Harper

I blinked hard, but the threatening message vanished as quickly as it appeared. Maybe I was more nervous about this first day than I thought. Hallucinating warnings wasn’t exactly a promising start to my career.

The screen froze mid-boot, the loading circle spinning endlessly. Great. Just great.

“Hey, Jace?” I hated having to ask for help within my first hour, but better than sitting here uselessly. “I’m having some trouble with my laptop.”

He rolled his chair over, and I caught a whiff of coffee and something woodsy. “What’s up?”

“It just froze, and before that. . .” I hesitated to mention the weird message. “It was acting strange.”

Jace leaned in and examined the laptop. His fingers brushed mine as he reached for the power cord, and I tried not to react to the contact.

“Ah, here’s your problem.” He held up the cord where it connected to the laptop, showing me the frayed edges. “This has been happening a lot lately, actually. Ever since we started ramping up production for Revelations. Something about the power load in the building.” He frowned. “I’ll grab you a new one from supply.”

He returned a few minutes later, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Bad news. We’re out, and the next shipment isn’t due for a couple days. IT’s been going through them like crazy.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out my spare cord. “I like to be prepared.”

His eyebrows rose. “Girl Scout?”

“Gamer,” I corrected, plugging in the cord. “Nothing worse than losing power mid-boss fight.”

The moment I connected the cord, a surge of electricity ran through the laptop. The lights in our section flickered, and for a split second, I swore I saw shadows dance across the walls. Then everything stabilized, my laptop humming to life like nothing happened.

“Weird,” Jace muttered, but he was already distracted by someone calling his name from across the office.

The morning flew by in a blur of software installations and paperwork. By lunchtime, my stomach was growling loudly enough that I was afraid the entire office could hear it. I followed the crowd to the break room and stopped short.

The break room was a stark contrast to the modern minimalism of the rest of the building. While it had all the high-tech amenities—vending machines with transparent OLED screens displaying real-time nutritional information and a coffee machine that looked like it could launch a space shuttle—the space itself felt lived-in.

Sticky notes with passive-aggressive reminders about cleaning the microwave dotted the walls. Someone had hung string lights around the windows, giving the space a cozy glow despite the fog outside.

I chose a quiet corner table, spreading out my sad packed lunch—a slightly squashed sandwich and an apple that had seen better days. First thing tomorrow, I was checking out that sci-fi coffee machine’s capabilities.

A lunch tray slammed down across from me with enough force to make me jump. A woman with striking red hair pulled into a perfect French twist sat down without asking, her green eyes scanning me with the kind of look usually reserved for debugging particularly annoying code. Her blazer probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and she wore it like armor.

“So you’re the new intern,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut. It wasn’t a question. “I’m Margo. Developer.”

She took a precise bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully while continuing to study me. Her gaze lingered on my blazer—could she tell it was new? “First day?”

I nodded, trying not to feel like a bug under a microscope. “Harper Wells.”

“Hmm.” She dabbed her lips with a napkin, leaving a perfect red stain. “I saw you working with Jace earlier.” There was something possessive in her tone that made me uneasy. “Word of advice? Don’t get too comfortable. Interns rarely last long here.”

Her smile was cold. “Nothing personal. It’s just. . . intense. Not everyone is cut out for it.”

She stood, gathering her barely-touched lunch, her chair scraping against the floor with a sound that made me wince. “Oh, and Harper?”

She paused, adjusting her perfect hair in her phone’s reflection. “That blazer? Maybe make sure it’s dry cleaned before wearing it.” She gestured to the price tag mark barely visible on the sleeve.

With that, she walked away, leaving me with the distinct impression I’d just been marked as competition. The few other employees in the break room quickly looked away when I glanced around, suddenly very interested in their lunches.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of orientations and introductions. By the time I got home, I was exhausted but too wired to sleep.

I peeled off my professional costume and took a long shower, letting the day wash away. My tiny apartment might not have been much, but it was mine. Well, mine and my cat, Boris’s, if we were being honest about who really ran things around here.

The previous tenant had left fairy lights strung across the ceiling beams, and I’d added to them over time. Now the whole place glowed like a magical forest at night, especially with the fog pressing against my windows.

