Chapter 1 tw and comments //

Mild suicidal Idealization 

Choking (only briefly, like very brief)

Mild Blood and Violence

If I'm forgetting anything, let me know! This chapter is very much a vent/me projecting onto my ocs. This whole story is. If there's something sensitive/ a topic that needs to be rewritten with care, that I need to change, let me know! I'm open to sensitivity readers if I need to rewrite anything again. Oh and if there are spelling/grammar errors, I'll fix it as well

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Ira emerged back to the living world with a slow blink. Lifting her head, Ira glanced down at her body with a disgruntled sigh. Something wasn’t right. With a deep, shuddering breath, she sat up slowly despite her body protesting the gesture. Ira frowned upon her unmistakably uninjured body, trying, all the while failing, to understand where the pain was coming from. 

Until, the memory of last night caught up to her and a bitter smile turned her lips. She shivered, remembering the way the Night-Stalker tore something from her body. Everything that happened after, she had no recollection of. Ira reached down for the buttons of her shirt and stripped herself down piece by piece. When it was just her undergarments left, she paused. There were no wounds or scars to indicate any sort of tearing. 

Ira pursed her lips and searched her body again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  She shook her head in disbelief before redressing herself. Maybe she was imagining things, her mind had always been a vast pool of ideas. She most likely passed out from the shock. That seemed more viable than dying. It must have been what happened. At least, she hoped it was. 

Quickly, Ira gave a single look at the room she was in, the white walls indicating she was in the bureaus infirmary. It felt familiar, from all the times she snuck in to nap. She sucked in a breath and started to lay back down. 

“Ira, you’re awake!” A familiar voice called. 

“Jordan!”

Ira smiled and jumped onto her feet, wincing as pain spread through her body. 

“Hey, hey, take it easy, idiot.” Jordan cooed. “You’re lucky you made it out without a scratch.”

“Yeah, and how is that?” Ira asked, putting most of her weight on Jordan who helped lift her up. 

“Well… we’re not sure. But, we were able to catch him thanks to you… sort of.” Jordan’s brow wrinkled, her dark eyes boring into Ira. 

“Oh… that’s good. At least I helped in my own way.” Ira chuckled, clearing her throat awkwardly as they began making their way out of the infirmary. 

“You sure did.” Jordan acknowledged. “But, Brian isn’t too happy about what happened and…” She paused in the middle of the hallway before looking over her shoulder and then toward Ira. “The Night-Stalker keeps talking about you. He keeps saying that you haven’t unlocked your true potential. Whatever that means”

“Well… that’s weird.” Ira frowned, a thought forming in the back of her mind before Jordan continued on walking. 

“Anyways… Brian wanted to talk to you, so…” Jordan gave Ira a quick pat on the shoulder before letting go. “You think you can go alone from here?” 

“I’ll be ok. Thank you.” Ira said before pulling away with a fake, but assuring smile. 

“Meet me in my office after! The couch will be calling your name.” Jordan yelled after.

“Will do! Thanks Dan!”

“Don’t call me that!”

Being summoned to Commander Brian’s office was never a good feat for anyone in the magic administration. Everyone had learned to fear him since he was the son of a famous general. So when Ira found herself unlucky enough to be walking towards his office, her mood worsened. The dull ache of pain lingered, but the anxiety of not knowing what she was called for, far outweighed the latter. Ira hoped it would be the end of her career, but knowing Brian, she’d be reprimanded instead. Somehow, it always ended in a lecture. 

“Lagear,” greeted Brian, “how are you  feeling?”

“Like shit. What did you call me here for?” Ira questioned, not wanting to engage in small talk.

“I'm considering transferring you to another department.” Brian said flatly. From where Ira stood, she could see the contents of Brian’s scroll. She caught glimpses of department names, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Can I see that?” Ira said before unpromptedly snatching the scroll from Brian’s hand. 

“Lagear-“

It fascinated her how much the tiny piece of paper could hold, information wise. She could pretend it didn’t, but that would be a lie. Especially, since she could make calls to whoever she wanted. For a moment, Ira considered calling a certain number, but decided against it as her fingers hovered over the strange writings. She glanced briefly at each overview of the departments. Ira briefly skimmed the possible departments she could be transferred to.

What is the Bureau of Magic?

