Dazzling colors from the sunset stroke across the horizon like a priceless painting. The blue ocean glimmered alive from the sunlight, arraying orange and pink across the waters. Waves crashed against the shore and were music to the Prowler’s ears. Even the chill blowing in the air refreshed her, but she shivered in her boyfriend’s arms.

After a bountiful romantic dinner, the couple took a stroll on the vacant beach. The tide swept away their footsteps. They hugged each other and basked in the warmth of the blazing sun, enjoying their time alone.

“You seem happy today?” Andrew mused, kissing her. Not only did he taste the cherry flavor on her lips, but the saltiness floating in the atmosphere from the ocean.

Standing in her blue sneakers, Kate’s hazel eyes flickered across the mass of sea. She turned back to her boyfriend and leaned against him, the sunlight catching her smooth peach skin and dark cinnamon hair. The light beams had her shine in a heavenly radiance as if her body would be consumed by a holy conflagration.

“It’s been a good day,” Kate stated and exhaled with happiness, then furrowed her brows at him. “Am I not always happy?”

Andrew brushed his fingers across her lifted cheek, a smile spreading. “It’s nice to see you relaxed.” He trailed his finger down her back, and he felt her shudder from his touch. “Sometimes you can be…” he tried to find the right word to not upset her, “uptight."

Placing her slender finger on his lips and her gaze dancing at his mocha eyes, she said, “Let’s not ruin the moment.” Kate wished to savor their date without any unpleasantness. About to let the blissful silence finish her day satisfyingly, she felt her boyfriend shift from one foot to the other.

During the second in silence, Andrew frowned despite how flawlessly their date was going. The concern for his girlfriend throughout the weeks rose from his heart, up his throat, and out of his mouth. “Why have you been so uptight, though?”

He wished Kate would acknowledge the stress factors of her dangerous lifestyle. Knowing the Archangel and her relationship were still rocky since her second mission with her friend two years ago, he noticed her trying to do everything perfectly and completing her tasks to almost perfection.

Wondering if Sara and Michael's bond sparkled with jealousy of what his girlfriend didn’t have—a parent to look up to—she had been pushing herself to find fatherly attention from the Archangel. However, his guess could be wrong.

When Kate didn’t answer right away, Andrew muttered, “You know, keeping emotions under a surface for too long can be taxing to one’s self. I’m here for you; remember, we promised to express how we feel. We don’t hide anything from one another.”

A long sigh was what he got in return. Kate was cherishing their precious night, which they rarely got. “Do we need to talk about this now?”

“Come on, it’s a great time to talk about it now. We are out of the Celestial Realm and it’s only us,” Andrew replied. He breathed out with worrisome, “I’m concerned your job is taking a toll on you and how your boss hardly thanks you for saving the world.”

Kate gazed suspiciously and with annoyance at him. Confused about why he was acting so sweetly today, she pushed back from him. Usually, he would leave her alone when she desired not to discuss her heroic life. She understood he cared for her well-being, but this felt ridiculously out of his character, maybe, as a great boyfriend, he truly hated to see her anxiously.

“It’s just that being famous because of my dead parents can be frustrating. Everyone expects so much from me to achieve great things.” Kate turned to start heading home and hoped her answer was enough to satisfy him, but Andrew grabbed her hand and stared determinedly at her.

Frowning at him to give a real answer, she mumbled with irritation, “You know, it's been two years since Michael let me and Sara out on missions again, and I worry I’ll mess up or she will get hurt.” She groaned, “Also, I have my adoring fans who simply want me to post more stupid videos and pictures on my blogs, so they can learn from me or stalk me to see what I might do next.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” said Andrew, but he got a glare from her. He added quickly with a cumbersome look, “Look, no matter how you present yourself, there will be people judging you. I know you are Michael’s sidekick and have to be representative, but—”

Disliking where the conversation twisted in a nerve direction, Kate snapped harshly, “I’m a Dixon, remember?” The heartwarming smile she had for the whole date had titled down, and the butterflies in her stomach vanished. “From what I’ve done to the Devil and my parents’ nearly taking half the Infernals, the Harmonies hope I’m solely going to wipe those demons from the planet!”

If her boyfriend wanted a response deep within her soul, so be it. She threw her hands up. “Unlike my parents, who didn’t care about their crimes, I don’t want to be on the most wanted list on the Infernals’ list.” The cool wind flustered out her rosy cheeks, and she winced at the flashes of memory stabbing in her core.

The girl flung her arms around Andrew and pleaded brokenly, “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t yell at you. It’s not your fault.” Kate closed her eyes tightly and refused to cry. She never cried much from her past or anything, which rankled her greatly, but Kate had a temperament to be angry sometimes and lash out words she had wished to swallow down. “I love you; don’t leave me.”

Stolen story; please report.

Andrew regretted making a statement, but he couldn’t blame her for the burdens she carried as the Archangel’s sidekick or the pressure to be a great Prowler who lived up to everyone’s exceptions. Yet a smile lifted from the corners of his mouth, and he knew she had something to say about it. He pulled her to him and said, “Come here, you.”

Squeezing him tightly and never wanting to let him go ever again, Kate felt lucky to have a boyfriend who cared for her well-being. She hoped to portal back home while holding his hands, but her fairytale quickly shattered.

