The Sequence of Immortality

Chapter One

As I stared at the mocking cursor on my screen, a relentless wave of frustration crashed into my heart, unwelcome and overpowering. The burden of responsibility pressed down on me, a heavy weight I couldn't shake off, as I battled with the creativity block that had seized control of my mind.

In this world, where witches teetered on the edge of existence, shackled by the unyielding laws enforced by the ruling powers, every word I wrote held immense, almost tangible, power. Yet, amidst the pervasive darkness and uncertainty, a glimmer of hope persisted – the enigmatic figure visiting me in my dreams with such unwavering regularity.

Every night, he would materialise in my dreams, a shadowy figure whose identity remained a compelling mystery. His presence wrapped around me like a fog, filling my mind with a thick haze of uncertainty and confusion. A deep, insatiable hunger for answers consumed me as if the truth was a mirage, always out of reach. The more I probed into the enigma of our connection, the more my thoughts twisted and tangled, each attempt to unravel the mystery only deepening my bewilderment. The more recurrent my dreams were, the more I realised the enigmatic figure was an immortal, a vampire, to be exact.

The forbidden nature of our bond—a witch entwined with a vampire—wove an intoxicating tapestry of complexity that thrilled me as much as it terrified me. The wind howled ferociously outside, rattling the windows and sending shivers down my spine, prickling my skin with a keen sense of unease. It felt as if the walls around me harboured ancient secrets whispered by unseen forces to those bold enough to tread the perilous path of the supernatural. This forbidden knowledge seeped into my bones, a heady blend of fear and fascination that I found utterly irresistible.

My assignment was to unearth the truth behind the supernatural beings entwined in the murder of our revered High Witch, Matace—a task that seemed straightforward but was twisted into a labyrinth of complexity by the strict codes these otherworldly creatures followed to remain concealed.

Matace's brutal death haunted me, a shadow that clung to my soul, the wound of his loss festering with every passing day. The deeper I delved into his murder, the more I felt myself spiralling into a pit of despair, each unanswered question tightening a noose around my heart. I found myself gasping for air as the suffocating weight of doom pressed down on me, threatening to crush the last remnants of hope.

In a surge of overwhelming rage and frustration, I slammed my fist onto the table with such force that a jagged crack split its surface, snaking down the centre like a wound. Pain shot through my knuckles, sharp and immediate, but the firestorm of anger roaring inside me eclipsed all else. It was as if an inferno blazed within, consuming every ounce of restraint I had left.

Every path I pursued seemed to dissolve into disappointment, each promising lead vanishing like a wisp of smoke just beyond my reach. The endless maze of dead ends tightened around me, escalating my frustration until I teetered on the edge of desperation, yearning for a way out of the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.

How could Matace's killer evade justice so effortlessly? The question burned in my mind, a relentless reminder of my failure and the injustice that had been done. I was consumed by a fierce determination to bring the perpetrator to justice, no matter the cost. But even as I steeled myself for the fight ahead, a nagging doubt lingered in my mind. What if I couldn't succeed? What if I was destined to fail? The fear of failure was almost as unbearable as the pain in my hand, but I knew I had no choice but to press on, no matter how difficult the road ahead might be.

From my office nestled deep within the mystical complex, a surge of awe and wonder engulfed me, much like it always did when I looked out the window at the large structure before me. The towering structure held the portals to realms of magic and limitless potential. I was spellbound by the intricately crafted windows and majestic architecture, hinting at the mysterious secrets veiled within its walls. Perhaps the key to the captivating dream figure lay within those walls. The agency is protected by a powerful shield preventing mortals from seeing anything related to the supernatural world.

The figure stood in stark contrast to the darkened room, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. His sharp and angular silhouette danced against the wall, a captivating and enigmatic presence that commanded attention. I couldn't help but be drawn to his broad, towering stature. Although he was a mere shadow in the night, I could feel the raw, undeniable aura of power and mystery. Despite the distance, I felt an inexplicable pull urging me to uncover the truth shrouding him.

What secrets did this enigmatic stranger hold?

The questions swirled in my mind, a relentless storm fueling my desire to uncover the truth about this enigmatic stranger. As I watched him from afar, his silhouette etched against the window, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that he was connected to something far beyond my limited comprehension. He seemed to hold an otherworldly power over me, a power that frightened and intrigued me, like a siren's call I could not resist, drawing me towards the unknown. 

But as I sat, my eyes fixed on that intriguing silhouette, one question remained unanswered, a puzzle that taunted me endlessly: What was his name? And would I ever have the courage to find out?