The Bureau of magic, created by the famous General Curt Welkins, oversees all magic related crime. The Bureau has the authority and responsibility to investigate specific crimes assigned. Any active investigations related to the mystic are handled within its various departments.  The Bureau works to combat threats as carefully as possible, with little to no magical assistance. 

What is the Jury of Elites?

The Jury of Elites was created to review and record all paper documentation of crime that occurred in the Bureau. Their goal is to determine if the Manifestation of Magic— the document that accounted for every law made about the magic– has been violated or not. Eight Jury members are responsible for their respective categories of magic. 

What is the Department of Proprietas?

The Department of Proprietas is law enforcement Their job is to defend, protect, and patrol-

Ira scoffed, taking a breath in for a moment. She had many feelings toward the system she worked for, none of them were positive. Her teeth clenched at the thought of being transferred to Propriatas and what it would mean for her future. She knew the system hurt people like her. It already did. She tried to escape, but she would not know freedom until she ‘did her job’. Ira glanced back to the scroll with a grim expression. 

What is the Department of Stratagem?

The Department of Stratagem deals with tougher, major crimes that Proprietas cannot investigate. Stratagem has the authority and responsibility to investigate specific crimes assigned to it by Proprietas. These crimes do not have to be magic related. 

These departments broke off into fractions, each with their own sets of responsibilities and specialities, but Ira didn’t have the mental capacity to continue reading. Instead, a deep seated curiosity blossomed in her chest. With a light press to the surface of the scroll, the words shifted as she slid her thumb. Slowly, she typed out the name “Night-Stalker”. All of her muscles tightened as the results appeared before her eye in an instant. 

The Night-Stalker was a serial killer who sadistically murdered his victims at midnight over the course of 4 months. Most of these victims were officers who worked at the Bureau. He did not target a specific gender, just those working during the night-shift. The Night-Stalker was discovered using his victims bodies and souls as puppets, claiming he was the God of the Night. 

She skipped over certain aspects pertaining to the Night-Stalker’s home life, until her eyes settled on something that made her blood run cold. 

The Night-Stalker’s last victim, before he was institutionalized, was a woman, age 26, 5’9 and 125lbs, named Ira Ann Lagear. 

Suddenly, the smell of death pressed into her nose as she recalled the feeling. Ira felt bile rise in the back of her throat as she curled into herself. 

“I died. I knew it, well, I had a suspicion anyway.” Ira managed, not looking away from the scroll. 

“No one, except me, knows that you died that night.” Brian explained, trying to chase Ira’s gaze to get her to look at him. 

Unsettled, Ira carefully raised her head. 

“Is that why you want me to transfer? So no one can figure out that I died and then somehow came back to life?” Ira questioned as she handed the scroll back to Brian.

Brian remained quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t want to transfer. Just fire me .” Ira argued as she crossed her arms across her chest defensively.

“This isn’t up for debate, Ira. You know the deal I made.” Brian quipped as he rubbed the sides of his forehead in frustration. He lowered his hands and quickly looked at Ira, who slowly uncrossed her arms upon his gaze.

“And, after that incident, it was a clear breach of the deal. I can’t let your uncle find out that I let you… die. Again.” He reasoned, trying to get through to Ira that she needed this more than she thought she did. 

Ira knew what Brian was implying. 

“I don’t get it. Why would you send me out there if you knew I wasn’t capable of handling myself?” She tossed her arms indifferently onto Brian’s desk before pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I have a reputation to uphold, Lagear. I can’t have one of my members slacking while everyone else is at a live crime scene.” He said, reaching for his device to check for chips or cracks. 

“Plus, I thought you could handle yourself. Why the hell didn’t you fight back? I know you can, I’ve seen you put up a fight with my subordinates when they give you trouble.” Brian added. 

“First off, slacking? I work overtime and don’t get paid for it. How is that slacking?! Second off, fist fighting with your subordinates, who you really should talk to because they have a problem with disrespecting their coworkers, is different than facing a literal serial killer.” Ira explained with a huff. “Plus, even if I did put up a fight, if I had managed to stall long enough, I wouldn’t have survived anyways and then someone would have seen-“

“Excuse my poor choice of words. What I’m trying to say is that my reputation as a commander cannot be tarnished by...well, your lack of experience. Everyone has an appearance they must uphold and mine needs to be up to standards.” Brian kept his head down as he dusted off his scroll, ignoring Ira’s outburst. 

