Shadows of time

Part 1: Faded past.

The rain fell in steady pace, a relentless drizzle that coated the city in a grey, wet haze. Neon lights flickered through the mist, casting eerie reflections on the slick pavement. The sound of car tires hissed through the wet streets and mixed with the low hum of the city’s nightlife. In the heart of this urban jungle, where shadows clung in every corner, a lone figure walked with her head raised against the rain.

Alexandra Vale’s heels clicked against the sidewalk. Her rhythmic taps bleeding with the rain’s steady pattern. Her long tailored trench coat hugged her curves, her collar turned up against the chill. She wore a wide-brimmed fedora that protected her sleek face with its brim against the onslaught of the train. Her eyes seemed to almost glow from the dark of her brim. In her hand she held a cigar, the end glowing faintly as she occasionally took a drag from it.

She meticulously planned her appearance, combining elements of the old world and the modern, in order to create the illusion of being timeless, a look she had honed for more time than she cared to acknowledge.

As she approached the crime scene, a line of police tape marked of the entrance to a dilapidated warehouse. A cluster of uniformed officers and detectives milled about, their faced etched with a mix of frustration and confusion. This wasn’t just another homicide in this forsaken city. She inspected each face. Some seemed released. She was here, mostly the cops, who seemed that they missed the warm food and embrace of their loved ones. The detectives seemed only more frustrated, no doubt another career moment that she would solve instead of them. Not that they would ever solve the murders she solved, no detective had the experience she gathered over more years that they could ever do.

“Detective Vale!” a voice called out, cutting through the noise of the scene.

Alexandra turned to see Detective John Mason striding towards her. He was a grizzled veteran of the force, already made his career and not happy to accept any help to solve the case. They understand through the years delivered Alexandra delivered with enough resourced to enjoy life. A mutual understanding forged through years of working together on some of the city’s most challenging and bloody cases.

“Mason,” she acknowledged with a nod, her tone brisk. She took a final drag of her cigar and cut off the end to save the rest for later. “What do we have here?”

Mason grimaced. “Beyond the mystery that you seem not to age at all, why does my hair gets greyer with very year?” He quipped before his face turned into one with more concern. “It’s a mess Vale. A real fucking bloody mess. The victim is Henry Caldwell, mid-thirties, low-level mobster. We thought the usual, you know, family business related, but what we found inside the warehouse. The scene… it’s strange, to say the least. I most of my detectives can’t even enter the scene without fainting.”

Alexandra arched her eyebrow. Latching on, it was not usual for Mason to describe something as strange. “Strange how?”

“Can’t describe this, you must look for yourself,” He replied, leading her under the police tape and into the dimly lit interior of the warehouse.

The smell hit her first, a mix of blood, decay and something else, something primordial that made her instincts flare. Something that smelled of prey, delicious prey. Her reaction lasted only for a second before she masked it again, but Mason gave her a knowing look while he lead her deeper into the building.

The warehouse was a cavernous space, its walls lined with rusting machinery and forgotten crates. In the centre of the room, illuminated by the harsh light of a single overhead bulb, was the body. Henry Caldwell lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor, his limbs broken and splayed in angles limbs where not supposed to be splayed in. Someone had torn open his chest, exposing his ribcage in a grotesque sacrifice to some ancient god.

It wasn’t the gruesome nature of the crime that caught Alexandra’s attention. It was unusual, yes, but not extraordinary. No, it was the symbols etched into the floor around the body. Intricate runes that seemed to be clawed into the stone and that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. She took a sharp breath when she recognised the symbols, a shiver running down her spine.

These were not the markings of any modern criminal, they were ancient, far older than human civilization and the unmistaken part of a creature that was older than written time itself. Alexandra kneeled in front of the body, her fingers trailed symbols. She could feel the power running into her fingertips like electricity. Oh, to feel this power once more, it was intoxicating.

“Seen anything like this before?” Mason asked, his voice low and hushed after seeing Vale’s reaction.

