Between Shadows: Silent Journeys

Lost In The System

Ethan found himself under constant surveillance, though the intensity of the scrutiny failed to faze him. A sense of calm steadied him, rooted in the confidence that no one could tie him to Hermes’s death. His movements had been too swift, his methods too clean. It would take more than the best minds in the States to find even a whisper of evidence. And so he waited, unfazed, holding onto a singular hope that eased his quiet anxiety: that Kamui was safe.

Miles away, Kamui stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of her room, her gaze resting on the sprawling cityscape. The metropolis glimmered, the ceaseless rhythm of traffic and lights weaving a symphony she barely heard. Her focus was both on the present and someplace deep within herself. Her bracelet, a slender chain with a small yet intricate charm, shone faintly in the dim light as she absently turned it around her wrist. With each flicker of light across the bracelet’s surface, memories stirred, surfacing like echoes from a past she could almost touch.

Scenes from her childhood flickered before her, vivid and sharp. She saw her mother’s face and felt her father’s gentle embrace. She could almost hear the shared laughter, the hushed bedtime stories, the steady cadence of a life built on love and familiarity. In these visions, she was once again the young girl wrapped in warmth, cherished, and shielded. She saw herself growing up, moving from innocence to awareness under her parents’ watchful eyes, their care like a cocoon she had once taken for granted.

And now, here she was—alone in her stark, cavernous bedroom, a world away from that warmth. The room, although lavish in design, felt cold and foreign. The walls were painted a colour that seemed to drain the vibrancy from everything within, and the minimal decor left no trace of personality or comfort. It was a place of isolation, overlooking a city bustling with life that felt as distant as a dream. Her reflection in the glass seemed like a ghostly presence beside her, a faintly transparent reminder of a reality she was barely a part of.

One memory sharpened, distinct from the others. She recalled Ethan standing before her, a single sheet of paper in his hands, his expression unreadable. He had burned the paper before her eyes, the edges curling in the flame, turning to ash as the smoke drifted upward. She wondered if he had any inkling of her bracelet’s hidden ability. Likely not, she mused. He probably believed she had read the contents before he destroyed it, but she hadn’t needed to—the bracelet held the knowledge for her. A single phrase glowed in her mind, etched like fire: she could survive on both normal food and blood.

The corner of her mouth lifted, a faint, almost amused chuckle escaping her. The sound was soft, but in the silence of the room, it might as well have been a shout. Outside her door, a housekeeper, absorbed in her routine dusting, froze at the sound. Her hands stilled on the cloth, her expression hesitant. She had learned early on that working in this house came with certain rules, none more pressing than the one Ethan had impressed upon her from the start: she was to stay at arm's length from Kamui. Never get too close. Always keep her distance.

This particular instruction seemed clear enough, but her role here was anything but ordinary. Beyond cleaning, she was occasionally tasked with bringing certain people into Kamui’s presence, though they were never ordinary visitors. No family friends, no harmless strangers. Only criminals were carefully selected and quietly escorted to Kamui’s room.

She had questioned the nature of her duties early on, a mild protest rising within her at the oddness of it. This was not the work she had trained for, and the expectation was clear, yet unspoken: she was to be both distant and complicit. Her protests, however, had met with a harsh silence when she learned the truth. Kamui, the young woman whom she served from afar, was not simply a girl in a high tower.

Kamui was a vampire.

The knowledge had settled over her with a mix of dread and intrigue, like a shadow across her mind. She wasn’t sure which unnerved her more—the silent, predatory quality Kamui exuded even when alone or the reminder that the girl’s hunger could not be sated by food alone. The woman knew enough of Ethan’s instructions to understand her own role in feeding this strange hunger. Her task was to bring those marked for punishment into Kamui’s room, criminals whose sins had somehow made them worthy of becoming her sustenance.

Kamui’s memory drifted back to Ethan, his stern gaze and the gravity of his words each time he reminded her of her place here. She knew the lengths he had gone to keep her safe, hidden from the eyes that would never understand her nature. She also knew the darkness he carried with him—the lengths he’d gone to protect her were steeped in blood and secrecy. Perhaps that was why she remained calm, even detached, as her life veered further into isolation. Ethan’s actions reminded her, in their own twisted way, that she was never truly alone.

As she turned from the window, her gaze softened, her thoughts drifting to the city below, where lives carried on, unaware of her presence. Kamui found herself caught in a peculiar space between two worlds—the human world that thrummed just beyond her reach and the shadowed reality that defined her existence. She was neither fully part of one nor entirely banished from the other, a silent watcher in the high tower who bore the weight of secrets even though she did not fully understand.