The city stretched before them, bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Evelyn had not seen it in decades—not like this. No longer bound to the decaying ruins of her mansion, she stood among the living once more.
The sensation was unreal.
The cold night air brushed against her skin, a feeling she had forgotten. Her fingers no longer passed through solid objects; she could feel the rough texture of the brick wall beneath her hand. She could hear the distant hum of the city, the murmur of voices, the clatter of carriages and footsteps on cobblestone.
Azrael leaned against a lamppost, watching her with an amused glint in his golden eyes. “Enjoying yourself?”
Evelyn turned, still dazed. “I…” She exhaled, marveling at how natural it felt. “I don’t know what I expected. But this—it feels… real.”
Azrael smirked. “It is real. A body crafted from shadow and magic. Temporary, of course, but enough to walk among mortals.”
Her gaze darkened. “Enough to find Laurence.”
Azrael’s smirk widened. “Precisely.”
They moved through the streets, an odd pair—a devil in human guise and a ghost given form. Evelyn’s mind swam with emotions she hadn’t felt in years. She had spent so long in isolation, trapped between life and death. And now, she was here. Walking. Existing.
But she had not come for nostalgia.
They approached a grand estate at the heart of the city. Tall iron gates loomed before them, and beyond them, a mansion stood, pristine and untouched by time. A stark contrast to the ruins she had been bound to.
Evelyn’s chest tightened. She knew this place.
“This was his home,” she whispered.
Azrael studied the estate with mild interest. “And you, my dear ghost, are about to walk through its doors once more.”
Evelyn’s fingers curled into fists. She stepped forward, expecting to fade through the gate as she always had in the past. But instead—her hand met cold iron.
She stilled. “I… I can touch it.”
Azrael’s grin was all teeth. “A benefit of our little bargain. Welcome back to the world of the living.”
Evelyn pressed forward, pushing the gate open without a sound. The weight of the moment pressed down on her. She had spent so long as nothing more than a whisper, a forgotten shadow. Now, she was real enough to be heard.
They crossed the garden path, the scent of roses and damp earth filling the air. The mansion’s grand doors loomed before them, but before she could reach for them, a voice shattered the quiet.
“Who goes there?”
A guard stepped forward from the shadows, hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes swept over Azrael first—assessing, cautious. Then, they landed on Evelyn.
She braced herself, expecting fear, confusion—disbelief.
But the guard’s face paled. His fingers trembled around the sword.
“Impossible,” he whispered.
Evelyn frowned. “What?”
The man took a step back, his entire body rigid. “You’re dead.”
Evelyn’s blood ran cold. He recognizes me.
Azrael’s chuckle was soft, but laced with amusement. “How interesting.”
The guard turned, as if to flee, but Azrael moved faster. With a flick of his wrist, shadows coiled around the man’s throat, holding him in place.
Evelyn stepped closer, her voice steady. “You knew me.”
The guard swallowed hard. “L-Lady Evelyn. You… you died. You’ve been dead for—”
Her eyes flashed. “I know what I was. I want to know how.”
The man’s breath came in shallow gasps. “Please… I… I can’t—”
Azrael sighed dramatically. “Humans and their hesitation.” He leaned closer to the trembling guard, his voice smooth as silk. “Tell her what she wants to know. Or you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
The guard’s eyes darted between them, then—he broke.
“H-he killed you,” he stammered. “Lord Duvall. He… he ordered it.”
Evelyn’s vision swam, the words cutting through her like a blade. She had known it, deep down. But hearing it confirmed sent a shudder through her entire being.
“How?” she demanded.
The guard hesitated. Azrael’s shadows tightened.
“A poison,” the guard choked out. “In your wine. You never saw it coming.”
A long silence followed. Evelyn stared at him, her chest heaving. Poison. Not a blade, not an accident.
A coward’s method.
Azrael tilted his head, watching her reaction with interest. “What now, ghost?”
Evelyn’s voice was ice. “Now? We find Laurence.”
And this time, he will know fear.
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