The sharp rap on my office door jolted me from the intense scrutiny of the enigmatic stranger. Enter, I commanded, my voice tinged with exasperation. 

My father entered, his distinguished look and warm smile naturally putting me at ease. Despite his small stature, he exuded a commanding presence, his flawless features and sharp jawline lending him an air of authority. His meticulously combed dark hair gleamed in the warm glow of my office, every strand in place. His black suit and navy blue tie, perfectly knotted, only added to his professional, refined appearance. Shoulders squared and posture erect, he carried himself with an air of unwavering pride and dignity.

Father! I cried out, my voice tinged with surprise and alarm. What on Earth are you doing here? I gasped in surprise.

I've come to see how my daughter's new life is faring, Seira Dufey, he said, his voice brimming with warmth and affection. And to convey a message from your mother. His soft, gentle tone and the sincere kindness in his eyes instantly put anyone at ease. But we had an extraordinary bond with each other.

Is she alright? I blurted out, my heart racing with concern as I searched my father's face, looking for any signs of distress. The words tumbled out of my mouth, laced with a sense of dread that gripped me tightly. I hated bad news.

My mind raced as I tried to decipher the reason for his unexpected arrival. Had I forgotten a family event, like the wedding anniversary party I missed a few years ago? The mere thought of it sent a shiver down my spine. Mother had never forgiven me for that. Since then, she had dispatched my father the day before every family gathering as if I were still a child - which, in her eyes, I suppose I would always be. The use of my full name had not escaped my notice; it was a telltale sign that lousy news lay ahead or that I was in deep trouble. My heart pounded as I braced myself for whatever my father had been sent to do or say.

Is everything alright? Do I need to come home?

Seira, she's doing just fine, he chuckled in reply, a mischievous glint in his eye. She's invited you over for dinner, he explained, his gaze sweeping across the confines of my cramped office. And I must say, this place is a far cry from your old digs. Tidy, too – not like how you kept things back home? he teased, a playful jab at my newfound sense of order.

Since I had embraced my witch heritage, my parents had made it clear I was going against their wishes. They were, and still are, in complete and utter denial of the existence of any beings or realms beyond the finite boundaries of Earth, stubbornly clinging to their myopic worldview despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

I had broken my father's heart, the pieces too fragmented to be mended, when I revealed my decision to leave. He couldn't comprehend why I would delve into what he disdainfully dismissed as 'hocus pocus nonsense.' In his eyes, it seemed like a trivial and insignificant path. I had known for years, compliments of my siblings, that I was adopted. My adoption had been a meticulously orchestrated affair, shrouded in secrecy and mystery, leaving me in the dark about my biological heritage. 

I discovered my magic abilities by accident; nobody in my mortal life had ever encouraged or helped me develop them. Matace, however, saw beyond my uncertainties and clumsy attempts at mastering my powers. With open arms, he welcomed me into the witching world and shielded me from the dangers I hadn't known were lurking in the shadows. He was more than a mentor; he was a guardian, keeping me by his side and offering unwavering guidance and protection as I navigated the tumultuous waters of my newfound identity. His support and belief in me were not just a lifeline but the essence of my transformation as I grappled with the weight of my magical legacy and the consequences of my choice to pursue it.

I'm afraid I won't be able to join you for dinner, Dad. I've got a mountain of work piled up, and I can't afford to step away from it right now. I paused, a twinge of guilt creeping into my voice. Besides, you and Mom have more than enough on your plate dealing with the grandkids. The last thing you need is me there, with my phone constantly buzzing and Josh constantly arguing with me. I tried to lighten the mood with a self-deprecating chuckle, but the weight of my words hung heavy in the air.

If you're set on explaining to your mother how you're letting her down once more, he said, his voice dripping with resignation and frustration, I get it. I know this means a lot to you, even though I can't fathom what keeps you occupied all day, he said sadly. Josh has even asked if you're coming. I know you think he dislikes you, but that's not true. He is your brother.

I sighed deeply. He would never understand or see that Josh despises me, and he has done so since our parents first took me home. Dad, I understand if you're disappointed and frustrated with me. I know having family dinners means a lot to you and Mom. But please understand my work is important to me, and I'm not just avoiding this dinner for no reason. I'm sorry if I'm letting you and Mom down once again. I purposely left out any mention of Josh. I didn't want to upset him more than I was by declining the invitation.

Despite my father's constant attempts and pleas to get me to change my mind, I stood firm in my decision. I couldn't join them, not while consumed by Matace's murder. As my father departed, oblivious to the gravity lingering over me, I knew I couldn't let another uncover the killer's identity first. Justice would be served by the laws governing all races' coexistence.

