Born Of Two Worlds

rush had just ended, leaving behind a trail of crumpled napkins, half-empty cups, and the faint echo of hurried voices. Outside, the city pulsed-cars ho

e ring, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the shadows

wenty-three-year-old barista, not someone who could make shadows twist and bend like clay in her hands. The thought made her stomach tighten, a familiar knot o

k foam and his dark curls falling into his eyes. He was all easy smiles and effortless charm,

robably betrayed the exhaustion etched into her bones. Sleep had been elusive lately, chased away by dreams she couldn't quite grasp-fragmented images of dark

long. "You sure? You've been, like, extra quiet today. Not

ion she allowed herself these days, a fragile tether to the normalcy she craved. "I

ck to the counter, her reflection flickering in the polished chrome of the espresso machine. Sharp cheekbones, gray-green eyes that seemed too bright in the

as absence, places where light failed. Lila saw them as alive, restless, waiting for her to give them shape. She'd learned to ignore them, mostly, locking them away like a secret she cou

fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows across the cracked tile floor. For a moment, she let herself relax, letting the shadows ripple slightly, a private rebelli

ywhere, where a single viral video could expose her. She'd seen what happened to people like her-whispers of "freaks" or "monsters," followed by disappearance,

er. Her mother's cold disapproval, her brother Darian's calculating gaze, the council's suffocating rules-they were a life she'd rejected, a cage she'd broken free from. But freedom came

the bell above the shop's door chimed, sharp and insistent, cutting through the low murmur of the café. Marcus's voice carried through the wall, greeting someone with his usual warmth, but there was

ng about him felt... wrong, like a note played out of tune. The shadows around him seemed denser, heavier, as if they were drawn to him, clinging to his form like a seco

teady despite the unease curling in her gut,

ht-but there was an intensity to him, a quiet menace that made her skin prickle. He studied her for a moment too long, his lips curling into a

ow, almost a purr, with an edge that

like a weight pressing down on her chest. The shadows in the room pulsed, a subtle throb she felt in her bones, urging her

, blurring the city into a smear of light and shadow. But the shadows around him still moved, coiling like snakes, their edges jagged and unnatural. She'd seen shadows b

ond, the shadows beneath it surged, forming a jagged shape-a claw, a blade-before snapping back. She yanked her hand away

cking onto hers. There was something in his gaze-recognition, maybe, or amusement, a glint that suggested he saw more than

htly as she shoved the money into the register, the coins clinking too loudly in the

nose. "Like, serial-killer vibes. Yo

yes, but her mind was racing. That man wasn't normal. He knew something-about her, about the shadows. She could feel it, a certaint

the time she clocked out, the rain had stopped, leaving the city slick and gleaming under the streetlights, the air heavy with the scent of wet aspha

ction flickering in shop windows. The city was alive with noise-sirens, laughter, the hum of neon signs-but she felt detached, like she was watching it all thro

peeling paint, a leaky faucet, and windows that rattled in the wind-but it was hers. A place where she could let the shadows breath

nsistent. She slowed, scanning the street. People hurried past, their faces blurred by the glow of streetlights, their umbrellas bobbing like d

t grew heavier with every step. The shadows pulsed in time with her footsteps, their whispers louder now, urging her to listen. She glanced over her shoulder, and for a

ged, responding to her fear, their forms twisting into claws and teeth. Not now, she thought, clenching her fists u

d leaned against it, catching her breath. The stairwell was dim, the single bulb flickering, casting jagged shadows across the peeling walls. The s

p casting a warm glow, a rickety table cluttered with empty takeout containers, a mattress in the corner with a tangle of blankets. No photos, no m

rt of her skin. She'd been careful-never using them in public, never drawing attention, blending into the city's chaos like a g

lurred but familiar. Lila watched them, her fear giving way to exhaustion, a bone-deep weariness that settled over her like dust. She couldn't keep running forever.

ace that swallowed sound and light. "You're a Morgan," her mother had said, her voice sharp as glass, her eyes like chips of ice. "You don't get to choose what you are. Your power is our legacy, a

could hide but never truly escape. And tonight, something had shifted, a crack in the walls she'd built around herself. Th

coat stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Lila's window, a faint smile playing on his lips. In his hand, he held a small, intricately carved pendant, its s