The sound of the wind was a muffled rush in his ears.

He was falling too fast, each storey of the high-rise hurtling away towards the midnight sky. His heart had jumped to his throat and his muscles had bunched up on their own, tensing for the moment of impact. Darkness seemed to be closing in on him, peeling upwards around him like a cradle of death. Or perhaps it was the shadows, coming out to eat him.

Hansel did register that his death was imminent, that this was really going to be the end for him. But his head stayed devoid of any thoughts or emotions. No fear. No surprise. No memories snaking out of the dark recesses of his mind to sting him one last time. Blank. Undisturbed. He was falling and that was it.

Briefly, his eyes snagged on the grinning boy up on the roof. The boy's smile was brazen, his eyes shining conspiratorially, as though he was about to tell a wicked secret while Hansel fell fell fell—

And stopped.

If Hansel hadn't been looking at the boy he wouldn't have seen it, and if he hadn't felt the jarring tug in his guts he wouldn't have believed. But Hansel had kept his eyes on the boy. So he didn't miss the moment the boy reached over the edge and caught him.

The boy didn't catch Hansel with his hands, he caught him with shadows.

Hansel saw the boy stretch out his arms, saw the long shadow ribbons unfurling from them like a magic trick, then dropping towards Hansel like the fast strokes of a brush. The ribbons wound around his torso to make an impromptu harness, stretching with his weight, then pulling taut at the last possible moment, right before his body could collide with the street below and break.

The ribbons sprung him back into the air, jerking his limbs aside, and when they went slack again Hansel's arms swung downwards and the back of his hands scraped over the grimy stones of the street. His feet found purchase on the ground and his shoes dragged with his determination to keep himself from bouncing up again.

For a dizzying second Hansel saw the world upside down: everything hanging from a ceiling paved with stone. There were hazy boxes of light in the far distance, spilling out of rows and columns of square windows and fading imperceptibly into the rich, velvety darkness. Then he twirled himself upright, planting his feet firmly on the ground while he tried to unentangle himself from the shadow ribbons in vain.

The shadows were bizarre things—they were at once material and incorporeal, solid yet intangible. A shadow could touch a human, cut him up or kill him, but the same wouldn't work in reverse. A human cannot lay a hand on a shadow, neither with skin nor with weapons, which, essentially, made the creatures invincible.

Even though he knew this Hansel still grappled with the ribbons binding him, trying to pluck them away. But his fingers just kept slipping through. The ribbons pulled back slightly, and Hansel felt his feet lose touch with the ground. A dull frustration began building up inside him; he could care less about shadows chasing him down the streets or stabbing him, but he hated being trapped like this, dangling from the ribbons like a marionette. What was the boy trying to do?

The boy. Hansel's eyes skipped towards the roof he'd just fallen from, but with the poor angle and lighting Hansel couldn't make out the boy's shape or location.

Was he a twin? A long-lost brother? Was that why he and Hansel looked so much alike? It would also explain how the boy knew Hansel's birth date.

Hansel twisted in his restraints fruitlessly. How come the boy had the ability to manipulate shadows? How did he know Hansel's name?

Who was he?

Whoever he was the boy didn't seem to be given to gentleness. Hansel felt a violent tug come through the ribbons, causing his teeth to clack together. He shot back into the air like a ball on a string, and when he was high enough, he was tossed onto the roof equally unceremoniously. Hansel landed in a bad tumble, hitting his knee against the weathered concrete. The ribbons stayed attached as he rolled with the momentum, tangling him up in knots that had neither beginning, nor end, weaving together and wrapping around like cassette film stirred in a bowl.

Before Hansel could restart his fight with the ribbons, however, they retreated on their own, flowing back like dark veins and vanishing into the sleeves of the other boy. Hansel picked himself off the floor, dabbing at the dust on his knee. His eyes latched onto the boy. For the second time, his appearance surprised Hansel: the boy looked different from before.