Alexandra rubbed her fingers together, getting a feel of the blood between them. Her mind racing. She had seemed them before, but it was so long ago. Before what was now, before that, was human, when myths and legends still roamed supreme and humans were mere prey. A world she saw with her own eyes, before this, before she walked on two legs, before she hid herself among those who used to be her prey.

And she knew exactly who was responsible for this murder.

But how could it be possible? The ones who had carved these symbols should have vanquished long ago, but she herself had played a part in it no less. He shouldn’t exist in this world anymore. But this? This could only be him.

“I’ve seen something similar,” she finally replied, careful to keep her voice steady. “But nothing exactly like this. We are dealing with something old. Something that should have died a long time ago.”

Mason frowned. He knew Vale for long enough that he learned to read her, despite her cold appearance. Knowing when she hid something, knowing when she was worried. Mason’s experience told him that if Vale was worried, he should be scared. “We need your expertise on this one, Vale. The brass is already breathing down our necks, and we can’t afford to have this kind of thing hit the streets. Not with the mobsters already making our lives hell.”

“I will do my best, Mason, but this…this will take everything I have to give.” She promised, though her thoughts were already elsewhere. She needed to investigate this further, to dig into a past she had tried so hard to leave behind.

With a brisk pace she left the warehouse, the rain still falling in cold, steady droplets. Alexandra knew she was not just hunting a killer. She was hunting for a ghost, a ghost that should have remained buried. A ghost that was from her own past.

Part 2: Echoes

The night was thick with the scent of rain and the smoke of the cities with countless chimneys. Alexandra’s heels clicked sharply against the cobblestone streets as she made her way to a small, nondescript building nestled between two towering skyscrapers. The building was old, its façade cracked and weathered, with a single dim light burning above the door.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, the warm, dry air immediately enveloping her. The interior was as unassuming as the exterior, perhaps only remarkable with the age of it than anything else. Plain wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and oddities from all corners of the world. Each one was a piece of value only Vale knew the value of. Her home was a place of knowledge, of secrets forgotten by the world outside these walls.

At the far end of the room, behind a desk cluttered with ancient tomes and scrolls, sat an elderly man with a calculating gaze. A man who, perhaps through his years, was the only one smart enough to figure out who she really was. And the only mortal who got close enough to her heart for her to mourn his soon to be passing.

“Alexandra,” He greeted her with a nod, his voice rasping with age. “It has been a while”

“Not long enough, Eamon,” she replied with a smirk. She removed her hat and shake off the rain. “Thank you for being able to come at this time of the night, but I need your help.”

“Of course, when you call, I answer. Even when my old body can’t keep up with your ‘youth’” Eamon said, gesturing for her to sit down in her own house. Oh, he was always a bit of an oddball, sitting behind her desk. Having to take the chair of her clients. She humoured him, enjoying his quirks, savouring her time with him.

“What is it this time? Another cursed artifact? A rogue warlock?” He continued.

“Worse,” she answered, settling into the chair. “A murder, and not just any murderer, one that is connected to me.”

Eamon’s eyebrows rose in surprised and he leaned forwards. It was rare that Alexandra could take him by surprise like this. “Go on”

She described the crime scene. The amount of detail she offered rivalled the finest pictures that could be taken. As she spoke and described the symbols, Eamon’s expression grew more serious and his finger steepled beneath his chin.

“When I first saw those symbols, I thought they were just some ancient draconic language. A relic of a bygone area. “Alexandra continued “But when I touched them, I realised they are a signature, a signature I thought I had erased centuries ago”

Eamon nodded slowly, coming to his own conclusions. “You are talking about him, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “Eryndor, old as time itself, perhaps older. And as cruel as they come. Revelling in chaos and destruction. When I finally brought him down, I thought that was the end of it. Perhaps just some estranged cult members left, but now, I am not so sure.”

Eamon took a pipe from a back on the ground and lit it. “These symbols you described,” He said, giving her a piece of paper. “Can you draw them?”

