Chapter 13: Return to the City of Glass
Aria stood at the edge of the lake, heart pounding.
Beneath the still surface, the gate shimmered like a wound in the world—barely visible, but pulsing with the same violet light that lived in her chest.
Damien stood beside her, quiet, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Not his usual cloak, not armor—just a man dressed in mortal shadows, like they were about to walk into a boardroom instead of a battleground.
"You ready?" he asked.
"No," she admitted. "But let's go anyway."
He gave her a faint smile. "That's more like you."
They stepped into the water.
And the world fractured.
It wasn't like teleporting.
It was like being ripped through dimensions.
Her magic fought the journey, recognizing this as unnatural. The flame inside her flared in protest — not from fear, but from something else.
Memory.
The last time she passed through this gate… she never came back.
Then, suddenly—
Noise.
Light.
Cars honking.
The smell of hot pavement, fried food, and summer rain on concrete.
They were standing in the middle of an abandoned subway tunnel deep beneath Manhattan. Cracked tiles, flickering lights, the old Lexington Cross sign barely readable under years of grime.
But above them…
She could feel it.
The gate.
Or rather, the crack in the gate — pulsing faintly, hidden beneath the layers of the modern world.
"Welcome back," Damien muttered. "The city of glass and steel."
Aria took a shaky breath. "Feels smaller than I remember."
"That's because you're remembering too much," he said, already scanning the tunnel for signs of enchantments. "Your real self sees through the illusion."
"And what do you see?"
He looked at her, eyes dark. "A storm coming."
They emerged through a hidden service stairwell that opened near Grand Central Terminal.
Tourists bustled by. No one looked twice.
No one ever did.
But Aria felt the shift instantly.
The magic here was wrong.
Like something buried too long — finally beginning to breathe.
"Where's the breach?" she asked.
Damien pointed toward the terminal's east wing. "Underneath the old M42 power station. There's an elevator shaft no one uses anymore. It's where they're hiding."
"And we're walking in?"
"No," he said. "We're baiting them out."
Aria frowned. "How?"
"You still have your company credentials?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her silver badge. "Why?"
"Because if they're watching you — and I'm sure they are — then it's time we gave them a reason to panic."
They walked into the main concourse of Grand Central like they belonged there.
Damien kept close, posture relaxed but alert.
Aria scanned the crowd.
She half-expected to see shadows with glowing eyes.
But the Hollow Court didn't work like that.
They infiltrated. They whispered. They made you feel safe until they already owned you.
She passed a cluster of people in business suits.
One of them — a young woman with mirrored sunglasses and a sharp green coat — brushed past Aria too closely.
For a second, Aria saw something behind the reflection in her glasses.
Eyes not human.
Not even close.
But when she turned, the woman was gone.
"Did you see that?" Aria asked quietly.
Damien nodded. "They know we're here."
"Then what are they waiting for?"
That night, they stayed at a hotel under a false name.
Damien paced the room like a caged predator.
Aria stood by the window, staring down at the city lights.
"It's not just Earth that's at risk," she said at last. "It's this version of Earth."
He stopped pacing.
"You mean the humans. The life we used to call ordinary."
"No," she whispered. "I mean the lie we built after the war. The memory wipe. The way we buried magic so deep it almost forgot itself."
She turned. "What if they're trying to reverse it? Not destroy the world. Just… unseal it."
Damien's jaw clenched. "That would be worse."
"Why?"
"Because if mortals remember magic before they're ready for it… they won't unite. They'll burn it. Or let it burn them."
The room buzzed.
An alert lit up on the burner phone Damien carried.
An encrypted message from a contact named only "K."
They moved. 3rd Ave. Abandoned theater. Breach active. Come alone.
Aria read the message over his shoulder. "Trap?"
"Definitely."
She pulled on her coat. "Let's go."
He raised a brow. "That's your strategy?"
"I don't have one," she said, eyes gleaming. "But they don't know that."
The old theater was a ruin of velvet and silence.
Peeling gold trim. Torn curtains.
But behind the stage, hidden behind what used to be a prop door, was a gate.
A real one.
Cracked open.
Spilling magic into the air like smoke.
Aria stepped into the room.
And they were waiting.
Three figures.
Clad in suits.
But not human.
Their eyes were like mirrors.
Their mouths stitched shut with silver thread.
And their presence made the flame in Aria's chest twist violently.
Hollow Court envoys.
Damien didn't move.
Neither did Aria.
Then, one of the envoys raised a hand.
A voice echoed from it — not its own, but borrowed:
"You returned, little queen. Good. Now we can begin again.
Aria stepped forward. "Who's speaking?"
"An old friend. A shadow of what was. And what will be."
Damien spoke sharply. "Back off. She didn't come to make deals."
"Didn't she?"
The flame in Aria's chest surged.
And the three envoys collapsed.
No fire.
No explosion.
Just—silence.
As if her soul had rejected them on instinct.
Aria stared at the smoking floor.
"What did I just do?"
Damien looked shaken. "You banished them. Without casting a single spell."
"But how?"
He touched her arm. "You're waking up faster than any of us thought."
Aria felt it too.
Not just power.
Remembrance.
Not all of it. Not yet.
But enough.
And the Hollow Court had seen it.
They'd tasted her soul.
And now… they would never stop hunting her.