Kage’s POV

  The weight of Dain’s death lingered over us like a storm cloud. Even as we left the crime scene and returned to Zara’s house, neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say—only questions neither of us had answers to.

  Finally, I broke the silence. “How is he finding them?”

  Zara, curled in the armchair across from me, rubbed her temples. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself since this started. He’s picking magicals off one by one, but how does he know who they are? He’s either watching them, has contacts, or… something else.”

  I frowned, drumming my fingers against my knee. “If he were only watching, he wouldn’t have been able to find Dain so quickly. We barely found him ourselves. He must have another way.”

  Zara exhaled sharply. “Then we need to figure it out before anyone else dies.”

  I nodded, my mind already working through possibilities. “What if he’s targeting magicals in public places? The city has spots where magicals gather—shops, market squares, certain districts. He could be identifying them there. But even then, how does he distinguish them from non-magicals?”

  Zara pursed her lips, considering. “Some magicals have subtle tells, but not all. That alone wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Then he’s getting his information from somewhere,” I said. “Either he has informants, or he has access to records that most people don’t.”

  Zara sat up straighter, a realization flickering across her face. “The magical registration system.”

  My stomach tightened. “You think he’s using it?”

  “Maybe,” Zara said, already reaching for her laptop. “But if we cross-check the magicals who were killed, we can see if any of them were officially registered. If even a few were, then we know the killer has some method beyond just watching.”

  I moved to sit beside her as she pulled up the city’s magical registration records. It took time to sort through, but eventually, a pattern emerged.

  “Three of them were officially registered,” Zara muttered, scrolling through the database. “That means he could have found them through legal records.”

  I shook my head. “That leaves five unregistered victims. He’s identifying magicals outside of the system, which means observation or a network of informants.”

  Zara leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Either way, that means he’s closer than we thought. We need to figure out how before anyone else ends up like Dain.”

  Zara’s POV

  Despite the urgency of our investigation, I still had responsibilities to attend to. My next lecture at the university was scheduled for the afternoon, and skipping it wasn’t an option. Teaching about the mechanics of necromancy wasn’t just an academic duty—it was a way to ensure people understood the delicate balance between life and death. If people could grasp that, maybe they’d start to respect it.

  The idea of standing in front of a room full of students and talking about how I manipulate the soul’s connection to the body felt heavier than usual. Especially now, knowing that there was someone out there severing those ties permanently. Every death by The Cleansing wasn’t just a murder—it was a calculated effort to make sure I could never pull them back.

  For a brief moment, I considered calling off the lecture. But I pushed the thought away. Knowledge was power, and right now, I needed to be in control of something.

  Kage didn’t argue when I told him where I had to be. He just grabbed his coat and said, “I’m coming with you.”

  “Kage,” I started, exhaling. “You don’t need to—”

  “I’m a student,” he reminded me, arching a brow. “And even if I wasn’t, I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

  There was no room for argument in his tone, and honestly, I didn’t want to argue. Knowing he would be there, watching my back, eased the tension in my shoulders just a little. I nodded. “Alright. But if you fall asleep in my class, I’ll make you regret it.”

  A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Noted.”

  By the time we arrived at the university, I felt the familiar calm of stepping into my space. The lecture hall buzzed with low conversations, students settling into their seats. The atmosphere of curiosity and anticipation was always the same, but today, I felt a different weight pressing on me. As I stepped behind the podium, Kage took his usual place near the back, arms crossed, dark eyes scanning the room, ever watchful.

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  “Today, we’re discussing the connection between the soul and the body,” I began, my voice steady. “Necromancy doesn’t just work because I want it to—it functions because there are hundreds of invisible threads connecting the soul to the body. These connections are delicate, but they persist, even after death.”

  The room fell into complete silence, the students captivated.

  “Imagine the body as a vessel, and the soul as the essence that fills it,” I continued. “These threads act like a bridge, allowing the two to coexist. When a person dies, the bridge weakens, but it doesn’t disappear immediately. Some connections remain—ones tied to memories, emotions, and unfinished business. That’s what I use to call a soul back.”

  A student in the front row raised their hand. “But what if the body is destroyed? Wouldn’t that break the connection?”

  I nodded. “Exactly. That’s why the more violent or complete the destruction, the harder it is to bring someone back. If too many threads are severed, there’s nothing left to anchor the soul.”

  Another student hesitated before asking, “So, could a soul ever be permanently lost?”