The workday had finally ended, but the relief it should have brought was non-existent. Agitated by an earlier demanding call, I could not wait a moment longer before exiting. Determined to shake off the lingering tension, I vigorously shook my arms, desperately seeking a minor release from the stress, even just for a moment. The entirety of the elder's phone call had replayed in my head for hours.

Seira, the elder's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the silence of my dimly lit office. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air as if they were tangible objects pressing down on my shoulders. I need you to work faster with the new procedures for the Fae to enter the mortal realm, he barked. And where's that report I asked for? His tone left no room for argument, and I felt a sudden pang of anxiety grip my chest.

The report is on its way, I replied, gripping my pen so tightly it snapped. You will have it before midnight.

A low, pained groan escaped my lips once he hung up. The idea of working with that specific elder set me on edge and infuriated me. He had not earned the title in any way; it had been passed to him by his father. He is just another spoiled rich kid on a power trip, and he didn't hesitate to make sure I knew how far down the hierarchy I was.

I collected the box of files from my desk and switched off the lights. The weight of the box stacking to the rim with files proved daunting as I strained to balance their weight without dropping anything and closed my office door. With a determined effort, I finally balanced the weight. I closed the door before briskly turning and walking towards the elevator, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

As I approached the elevator, I wearily pressed the button with my forefinger, the weight of the large box of files straining my arm. The numerous files inside the box constantly remind me of my working evening waiting for me tonight. The soft whirring of the ascending elevator car echoed in the hallway, a precursor of the challenges ahead. 

As the elevator doors parted, a flurry of hands eagerly snatched the box from my grasp, sending my heart racing. I couldn't physically see over the box and felt vulnerable, not knowing the identity of the box snatcher. As my view cleared, staring back at me was a familiar face and eyes similar to the ones that haunted my dreams. It was Luke, one of the many immortals living in the mortal realm.

Despite knowing each other for a while during working hours, Luke remained tight-lipped about anything that had to do with his job role among mortals. It baffled me that he could perhaps be the source of my nightly dreams, leaving me tossing and turning in bed, or maybe my subconscious was trying to fill the void of a face I couldn't ever see clearly in my dreams. I only ever saw quick flashes of the stranger's eyes. Despite everything, Luke is a typical immortal playboy; he always bragged about his 'hot dates.'  

You? I scoffed, my voice dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and disbelief. Quickly, I caught myself, and with a forced smile, I added, I mean, thank you. The words felt foreign on my tongue, a feeble attempt to mask my annoyance.

As he moved to stand next to me, a mischievous grin crept across his face, like a predator eyeing prey. I frantically rubbed at my arms, futilely attempting to hide how uneasy I felt.

Forcing a smile, I faced him. How's it going? I asked, stepping into the elevator just a fraction ahead of him. My curiosity was piqued, and I couldn't resist asking, So, how's the big office move been treating you so far?

It's going great, thanks for asking. I couldn't be happier, he replied enthusiastically. And how about you? I'm eager to hear about the progress on your end, especially considering you're the only one in that part of the building.

I grinned, smoothly redirecting the conversation to myself while discreetly trying to gather details about Luke Granger's elusive office location. Despite scouring official records, he always surprised me with his unexplained sudden appearances. Luke was an enigma - unflappable and privy to all manner of information.

Nice try, Luke, I quipped, a hint of amusement in my voice. So, I heard the gossip in the café. You have a hot date lined up for tonight. Care to share the details?

A vivid memory suddenly resurfaced, transporting me back to our last conversation. Luke had asked for advice on hosting a house party and how to entertain his mortal guests. He had said he'd never invited mortals before and just wanted to be sure they'd be comfortable and enjoy themselves. Attacking mortals is strictly forbidden; the agency provides all the sustenance that every supernatural in the mortal world needs.

Yep, I've got a date lined up, he grinned boyishly. And get this; she's actually human. Can you believe it? His eyes gleamed with a hint of excitement as if he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. 

I stood in the elevator, my gaze fixed intently on him, my mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. Logically, I knew I shouldn't let him accost a human for his selfish desires; whether his motives were good or bad, they violated the rules. Yet, the intensity weighed heavily, leaving me uncertain about how to proceed. 

My heart was pounding in my chest, and waves of panic washed over me as the realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. This can't be happening! I thought in disbelief as I stared at the situation before me. My mind raced frantically, trying to devise a solution; it was my duty to report this. But he's my friend! I didn't want to betray the only friend I had. 