After I changed into my comfiest pajamas—worn soft from too many late-night gaming sessions—I settled at my desk. It was my favorite spot in the apartment, a corner nook surrounded by posters from my favorite games.

Pride of place goes to the limited edition Beyond Her Shadow print I’d splurged on last year, its dark colors shifting in the fairy lights.

Boris immediately claimed his spot on my lap, his long tabby fur already adding a new layer to my clean pajamas. His purring filled the quiet room like a motor.

“Just a quick game before bed, buddy,” I told him, scratching behind his ears. He gave me his usual unimpressed look, knowing full well that “quick game” in my vocabulary usually meant “see you at 3 a.m.”

I dug out my power cord, feeling an odd tingle as I plugged it in. Beyond Her Shadow loaded up, its haunting theme music filling my room. The game that changed everything for me. The first time I played it and discovered I could turn the darkness itself into a weapon, armor, or even wings, brought feelings of confidence and power.

A notification popped up: Roman457 has entered the game.

I grinned, warmth spreading through my chest. My favorite gaming partner for the past year, the person who helped me discover all the game’s secrets, and who not only got my terrible puns, but shared some doozies himself.

Shadow_Harpy: There’s my favorite warrior! Ready to hunt some shadow beasts?

Roman457: For you? Always. Though I thought you’d be tired of shadows after playing this game for what, 500 hours?

Shadow_Harpy: Please, you know I’m closing in on 1000. Besides, I have news!

Roman457: Let me guess. . . you finally admitted your undying love for my superior combat skills?

Shadow_Harpy: Ha! In your dreams! No, I started my dream job today.

Roman457: Congrats, Harpy! Though I’ll miss our daytime chat sessions.

Shadow_Harpy: You’ll just have to settle for kicking ass with me at night ;)

We fell into our usual rhythm, our characters moving in perfect sync through the shadow-filled world. The game’s world wrapped around me like a familiar embrace. My character’s shadow abilities had become second nature after so many hours of play. I watched as the darkness responded to my commands, flowing like liquid night.

It was beautiful, really—the way the shadows moved, how they could become solid or ethereal at will. In dark areas, they grew stronger, letting you shape them into whatever you needed: weapons, shields, wings to soar through the void. In light, they became more subtle, perfect for stealth and deception.

Roman457’s character complemented mine perfectly. While I controlled the shadows, his light abilities created safe zones in the chaos, areas where we could regroup and heal. We’d discovered early on that the game’s mechanics rewarded this kind of cooperation—light and shadow working in harmony instead of opposition.

Tonight we were tackling the Cathedral of Endless Night, one of the game’s most challenging dungeons. As we entered, the massive stone columns loomed above us, their shadows stretching impossibly long across the marble floor. Roman457 took point, his character’s armor gleaming with stored light energy. I followed in his wake, gathering the abundant shadows into a swirling cloak around my character.

Shadow_Harpy: Watch your six. Shadow Stalkers always spawn behind the third pillar.

Roman457: Someone’s memorized the spawn points. Nerd. ;)

Shadow_Harpy: Says the guy who can recite every item stat in the game?

Just as I typed this, three Shadow Stalkers materialized behind us, their forms twisted and unnatural, like someone’s nightmare given flesh. Roman457 didn’t miss a beat—he threw down a light barrier, creating a safe zone that cut off their advance.

I immediately launched into our practiced combo where my shadow-forged weapons passed harmlessly through his light shield to strike our enemies while his radiance kept them from using their shadow-step ability to flank us.

We’d done this dance so many times it’d become almost choreographed, yet it never got old. There was something intimate about the way our abilities interwove, his light strengthening my shadows instead of banishing them. It was what made Beyond Her Shadow so unique—the way it subverted the usual light-versus-dark tropes, showing how the two forces could work together to create something stronger than either alone.

We were approaching Maloria’s tower—the final boss fight that we’d conquered dozens of times—when something changed. The shadows on screen began moving wrong, twisting in ways I’d never seen before. A red banner flashed across my screen, text appearing one letter at a time:

I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED.

My laptop powered down with a sound like breaking glass, leaving me in darkness broken only by the city lights outside my window. Boris yowled and lept from my lap, his fur standing on end.

What the hell was that?