Alexandra nodded and took the piece of paper and her fountain pen to dot the signals with machine precision. Showing them at Eamon. He only hummed slowly, letting the symbols get to him. He moved slowly to take another item from his pack, an old leather-bound book. “I always take this with me when you are calling.” He spoke and opened it, flicking through the pages. Then suddenly he turned the book around to show an exact match.

“It is funny to talk about something you are the source of. But these symbols they are a port of an ancient rite. A rite that binds the soul to the earth, even after death. It’s possible that Eryndor found a way to anchor himself to this world, even after his physical body was destroyed.”

“Which means he is still out there, somewhere,” Alexandra said with her hands clenching into fists. A slow hiss came from the corners of her mouth. “And he is killing again. “

Eamon nodded grimly. “And if that is true, he had become more dangerous than before. He could have hidden, and gathering strength for all this time. Waiting for the right moment to strike,”

“And now that moment has come,” she said, standing up. “I need to find him, Eamon. I need to stop him before he kills again.”

“I can help,” Eamon said, closing the book. “But you will need more than just knowledge to defeat him this time. You need power, Power that you may not have access to currently. “

Alexandra hesitated, knowing what he was suggesting. She had lived as a human for so long, blending in with their world. It was almost unthinkable to consider what her true nature was. Not to mention that her form was not designed for the city. Trough she was to face Eryndor again, she would need that primordial power, she would need to embrace that form once more.

“I will do what I have to.” She said finally, with resolution filling her voice. “But first I need to find him.”

Eamon nodded and stood up, walking together with Alexandra down the straights to her basement to gather supplies, charms, potions and other arcane tools that would aid her in her search. Tools that would not be considered helpful in today’s world, but today’s would be under threat and only something old would help it. Alexandra’s mind drifted to the last time she faced Eryndor, the last time she truly got close to dying.

And now, centuries later, it seemed that the battle was far from over.

Part 3: Knowledge, once forgotten, remembered a new.

Days turned into weeks as Alexandra scoured the city for any signs of Eryndor. She no longer walked among the humans like Alexandra for most of the time, using her most valuable asset to take on the face of others in the city. Allowing her to leave no stone unturned in her search.

Trough Eryndor was elusive, his presence nothing more than whispers on the wind. Yet the murders continued, each one more brutal and ritualistic than the last. All bearing the wicked marks of the evil dragon. Yet still Alexandra could find no trace of him.

Frustration gnawed at her, the weight of her past pressing down like a heavy cloak. She had thought she had left that world behind. Now it haunted her every waking and sleeping moment. She could feel the lies she told through the centuries heavy on her mind, her name, her identity, the delegate web of lies that kept the truth hidden all stirred uneasily in her mind.

She wondered, of all placed in the world, why was Eryndor drawn here? Here in her city and bold enough to begin his second coming. Then it hit her, something she had hid, for centuries since she took up her human form. She had taken many names during her stay, names that helped her blend in, that allowed her to walk among the mortals without raising suspicion. Her true name, the name that her parents gave her, a powerful an ancient name, a name that commanded fear.

And it was a name that Eryndor knew.

The realisations truck her like a bolt of lightning, making her choke her whiskey when she realised it. That was how he had found her, how he was able to strike so close without her realising it. Back when she was in the world before, he had called her by that name, both in a loving embrace and in the heat of their last battle.

The late one night, as the city slumbered beneath a blanket of fog, Alexandra stood at the edge of the docks, sipping whiskey from a stainless canteen. She stared out at the dark waters with the moon high above her. Its pale light reflecting off the rippling waves. She could now feel his presence as she became attuned to it, sensing a faint but unmistakable pull from the shadows.

She was tired, her strength waning from the constant shifting of forms and the endless hunt. But she couldn’t give up now. She had come too far. There is too much at stake. She could not allow the old world to come back. There mortals have come so far in their own ways, further than the old dragons had come. She stared up at the moon. No dragon ever touched the moon, yet here they are, currently having mortals walking on the moon. Flying faster, higher, further than any dragon did. No. The old world disappeared for a reason.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. Searching for that familiar thread of power that connected all dragons. It was a tenuous link at best, born of their shared history, their shared blood and even shared love, and it was through that link she called out to him.

