Kage’s POV

  Detective Hall stood behind his desk, arms crossed, watching Kage with a measured expression. The atmosphere in the room was heavier than Kage expected, the weight of expectations and tensions pressing down on him. This wasn’t just a new position—it was a test. “”Welcome to the magical crimes unit, Kage,” he said, his voice even but carrying a weight that Kage recognized all too well. “This isn’t like your old job. Here, you’re dealing with people who see magicals as a threat, and others who see them as above the law. The lines blur fast. Higher stakes, more dangerous enemies. And right now, the city’s on edge.”

  Kage leaned against the chair opposite the desk, taking in the room. The walls were lined with case files and a large map marked with recent magical crimes. He recognized some of the officers, but most barely acknowledged him. He didn’t sit—this wasn’t a place for comfort. “What’s the situation?”

  Hall sighed, rubbing his temple before reaching for a folder on his desk. “There’s a political group gaining traction—calling themselves the Sovereign Order. Ever heard of them?”

  Kage shook his head, though the name already set off an uneasy feeling in his gut.

  “They’ve been stirring the public into a frenzy, saying magic is a disease that needs to be removed from society. They want restrictions, registrations, and in some cases, exile. And they’re getting people to listen.” Hall’s fingers tapped against the folder. “They’re calling for the university to be shut down, claiming it’s the reason we have ‘dangerous’ magicals running around. They’ve even started portraying Michael Lorne as a martyr, saying he was right about magicals being a threat. Their influence is spreading fast.”

  Kage’s jaw tightened. “And the department?”

  “Some sympathize with them, whether openly or in whispers. Others pretend to stay neutral, but apathy is just another kind of permission. And then there are the ones like us, the ones trying to keep the city from tearing itself apart. But make no mistake, this is more than just politics. This is about control. If they get enough people on their side, it won’t be long before they start enforcing their vision of ‘purity.’” Hall exhaled and slid the folder across the desk. “Which brings me to your first case.”

  Kage took the folder, flipping it open. Inside were several crime scene photos, each one showing bodies—some pale and drained of life, others still breathing but barely. Blood pooled beneath them in unnatural patterns, as if drawn out of them forcefully. His fingers tightened around the edges of the pages as he scanned the reports.

  “This has been happening for three years?” he asked, his voice steady despite the unease crawling through him.

  Hall nodded. “Every couple of months, another victim. Some dead, some left near death. The ones that survived all say the same thing: they bumped into someone, and the next thing they knew, their blood and their life were draining from them.”

  Kage flipped to a medical report. “Any physical description?”

  “Not much. The attacks happen too fast, and no one ever gets a clear look. But there’s a name the public has given them.” Hall hesitated for a second before continuing. “Bloodspawn.”

  Kage’s gaze snapped up. “Bloodspawn?”

  Hall nodded. “The way the bodies are found—pale, bleeding unnaturally—it looks like something out of a nightmare. People are terrified, and the Sovereign Order is using this case to fuel their movement. They’re calling Bloodspawn proof that magicals are too dangerous to exist among regular people. If you don’t find this magical soon, the Order will use them as their next rallying cry.”

  Kage clenched his jaw, flipping through more reports. “What’s the directive?”

  “Find them. Bring them in. Preferably alive,” Hall said. “But if they’re as dangerous as people claim, you do what you have to do.”

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  Kage closed the folder and exhaled slowly. “I’ll find them.”

  Hall nodded, his face unreadable. “Good. Just be careful, Kage.”

  The lecture hall was warm, buzzing with low murmurs and the scratching of quills on parchment. I wasn’t used to places like this—orderly, structured, filled with people who still had time to learn instead of fight. I stood at the back of the room, scanning for Zara as she paced at the front, her green-glowing eyes locking onto her students.

  “Magic, at its core, is neither good nor evil,” she said, her voice carrying through the room with practiced ease. “Intent and discipline shape the morality of its use. A fire mage can burn down a village or keep a family warm in the dead of winter. A necromancer can desecrate a grave or help give closure to the grieving.”

  I wasn’t here to listen, but I found myself doing so anyway. Zara was good at this. She belonged here, among the books and the eager minds looking to her for guidance.