Finally, I shrugged helplessly, resorting to a well-worn saying, 'Hear no evil, see no evil,' to console myself and escape the weight of this no-win predicament.

Luke, I said, my voice trembling slightly, you're well aware of the rules when it comes to dating a human, and you're a goddamn vampire, for fuck's sake!

I love it when you swear, he grinned impishly, not acknowledging my words. Regardless, he continued, a casual shrug of his shoulders, humans make better company than the dead, don't you think.

I laughed at his theatrical nose-scrunching, protruding fangs. I guess so. But your party is still on?

Yes. You coming or working late?

I'm afraid I can't, I said, a tinge of regret in my voice. He was referring to his party. I have an overdue report. I'll be out of the agency if the new High Witch Lilly finds out I haven't started. 

I could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on me. The consequences of not finishing this report were dire, and the threat of upsetting Lilly didn't appeal to me. My heart raced as I contemplated the possibility of being sacked and never being able to develop my powers. But my loyalty to the agency, my commitment to my work, was unwavering. I knew I had to prioritise this task, no matter the personal cost. The agency was my lifeblood, and I couldn't afford to jeopardise my position.

That sucks, he said, missing his poor word choice. They'd be out of their minds to kick you out. You're too damn valuable for them to let go. His eyes narrowed, a hint of menace underlying his tone. 

That woman is capable of anything, and I wouldn't put it past her, I said, my voice laced with disdain. Nobody in the agency can understand why I was chosen for this role in the first place, I sighed at the memory of my demotion. They have no idea what she's capable of. 

How so?

They look down on me because I don't come from a magical family like they do, I said, my voice tinged with resentment. My parents adopted me, and I was raised as a human with no idea about my real parents or if they had powers. 

Unbelievable! he exclaimed, his eyes widening with disbelief. Well, they'd be fools to cut you out. Hell, you could always find a job with the vampires, you know? Those bloodsuckers would be lucky to have you on their team. Oh wait, I am one! 

I smiled and shook my head at his incorrigible optimism. It was as if he sensed my inner turmoil, appearing with wit and playfulness to lift my spirits. The pinging sound of the elevator stopping and opening the doors brought my attention back to the mission of getting home.

Well, I've got the files here, I said, firmly grasping the documents. I'll be in touch soon. In the meantime, have a great time at your party. 

Take it easy, he said, smiling. As the doors started to close, he stopped them and called out. Hey, if you change your mind, just call.

Oh, and I suppose you'll hear me over the music with your super hearing, right? I grinned. You're going to be too busy flirting with everything in a skirt, I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. When I want you, you'll hear me clearly, whether you like it or not.

He flashed a boyish grin, remarkably younger-looking than other vampires I'd encountered in true form - rugged yet aristocratic, as if assessing me as potential prey. Their haughty air marked them distinct from the human world, as if their immortality gave them a higher status than any other supernatural being.

As I stood before this disarmingly charming vampire, I couldn't shake the uneasy awareness that I was being meticulously appraised, my every breath and movement analysed for any sign of weakness or vulnerability. The predatory edge lurking behind his captivating smile made my skin crawl, a primal instinct warning me of the danger beneath the surface of his alluring façade. With my final grin and wave, Luke allowed the elevator doors to close and was gone. Breathing a deep sigh, I stood alone in the hallway with the large glass doors of the entry and exit to the building in front of me.

A strong sense of unease gripped me as I carefully balanced the delicate files in my trembling arms. The weight of the confidential documents, brimming with sensitive information, pressured me as I hurriedly left the building and started walking towards the sanctuary of my cosy apartment.

It was strictly forbidden to remove any files from the protection of the building, shielded by a powerful enchantment that safeguarded the wealth of esoteric knowledge stored within its hallowed walls. Yet, on this occasion, I summoned the full extent of my latent magical abilities, deftly circumventing the restrictive spell and slipping away unnoticed, driven by a singular purpose – to deliver the critical report to Lilly, Matace's replacement, without a single mistake. 

The unshakable feeling that Lilly was deliberately excluding me from the investigation, a suspicion fueled by her longstanding disdain for me that she had never bothered to hide since I first joined the team at Matace's behest, continued to weigh heavily on my mind. She tasked me with uncovering any communication from his final days, hoping to shed light on the shady dealings consuming him before his untimely demise. Despite our professional distance, I was determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Matace's murder and prove my worth to Lilly, showing I wasn't to be underestimated.

After navigating the congested streets and chaotic traffic, I finally reached the store and grabbed the groceries I needed. I jumped back into my car and drove the last few blocks. As I pulled into the familiar driveway, I smiled as my loyal and loving cat, Herbert, sat patiently in front of the door. The minute I exited my car, he ran over; his soft, melodic purrs and affectionate rubs against my leg instantly lifting the heaviness from my heart.

