Echoes of Light and Shadow

Chapter 2 - Echoes of Light and Shadow

Location: New York City - Midtown & Lower East Side

Time: Two Days Later

POV: Ezekiel Matias

---

The air smelled like rain and old metal. The kind of scent that clung to gutters and subway rails. Ezekiel stood on the platform of the eastbound line, headphones in but music paused, watching the blur of the tunnel as if it might whisper something back.

He hadn’t seen Meranī since the rooftop.

Not that he was trying to. Not that he wasn’t.

His fingers traced the edge of his notebook inside his hoodie pocket. The burn mark on his wrist was fading, but the memory of it wasn’t. Neither was the name: Avarice.

He’d spent the last two days pretending to study but really digging through encrypted Matias files. Historical logs, clan data, and old mission reports. Avarice was all over them. Assassinations, espionage, and Tamashi theft. One phrase kept surfacing:

> “Project Nullfire.”

It was redacted in every file, but his instincts screamed that it wasn’t a coincidence.

The train arrived with a metallic sigh. Ezekiel stepped inside and leaned against the far wall. The car was nearly empty. A few silent passengers and a flickering overhead light.

And then she boarded.

Same long coat. Same sharp eyes.

Meranī didn’t look surprised to see him.

“You follow me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head. “Please. If I were stalking you, I’d at least bring coffee.”

She smirked and sat across from him. “Then you’ve got terrible timing.”

The silence between them stretched. Comfortable, in an odd way.

“So,” she said, resting her chin on her hand, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“You’ve got that look. The kind that says you know more than you’re saying, and say less than you should.”

“I could say the same about you.”

She tilted her head, amused. “Touché.”

The train rattled along the rails. Outside, the darkness swallowed everything. Their reflections flickered in and out on the window, two strangers caught between cities and shadows.

---

Flashback - Matias Combat Class (Years Ago)

“Again!”

Ezekiel’s legs shook under the weight of the practice blade. Sweat dripped down his temple. The training hall echoed with the sound of strikes and shouts. Uniformed trainees moved in synchronized drills, but none looked more out of place than fifteen-year-old Ezekiel.

He wasn’t the strongest. But he was fast. Focused.

“Tamashi isn’t just power,” the instructor barked. “It’s memory. Instinct. Legacy. You are not alone when you fight. Your soul remembers.”

Ezekiel had tried to listen.

All he ever heard was screaming.

---

**Back to Present**

“I’ve been reading up on Tamashi theory,” Ezekiel said, glancing sideways.

Meranī arched an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of casual conversation?”

“Only with dangerous strangers.”

She smiled faintly. “What kind of theory?”

“Older classifications. Root soul types. Pre-modern channeling. Stuff most clans don’t teach anymore.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “My family’s into shadowwork. Sealing, draining, siphoning. Pretty taboo, even back home.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re skilled. That move back in the alley? That wasn’t beginner-level.”

“Been training since I could walk. Not because I wanted to.”

Her voice was even, but there was something behind it. A thread of resentment.

“You have clan ties,” she added, watching his face.

He hesitated. Just long enough.

“I don’t talk to my family.”

Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “Mine expects me back in Tokyo next month. Some initiation. They won’t tell me anything, just that it’s my ‘turn.’”

“You going?”

“I don’t know. I came here to breathe. For once.”

He nodded. “They want you as a tool.”

“They want me as a symbol.”

Same thing, he thought.

---

Lower East Side - Abandoned Temple Grounds

Later that evening, Ezekiel stood in front of a sealed-off Tamashi shrine. Hidden between apartment buildings and an old noodle shop, the structure looked forgotten. Ivy-covered, graffiti-stained, and humming with energy only he seemed to notice.

He touched the archway. The Matias seal carved into the stone buzzed beneath his fingers.

> “Everything returns to One.”

He traced the words carved at the base of the gate. Faded, but intact.

His phone buzzed.

A message from a blocked number: “She is not what you think.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Empty alley.

He replied: “What is she?”

No response.

The shrine pulsed faintly. A low frequency. Not sound. Not vibration. Presence.

His head ached.

He stepped back. The light in the alley dimmed, as if shadows pressed closer.

There was something here. Watching. Waiting.

And it wasn’t finished with him.

---

Midnight - Ezekiel’s Apartment

His windows were closed, but the air inside felt cold. He sat at his desk, staring at the Tamashi symbol from the shrine. The same one from his dreams.

He flipped open his notebook. Another line stood out from his earlier research:

> “Origin Souls are drawn to conflict. They do not appear by chance.”

He tapped his pen against the desk.

Meranī’s eyes. The burn. The way the Matias seal reacted when she was nearby.

Was she already waking something inside herself?

Or worse … was he?

He picked up his katana from beneath the desk. The blade still had the Matias etching near the guard.

He hadn’t used it in years.

But something told him he might need it soon.

---

**END OF CHAPTER 2**