BESS' POV
I wake up to my alarm clock buzzing like every other morning.
A groan escapes me as I reach for my phone. Four texts.
One from Mum, "Have a great day, baby girl. Remember who you are."
And three from Cynthia, my ever-efficient assistant.
I go through the motions: shower, teeth, makeup, and my signature severe bun pulled tight. But there's a feeling I can't shake. Something off. Something coming.
The city hums outside my window like it always does. Still, my instincts are louder. Something's about to happen today, something that won't let me walk away unchanged.
I step out of the cab and look up.
APEX LAW FIRM, written in bold chrome across the glass front, gleams like it owns the sky.
I straighten my blazer. I know the drill.
But I've never felt this kind of energy before.
The elevator dings as I step onto the twelfth floor of APEX. Cynthia's already waiting by the glass doors, tablet in hand, brows pinched like she's been pacing.
"Morning," I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
She doesn't even fake a smile. "There's someone here to see you."
I frown. "A client?"
"Possibly. He came in at six-thirty. Refused to speak to anyone but you. I tried asking questions but he shut me down. Told reception you'd know what it's about."
I blink. "At six-thirty?"
Cynthia nods once, her voice dropping. "He's in Conference C. Didn't want to be seen in the main lobby. He looks like hell."
Great. One of those mornings.
I walk toward the conference room, heels clicking with purpose, but there's a gnawing weight in my chest. Something's coming, I can feel it.
I push the door open.
The man stands instantly. Early thirties, maybe. Hollow-eyed. Tense. His tie's loose, shirt wrinkled, like he hasn't slept in days.
"Miss Donald?" he says, voice tight and raw. "Please... I need your help."
I keep my expression neutral. "You have me. Sit."
He hesitates, then lowers himself into the chair opposite mine.
"If I lose this case," he says, "I lose everything. My job. My family. My name."
"And your name is?"
"Steve Howard."
I nod once, slowly. I've never heard of him before in my life, but I can already tell:
This is not going to be a normal case.
He leans forward, fingers knotted.
"A friend of mine told me about you. Said you were one of APEX's best. I… I looked you up too. Saw how you won your first case at nineteen."
I raise an eyebrow. "He was right. I did."
Law school felt like yesterday, mostly because it was. I was nineteen, still green, when I argued that case. My father was a lawyer too. I guess it runs in the blood.
That makes me one of the youngest attorneys at APEX. And one of the busiest.
I flip open my notepad. "So, Mr. Howard… tell me. What's this about?"
His shoulders sag, like he's been holding this story in for days.
"My wife died last year," he begins. "Since then, I've tried to live a quiet life, just me and my son, Harry. On June 16th, about two weeks ago, I left town. Left Harry with my sister."
I pause. "Why did you leave town?"
He hesitates. "I needed space. Time away from work, from everything. My wife and I used to do it, take time to disconnect. It felt right. Familiar."
I jot down the date, underline it.
"I came back two days later," he says, voice catching. "And the cops were waiting. They arrested me for the murder of Darren Hill."
I look up sharply. "The CEO of Hill Group?"
He nods. "I read something about it in the paper a few days after. He was killed in his hotel apartment. Stabbed."
"And what do the police have on you?"
He reaches into his pocket and slides his phone across the table.
"CCTV footage. From the hotel hallway. That night."
I tap the screen. It plays.
The time stamp reads 1:47 a.m.
A man, Steve Howard, or someone who looks exactly like him, walks down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder. Calm. Collected. Covered in shadows.
He stops in front of the hotel room door. Room 914.
He looks up directly at the camera.
And smiles.
****
THE AMARON WORLD
In a realm of shifting skies and silent thunder, where magic breathes through the air like mist, a man walks through the mirrored halls of the Seer's Sanctum.
His name is Xaren.
He looks like Steve Howard, down to the last freckle but he is not Steve. He is his Echo, forged in the parallel currents of the AMARON world. And he has crossed over.