“So you risked my life, just to keep your shiny reputation?” Ira’s mouth hung wide open.

“That is all. You can leave. We’ll discuss this at a later time.” Brian ordered before storing his scroll in the drawer of his desk. “Just, don’t let there be a next time.” 

Next time, I want to stay dead. I was ready to die back there, anyways. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Ira reluctantly turned to leave. The door closed behind her as everything around shook dangerously due to how hard she had slammed it. She needed to be busy. It was the only way she could calm down. Work. Work would help. It was monotonous, but it distracted her from everything going on inside her own head.Ira reached the tiny cubicle space where she spent all of her time in. There were barely any officers around at the moment, thankfully. The less there were, the less likely she’d get bothered by anyone. 

Eventually, Ira narrowed her eye as though the piles of papers would quickly fill out themselves. But, the only thing she accomplished was straining her eye. Either way, there was no excitement, just suffering, as she sorted through the white sheets. It wasn’t anything new or strange to her. Everyday was pretty much the same. She’d go to work, do paperwork, come home late and sleep until she had to come back the next day. Ira sunk deeper into her desk chair at the thought as she gazed at one of her drawers. Not wanting to go back to work, Ira fished a book out and her eyes met the title and cover. 

Wishful Seeking (Seek What You Wish For) by Aria Elgar. 

Now felt like a great time to work on the sequel’s manuscript, she thought. However, her eye wandered back slowly to the inside of the drawer. It settled on a book titled The Ultimate Guide to Sigils and Glyphs. The words of her carriage driver hung heavy in her ears as her mind replayed the sentence in her head.

“Magic is dying, but your passion for it shouldn’t. Keep at it, dear. It’ll come in handy one day.” 

Ira allowed herself to set her novel down and grab a quill. It came like second nature to her, drawing the sigils onto the paper in front of her. Before she knew it, her desk was glowing with an assortment of tiny illusionary fireworks, a silent, but beautiful display of what Ira could do. It would have been perfect, except for the commotion her colleagues were causing. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, sending shivers down her spine.

“Do not go into interrogation room 12. No one is to engage with him, or let him out. Whatever he says, ignore him.” An officer warned before stalking off, with an obviously nasty gash across his face. 

Ira frowned, staring at the alarming amount of officers who had a similar wound on their faces. Who the hell were they keeping in the office that was attacking officers? Now, curiosity took root in Ira’s mind as she abandoned her work to do some of her own investigation. A feeling in her stomach told her to run, and go back to her desk. But, it was too late. She arrived at the interrogation room and a familiar face greeted her behind the one-way mirror. She didn’t need two eyes to recognize the white hair, unmistakable broken horn, dark skin, and piercing gray-blue eyes.. It was enough for Ira to process the sight in front of her. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This didn’t seem right at all.

“If you let me out of here, I’ll consider sparing your life and not eating you when I tear this place down!” The familiar face shouted as he tugged on his restraints. 

An uncomfortable knot tightened in Ira’s gut as her mouth went agape. In front of her, past the mirror, was a fragment from her past that she didn’t want to remember. She couldn’t fathom an answer that would explain how or why he ended up back in her life. She had heard rumors of his disappearance, but never took interest in finding out what happened. 

Obviously, it looked like he got on the wrong side of the law. With just one glance, she knew he was the one that got away, her old academic rival. That dark brown skin she was so familiar with years ago was littered with scars. Even behind his long white hair, she could see them continue down to his back. What kind of trouble did he get himself into? Every time Ira thought back to that time in her life, her stomach would clench, sinking deeper into the pit of anger and despair she once found herself in.

With her mouth taut, she turned to look through the mirror once again. Of all people she could have seen, it had to be the one person she hated the most besides herself. Well, hate wasn’t exactly the best descriptor to represent how she felt in that moment. Part of her wanted to rush in and punch him, while the other wanted to make up for lost time. She lost her mind, hadn’t she? One thing was for certain, with the way things ended in the past, she was not happy to see him. 

Suddenly white-hot rage clouded her thoughts and Ira turned to enter the actual interrogation room.  She lunged towards the door, slamming it open and locked eyes.