Although it is coincidental, not to mention comical, for a witch to have a cat, Herbert had been part of my family since childhood. This faithful friend has been the one constant in my life, a trustworthy source of comfort and companionship that filled my world with a warmth that defied the darkness that came with the territory of my job.

With a laboured grunt, I hefted the heavy files, the strain rippling through my muscles as I staggered into the room. The stack of documents landed on the cluttered table with a resounding thud, scattering papers and startling Herbert. His low, guttural growl disapproved of being startled and overlooked for his usual welcoming fuss.

I bent down and gently ran my fingers through his soft, lush fur.

Hello, my boy, I cooed, a warm smile spreading across my face. The loyal canine immediately responded, flopping onto his back, his paws gently patting my hands, silently pleading for his favourite tummy rub. That's it, my good boy, I chuckled, obliging his unspoken request. Gazing into his adoring eyes, I could almost see the hunger building within him. Ah, I know what you're after, right? I teased. How about we treat you to some salmon for dinner tonight, hm? The mere mention of his favourite meal had his ears perking up, and I couldn't help but laugh at his unbridled enthusiasm. With a loving pat, I rose to my feet, anticipating the sound of his meows when I presented his meal.

The soft sniffles and delicate mewing sounds reached my ears. I took them as a sign of the cat's appreciation and acceptance of the salmon I put into his bowl. With a gentle touch, I lovingly set the food down. As I watched him eagerly dig in, I couldn't help but imagine the disapproving look on my mother's face if she saw me now, with my single-serving microwave dinner I was putting in the microwave over a home-cooked family dinner. But the demands from one of our highest witches' sudden murder made it unavoidable.

With utmost discretion, Lilly shared a file via our inter-office Mail Portal or MP. This file was a repository of sensitive information, containing detailed images of his physique, and a meticulously compiled list of those present at the crime scene. Using our secure communication channel underscored the secrecy and urgency of our situation.

The microwave beep and rumbling hunger jolted me from gazing at the dimly lit garden outside my eerily silent apartment block. An unsettling hush had settled over the block of flats, starkly contrasting the chaos brewing inside my mind. This eerie atmosphere was unusual for any evening except tonight. I knew there were a lot of new shows, famous magicians, and actors in town, so I wasn't surprised to find the block deadly quiet. It only intensifies the solitude needed to intricately analyse these files.

Right, Herbert. I focused back on the task at hand, the weight of our mission, like a heavy cloak, pressing upon me. Got to do some digging for the witch. My jaw tightened with determination as I prepared to delve into the darkness, whatever it may hold. 

As I observed him indulge in his meal with a sense of contentment, I retreated to my study. The plush, deep red carpet felt like a luxurious oasis, soothing my weary feet as I gratefully kicked off my uncomfortable high heels. I couldn't help but ponder the perplexing question – why do women, myself included, subject ourselves to such discomfort in the name of fashion?

Plopping down behind my elegant desk, I set aside the food tray, my fingers tingling with anticipation as I waited for my laptop to spring to life. The urge to dive into the files, meticulously cross-referencing every detail for any discrepancies, was overwhelming. Ignoring Lilly's disapproval, I was determined, unwavering in my resolve to uncover the truth behind the death of the one person who had initially believed in me.

I felt a chill run down my spine as the photographs of Matace slipped from my trembling hands, scattering across the floor. The images were a harrowing sight, depicting a man whose body bore the cruel markings of torture. Lash marks crisscrossed his back, while deep nail scars had been etched onto his torso as a mysterious symbol. It was as though some ancient, otherworldly force had inflicted this violence upon him, leaving behind a chilling calling card.

My fork froze mid-air. I stared in shocked silence, and my appetite was suddenly lost. I scanned the testimonies of potential witnesses and perpetrators, searching for any clues to shed light on this horrific act. Yet, the truth of Matace's death remained elusive, shrouded in a veil of mystery and darkness. What dark forces had converged to bring about such a fate? The questions swirled in my mind, leaving me unsettled and unsure of what to make of this chilling discovery. 

A pack of savage wolves, feared by all who crossed their path, had brazenly claimed responsibility for their latest grisly killings. The mangled bodies of their victims bore the unmistakable hallmarks of the pack's ferocious assault - deep gashes across exposed flesh and savage bite marks around the neck and head, evidence of the ruthless efficiency of their deadly hunt. 

