Mary walked through the alley of almost complete shadow, yet she feared no evil, for the death was soon going to meet her anyway. It was freeing yet terrifying at the same time. Funny, how she could rationalise away the fear of dying, but not the fear of lack of fear of death. Yeah, whatever.

Nearby buildings lacked any windows, so the only light she could see was coming from around the corner - and there were some raised voices coming off its direction, clearly heated, yet somehow muffled. Mary couldn't make out the words. Barely seeing the ground under her feet, she rushed for the turn, felt a tingling on her skin as she passed some invisible barrier, and-

“What. Was. That. Light,” a cloaked figure uttered in a rasped voice, punctuating each word with an arc of lightning striking a boy, who was squirming under the dead end of the alley. That building had no windows either. Another man was leaning against the right side of the trap, tossing and catching a dagger with his left hand. Only the tortured boy was facing Mary, but he wasn't exactly looking at her at the moment.

“I don't know!” the victim cried. “It wasn't me! I swear!”

“You know,” the dagger juggler said, “he might actually be telling the truth. That could have been some Academy system malfunctioning. This place sure is weird enough for stuff to happen just because. Can we get back to finding my blade?”

“Bah,” the cloaked figure barked. “He knows. I know he knows. What. Was. That. Light,” he resumed the electrification.

Mary's heart sped up, and then just as suddenly slowed down to a crawl. The darkness within her stirred, and she felt a familiar heat spreading through her body and banishing the night's chill. She felt a pressure in her stomach as if she'd been pretending to be just a skeleton, only more. She touched the shadows around her, and they responded with fondness to her caressing touch.

“Wait, something's not right,” the leaning man said and looked around. His companion turned toward Mary, who no longer bothered to hide.

The shadows crept up her legs, twisted themselves all over her torso, trickled down her arms. Mossie whizzed a bit louder and flew a couple feet up, nervously and successlessly trying to ward off the rising darkness with its tiny lamps. Mary breathed in shadows' subtle scent of smoke that should have long been dispersed by the wind. Her half-translucent skin embraced the dark yet welcoming hug. There was nothing else in the world, just Mary, her shadow's, and a prey to be consumed.

The bullies wasted no time. A dagger flew towards Mary but disintegrated into dust upon striking her enshadowed silhouette. Two more followed and met the same fate. As the rogue took a step backwards, the cloaked figure advanced, sending whole streams of lightning from its outstretched fingers.

Mary felt her arm snapping into position and taking out the jagged sword sometime in the pause between moments. The lightning reflected off the dark steel, leaving scorch marks on the ground and nearby walls. Raging electricity illuminated the inside of the bully's hood and the fear painted on his face.

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Mary's shadows weren't scared by the puny light.

She took a step forward, and the reflected lightning struck closer to its source. And closer. The boy yelped as one of the sparks scored a direct hit on his arm, sending it into a spasm.

“Just stop it. It isn't working!” The rogue yelled while frantically going through various pockets of his attire.

“I'm trying!”

“Do not try to do it, just do it! How hard can this be?” He tossed some brightly coloured paper bag at Mary's feet, but a hound-shaped shadow jumped off the ground and snatched it from the air. It truly was a good boy, and Mary would have to play with it a lot after this. But right now, she took another step forward.

“Oh, for-” the rogue pulled out another dagger from nowhere and whacked his companion on the back of his head with the hilt. The lightning immediately died down. Then, a smoke bomb landed under the bullies feet and exploded into a choking cloud.

Mary didn't choke, though. That inconvenience only happened when one was breathing.

Once the dust settled, there were only two heroes left... let's call it 'standing'... on the field. The boy was still on his fours, and Mary bent in half just as soon as the shadows calmed down. She coughed violently, and clouds of black smoke remained in the air after each spasm. Maybe her failures to even start this shadowy stuff during training sessions had their perks too... It had never been so bad. Even Mossie flew in front of her and 'looked' at her with those reflectors of his shining at her poor eyes, which didn't particularly help...

“Are... are you ok?”

Mary looked up to find the boy standing next to her and weakly nodded. “It's... just... taxing,” she panted.

“I bet it was, huh? Anyway, thank you. Those guys are not pleasant to be around, especially when they're mad. And who could have thought they'd be so upset over a tiny little dagger...”

Mary caught a few more shallow breaths, not daring to go for a deeper one. A few more seconds and her heart rate was going back to almost normal. It took its sweet time, no matter what invectives her brain was throwing in that glorified pump's direction. Well, at least she could think straight again, and...

“Wait... you really took that dagger?”

The boy shrugged. “Of course. And I'm sure a few weeks of searching will do wonders for their tempers, wouldn't you agree?”

Mary wasn't sure what to think at this point. Her brain had a sore throat after all this shouting at her heart and lungs anyway. Her eyes were slowly getting used to the dark again, and she finally got a good look at the little thief. The boy... well, now that was standing, he was taller than Mary, though he may well have been a year or two younger... He had a leather jacket (seriously, why was like half the academy wearing this stuff?), blue-ish jeans and a thin, white t-shirt. The outfit would have looked decent if not for the stains of sweat and scorch marks generously distributed all over it. Despite the night's chilly air, the hero didn't shiver.

“So...,” he continued after a while, “I'm Stephen. You?”

“Mary Oceanrunner. Why are you here alone, by the way? Where's your party?”

The boy winced. “They're their prescribed nine and three-quarters feet underground. Both died fighting the alien-spider-queeny stuff, or whatever it was. And now I have to deal with this alone.”

This didn't exactly seem fair.

“Come with me,” Mary said, still a bit panting. “Let's see what we can do about that.”