╔════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════╗ CHAPTER ONE shadows of the past ╚════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════╝
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The shadows followed her.
It had been this way for years. Salem would take a step forward and the shadows would follow, ghosts of the past lurking where she couldn't see them. It was the only way the dead could reach her, clawing through the mist and begging for help. Asking for Salem to bring them back, crying out for just one more day of life. She hadn't figured out how to get them to pass on yet.
The souls were stronger in the shadow realm. Long before Salem's connection with the realm developed, the souls created their own kingdom. They waited years for someone to gain access, for someone to bring them living people to feed off. Salem learned early on how desperate they were to remain in the shadow realm, and they needed to eat in order to do that. All of the Connected before her fed the souls, but Salem had refused. When she entered the realm for the first time, the souls declared her as their current queen. In their eyes Salem was supposed to give them everything they wanted. But she didn't want what the shadows wanted, so she stopped listening to them. She passed a rule that made feeding on anyone who entered the realm while she was shadow traveling illegal, and started banishing everyone who broke her rules to the dungeons under the castle where they couldn't reach the benefits of her powers.
Besides being able to travel quickly through the shadows, the shadow realm brought one other benefit. If Salem could get someone to look her in the eyes, she was able to work the fog from the shadows into their brain and make they do or believe anything she wanted. She doesn't use it very often, only ever when civilians end up in the way of danger or accidentally see her face. Too many times has a criminal ripped her mask off in front of a terrified person and she's had to convince them they have no idea what she looks like.
Salem shuts the book she's balancing in her lap, yawning as she swings her legs over the edge of her bed and stands. Her homework is sprawled out all over her desk, essays and projects due in the next few days that she needs to finish. Her English 10 essay is in the middle, annotated with notes from Gwen on areas that she needs to fix before she turns it in on Friday. The teenager's just glad that their teacher allows proofreading.
"Salem!" Her mother's voice is muffled by the paneling on her door. "Come grab some breakfast before it gets cold!"
Salem shoves the book she was reading before she got up into her backpack, swinging one of the straps over her shoulder as she brushes her braid off the other one. Her suit waits snugly in the front pocket of her bag. "Coming!"
The fifteen year old turns the doorknob on her door and opens it, stepping out into the hallway as her mother curses from the kitchen. The smell of waffles drifts into the air, filling their apartment with warmth. Salem's father is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from his coffee and flipping through today's newspaper. He's the fire chief of the Queens department, and while he says that he loves his job, he's planning for his retirement everyday. Beside him sits a plate with a singular waffle on it, topped with whipped cream and strawberries. Salem's mother knows her well.