As I meticulously studied the markings, the subtle, varied indents on Matace perplexed me more. The indentations lacked the rough, jagged edges typically associated with the wolf clan. Instead, slight variations and nuances within the patterns left me utterly baffled. Scouring the depths of my extensive knowledge, I found no records of any new or undiscovered breeds within the immediate area.

Scanning the seemingly mundane scene where the lifeless body had been found, nothing immediately caught my attention. Yet, since joining the agency, the haunting possibility of the banished creatures' return refused to leave my mind. Could they have somehow breached the mortal realm?

Delving into my expertise and understanding of their behaviour, I deduced they would likely resort to a comparable disposal site for their victims, as no such locations had ever been documented, explaining the enigmatic markings on Matace's remains. Each supernatural entity possessed distinct methods of killing and disposing of prey, a meticulously catalogued wealth of knowledge within the agency's extensive files. 

My heart raced as I stared at Matace's face in the photograph, his once powerful presence now reduced to a mere image. Nothing? I spat out the word, my voice laced with a fury I could barely contain. I gripped the edges of the frame, knuckles turning white, as I leaned in closer, searching for answers in those unmoving eyes. What happened to you? I demanded, my words barely above a whisper, laced with sorrow and disbelief. You were so strong, so untouchable. How did this even happen?

The silence that followed was deafening, taunting me with its lack of response. I felt helpless, powerless to undo the cruel twist of fate that had befallen my once formidable friend. With a shaky breath, I placed the photograph back down, the weight of this mystery pressing heavily upon my soul.

As I scrutinised the captivating photographs meticulously captured by our ministry's elite clean-up specialists, I couldn't help but be awestruck by their unparalleled attention to detail. Every inch of the scene was documented precisely, from the faintest whispers of paranormal phenomena to the unsettling shadows that clung to the walls.

These seasoned professionals moved with unwavering determination, resolute in their mission to erase any evidence of the supernatural before the unsuspecting masses could discover it. Their unwavering commitment to their craft was obvious in their care to leave no trace behind, ensuring the unknown remained a mystery to mortals.

The dimly lit alleyway, with its foreboding dead-end, was infamous for being a hotspot where mortals engaged in illicit drug transactions – a dark, seedy underbelly that lurked in the shadows of the city. In this notorious location, a tragic incident unfolded, one that would shatter the lives of all those involved. The victim was a young mortal named Tom Simmons, only sixteen years old. His death had been brutal and gruesome; his body left abandoned in the alley.

Law enforcement investigators worked tirelessly, painstakingly identifying the victim by comparing his dental records to those in their database – a cold, clinical process that belied the sheer horror of the crime. I instantly dismissed any suspicion of Matace's vengeful involvement in this heinous crime against a mortal - an absurd, unfathomable idea. However, no convictions were made in either world.

The sudden, jarring beep of my computer's notification shattered the serene silence, sending a jolt through me. My pulse quickened as I read Lilly's message in bold, urgent letters. Her words were laced with frustration and emotion as she fervently demanded the report, questioning the brief disruption in the protective spell. A wave of confusion washed over me, and I scrambled to formulate a credible explanation for tampering with her information protection spell, acutely aware of the intensity of her anger bearing down on me. 

I've got the documents you need - I'm bringing them back to file your report, and you'll have it first thing tomorrow morning. I'm going through the photographs right now, and I'll be sure to gather any additional information that could be useful. This is a high-priority situation, and I'm on it. I quickly typed a reply. 

I felt drawn to exploring the final locations Matace had visited to unravel the mystery surrounding his last moments on Earth. My journey would take me past shadowy corners and vast fields where Matace had once conducted his awe-inspiring séances, communicating with entities from otherworldly realms. By delving into these enigmatic realms, I hoped to gain insight into the immortal beings associated with our clandestine organisation, 'The Agency,' that Matace had been teaching me about.

I felt a rising sense of unease as I carefully processed the disturbing information. The revelation that he had been spotted strolling down the bustling high street, its rowdy bars luring in the night owls, was deeply unsettling.

The fact that he was last seen in the alley where his life had met its tragic end hinted at a sinister, orchestrated cover-up. Consumed by a burning determination to unravel the truth, I embarked on a perilous journey, visiting various locations and meticulously searching for clues that might expose any information.

Every day at the agency, I felt the oppressive weight of constant surveillance, my every action scrutinised. The reason for this relentless monitoring remained a mystery. Still, I had learned not to question it, fearful of the repercussions. Matace had warned me that venturing alone was dangerous, a caution I had initially brushed aside. Yet, the looming threat of displeasing Lilly and incurring her anger made me seriously reconsider my decision to leave the relative safety of my quarters.

