Jackson Street, West Monroe, Louisiana
On a narrow stretch of Jackson Street, lined with historic buildings steeped in Southern charm, stood Moonlit Relics-an antique shop owned by Cove Galloway. The exterior whispered secrets of the past. Intricate carvings of mystical symbols and crescent moons adorned the weathered wooden façade, and the sign above the door creaked gently in the breeze, bearing the shop's name in elegant, cursive script.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old books, dust, and something unplaceable-an undercurrent of mystical energy. Cove, a towering figure standing 6'2", manned the counter. His brown skin glowed under the soft amber lights, and his golden eyes shimmered with an ancient knowing. Thick, dark brown locks-braided and cascading down his back like a waterfall-completed his imposing yet refined presence. His attire blended Victorian sophistication with bohemian ease: a dark brown waistcoat adorned with intricate silver embroidery, over a linen shirt and high-collared coat. Every stitch spoke of time and care.
The shop was a treasure trove. Antique furniture, vintage heirlooms, weathered toys, timeworn dresses, and aged artwork filled the space-each item whispering of the culture and character of its previous owner. It was less a store and more a living museum of lives once lived.
Rhyn stepped through the threshold. Her senses sharpened, attuned to the pull of the shop's aura. The scent of old parchment and sandalwood wrapped around her, tugging her back into buried memories. A soft smile graced her lips.
Behind the counter, Cove looked up, eyes widening as he recognized her.
"Rhyn!" he called, surprise and emotion layered in his voice.
The few customers in the shop, absorbed in their browsing, paid no mind. Cove quickly and courteously ushered them out, bowing politely before locking the door behind them.
Turning to her fully, his gaze traced her face, her frame, her presence. "Rhyn... it's been centuries," he murmured, his voice deep, reverent.
"Still an antique lover, I see," she replied, her smile tinged with nostalgia. Her eyes caught on his braids which were shorter now long.
"Your curls are straight now," Cove noted, his voice curious, staring at her straight hair.
Rhyn ran a hand over her smooth straight hair and chuckled. "Human trends. Straight hair is seen as beautiful these days."
She tilted her head slightly. "Leave it; it's my hair."
His gaze lingered, softening. "You still look beautiful. As always."
A slight flush colored Rhyn's cheeks, and she looked away with a smile. "Thanks. It's been a long time... and I'm still here. In the modern world."
"West Monroe suits you," Cove said, his golden eyes glinting with understanding.
Rhyn sighed, her smile fading. "Humans are exhausting. I hate pretending to be one of them. Their pace, their pain... everything is so slow. Magic is easier."
Cove nodded knowingly. "Why are you here, Rhyn?"
Her face changed, shadowed now. "My stepbrother," she whispered.
Cove's brows furrowed. "Stepbrother?"
She drew in a breath, steadying herself. "He's back. Fredrick is back."
Cove paled. "How is that possible?"
"The plan didn't work," Rhyn said, eyes flickering with fear and determination. "Years later, he found a way... and now his soul lives on-inside a young man."
Cove stiffened. "A vessel," he said, the word heavy.
Rhyn nodded solemnly. "Fredrick's vessel."
Silence hung between them.
"So what do you need from me?" Cove asked at last, his voice low but firm.
Rhyn's eyes locked onto his, pleading. "Help me destroy the soul."
Cove's expression hardened. "You know it won't be easy. Fredrick's too powerful."
"My energy can support the ritual," she said.
He shook his head, braids swaying. "Rhyn, using that kind of power against someone who holds the decagram-it could kill us both."
Rhyn's eyes flashed, defiant and scared all at once. "Your sister and I destroyed his body before, and..."
"...and it never did work," Cove finished, his voice laced with both curiosity and concern.
Rhyn nodded, her eyes clouding over. "Alright. What can you help me do?" she asked, her tone steady and firm.