A frisson—a magical presence that only Galas could notice—gnawed in the air and ran goosebumps down her spine.

She may be immersed in their heartfelt romantic dynamic, but she was not too engrossed to forget the importance of always being alert in her surroundings, one of the important senses taught in training to become a Prowler.

Swirling around, Kate didn’t catch anyone passing them. The longer the lingering magic prickled around her, the stronger the frisson became. She stared in wonderment when strands of lavender swirled around the descending night.

A horrible sinking feeling settled in her gut. Her boyfriend’s fingers slipped from her shoulders, and she twirled to see him slumping to the ground.

“Andrew!” the Prowler cried and fell on her knees, shaking him to wake up. He was unresponsive but breathing. Not seeing anyone who physically knocked him out, Kate yanked to her feet. She pulled her gun out, which shook in her hands.

Her lips quivered as she demanded, “Reveal yourself, you bastard!” The reason she was in a fearful state was because no one bypassed her unnoticed besides Sara. Of course, the Gala could’ve been hiding their frisson from her in the beginning.

A proof of lavender exploded, surrounding her like a thick fog. Kate whirled around and pointed her gun, but her safety stayed on. For some reason, her memory ticked off as the familiar lavender scent filled her nostrils. Yet she couldn’t remember who this person was. Someone important but long gone.

“Show yourself!” quavered Kate, moving her gun left and right to see whoever this was.

A figure emerged from the lavender fog. He wore leather pants with chains rattling on his hips. His spiked boots mushed against the sand, and his black trench coat with a strange symbol on the back waved at his ankles.

Her heart stopped as she gazed into those glimmering lavender eyes. A gust of wind chilled Kate to the bones. She swallowed, something clicking in her and recalling who this person was. Her breath caught in her throat, but she couldn't say his name.

The lavender fog dissipated. The full moon shone down on the Gala, and he glowed in the moonlight. He cocked his head with a dashing grin. “Ah, the famous Katerina Dixon.”

Kate’s mind whirled at the impossibility that he was somehow alive. She sputtered out, “Pitch?” Then, her mind could jump to the only conclusion: this was a dumb shapeshifter playing games. Yet, of all the people this man had to choose, he would be the infamous High-warlock.

Why?

Inhaling to cool down her nerve-racking system, Kate stood up straighter, “What do you want, shapeshifter? Don’t you think you can toy with me? I’m in no mood.” She glanced at her boyfriend, still unconscious, and wanted to empty the gun’s barrel into Gala's chest.

The man smirked. “Shapeshifter?” He lifted his hands. Kate stood her ground. Lavender sparks flew from his fingertips. “Would a shapeshifter manage this?” Flicking his hand sideways, the Prowler felt her body lurch into action, and before she could prevent his magic from controlling her, she was hurled through the air and collided against a palm tree.

Groaning in surprise and pain, Kate was reflectively resilient on her feet and clicked off her safety. With a glare, Kate aimed at him and shot a couple of rounds.

The bullets flew and were in the perfect position to blast through his head and heart. As expected, the Gala gave an amused look at the ammo, like they were a new species. He dramatically swooped his hand up and chanted in Latin to muster a spell, and the bullets turned into daisies.

Heart banging against her chest and rage rocketing through her, she clicked on the safety and holstered her gun away. Fire formed from her hands, and she blasted them at him, the force of her powers skittering her back onto the beach.

From Kate's magic, a dome crackled alive and prevented the man from escaping. She kept denying this was the High-warlock and instead, some strange shapeshifters managed to do this with their abilities. However, everything about him, from his head to his toe to the way he charismatically acted, screamed that he was the real deal: Thomas Pitch.

The Archangel killed him nine years ago, and she had witnessed his death before her eyes.

When Pitch snapped his finger and couldn’t disappear, he flickered up to the sky, seeing the dome made out of heavenly fire and symbols of angelic language inscribed on it. Wondering how on earth she managed to muster heavenly magic like that, he didn’t have time to deeply reflect on that since he had to find a way out.

At the same time, Kate was wondering why this Gala wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t seem intent on killing her but just toying with her, which added more fuel to her annoyance. Throwing a fireball at him, she whipped out her gun again and shot bullets. However, he kept dodging the fire blasts and turning them into daises.

The Prowler dashed around him, studying his features. The more she glanced at his countenance, the worse her knees threatened to buckle under her, and her heart slammed with utter shock. She lifted her gun again and let the bullets fly to hopefully bring him down.

Swirling around the ammos like he was a high-class dance performer, he flourished his hand up and lavender sparks flew everywhere. She was slammed against another palm tree. The impact was harder and more painful than the last time.

There was going to be some ugly bruising tomorrow. Before Pitch could give another swing at her, she blasted fire from her hand to block his view while grinding her teeth and standing back up. Her dome flickered dully and became weaker the more Pitch messed with her.

“What do you want from me?” sneered Kate, irritation rising to the surface. Another blast of fire from her, in hopes of scorching him. He chuckled wildly at his antics, which rankled her more. Never standing in one, but moving around him to study his every feature, “Fine, I’ll play your game. Let’s say you are Pitch. How are you alive? Michael ended you.”