Chapter Seven: Ghosts of the Past

Tara had learned the first rule of survival here—don't wander alone. And yet, Landon Frasier was nowhere to be found.

Ballad mentioned him in passing, casually tossing out his name while explaining the crew's routine. He was doing an odd job, something outside the warehouse. That was all she said before moving on, but the words stuck in Tara's mind.

An odd job. A flicker of unease curled in her stomach. Tara had spent most of the night haunted by the lullaby, the weight of Skye's words, and the bounty now on her head. But now, a different thought gnawed at her. Landon.

She hadn't seen him in years. Hadn't heard his name in years. How the hell was he here? Landon Frasier didn't belong in this place. Shade Territory was damp, lifeless, a constant dusk of gray-green skies and rotting buildings. The air felt like smoke and mildew; the shadows stretched too long. Landon, on the other hand, was light. Warmth. Golden energy wrapped in a human body.

Back in the Middle Order, he had been untouchable. At ten years old, he had vandalized the statue of President Bailon, covering the Convocation memorial in bright pink paint. Tara had been terrified when she heard. Defacing the image of the most powerful figure in the supernatural world? That should have gotten him exiled. Or worse.

She remembered watching the guards drag him away, her stomach twisting in knots, thinking—this is it; this is the last time I'll see him. But a week later, he was back at school. Smiling. Laughing. Acting as if nothing had happened. Tara had never understood how he got away with it.

Landon Frasier had always seemed invincible—but if he was here now, he clearly wasn't. She turned toward Ballad, who was lazily kicking her feet up onto the table, picking at a stolen piece of fruit.

"You said Landon was doing a job," Tara said carefully.

Ballad didn't look up. "Yup."

"What kind of job?"

Ballad finally glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tara shifted. "Because he's alone."

Ballad made a face. "He's fine."

Tara clenched her jaw. "We're not supposed to be alone."

Ballad sighed, dropping the fruit onto the table. "Landon's not like you, little bird. He's been here for a long time. He can take care of himself."

Tara's throat tightened. She should have known that. But the image in her mind—the boy she remembered, the boy who radiated warmth in a world of cold, brutalist structures and government control—didn't fit here.

Landon was everything bright about the Middle Order. He was the reason it hadn't just felt like gray buildings and rules and silence. He had been loud, reckless, always finding ways to make it fun. But Shade Territory was not fun. And that meant something had happened to him. Something that broke him enough to end up here.

Tara's voice was quieter now. "How long has he been here?" 

Ballad hesitated. Long enough. The words weren't spoken, but Tara saw them in Ballad's expression. Tara swallowed the unease in her throat. 

"What happened to him?" she asked.

Ballad studied her for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. Then, finally—

"Ask him yourself."

Tara blinked. Ballad tilted her head toward the door. Tara turned—And there he was.

Standing in the dim light of the entrance, his curly brown hair slightly longer than she remembered, his deep green eyes the same. But his clothes were darker, the exhaustion heavy under his gaze. Landon Frasier was no longer the golden boy of the Middle Order. Tara felt the breath leave her lungs.

"Is this Tara?"

His voice hit her like a punch. For a moment, she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Because for the first time since she had been thrown into this place, she felt like she had stepped into another lifetime. Like she was eight years old again, standing in front of Bailon's statue, paint still dripping onto the pavement, scared out of her mind while Landon laughed like the world couldn't touch him.

And now, here he was. Not untouchable. Not invincible. But standing right in front of her. And she had no idea what to say.