“Eryndor,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I know you’re here. Show yourself.”

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the sound of the water lapping against the docks. The distant cry of a gull. But then, slowly, she felt it, a presence, dark and powerful, moving towards her from the depths of the night.

She turned around to see a figure emerging from the shadows, his form tall and imposing, his movements graceful and predatory. He was dressed in dark, flowing robes that billowed around him like smoke and his eyes glowed with unnatural light.

“Ah, there you are,” He said, his voice smooth and dripping with malice. “It’s been too long…Lyara.”

The name sent a shiver down her spine, the name she hid for so long. Hid deep within herself and she had not heard spoken aloud in centuries. Hearing it again, spoken by him, bought a flood of memories rushing back. Memories from back when she was a creature of legends, a creature who was equal to Eryndor in more ways than she wanted to admit.

But she was not that creature anymore. Like the mortals, she changed, evolved, adapted to the new world. She took her new identity, not shaped by birth but shaped by her own choice. It was by those choices that she continued to live among the mortals, protect them from the darkness that lurked in the shadows.

And yet, standing there on the docks, facing Eryndor once more, she felt the pull of that old life, the call of power that lay dormant within her.

“Don’t call me that,” she said with an icy voice. “That name belongs to the past. “

Eryndor chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Perhaps I should whisper it to you in passion, like we used to do. After all, the past has a way of catching up with us, doesn’t it? No matter how hard we try to escape it. We are bound Lyara.”

“I am not the same as I was.” She said, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve changed, adapted.”

“Have you?” He asked, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “Or are you simply been hiding, pretending to be something you’re not?”

Alexandra felt her resolve waver, but only for a moment. She couldn’t let him get inside of her head, couldn’t let him drag her back into that world of chaos and destruction.

“I have been protecting this world,” she spoke, her voice steady. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Eryndor’s eyes flashed with an anger she had only seen in their last battle. “Protecting them!? These weak, fragile creatures? They are prey! You were meant for more than this, Lyara. You were meant to rule by my side!”

“I was meant to survive,” she counted, her hand instinctively reaching for the service revolver she carried at her side. “And I will. Even if it means ending you for once and for all.”

Eryndor’s expression darkened, and for a moment, the air crackled with tension. “Such a disappointing answer. You are welcome to try,” He said, his voice filled with poison.

Part 4: Return of the dragon.

Alexandra was a quick draw, unleashing three rounds of her .45 revolver dead centre into Eryndor’s body. He did not seem to care for the high velocity lead that was pumped against his hide. He growled and let dark energy radiate from him, an ancient strength that once coursed through her own veins.

She was no longer the dragon she had been; She had lived among humans, learned their ways, and in doing so, she learned a different kind of strength. One part of this strength she unleashed on Eryndor. Each bang was sharp and loud throughout the night. But he moved with a speed and precision of a predator, his attacks calculated and vicious. But Alexandra was no easy prey. She fought with a fury born of centuries of survival, each strike a testament to the countless battles she had fought and won.

Their clash shook the docks, sending shockwaves through the water and causing the very ground beneath them to rumble. Fire and lighting tracked in the air as their power grew to unprecedented powers.

But as the fight wore on, Alexandra could feel her strength waning. Eryndor was too powerful, too deeply rooted in the darkness that had kept him alive for so long. He was feeding off the chaos, growing stronger with each passing moment.

And then, as she faltered, her revolver empty, he struck. His hand shot out, gripping her by the throat and lifting her off the ground with ease. She struggled, but his grip was like iron and his eyes burning with malevolent light.

“It’s over Lyara,” He hissed, his voice filled with triumph. “Submit to me and I will allow you to live.”

But even as darkness closed in, Alexandra refused to give up. She had come too far, fought for too long, to be defeated now. Summoning the last of her strength, she reached deep within herself, calling forth the power that lay dormant in her very soul.

And then, with a roar that shook the heavens, she unleashed it.