She possessed an uncanny ability to uncover even the slightest indiscretion, especially if someone happened to catch a glimpse of me slipping out under the cover of night and mentioned it to her in passing. The consequences of being caught were not something I dared to experience, for the price would be far too high. Still, the compulsion to retrace Matace's last known steps weighed heavily on my mind, urging me to take the risk. 

My mind returned to the time I had first met Matace. As I stood before Matace, his weathered face reflected the wisdom and kindness that had shaped his life. The subtle crinkles around his eyes deepened as he observed my abilities to command the forces of nature, open portals, and manipulate the very fabric of time itself. His warm smile conveyed a profound pride and reverence as if he were witnessing the unfolding of a remarkable destiny.  I was both exhilarated and terrified by the sheer power that flowed through me, powers that no other witch had ever possessed. Every spell I attempted, I executed with a potency that surpassed anything anyone had ever seen. It was as if the elements themselves had become extensions of my will, bending to my command with a ferocity that both thrilled and unsettled me.

Matace's gaze held a knowing, almost paternal, quality as he observed the extent of my abilities. I felt a deep connection to the ancient wisdom he embodied at that moment. This connection transcended the boundaries of our physical forms and spoke to the very essence of my being. It was as if he could see into the heart of my soul, understanding the weight of the power I wielded and the responsibility that came with it. 

As a hormonal teenager, I first discovered my extraordinary powers during a moment of sheer rage and anguish at the state of the world. Consumed by a rebellious fury, I unintentionally unleashed a powerful hurricane, a force of nature that tore through our neighbourhood, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. The roaring winds and torrential rains razed everything in their path, much to the horror and dismay of my mother. It was as if my raging hormones had completely overpowered any semblance of rational thought, unleashing a primal, untamed energy that was beyond my control. 

The revelation struck me like lightning, jolting me to the core. My mother ushered me back inside our modest home with a sombre expression. She divulged the shocking truth of my origins. To my astonishment, I learned that I did not belong to this world - my existence defied the boundaries of human comprehension.

Despite my extraordinary abilities, I had been categorised as human, a label that never quite fit. In the eyes of an unforgiving society, I was branded a freak, an aberration to be shunned and feared due to my unique nature. Yet, in the realm of magic and immortals, I was recognised for what I indeed was - a powerful witch, a conduit for forces beyond the mortal plane.

Matace, a wise and perceptive mentor, was the first to perceive the raw potential within me as a fledgling witch. With a warm embrace and open heart, he welcomed me into the agency, becoming my guiding beacon in the realm of magic. Under his tutelage, I blossomed and grew, absorbing his teachings with fervent dedication, my thirst for knowledge unquenchable. Patiently, Matace nurtured my skills, meticulously moulding and shaping them until I became a formidable force to be reckoned with in sorcery. He waited with unwavering patience, ensuring that I had cultivated inner and outer strength so that I could not only wield my powers but also be responsible enough to wield them for the greater good.

With a gentle yet unyielding hand, Matace introduced me to spells and arcane powers, instilling the crucial lesson of utilising them to help and heal rather than causing harm. His guidance honed my abilities to a razor's edge. It touched the depths of my soul, blossoming into a conscious decision to be a force for good in witchcraft.

Thanks to Matace's unwavering belief in me and his tireless efforts, I now stand tall and confident in my abilities, a living embodiment of the powerful witch he envisioned and nurtured with utmost care. His legacy lives on through me as I strive to emulate his wisdom and compassion, using my powers to better the world around me.

I exhaled a heavy, world-weary sigh as I gingerly slid my worn, familiar shoes onto my feet. With deft fingers, I wrestled my unruly mane into a haphazard ponytail, steeling myself for the night ahead. The world outside had been swallowed in a cloak of darkness, enveloping me in a cocoon of solitude and anonymity.

As I readied myself for whatever the shadows might hold, I took comfort in knowing I was unlikely to cross paths with anyone I knew. The only exception would be if I stumbled upon some otherworldly being, and even then, the prospect held no sway over me. Brushing aside any concerns about potentially incurring Lilly's wrath, I was unfazed by the thought of being recognised.

My thick, insulated coat shielded me from the biting, relentless chill that had crept in since I had unleashed my icy summons. The once vibrant world had been transformed into a frozen wasteland, a reflection of the emptiness that had consumed me since this started. The frigid temperatures, a product of my powers, had caught everyone off guard, leaving the mortals to wander the streets in confusion, their breath hanging in the air as they tried to make sense of the sudden winter storm.