  Then she saw me.

  Her eyes flickered briefly with recognition before narrowing in irritation. “If you’re looking for a seat, you’re late.”

  I smirked but didn’t move. “I’m not here for class.”

  A sigh passed through her lips as she closed her notes. “Class, take five minutes. Go stretch or whatever you need.”

  The students shuffled around, some leaving their seats, others staying behind to review notes. I stayed put as Zara walked toward me, arms crossed. “What’s this about?”

  I lifted the folder in my hand slightly. “I need to talk to a student who survived an attack. But first—” I hesitated, then met her gaze directly. “I owe you an apology.”

  Her brow arched. “For what? We’re past the point of needing apologies, aren’t we?”

  I clenched my jaw, exhaling through my nose. My hand found her waist, pulling her just a little closer, enough to feel the warmth of her body against mine. “We’ve explored every inch of each other, but we haven’t had a single real date. Kind of a shame, don’t you think?”

  She blinked, then gave me a slow, amused smile. “Oh? And now you think it’s a problem?”

  I ran a hand through my hair, annoyed at myself for even bringing it up. “Yeah. I do.”

  Her expression softened, but the teasing edge remained. “And what do you propose to do about it?”

  I met her eyes, unflinching. “Dinner, tonight. A real date. No crime scenes, no dead bodies, no interruptions.”

  For a moment, she let the silence stretch between us, probably enjoying the rare sight of me being the one on edge. Then, with a small smirk, she shrugged. “Alright, detective. You’ve got yourself a date.”

  Something inside me settled, even as I nodded, my posture finally easing. “Good.” Then I shifted, glancing at the students who were starting to return to their seats. “Now, about this survivor…”

  She rolled her eyes but turned, motioning for me to leave. “Go on. Get some answers, Detective.” She winked at me at the word detective.

  I walked through the winding hallways of the university alone, the chatter of students fading as I reached a quieter section of the building. I stepped into a small study room, where a young man sat hunched over a cup of tea, his fingers gripping it too tightly. He looked up as I entered, his pale face tense with unease.

  “Evan,” I said, stepping into the room. “I’m Detective Kage. I’m here to talk about what happened to you.”

  Evan swallowed, nodding but keeping his eyes on the tabletop. “I—I already told the other officers what I could.”

  I took a seat across from him, setting the folder on the table but not opening it. “I know, but I’d like to hear it from you directly. I’m not here to interrogate you, just to understand what happened.”

  He hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “I was walking back from a late study session. It was dark, and I wasn’t paying much attention. Then… I bumped into someone.”

  “Did you see them?” I asked.

  Evan shook his head quickly. “No, it was too fast. One second I was fine, the next…” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling. “I felt like something was tearing through me. Like my blood was being ripped right out of my skin. My whole body went cold. I collapsed before I could even scream.”

  “And then?”

  “I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital.” His fingers twitched. “They said I barely had a pulse when someone found me.”

  I leaned forward. “Anything else? Even a feeling? A scent? The way they moved?”

  Evan exhaled sharply. “It wasn’t just pain. It was like… like something was pulling at me, more than just my blood. Like a piece of me was being stolen. And it—it felt empty.”

  “You mean like your soul?” That struck a nerve. I made a mental note to ask Zara if that was even possible.

  Evan’s breath hitched, his gaze snapping to mine. “I—I don’t know. I don’t even know if I believe in that, but… it felt like something inside me wasn’t mine anymore.”

  I nodded, setting my hands on the table. “You’re not the only one. There have been others. And I promise you, I’ll find whoever did this.”

  Evan nodded weakly, but his fear lingered. I could see the tension still gripping him, his hands shaking slightly. “You survived. That means something,” I said, hoping to ground him even a little.

  He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Just… find them before it happens again.”

  I stood, picking up the folder. “That’s the plan.”

  Evan hesitated, his fingers tightening around his cup before he whispered, “There’s one more thing. Right before I blacked out, I heard them say something.”

  I stopped, looking back at him. “What did they say?”

  His voice was barely audible. “They said… ‘I’m sorry.’”