Her form shifted, her human form melting away to reveal the dragon within. Scales rippled across her body, her limb elongated and her eyes burned with a fiery light. In an instant, she transformed into a creature she had once been, a dragon of legend, a force of nature. Her scales were a vibrant sapphire hue.

Eryndor’s eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering as he realised what was happening. But it was too late for his own retort. With a powerful surge, Alexandra broke free, her claws slashing through the air and the struck with all the fury of a storm. 

The battle that followed was a clash of titans, Eryndor shifting into his own draconic form. A struggle between two ancient beings whose power could shake the very foundations of the earth. Fire and lightning filled the sky. The ground trembled beneath them, and the docks were torn apart in their wake.

But Alexandra had the advantage. She had embraced her true nature once more and, in doing so, had tapped into a wellspring of power. However, the primordial power was not the only power she had. She, too, brought her cunning and experience. IT was a power that Eryndor could not match. She fought with a fury born of centuries of pain and loss, each strike fuelled by the memories of those she had loved and lost.

And finally, with one last, devastating blow, she brought Eryndor down.

He felt to the ground, his body broken and battered, covered in blood. His eyes dimming as the life drained from him. But even in his final moments, he managed to sneer, his voice whispers of malice.

“You…can’t escape…what you are,” He rasped, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “You.. are…a…dragon…a…killer,”

Alexandra looked down at him, her eyes cold and unyielding. “I am what I choose to be.” She said, her voice firm. “And I choose to protect this world, no matter what the cost.”

And with that, she breathes down the heat of a thousand suns on Eryndor’s body. Turning it into ash, letting his remains wash away in the rain.

Epilogue; The dragon’s last secret.

The night had grown eerily quiet after the storm of battle. The docks, once a scene of chaos and destructions, now lay in ruins, the twisted remains of crates and broken wood strewn across the ground. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and charred wood, the aftermath of a fight that no mortal eyes had ever witnessed, or should witness. Until now.

Detective John Mason arrived at the scene, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He had been following a lead, a gut instinct that something was wrong, something far beyond the usual crimes he encountered when he heart a noise that was ungodly. A noise that shook his core with fear. But true to him training, he ran towards the danger, choking down his primal fear. He couldn’t turn back now, not when he was so close to solving the case.

What he found shocked him to his core.

Amid the wreckage, bathing in the cold light of the moon, stood something, a monster. Something beyond description, something reptilian and something huge. He raised his weapon to the creature when he saw it shifting back, scales withdrawing into smooth skin. Elongated limbs shrinking back into the shape of a woman. It was like watching something out of a nightmare, something that defied everything he knew about the world.

He stumbled back, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. This was impossible. The women? The shape? It was Alexandra Vale, the sharp, no-nonsense detective that he had worked with for years. And she was this monster? This creature?

Alexandra’s attention snapped to the sound of breaking wood. There she stood, panting, her body trembling with the effort of the battle and the transformation. Her clothes torn from her body, her eyes still filled with the fiery glow of a dragon. And she could only stare at the human who had seen her transform.

“John,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he held up a hand, weapon loosely in his right hand. His expression was a mix of disbelief and shock.

“Alexandra,” He said slowly, his voice shaking. “What the hell did I just see?”

She took a hesitant step towards him, but he flinched, raising his weapon slowly. Flinching and his eyes darting around as if expecting another transformation at any moment. Alexandra paused, understanding that he was seeing her in a completely new and terrifying light. The look in his eyes was the last she ever hoped to see. The fear, the sense of betrayal.

“I can explain,” she said, though the worlds felt hollow. How could she explain centuries of secrets, of lies and a life that spanned millennia?

Mason shook his head, his mind still reeling. “Explain? How do you explain that? I’ve seen a lot in this city, but nothing like this.”

She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “John, I’m still me. The same person you have always known. But there is just a bit more than you realised.”

“You are not human,” He said flatly, his voice devoid of emotions. “I think I found your secret to your youth. All these years, working together and you never thought to mention that you are…what a monster? A creature? A giant lizard,”

“Dragon.” Alexandra looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I am a dragon. No I couldn’t. It’s a secret I’ve kept for so long to protect myself. To protect the people I care about. If anyone knew what I was, they would come for me. The government, all governments. Wore, they would come for those around me.”