  My throat tightened as my thoughts flickered to Dain. “Yes. If someone is killed in a way that severs every last connection—if they suffer extreme trauma or if their body is damaged beyond recognition—the soul has no way of returning. The invisible threads that connect the soul to the body aren’t just singular—they weave together in a complex web, forming ties to emotions, memories, and the physical body itself. When a person is violently killed, those threads don’t just break—they’re shredded, ripped apart so completely that there’s nothing left to pull back.”

  I let the silence settle over the room before continuing. “Some injuries cause minor damage to these connections, and I can repair them. Others, like a natural death, allow the soul to pass gradually, making it easier to find that tether and bring them back. But if someone is killed in a way meant to obliterate those ties? There’s nothing left to grasp, no lingering imprint of who they were.”

  I glanced at Kage, who was watching me intently, his expression unreadable. He knew exactly what I was thinking. The Cleansing wasn’t just killing magicals—he was making sure their souls could never return.

  Zara’s POV

  The walk back to my house was quiet, but my thoughts churned with everything from the lecture to the unsettling feeling that had been following me all day. Kage walked beside me, his hands in his pockets, his usual silent presence both reassuring and tense.

  “You were distracted,” Kage finally said, his voice low as we turned onto my street. “Back in the lecture.”

  I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about what I said. About how some deaths make it impossible for me to bring someone back. It’s like he knows what I can do, Kage. He’s making sure I can’t fix his damage.”

  Kage nodded grimly. “It’s deliberate. He’s not just killing magicals—he’s making sure their souls don’t return.”

  The weight of it pressed against my chest as I reached for my keys, unlocking the door. “Come in?” I asked, glancing at him.

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

  Something in his tone put me on edge, but I ignored it, stepping inside. Bones greeted me immediately, hopping onto the counter with his usual rattling purr. I gave his skull a scratch before heading toward the kitchen, but the unease stayed with me.

  I barely had time to register the movement before the attack came.

  A sharp crash sounded from behind me. The door. Splintered wood scattered across the floor as a figure lunged through the threshold, moving with terrifying precision. A glint of metal flashed under the dim light, and instinct screamed at me to move. I barely twisted in time as the knife sliced through the air, grazing my arm. Pain flared, but I didn’t have time to react.

  Kage did.

  The shadows moved before he did, reacting to his intent like living extensions of himself. Darkness coiled around the attacker’s legs, yanking him back before the knife could reach me again. Kage was already between us, his stance low, his fists clenched. The room pulsed with magic as the shadows thickened, wrapping around the walls like creeping vines, limiting the intruder’s movement.

  The killer snarled, jerking his leg free from the tendrils, but Kage was faster. A shadow tendril lashed out, striking the man across the chest and knocking him back into the overturned coffee table. Kage advanced, his magic moving with him—more tendrils slithering across the floor, curling up like waiting serpents, ready to strike.

  The killer barely hesitated before lunging again, ducking beneath one of Kage’s sweeping strikes. He moved with terrifying precision, slipping through the gaps between Kage’s shadows with inhuman speed. He wasn’t magical, but he knew how to fight a magical.

  Kage twisted his fingers, and the shadows obeyed. The darkness surged upward from the floor, rising like black smoke before solidifying into spikes. The killer barely managed to roll out of the way, one of the spikes slashing through his coat. Kage didn’t let up. Another shadow lashed out, striking the man across the face, sending him staggering.

  But the killer was relentless. He spun, ducked low, and drove his shoulder into Kage’s ribs, throwing them both backward into the far wall. The force of the impact knocked the breath from Kage’s lungs, but he recovered instantly, his magic lashing out with a violent pulse. The entire room darkened, as if the light itself was being swallowed.

  I could barely see them moving now, their silhouettes locked in a brutal struggle amidst the shifting blackness. Kage was using the shadows to control the fight, limiting the killer’s space, cutting off his exits.

  For a second, I thought he had him.

  Then, with one last desperate movement, the killer twisted away, using Kage’s momentum against him. He tore free from the shadows and dove toward the shattered doorway, escaping into the night before Kage could pin him down.

  Kage swore under his breath, his magic retracting as he turned toward me. “Are you hurt?”

  I pressed a hand to my bleeding arm, still shaking. “No. But that was him, Kage. That was The Cleansing.”

  His jaw tightened, his shadows still curling around his hands like they weren’t ready to let go. “Yeah. And next time, he won’t get away.”