Not too different. He still looked like Hansel, but a few things had changed. The first and the most obvious difference Hansel noticed was the gleaming golden crown atop the boy's head. Moonlight broke against its crests and curves in gold and silver light, casting an ethereal halo. The crown looked elegant and kingly, and it did a remarkable job at accentuating the boy's strangeness. Underneath the crown, the boy's hair had turned the colour of obsidian, no longer white like Hansel's. But what took Hansel aback the most wasn't any of that. It was the boy's eyes, red as blood and screaming murder.

The question of who he was promptly turned into what he was.

Not human. Couldn't possibly be. Not with those glowing red eyes and that crown on his head. Not when he could bend shadows to his will.

"Hello there," said the boy cheerfully. He blinked once and his eyes darkened, the red in them fading slowly. "We meet again."

A silence of uncertainty followed. Hansel wasn't used to engaging in conversations with people. In fact, he disliked being put into situations which required him to talk. However he was certain his current situation wasn't one from which he could simply walk away without uttering a word. He cleared his throat hesitantly. "Who are you?"

The boy's smile widened like he was very pleased to be asked that question. He took a couple of relaxed steps towards Hansel, stopping only when he was within an arm's reach of him. Automatically, Hansel backed away, restoring his personal space.

"Who am I, he asks," said the boy, his words stringing forth like a midnight melody, low and lilting. His eyes went a shade that was darker than Hansel's soft brown, dark enough to be black. He closed the gap between them once more, slinking close so he could breathe gently into Hansel's ear. "Why, Hansel, I'm your shadow."

The boy pulled away and Hansel's eyes locked with his, their lines of sight perfectly aligned. This simple act should have been difficult for Hansel to perform, after all, he was looking at the face he despised the most in the world—his face. But the eyes watching him were not the same. This boy didn't have Hansel's eyes. Hansel's eyes were diffident, dispirited; the boy's were bold and frivolous. Hansel's eyes were courageless, but his were full of daring. Hansel always appeared lost, as though he was struggling and failing to fit himself in places he didn't belong. On the other hand, this boy was vividly, unapologetically in the present. He belonged wherever he wanted to.

"Wh-what?" stuttered Hansel, half disturbed by what the boy had declared earlier, half distracted by the blazing intensity in his eyes.

"You heard me," said the boy, his smile rictus. He spoke slowly, rolling out words one by one, as though he believed he was teaching a dim-witted child how to repeat after him. "I. Am. Your. Shadow."

Even spoken a second time Hansel found the statement unbelievable. "People's shadows cannot come alive."

"Hansel's shadow can."

"Shadows cannot take human form," he insisted.

"Hansel's shadow is special."

"Why would it be?"

"Who knows?" mused the boy, cocking his head sideways, appraising Hansel the same way one would appraise his meal. He looked like he was about to have a feast. "Maybe the weight of Hansel's sins is so heavy, it put life into his own shadow, creating me. Maybe the universe wants to see you face the consequences of your crimes."

Hansel fell silent. He had to muster a lot of strength to speak again. "Is that true?" Was this boy really the product of his sins? His thoughts were thick, lumping together like stones inside his head. "Then, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The boy wasn't smiling anymore. He crept closer to Hansel, the way a predator would advance upon its prey, and this time Hansel was too distressed and unfocused to try and keep his distance. "I, your shadow, am here to ruin your life," the boy proclaimed, stopping two feet away from Hansel. "I will dash your hopes to the ground. I will destroy your dreams. I will tear your life to pieces right before your eyes. I'll take away everything you have and everything you love. All your nights shall be restless, filled with woe. I'll make your food taste like ash. I'll make you wish—"

"Fine," mumbled Hansel, turning away. He had listened enough. He was leaving.

"Fine?" the boy called after him, sounding incredulous. "Is that all you have to say?"

Hansel kept walking away. Not even a second had passed before he felt something coil around his wrist tightly. Hansel could take a guess at what it was. The next moment, the shadow ribbon spun him around by his wrist so fast he nearly tripped. Just like that he was facing the boy again.

