Chapter Six: Blood in the Water

Tara didn't sleep that night. She tried—tried to let the exhaustion swallow her whole, tried to quiet her mind enough to rest—but every time she closed her eyes, she saw her mother's body, her father's blood pooling on the floor. 

And worse—she heard the lullaby. It wasn't loud. It was never loud. Just a whisper, curling around her thoughts like a noose, tightening with every breath.

"Éiníní, éiníní... codalaígí, codalaígí..."

Little birds, little birds... sleep, sleep...

She jolted awake just before dawn, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her room was silent, suffocating. Tara pushed herself up, exhaling sharply. She needed to get out of here.

The warehouse was still quiet when she slipped into the main hall. The firepit had burned low, casting only faint embers across the stone floor. The others were asleep, or pretending to be. Ballad was sprawled over a pile of old cushions, one arm flung over her face. Lottie was curled up against the wall, ears twitching slightly in sleep. Zeke was nowhere to be seen.

Talulah sat near the dying fire, eyes half-lidded, as if she were somewhere between this world and the next. Tara hesitated. Something about Talulah unsettled her. Maybe it was the way she never seemed entirely here—like she existed on the edge of something no one else could see. Or maybe it was because she knew things. Things Tara didn't understand. Things Tara wasn't ready to face.

Talulah lifted her head slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "You're leaving."

It wasn't a question.

Tara swallowed hard. "Just for a walk."

Talulah's pale eyes flickered with something unreadable.

"Bad idea."

Tara stiffened. She wasn't in the mood for more cryptic warnings.

"I can handle myself," she said, sharper than intended.

Talulah's expression didn't change. She simply looked past Tara, toward the broken doorway leading out into the city.

"...You should still be careful."

Tara exhaled and turned away. She stepped out into the street, the cold air biting at her skin.

The Shade Territory was never truly silent. Even in the dim, the city still breathed. Somewhere in the distance, metal clanged against metal. Someone yelled, their voice muffled by the thick air. A dog—or something close enough to one—let out a low, guttural growl.

Tara pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She didn't have a destination. She just needed to move. Her boots scuffed against the uneven stone as she walked, passing crumbling buildings and alleyways swallowed in darkness.

She could feel eyes on her. But this time, it wasn't the crew.

She stopped at an abandoned fountain, the stone cracked and worn, the water long dried up. Statues of Fluorescent warriors loomed over it, their expressions weathered, their names long since eroded from the plaques beneath them.

A monument to something long dead. Tara let out a slow breath, leaning against the edge of the fountain. The city felt like it was watching her. Waiting. A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision. Tara turned sharply—Too late. 

A hand grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked. Tara hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. Pain flared up her ribs, but she barely had time to react before she was being hauled back up—slammed against cold stone. A knife pressed against her throat. Her pulse spiked. She recognized the face immediately. Had seen pictures of them in her dad's office. A girl. No—a Shade. Her eyes gleamed like burning coals, her face half-hidden beneath a hood, her teeth sharp when she grinned.

"Well," she murmured, "look what we have here."

Tara stilled. Her heart hammered. She could fight. She could try. But she had no power. She didn't even have a weapon. And this girl—this Shade—wasn't alone. Figures moved in the shadows behind her, slinking closer. Tara's stomach twisted. 

A trap. She had walked right into a trap.

The Shade pressed the knife closer. "I was expecting someone bigger," she mused. "You're smaller than the stories say."

Tara's voice was steady, despite the fear clawing up her throat. "And what do the stories say?"

The Shade grinned wider.

"That you killed your own parents."

Tara's stomach dropped. The Shade leaned in, her breath warm against Tara's ear.

"And that you're worth a fortune to the right people."

Tara's blood ran cold. A bounty. They were here for a bounty. She barely had time to process it before the girl moved—And then suddenly—A blur of motion. A hand wrenched the knife away, twisting the Shade's wrist at an unnatural angle—A sharp cry of pain—And then the sound of bodies hitting the ground. Tara gasped as the weight against her vanished.

She barely had time to blink before someone grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. The moment their skin touched, a shock ran through her. Warm. Powerful. Familiar. She looked up—And met Skye's black-glimmering eyes. Tara's breath hitched. He was so close. His expression was calm, but there was something dangerous in the set of his jaw.

The Shade on the ground groaned in pain, clutching her arm. Her friends had vanished into the dark. Skye turned his head slightly, voice low.

"Run."

The Shade didn't hesitate. She scrambled to her feet and bolted into the night. 

Silence. Tara forced herself to breathe. Her ribs ached. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Skye's grip on her wrist tightened slightly.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Tara scowled, jerking her arm free. "I was thinking I could take a damn walk without getting jumped."

Skye exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're a damn idiot."

Tara bristled. "Excuse me?"

"You left the warehouse alone. In the middle of the night."

Tara crossed her arms. "I can take care of myself."

Skye stepped closer, towering over her.

"You don't have your powers, Tara." His voice was sharp, low, each syllable careful and precise. "You're weak right now. And there are people out there who would love to tear you apart for the price on your head."

Tara clenched her jaw. She hated it. Hated that he was right. But more than that—She hated that she felt something when he said her name. Something deep and ancient, something hot and cold at the same time. A whisper of power. A whisper of fate. Skye held her gaze a moment longer before he sighed and turned away.

"Come on," he muttered. "You're done wandering for tonight."

Tara hesitated. Then, with one last glance at the empty streets, she followed.