Page 16 of Beasts of Shadows #1

My stomach twists, but I say nothing.

Nikolai’s a few steps ahead, eyes scanning like he’s tracking something invisible. Like he’s already accepted the ship bends around us.

He probably has.

We pass an open archway—one I swear we passed already. Same mossy floorboards. Same cracked glass lantern swinging from above.

Nikolai stops, breath catching in his throat. I follow his gaze, spotting a woman in white standing in the doorway.

Our civilian?

Her hair spills over her shoulders in long, blue-black waves—damp, heavy, ink-dark even in the sickly green lantern light. It clings to her like seaweed draped with care. Her skin is too smooth, too even, almost sun-kissed, but not warm.

But it’s her eyes that hold me.

Vivid purple.

Not a shade found in nature—not something human. They shimmer like crushed amethysts, bright and watchful.

I open my mouth to see if she’s the one we’re here for, only to be silenced by Nikolai’s murmur of “Mom?”

The resemblance is there, now that I’m looking. Not just in the cheekbones or the cut of her mouth, but in the stillness. The way her presence fills the space without ever needing to move.

But wasn’t he adopted?

Her gown is moonlight spun into thread and stitched together by someone who didn’t believe in time.

Every inch of it is impossibly delicate, embroidered with beads so fine they catch the light like frost. It doesn’t shimmer—it glows.

Soft. Subtle. Dangerous. The square neckline is framed with gold, cutting clean across her collarbone and shoulders like it was carved just for her.

Like it’s meant to display her throat, her spine, her poise—the vulnerable places.

The powerful ones. It makes her look regal.

Untouchable. Like she could order a kingdom to burn without raising her voice.

Her sleeves balloon out in soft waves, sheer and silver-toned, before tightening at her wrists. Each cuff is edged in tiny pearls that wink when she moves.

And gods, does she move like she owns the air.

Of course this is Nikolai’s mother.

Those purple eyes flicker my way for a second. It’s enough to make me realize this isn’t real.

Is this another vision?

But it can’t be. Nikolai sees her, too.

Better question—this woman is clearly a goddess. But deities can’t have children anymore. Adopted mom, perhaps?

“You have a job to do,” the woman continues, back to trapping Nikolai in her haunted stare. “All of fate hangs in the balance.”

Nikolai clenches his fists.

“I know.”

“How many will die because of your stubbornness?”

“I know !” Nikolai hisses.

Then, the woman just fades away.

I blink at the spot, and then at Nikolai. His normal confidence is shaken, and he seems to need a minute to recover from whatever that was.

Should I comfort him? Remind him of where we are? The mission we’re on?

Ask him what the hell that was all about?

Yet, when my tongue fails me, I tentatively place a palm on Nikolai’s shoulder.

The moment my skin touches him, something surges.

Not warmth. Not comfort. Something else.

A tingling pulse ignites beneath my fingertips—subtle at first, then growing, crawling up my arm like static wrapped in silk.

It’s not painful, but it’s not natural either.

Like brushing against a live wire hidden inside something soft.

A low hum sings in my bones, vibrating just beneath the skin, traveling from my wrist to my elbow to my shoulder—before sinking, deep, into my chest.

We both jump at the touch—him, so much that he literally clocks his elbow into the wall.

“Don’t ever touch me,” he growls.

I hold my fingers against my chest, trying to understand the unexpected shock that still shivers around them.

Is Nikolai like Cody? Is his skin dangerous?

“Sorry,” I grunt, looking away.

Only to tangle my vision on something further away.

Someone.

He leans against the edge of the corridor like he’s just stepped out of a memory I’ve tried to burn. One flip flop crossed over the other, arms folded loosely across his chest, that same maddeningly lopsided smile curling his lips.

Ravi.

I’d forgotten how disgustingly handsome he was. His hair is damp, curls sticking to his temple. He looks just like he did the morning I lost him—soft, beautiful, half-faded at the edges like smoke that hasn’t decided whether it wants to rise or sink.

“Hey, Mutt,” he says, voice easy, smooth as honey and twice as thick with nostalgia. “Miss me?”

My stomach plummets.

He peels off the wall and walks toward me, casual, hands tucked into the pockets of his soaked jeans like we’re still on that dock, like we’re still pretending nothing’s wrong.

Like I didn’t let him die.

“You made the right choice, you know.” He grins. “You set me free.”

I can’t breathe.

“But I gotta know. Just between us. Was it mercy?” He leans in, so close I can smell the joint we shared that morning. Before we went in the water. “Or was it relief?”

“I didn’t—.”

“Didn’t mean to kill me? Or didn’t mean to hesitate?”

Nikolai steps between us. Sharp. Silent. Ice in human form.

“This isn’t real,” he says, staring Ravi down like he’s dissecting a bad dream. “It’s the ship. She feeds on guilt.”

Ravi’s mouth opens to reply, but his voice cracks like static, and suddenly he’s flickering at the edges. Less solid. More… wrong.

“She finds what you hate most about yourself,” Nikolai goes on, quieter now, like he’s talking more to me than to him. “Then shows you what it would look like if it hated you back.”

I blink. Ravi’s gone.

Just empty air and the hum of water pressing against the walls.

My skin is still buzzing.

“I didn’t know a ship could do that,” I whisper, chest tight. “Make ghosts out of memories.”

“It’s not memories. Not really. It wasn’t my mom’s voice. Or even your lover’s. It was yours and mine. Telling us what we already think they’d say.”

He gives me a side-eye.

“I’ve always wondered what guilt feels like for mortals.”

I turn to him, startled.

He’s not looking anymore—just watching the hallway, his expression unreadable.

“I thought it would be heavier. Because you things care so much . But it looks… familiar. Hungry. Almost like a shade.”

We stare at each other.

The lights flicker once more, then steady.

Our civilian is still ahead somewhere.

The mission isn’t over.

But now I’m wondering if the worst thing on this ship… was never the ghosts or Nikolai.

It was me.