"I say I'm going to ruin your life and all you have to say is fine?" The boy made it sound like he had been in the middle of a nice party and Hansel had just crashed it. "What kind of response is that? Shouldn't you be terror-stricken? Shouldn't you be protesting your fate or begging for mercy—"

"I said I don't mind," said Hansel, interrupting the boy again. His voice was toneless. Truly uncaring. He tried to shake the shadow ribbon off his wrist, but it clung on obstinately, its other end safely secured in the boy's hand. "Do as you please."

The boy looked stumped, but when he opened his mouth to argue again Hansel's cell phone went off in a loud burst of ringtone. He let it ring, keeping his attention on the boy, as though he were waiting for him to issue orders.

"Turn it off already," snapped the boy, clearly annoyed at the untimely interruption.

Hansel fished out his cell phone from his pocket. He checked the screen. MRS. DELANO WITH THE 3 KIDS. Now this was a client.

Hansel wasn't sure what gave him the idea two years ago; maybe he just wanted an excuse to put himself out in the night. One day, on an impulse, he anonymously advertised his number in the city as a person to be contacted in case of night emergencies. His advertisements exclusively consisted of street graffiti, so the amount of calls he's been receiving since then had never ceased to amaze him. Later he'd tried several times to terminate his services, but he just didn't know how to say no to someone who called him in the middle of the night desperate for help.

He tapped the accept button and put the phone against his ear. The first thing he heard was the sound of sobbing.

"Hello?" asked Hansel worried. "Mrs. Delano, are you alright?"

"Something's wrong with Margo," Mrs. Delano gasped between tears, her voice cracking on the other end. "I think she's got a fever. She keeps crying and wheezing. I don’t know what to do."

Margo was Mrs. Delano's baby daughter. Hansel had seen her a couple of times on his previous visits to their house, Mrs. Delano being one of his frequent callers. Hansel didn't mind the calls. Mrs. Delano had a lot on her plate already. She'd been widowed an year ago and now she had to raise three little girls all on her own.

"Have you called the hospital?"

"I did. But they said their ambulance is unavailable."

The hospital staff may have been telling the truth. However it was equally likely that they were lying. Ermo was the only functioning hospital in the entire city of Heart, and they owned a single operative ambulance. The ambulance was reinforced to tolerate attacks by shadows at night, but that didn't mean safety was guaranteed. Hansel had heard stories about shadows being able to hack down steel beams and sunder bricks. Consequently, it had become a common occurrence for ambulance drivers to neglect their duties so they didn't have to face any of that, or to quit their jobs entirely weeks or just days into practicing.

"You have a car, don't you?" Hansel asked calmly.

"Yes."

"Then wait for me. I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Okay."

Hansel hung up and prepared to run when he felt a tug at his wrist. The ribbon was still connected.

"Release me," Hansel told the boy.

The boy gave him a blank-eyed stare. "Why?"

"Somebody needs my help."

"Like you have the right to help anyone."

The boy had spoken flatly, but to Hansel it felt like he had been stabbed with an ice blade. He moved his lips, but nothing came out—he had nothing to say.

The boy gave him a cold, calculative look, then unwound the ribbon from around his wrist. "Well, go ahead. I'm curious to see what you'll do."

The moment the ribbon withdrew Hansel turned and raced down the slippery stairs of the building, partly because he wanted to get to Mrs. Delano as quickly as possible, partly because he wanted to get away from the boy on the roof. Mrs. Delano's house was just a few blocks away. Running there directly would be faster than going back to his own house to get his car. The boy pursued him down the stairs until they emerged out of the nondescript building.

"Do you think you should be running?" the boy asked condescendingly. "You're covered in blood—which is disgusting—and you look about ready to faint."

"I don't faint."

"Sure you don't," scoffed the boy. Then, almost slyly, "want to make a bet?"

Stuttered silence.

"So who was that on the phone?" the boy demanded, sprinting beside Hansel with ease.

Hansel gave no answer.

