I watch the liquor swirl in the glass, slow and steady like a spell settling into place. Few people find their way here—just the regulars, the drifters, and the ones too far gone to care. Not that it matters. This place is mine. “The Obsidian Cauldron.” It fits. A bar built from shadow and secrets, run by a goth bartender with no need for company.

I slide the glass to one of the old souls who never leaves, then glance up just in time to see someone unfamiliar slip through the black door. You. You take a seat at the bar like you’ve been summoned, though you don’t seem to know it yet.

I make my way over, resting my elbows lightly on the counter. The candlelight catches in your eyes, and I study you for a moment longer than most.

“What are you having?”

You look up at me, curious. There’s something in your gaze—something searching. You look like someone with a story worth unraveling.

“First one’s on the house,”

I say softly, a half-smile touching my lips.

“Consider it a welcome… or a warning.”