The rain drummed against the cobblestone streets, each drop like a whispered warning in the shadowed corners of Nevrane, the city that straddled the border between the mortal realm and the Veil. Lanterns swung in the howling wind, their flickering light illuminating uneven alley walls scrawled with spells half-faded through time. In the heart of it all stood Kaela Sarveth, veiled in shadows, every movement a ripple of power.
Kaela’s black, knee-high boots glistened with rainwater as she stepped forward. Her long, crimson coat was a masterpiece of sharp tailoring, its high collar framing her slender neck, while the hem swirled around her like liquid fire. Beneath it, she wore a midnight-blue bodysuit with faint iridescent weaving, hugging her every curve like a second skin. Strapped to her left thigh was an intricate silver dagger — more ceremonial than practical, but it gleamed against her. Her gloved hands, wrapped in supple leather, showed no hesitation as they gripped the hilt of the relic sword on her back, its surface engraved with runes that pulsed faintly in tune with her heartbeat.
“The Huntress walks tonight,” someone whispered as they peered from a shuttered window. That much was true. Kaela Sarveth was no ordinary mortal, and tonight was no ordinary night.
The Relic and the Murderer
The storm thickened as she approached the gates of the Greymarch Necropolis, her emerald eyes scanning the rusted iron bars that barely held against the wind. Behind them, the stone tombs rose jagged and skeletal, cracked open by time and misuse. Somewhere in there crouched her quarry — a man who had stolen a cursed relic of immense power, an artifact that could tear open the Veil between worlds.
Kaela’s hunt had spanned weeks. She had chased whispers and signs, remnants of the blood magic he had carelessly spilled, but it wasn’t the slaughter that had truly angered her. It was what might follow. His meddling risked awakening the Forsaken Ones, beings banished from existence long before humanity reigned.
And Kaela knew something of banishment.
Sliding her gloved hands over the gate’s surface, she whispered an incantation. The runes on the gate flared, warm light spilling into her hands before the lock shattered. Turning sideways, she slipped through the opening, her coat flaring dramatically behind her. The wind howled louder here, the air thicker, heavy with the promise of danger. She let her senses unfurl like a web, reaching out for the familiar signature of blood magic. It was close — too close.
The Creature in the Shadows
Inside the necropolis, everything seemed to breathe, as if the crumbling statues and towering mausoleums held memories of their inhabitants. Kaela moved with deliberate grace, her boots soundless against the wet stone. She paused as a rustling sound came from her right. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement — something too big to be human darting between the tombs.
“A magician desperate enough to summon guards.” Her voice was soft but carried no humor. Fingers brushing over the hilt of her dagger, she turned slowly, the crimson folds of her coat parting slightly to give her legs more room. The material of the bodysuit shifted with her, the faint shimmer of it catching what little light pooled between gravestones.
Her voice cut through the rain. “Show yourself.”
From the shadows emerged a creature twisted beyond imagination. Its body seemed cobbled together from dead flesh, pieces stitched crudely in mockery of nature. Three eyes glowed in its mangled face, and its claws clattered against the wet stone ground. It let loose a growl — guttural, hungry, and wrong. Kaela took one measured step forward, unflinching, even as the rain slid from her high cheekbones and disappeared under her collar.
“Better monsters than you have tried,” she murmured, unsheathing the relic sword in a smooth, commanding motion. As the blade emerged, the air around it shimmered. The runes glowed brighter, lighting up the graveyard.
The creature hesitated, sensing the magic, but it was too late. Kaela lunged, her coat a flare of red in the storm. The blade struck swiftly, severing tendons and stitching alike. She pivoted, her lithe form moving as if in a dance, her boots finding sure footing even on the slippery stone. The creature wailed, its cries swallowed by the storm as it collapsed into silence.
The Betrayal
Stepping over the monster’s dismembered remains, Kaela wiped the blade clean on her glove. She could feel it now — the faint thrumming of dark power woven into the relic, less than fifty feet away. Lightning split the sky as she approached an open mausoleum door, its edges streaked with fresh blood. Her quarry was waiting.
The man inside turned toward her. He was young, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that glinted with the madness of one drunk on power. In his hands, the relic pulsed faintly — a jagged orb, veined with swirling patterns that seemed alive. But what struck her was the face. She froze for half a heartbeat before narrowing her eyes.
“You,” Kaela hissed, her voice tight, her heart galloping painfully in her chest. Recognition stabbed at her — this was no stranger. It was Callan Drenir, her mentor, her partner — her betrayer. He had vanished long ago, presumed dead in battle.
“Kaela,” Callan said, his voice smooth with a hint of something darker. “I knew you’d come.”
The tension between them was unbearable. He took a step closer, his eyes roaming over her with something between hatred and longing. “You’re predictable. Still the Veil’s lapdog, after all these years. I thought you of all people would understand the need for power.”
“Power isn’t what corrupted you,” Kaela said through gritted teeth. “Your greed was. I trusted you.”
The pulse of the relic grew louder as the storm unleashed its fury outside. It was only when Callan’s hands glowed with magic that Kaela realized she had hesitated too long. He hurled a bolt of dark energy her way — she ducked, the spell singeing a scorch mark against the stone wall behind her.
The Final Choice
The duel was quick and ruthless. Kaela struck with precision, but Callan was faster than she remembered, his stolen power compensating for his lack of discipline. They danced between the tombs, sparks flying as the relic sword clashed against his summoned weapon. Her crimson coat and his ragged cloak twirled like opposing flames.
But Kaela couldn’t bring herself to deal the killing blow. Memories of their time together plagued her like ghosts — Callan teaching her how to wield her first blade, their midnight conversations about the Veil, the shared ambitions that once united them.
When she finally disarmed him, her blade pressed against his throat, she hesitated. His smirk betrayed a calculated plan even in defeat.
“You’ll never stop what’s coming,” Callan whispered before vanishing into a swirl of dark mist, leaving only the relic behind. She grabbed it, her fingers burning as she secured it, her body trembling with both triumph and loss.
Kaela stood alone in the storm as the necropolis grew calm. Her coat whipped in the wind as she stared at the spot where Callan had vanished, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this was far from over. Something stirred beyond the Veil, something ancient — and Kaela knew their paths would cross again.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Art of Cosplay: Fashion, Beauty & Where to Buy Those Show-Stopping Looks
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