Page 8 of Rayze

"Yeah," Rowan said, a hint of pride in their voice. "It's been a huge part of my family's history. Kind of a big deal for us."

"What kind of magic do you do?" I asked, leaning in closer to hear them over the music.

Rowan took a sip of their drink, thinking. "Well, it's a mix. I came into it around puberty, like a rite of passage. I can do small spells, little conjurations, and potions. Nothing too flashy, but useful."

I was intrigued. "Can you give me an example?"

"Sure," Rowan replied. "I can manipulate small objects, make things float, create minor illusions. And then there's potion making. That's more about knowledge of herbs and their properties."

I nodded, hanging on every word. "That sounds incredible. Must be quite a responsibility, carrying on a tradition like that."

"It is," Rowan agreed. "It's a big part of who I am. But I try to keep it low-key, you know? Don't want to draw too much attention."

I could understand that. Being what I was, I'd spent a lifetime – or, rather, an afterlife – hiding in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed. "I get it," I said. "The need to hide, to protect your secrets."

Rowan looked at me, their eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke of shared experiences, albeit wildly different in nature. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but it's necessary."

The conversation flowed easily between us, a comfortable exchange of questions and stories. I told Rowan more about my existence, about the lonely years spent in the shadows of the club and the old Murder Castle. In turn, they shared anecdotes about their witchcraft, about growing up with such a unique heritage.

As the night turned into early morning and the club began to empty, I realized how much I'd opened up to Rowan, and how much they'd shared with me. It was a connection I hadn't expected to find, a bond formed in the most unlikely of places.

The club's lights dimmed further, signaling the end of the night. Rowan and I made our way out, the early morning air crisp and refreshing after the heat of the club. We stood outside for a moment, neither of us quite ready to part ways.

"This was... unexpected," I said, searching for the right words.

Rowan smiled, a small, genuine gesture. "Yeah, it was. But I'm glad it happened."

We exchanged a look, a silent agreement that this was just the beginning of something new, something neither of us fully understood yet.

As we said our goodbyes, I watched Rowan walk away, their figure disappearing into the morning light. I stood there for a long time, contemplating the night's revelations and the strange turn my existence had taken.

I was a ghost, a remnant of a long-forgotten tragedy, and Rowan was a witch, a bearer of an ancient lineage. Our paths had crossed in the most extraordinary of ways, and I couldn't help but wonder where they would lead us next.

After leaving the club, I headed home, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Rayze and the night's revelations. Climbing into bed, I half-expected to drift into a dream filled with ghostly encounters and whispered secrets. But sleep came with a disappointing emptiness; no dreams of Rayze, no ethereal visits. Just the dark, quiet stillness of the night.

In the morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of the front door closing. Peeking through my curtains, I saw the first light of dawn creeping into the sky. Ali was coming home. I threw off my covers and headed to the living room, catching him just as he was about to disappear into his room.

"Ali, wait," I called, my voice firm. He stopped, turning to face me with a tired, confused expression.

I didn't waste any time. "What the hell is going on with your eyes?" I demanded.

Ali's confusion deepened. "My eyes? What are you talking about?"

I crossed my arms, my frustration mounting. "Yesterday, when you got mad at Bel, your eyes... they flashed yellow. Like, seriously yellow."

Ali's face drained of color, his usual confidence replaced by a look of stunned worry. "What? No, that can't be..." He trailed off, his mind racing.

He then lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the mark between his shoulder and neck. "This... I don't know if it's related. Kyne marked me, but I didn't think it would... I mean, could it change my eyes?"

The mark looked like a sophisticated tattoo, intricate and almost alive in its design. I frowned, piecing together the possibilities. "What if it's like vampires, and he can change you?"

Ali shook his head, disbelief etched across his face. "That can't be real... right? I mean, I know we've seen some crazy shit, but this?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know, Ali. But we can't ignore this. If you're changing, we need to figure out what that means. What if you're becoming something else?"

Ali's eyes were wide, a hint of fear flickering in them. "Fuck, Rowan, I don't want to change. I don't want to be... I don't know, not human."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll do some research, talk to Bel, maybe even... I don't know, talk to Kyne?"

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