A low rumble of distant thunder undercut London's perpetual drizzle, giving the sky a peculiar glow at midday.
Richard stood at a crowded bus stop, wearing his new cloak and pondering what to do now that he had come back.
He had to re-enter the Hunter Association and climb its ranks if he wanted to learn the truth of his death, but how to do so?
His reflection stared back at him in the glass shelter—unruly dark hair, a faint scar slicing across one brow, and emerald green eyes that had a haunted look in them, as though they'd witnessed ten lifetimes.
He might have come back to the world of the living, but he was still very much a ghost.
Richard glanced down the road, half expecting to see black SUVs skidding round the corner in a shower of rain, courtesy of the Hunter Association. But nothing broke the everyday hum of London traffic.
The city was blissfully unaware that its former 'saviour' was skulking in plain sight, trying to track down one of the two people he trusted with everything: his sister, Meredith.
Buses hissed to a stop, taking on and offloading passengers.
Richard stepped aboard the next one and found a seat near the back.
No one noticed the wiry tension in his posture or the way his fingers occasionally twitched as though reaching for a dagger.
He'd spent the last hour scouring the web on a battered phone he'd bought near the station.
Still, he'd gleaned a few key scraps of information.
Meredith Blackwood was listed as a junior researcher at the London branch of the Mage's Guild—an organisation that occasionally cooperated with the Hunter Association but preferred to keep its secrets to itself.
A few stops later, he disembarked, weaving through the crowds on Tottenham Court Road. Among the throng of tourists, shoppers, and office workers, no one so much as gave him a second glance.
He took a left down a narrow side street filled with electronics stores and quirky cafés.
Then he found it: a discreet sign reading "M. Guild – No Entry," beside a flight of stairs leading below ground.
Richard descended cautiously, scanning for any hidden threats.
A faint buzz tickled his senses, confirming a barrier in place. Oddly enough, it let him pass without resistance—perhaps the true protections lay further ahead.
A stout, rune-inscribed door barred his way at the bottom.
He raised a hand, hesitated, then gave three firm knocks.
Moments later, a panel slid open, revealing an inquisitive pair of blue eyes belonging to a young woman.
She had short, platinum hair and an unusually curious gaze, flicking over his face and clothes.
"State your business," she said, matter-of-fact.
"I'm here for Meredith Blackwood," he replied, voice echoing in the cramped space. "She's my sister."
Her brows lifted slightly at that, and she muttered something.
A wave of faint light flickered around the door, scanning Richard from head to toe. She's using an ability on me.
He felt its subtle prickle against him, and though he could have snuffed it out in the blink of an eye, he wisely decided not to.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Strange. You're not on the registered visitor list. And you're… carrying some intense magical energy."
Richard gave a half-shrug, keeping his voice calm. "I imagine I would, yes. May I speak to her?"
After a tense pause, she gave a small nod. "Fine. But I will go fetch her first."
She slammed the panel shut, leaving Richard in the narrow, rune-etched corridor with little to do but wait.
A faint hum persisted in the air—he could feel wards, layers of protective spells meticulously woven to keep prying people out.
For a moment, he considered testing the barriers.
A small part of him wanted to see how the wards would respond to the stars' energy thrumming within his veins, but he dismissed that urge and forced himself to stay still.
Minutes ticked by.
Shuffling footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, then hushed voices.
Eventually, the stout door creaked open again.
The platinum-haired woman reappeared, looking him up and down. "She'll see you," she said in a neutral tone. "But don't try anything."
One more incantation later, Richard felt the magical protections accept him.
He dipped his head in thanks. "Lead the way."
She stepped aside, and he entered a modest foyer lit by orbs suspended near the low ceiling.
The wards' hum grew more pronounced here, like faint static crawling over his skin.
A short corridor branched off to the left, ending at another door of polished oak that bore swirling runic inscriptions.
He half expected some elaborate security measure before that door too, but instead, the woman simply pushed it open and motioned for him to enter.
Richard stepped forward into what appeared to be a small waiting room.
Shelves sagged under the weight of musty tomes and scrolls. A battered wooden table sat in the centre, piled with parchment and half-burned candles.
Overhead, the orbs hovered in a slow orbit, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
At the far side of the room stood Meredith, wearing a simple midnight-blue robe over a plain blouse and jeans.
She'd changed her hairstyle since he'd last seen her—gone were the braids she'd worn in school, replaced by a neat ponytail that accentuated her angular features.
Meredith looked older, of course—ten years do that to you—but there was still a trace of the wide-eyed, bookish teenager he remembered in the way she held herself.
Her eyes searched his face. The cautious tension in them dissolved into a tremor of disbelief.
"Richard?" she managed, voice barely above a whisper.
He could only nod, unable to form a coherent greeting.
All the words he'd imagined—apologies, explanations, reassurances—jammed up in his throat.
"Is he truly your brother, Meredith?" the platinum-haired woman asked, looking confused.
Meredith's gaze flicked over to her. "Yes. Thank you, Daphne. I'll take it from here."
Daphne hesitated. Her ocean-like eyes darted between them, and she gave Meredith a look that clearly said we'll talk about this later.
Then, with a subtle shrug, she pulled the door shut behind her, leaving them alone.
Silence settled, thick and electric.
Finally, Meredith let out a breath and took two steps closer. "You look…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"
He gave her a shaky, lopsided smile. "I feel like I've changed a lot. But maybe not on the outside."
She exhaled, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes.
Before he could speak, she darted forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.
He froze momentarily, then returned the embrace, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Meredith," he whispered, shutting his eyes against the sudden surge of relief.
She stepped back after a few seconds, wiping at her cheek. "I thought… I mean, everyone was told that Astralis made it out of Paphos alive, but—no, it wasn't you."
Her voice gained a steel edge at that last word. "I didn't tell Mum and Dad that the man on the broadcasts was a fake. I didn't want to cause them more pain, I—"
"I know," Richard murmured. "I know they replaced me. I only found out the details recently. Everything else is still a mystery. And our parents know about the fake. They aren't dumb, you know…"
He paused, scanning the room.