Cove's expression turned thoughtful. "A spell-to subdue his consciousness. To suppress his influence on the vessel, at least for a time. Until there's a way," he said carefully.
Rhyn's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hope surfacing in their depths.
"I forgot I said this to him-I mean, to the vessel," she murmured, barely above a whisper. "I fear my stepbrother Fredrick. His presence... it feels far more sinister now than when I loved him blindly."
Cove's eyes softened, his gaze steady and understanding.
"Rhyn, I know the trauma that drove you into the shadows," he said gently. "I'm here for you."
Her eyes met his, filled with new resolve. "I need to speak with the vessel," she said firmly.
She turned to leave, but Cove called out after her. "Rhyn!"
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes asked the question.
"Take care," he said, his voice quiet, but full of concern.
A faint smile tugged at her lips-half reassurance, half goodbye. "I'm still coming around soon," she said, then stepped out into the world beyond.
As the door shut behind her, Cove's gaze lingered on the empty space she had left behind.
His eyes narrowed.
There was a storm coming. Helping Rhyn wouldn't be easy. But he was ready to face it-for Rhyn, for the past they shared, and for the secrets still buried deep in the shadows of West Monroe.
********
Tony, a 39-year-old man with a rugged yet effortlessly charming appearance, stood behind the counter of his cozy coffee shop. His dark brown hair was cut short, framing a strong jawline and drawing attention to his piercing blue eyes-eyes that sparkled with warmth, even beneath the soft morning light. His skin carried a golden undertone that seemed to glow under the café's amber lights. A fitted white apron hugged his black T-shirt, subtly emphasizing his toned physique. At 6'1", he towered over many of his customers, yet his calm, friendly demeanor instantly put them at ease.
He moved with practiced ease, taking orders and crafting drinks, his hands a blur of efficiency. The familiar rhythm of steaming milk and the scent of fresh espresso wrapped around him-until his phone rang.
Dipping his hand into his pocket, Tony checked the caller ID, then answered with a smile.
"Hey, Rhyn. How's your day going?" His voice was low and smooth, like warm velvet.
There was a pause, then a soft whisper on the other end. "I'm fine."
Tony glanced around, then murmured an excuse to the customers and stepped away, toward a sun-drenched corner by the window. His expression shifted, concern flickering in his eyes.
"So... what's new?" he asked quietly, almost cautiously.
Rhyn's reply was immediate and firm. "Tony, you're human. You shouldn't get involved in supernatural things. Knowing about my true identity-and what I do in the shadows-isn't something you need to ask about. It's not your burden."
Tony's brow furrowed as he looked out onto the busy street beyond the window. "I'm sorry, Rhyn. I know you might threaten to wipe my memories again, but... you're my girlfriend. I care about you. I want to make sure you're okay."
There was a pause, heavy with tension. Then her voice softened-barely. "I can take care of myself, Tony. Don't worry about it."
A beat.
"I love you. Bye."
The call ended, leaving Tony staring at the silent screen. A faint worry settled in his chest as he tucked the phone back into his pocket and returned to the counter.
That's when he noticed the man.
He sat alone at a table near the back, cradling a cup of coffee between gloved hands. His long black coat stood in stark contrast to the warm, earthy tones of the café. Even from a distance, the man seemed... off. His sharp, hawk-like eyes were locked onto Tony, unsettlingly intense. Tony's stomach tightened as their gazes met. Something primal in him stirred-a whisper of unease.
Quickly, he looked away and forced himself to refocus. But the feeling lingered.
The stranger sat near the door, in a shadowy corner that somehow seemed colder than the rest of the space. He didn't belong here-not in this place of soft jazz, clinking cups, and quiet conversations. There was a silence about him that made Tony's instincts twitch.
With a stiff breath, Tony turned toward the kitchen to prepare the orders still waiting. But even as he moved, the stranger's gaze lingered in his mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts.
Somehow, Tony knew this wouldn't be the last time he'd see that man.