Shadow's Arc

Chapter 1 of 8

Shadow had spent three years hunting the man who killed his mother, and that man was his own father. Now he stood at the edge of Nova Forest with nothing. No trail. No name spoken twice. His father had vanished the way smoke does, and Shadow could not chase smoke. He pressed his palm to a wet tree trunk. Red magic sparked at his fingers, then died. Even his power was useless without a direction. He walked into town instead. The rain drove him under the sign of the Dragon's Tavern, its carved dragons dripping down the wooden walls. Warm light spilled through the windows. Shadow shoved the heavy door open and let the heat pull him in. Silvermoon looked up from behind the counter, flour on his hands. Blue hair, freckles, the same soft smile he always gave Shadow no matter how black Shadow's mood ran. He was a baker, not a fighter, and he never asked Shadow to stop hunting. That was why Shadow loved him. "You look like a drowned cat," Silvermoon said. He set down a fresh loaf and came around the counter. "Still no trail?" "None." Shadow dropped onto a stool. "He left nothing. I've searched every road out of the forest." Silvermoon didn't argue. He reached under the counter and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. Inside lay a small spray of sky-blue flowers, tiny petals with pale yellow centers. Forget-me-nots. "A traveler left these this morning," Silvermoon said. "He paid for a room, then paid me to keep quiet. Said if a red-eyed elf came asking, I'd never seen him." He turned the flowers over. "But he dropped these on the stairs. Your mother grew these, didn't she? You told me once." Shadow's chest went cold. His mother had planted forget-me-nots along their whole house. His father had torn them all up the day she died. No stranger would carry them. Only one man would. "Which room," Shadow said. It was not a question. Silvermoon caught his wrist. "He's gone already. He left an hour ago, north, toward the old mining road." His grip tightened. "Shadow, he knew you'd come to me. He wanted you to have those flowers. This isn't a trail you found. It's one he left." Shadow stared at the flowers in Silvermoon's hand. His father was not hiding anymore. His father was calling him. He stood and took the bouquet. The stems felt cold and real. For three years he had wanted a direction. Now he had one, and it frightened him more than the empty forest ever had. "Then I'll follow it," Shadow said. Silvermoon's smile was gone. "He's baiting you." "I know." Shadow tucked the flowers into his hoodie and pushed back into the rain. The north road waited. His father wanted this hunt. Shadow would give it to him. Before shadow left Silvermoon gave him a kiss and gave him a pastry