quick, warm kiss to the corner of my mouth. It was brief, fleeting, but it sent a surprising warmth through me.

  “Goodnight, Naja,” he murmured before stepping away.

  I watched him go, my fingers brushing over the spot where his lips had been, and for the first time since my death, I didn’t feel quite so haunted.

  Naja’s POV

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee curled through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of baked bread from the nearby vendor carts. The morning crowd bustled around the city square, but here, in the quiet corner of the café, it felt like the world had slowed just enough for a moment of peace.

  I wrapped my hands around my cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers as I watched Zara slide into the seat across from me. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes betraying just how little sleep she’d had. I knew that look—I had worn it too many times myself.

  “You look like hell,” I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee.

  She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Thanks. You look marginally better.”

  I smirked but didn’t argue. Neither of us had gotten much rest, not with everything weighing on us. I had spent the night tangled in my own thoughts, Doran’s words echoing in my mind, the warmth of his brief kiss still lingering on my skin like an imprint. I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  Zara pulled her coat tighter around herself, her green eyes scanning my face. “How was your date?”

  I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Not a date.”

  Zara raised a brow, unimpressed. “You spent hours with him, you talked, you smiled—gods forbid. If it wasn’t a date, what was it?”

  I exhaled, staring into my cup. “It was… surprising.”

  She leaned forward, intrigued. “Surprising how?”

  I hesitated, then admitted, “I liked it. More than I thought I would. He’s… different. He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, but he also doesn’t pretend like what happened to me doesn’t matter.”

  Zara’s gaze softened. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” I muttered. “But it also feels… wrong. I survived the Cleansing when so many didn’t. I was dead, Zara. I should have been one of them. And now I’m out here, drinking coffee and—gods help me—enjoying myself?”

  Zara’s expression darkened, her fingers tightening around her cup. “I know that feeling.”

  I looked up, meeting her gaze, and I saw it—the same guilt, the same weight pressing down on her.

  “I think about it every day,” she confessed, her voice quieter now. “That I should have done more. That I should have saved more people. That I was spared when others weren’t. And now… now I have Malrick, this terrified kid who doesn’t know how to exist without fear. I have Kage, who throws himself into danger like he has nothing left to lose. And I have you, and—” she swallowed, exhaling shakily, “—I’m scared, Naja.”

  I reached across the table, squeezing her wrist gently. “Of what?”

  She let out a humorless laugh. “Of losing any of you. Again. I lost you once, and I can’t go through that again. And Kage… he’s different now, but I see the way he looks at Malrick. Like he sees himself in him. Like he thinks if he fails this kid, he fails himself. And I’m terrified that one day, I’ll wake up, and you’ll both be gone.”

  Her words settled between us like an unspoken promise, a shared fear neither of us wanted to voice before now. I had spent so much time drowning in my own guilt, I hadn’t realized how much she carried too.

  “We’re still here,” I murmured. “That has to mean something.”

  Zara nodded, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. “I just don’t know how to stop waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.”

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Then I guess we take it one day at a time. Keep moving forward, even if it feels wrong.”

  She gave a small, tired smile. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

  I clinked my cup lightly against hers. “To surviving.”

  She huffed a quiet laugh. “To surviving.”

  For now, that would have to be enough.

  Just as the tension in my chest began to ease, a sneering voice cut through the morning air, shattering our fragile peace. “Well, if it isn’t two of the city’s biggest abominations.”

  I stiffened, my grip tightening around my cup. Zara didn’t move, but I saw her jaw clench as she slowly turned her head toward the source of the voice.

  A small group of men stood near the café entrance, their silver armbands gleaming in the morning light—the mark of the Sovereign Order. Their leader, a wiry man with sharp features and cold eyes, smirked as he took a step closer.

  “Drinking coffee like you belong here,” he sneered. “Like you’re just regular people. But we all know the truth, don’t we?”

  Zara exhaled slowly, setting her cup down with deliberate care. “If you’re looking for a fight, you’re wasting your time.”

  The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, no. We don’t need to fight. We just need people to see you for what you really are. Dangerous. Unnatural. Filth.”

  I felt the familiar surge of anger coil in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Walk away,” I said evenly. “Now.”

  Another man, broader and meaner-looking, snorted. “Or what? You’ll hex us? Drain us like the freaks you are?”

  Zara’s fingers twitched against the table, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re not the ones disturbing the peace. If you want to prove you’re better than us, maybe try acting like decent human beings.”

  The leader’s smirk faltered for just a second before twisting into something uglier. He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to drop his voice. “Enjoy your little café visits while you can. The Order is gaining power. The city’s waking up. And when the time comes, creatures like you won’t have anywhere left to hide.”

  I met his gaze, unflinching. “You should be more careful with your threats. You never know when you might be the one with nowhere left to hide.”

  The man held my stare for a long moment before scoffing and stepping back. He gestured for his men to follow, and they melted into the morning crowd, their presence lingering like a stain on the air.

  Zara let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “One day at a time, huh?”

  I forced a smirk. “One day at a time.”

  But as I watched the Sovereign Order disappear into the streets, unease settled deep in my bones. Their numbers were growing. Their confidence was growing. And the worst part? I had a sinking feeling that we were running out of time.