Even the scientists, usually so confident in their knowledge, were left bewildered, unable to fathom how they had missed the signs of the impending freeze. The world had become a frozen, desolate landscape, a harsh mirror to the icy void within my heart. 

As I exited my apartment, I took a deep, steadying breath. The hallway's bright lights cast a soothing glow, easing my departure while shielding me from unwanted scrutiny. However, the deafening silence that permeated the building was deeply unsettling, heightening my awareness and leaving me on edge, apprehensive of what might lurk in the shadows.

I hastily crossed the street, clutching my scribbled notes of the unexplored destinations ahead. The soft clicks of my low-heeled shoes against the concrete sidewalk were the only sounds punctuating the eerie silence. Suddenly, a peculiar sensation washed over me, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. My nerves instantly jumped to high alert, every instinct screaming at me to flee. 

Yet, as the unnerving feeling of being watched intensified, a strange sense of inner calm washed over me, almost as if I had resigned myself to the situation. The contrast between my rising panic and this unexpected tranquillity left me profoundly unsettled, unsure of what lay in wait around the next corner. I quickened my pace, desperate to reach the safety of my next destination, my heart pounding with each step. The strangeness of my changing feelings reminded me of one person; Blossom. 

Shrouded in an air of suspicion, I had the misfortune of encountering a mischievous individual with the unique ability to manipulate emotions. This enigmatic figure had been banished, not for crimes she had committed, but for ones she had been falsely accused of. Blossom, a mischievous soul, had been repeatedly warned by Matace about her reckless behaviour. Yet, she had chosen to disregard his solid advice, leading to dire consequences within the immortal community, who now accused her of sowing chaos in their midst.

Matace and I knew Blossom was not inherently malicious; her mischievous nature bordered on the uncontrollable. The brutal killings of the shape-shifting black bear hunters could not have been orchestrated by Blossom herself, as it was clear from the outset that this was a meticulously planned setup. However, the true motives behind the scheme remained a mystery.

I hurried down the bustling street, but I had to tread carefully to avoid the cracks in the pavement. At the corner, my eyes landed on the first bar on my map, a stone's throw from my home. Yet, the sight that greeted me filled me with unease. The rowdy crowd spilt onto the sidewalk, creating a cacophony of noise and a hazy veil of cigarette smoke that made me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

As I pushed through the crowd of bodies, the overwhelming stench of sweat enveloped me, turning my stomach. It was like stumbling into a fairy tale gone awry, following a trail of breadcrumbs that led not to a magical encounter but to a dingy bar filled with more unpleasant patrons than I could count. I made a mental note always to carry body spray; there was no way I would smell that bad.

The dimly lit room was thick with the hazy stench of smoke and the sounds of shuffling cards as men gathered around small tables, engrossed in their games, their eyes fixed on the game at hand. A few of them glanced up, their looks filled with an unsettling sense of appreciation that made my stomach churn. Cigarettes dangled from their lips, and pitchers of half-drained beer sat forgotten on the tables.

Amidst the sordid scene, scantily clad women moved through the room, their bodies barely concealed by flimsy, sheer fabrics. Breasts spilt out of low-cut tops, nipples visible through the transparent material. The sight made me long for the biting chill of the outside air, desperate to drag it into this oppressive, suffocating space and force these women to reconsider their revealing attire. The entire atmosphere felt charged with an undercurrent of something sinister, like a tightly coiled spring waiting to snap.

Silently, I approached the dimly lit bar, my gaze locking with the barkeeps. I strived to melt seamlessly into the hazy, smoke-filled atmosphere. Still, the barman's startled reaction betrayed that my presence had not gone undetected. 

The bartender flashed a grin, revealing the few remaining teeth in his mouth. What can I get you? he asked, his voice laced with a hint of gravel. 

I fidgeted uncomfortably as the man next to me leered in my direction, his eyes fixated on my heaving chest. Orange juice, please, I muttered, shifting uneasily.

Is that all you want? he sneered, his brow furrowing in confusion and disdain. You know what sort of bar this is, don't you, girl? 

What kind of bar would that be exactly? I retorted, my gaze narrowing as I fixed them with a stern, no-nonsense stare. The edge in my voice left no room for ambiguity - I was not in the mood for games or evasiveness. 

A mortal's bar, he whispered, leaning across the wood that separated us. I think you know as well as I do what I'm talking about. What is it you're really after?

My heart raced, and my mind whirled as I grappled with the stool behind me, desperate for stability. Stunned and speechless, I planted myself on the wobbly seat, my eyes fixed on the figure before me. How could this excuse of a person possibly know what I was