“So you lied,” Mason said, bitterness creeping in his voice. “You lied to everyone.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered. “This life…this world isn’t ready to know what I am. And it’s better that way, for everyone.”

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to think right now. I’ve been through a lot of strange things. But this, this is just too much.”

“I know,” she said with sorrow in her voice. “I never wanted you to find out this way. I wanted to protect you from all this.”

“Protect me?” He repeated, his tone incredulous. “From what? The truth?”

She took a deep breath, trying to find the words that could make him understand. “From the dangers that come from knowing what I am.”

Mason was silent for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. He had always known there was something different about Alexandra, something that set her apart from the rest. Something that made her one hell of a detective.

“I need time to think about this. I can’t just pretend that nothing has happened, that things are just the way they are.” Mason spoke with a shiver in his voice.

“No, you cannot. But I still want to work with you, if you have me. We did good work together. John and I appreciate you. We can keep doing that. Take all the time you need. I will be there when you need me to.” Alexandra whispered.

Mason gave a soft nod, putting his gun away. “I need time.” He said with finality, turning around and walking away. Leaving her behind on the spot of the battle.

Two weeks passed before Mason saw Alexandra again. He had thought of calling her, but every time he picked up the phone, doubt and fear stayed his hands. The memory of that night on the docks replayed in his mind endlessly, a loop he couldn’t escape. Finally, he decided he had to see her in person, if only to confront the new reality.

He did not have to wait long before the sounds of chains coming off the door and a surprised but happy looking welcomed him, Alexandra. “Detective. What brings you here?”

Mason, hold up a case file. “A case,” he simply said, “A case that you made a real pain to solve, so I hope you can also help me with.”

“Come in.” She opened the door further to allow Mason in. Leading him through the home that was riddled with ancient artifacts and straight to her office. They sat down between file cases and piles of old case files. On the shelf behind Alexandra’s desk, there were more ancient trinkets stalled.

Alexandra took out a cigar, offering Mason one, too. “Alright shoot. What is this case I can help with? “

Mason took the cigar and lit it with his own match. He dropped the file on the desk with an annoyed grunt. “Ever since your little stunt on the docks, the brass is up my arse about the docks, about the murders, even when the murders suddenly stopped. I do not know what you did, but I need answers. I need someone to put behind bars. Publicly.” He said with agency in his voice.

Alexandra scrolled through the files, looking at the photos and humming. “How deep do you think this rabbit hole goes?” She asked, taking a few deep drags of her cigar.

Mason squint his eyes at her. “For all I am concerned with you, the rabbit hole goes all the way to the centre of the earth. But I don’t care for how deep it goes, I care for answers Alexandra. My job is on the line here.”

Alexandra listened to Mason, giving a soft hum in acknowledgement. She pulled a file from a drawer on the desk and showed it to the detective. “The culprit is a dragon called Eryndor. He was behind the murders, but I took care of him. But he did not act alone. There is a cult who did his bidding. In this file is everything you need to put them behind bars for the murder.”

Mason coughed in the cigar smoke. “A dragon…like you?”

“Like me, but not like me. He is a dragon, an evil dragon from before the new age. But I stopped him. The carnage you saw at the dock was the aftermath of our fight.”

Mason took the file to look at. Reading through the notes and looking at the photos. “And are there more like you?”

“If there are, I have not found them yet.” Alexandra said. “But I will stop any of them if they want the old age back.”

Mason took a deep breath, steading himself. “You are free tonight?” He finally asked.

“Yes, why are you asking?” Alexandra forever bent to intensely gaze at him.

“Because we are going to have a long talk.” He said with finality. “Just a shame that their aint no booze to get,”

Alexandra smiled and opened her desk to pour a single malt whiskey for them both. “bought before the prohibition if you are asking”

Mason happily took the drink. “In all the mysteries you hold, this one I am not concerned about.”