At the center of the Sanctum, a figure stands draped in violet robes, her eyes veiled in soft light. The Seer. She does not need to look to see.
She already knows.
"Does he suspect yet?" her voice echoes, low and weightless, like the wind speaking secrets to the trees.
Xaren stares into the shimmer of the Seeing Pool, watching a replay of Steve's world, the hallway, the footage, the crime.
"No," Xaren says quietly. "But he will."
The Seer tilts her head, sensing something in his voice.
"You were not meant to interfere," she says. "Only to observe."
"I am observing," Xaren replies. "Up close."
A pause.
"He wasn't meant to be pulled into this," she says.
Xaren's gaze hardens. "Neither was I. You gave me the way in."
"I gave you what you asked for," she murmurs. "But magic makes no promises, Xaren. The balance cannot hold forever."
And then silence. Only the pulse of power humming through the air.
Xaren turns, the glint of a luminous dagger at his side. A storm is brewing behind his eyes. One world framed him. The other gave him form.
And now both will collide.
Xaren left the Seer's Sanctum and stepped into the night.
But in Elaris, night was never truly dark.
Above him, the sky sparkled like deep blue liquid, with stars glowing in soft greens and purples, swirling slowly as if alive. Two moons hung low, casting a pale blue light over the cliffs above the Whispering Sea. Even the wind carried music. Old lullabies hummed by the ancient trees along the coast.
Elaris was wild and stunning.
He walked down a twisting path cut through black rock, his boots crunching softly on glowing moss. To the east, willow-like trees arched over a magical clearing, their branches swaying with the wind. Tiny fairies, no bigger than a hand, fluttered among the leaves, their wings shimmering, leaving trails of light like fireflies. They giggled as they flew past, their glow brushing against Xaren's sharp face.
To his left, a strange river flowed. Not water, not fire, but a mix of both. Flames danced along its surface, shifting between gold and deep red, lighting up the tall reeds that rustled like whispering ghosts.
Beyond the river, the air rippled as shapeshifters roamed in their animal forms. Some sleek like cats, others wolf-like with glowing amber eyes. One shifted in an instant, fur turning to skin, bones reshaping, until a woman stood. She nodded at Xaren as he passed, and he nodded back. She was old; her kind remembered when the barrier between worlds was weaker.
Farther away, jagged mountains stabbed the sky, home to the Firegons, half-dragon, half-human warriors. With folded wings, gold-cuffed horns, and fiery eyes, they were both feared and respected. One flew overhead now, her massive wings scattering embers, her shape dark against the moons.
In the valley below, wolves prowled, not ordinary wolves, but werewolves bound to the moon. Their alpha howled, a deep sound that made the trees tremble in respect. They guarded the southern lands, where silver rain sometimes fell and the wind carried the scent of lost memories.
And then there were the Elementals.
They moved among the others, wrapped in their natural magic. One brushed past Xaren, her steps leaving puddles that vanished instantly, a Waterborn. Others could burn like living torches, Firekind, whose skin never scorched but whose anger flared hot. Earthwardens wore stones in their hair and could speak in deep, rumbling voices, while Airkin drifted like the breeze, light, quick, always watching.
Elaris was one of the most beautiful lands in the AMARON world.
But it was also deadly.
The balance was fragile, and Xaren knew it better than most. Beneath the peace, ancient rules held this world together, rules he had bent, maybe even broken.
A soft flutter caught his ear. Nella.
His sister floated in the air, her wings made of shimmering light, her eyes like the calm before a storm. She had followed him from home.
"You're brooding again," she said, her voice light but worried. "And you're thinking too loudly."
Xaren sighed, lifting his eyes to the shifting sky. "It's hard not to. When every step I take feels like I'm rewriting fate."
"You are fate, Xaren. That's what Father used to say."
"Father was a dreamer."
"And you're not?"
He didn't answer.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked. Not from the sky, but from the rift that separated Elaris from the Goldilocks world. The veil was thinning.
Soon, the two worlds would no longer be strangers.
And when they touched, nothing would remain the same.