"Fine. Don't tell me,” said the boy. He cleared his throat. "I have a few things to tell you as the future destroyer of your life. First, do you know my name?"

No reply.

"Do you?"

The boy jostled Hansel from the side. "Just ask me if you don't. Hey, ask me!"

The street bifurcated. Hansel veered sharply to his left, his breathing heavy. "Fine. What is your name?"

The boy clapped his hands once and announced proudly, "I do not have a name."

Hansel was unimpressed.

"Which means," continued the boy, his body moving in synchrony with Hansel's. "I give you the honour of naming me."

"I'm not interested."

Whatever fell out of the boy's mouth sounded like a trap. The idea of naming this uncanny boy he met on an uncanny night was as appealing to Hansel as the idea of signing a contract with the devil. He had a feeling that he'd be the one with the regrets in the end.

The boy fell silent then, seemingly discouraged by Hansel's steady indifference. It didn't take long after that for them to reach the Delanos's place. Hansel wheezed as he stumbled up the steps of the pleasant-looking house, breathless from running. He could already hear the baby wailing in pain inside. The front door was ajar and Mrs. Delano appeared behind it when she heard Hansel on the steps. She had Margo swaddled in her arms, her face marred with worry, but the moment she caught sight of Hansel at her doorstep visible relief washed over her features.

"You're here." There were tears in her eyes. "Thank God."

Hansel extended his hand towards her. "The car keys."

She handed them over.

"Get in the car. I'll drive you to the hospital." Hansel unlocked the doors of the beat-up car parked in the porch. He looked over at Mrs. Delano. "You're sure about this, aren't you? Going out at night is risky. You could lose your life."

Mrs. Delano gave him a small smile. "You know, there's a rumour going around the city that it's safer to drive with you at night than travel in an armoured vehicle."

No wonder, thought Hansel, opening the driver's side door and sliding into the seat. He'd already blacked out all the ads he'd sprayed onto the street walls, but the number of SOS calls he's been receiving just kept hitting new peaks. Of course, not all of those requests were within his power to satisfy, but he did his best.

He'd barely sat down when he became aware of the boy sitting shotgun. His eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

The boy had forgone his crown at some point, so he was now sitting in complete darkness. When he grinned, Hansel only registered a flash of white. "I'm your shadow. I'm supposed to follow you wherever you go."

Hansel didn't have time for this. He twisted around to see if Mrs. Delano had settled down. The baby was panting lightly. Hansel could feel her struggling for breath, cradled in Mrs. Delano’s tense arms. He turned the key in the ignition. "Let’s go."

He hit the gas.

Buildings raced past them like a chain of locomotives. Hansel was driving as fast as he could, keeping his eyes peeled for any shadows waiting in the dark to pounce on them. He'd had to undergo frequent ambushes when he'd first started out on this job, but the attacks grew less and less in number as days passed, until it practically became a rarity. That didn't mean he could let his guard down.

Across him, the boy started humming the tunes of an old classic.

"Who's that?" asked Mrs. Delano startled, late to notice the extra passenger.

"Someone I know," said Hansel, because he didn't want to alarm her more by telling her the truth.

Not even a single shadow showed up to delay them on the way. Hansel found it suspicious, but he wasn't complaining. In no time, the car had arrived at the hospital—a rectangular behemoth of steel and glass looming over them. The word ERMO was lit up in red neon light at the very top of the building. Mrs. Delano rushed into the lobby of the hospital with her daughter the moment the car stopped moving.

Both Hansel and the boy got out of the car at the same time. Hansel meant to follow Mrs. Delano into the hospital, but the boy had no such plans. He slid atop the bonnet of the car and leaned back against the windshield, his head tilted back as though he were checking out the stars. Hansel left him to it.

Time had gone way past one in the morning when Mrs. Delano returned. Margo was not with her, but she was looking so much better than before. Hansel had started to doze off himself while waiting in the lobby, but his eyes flew open when he heard Mrs. Delano approach him.

"The doctor said everything's fine," she said, although she seemed slightly shaken. "He thinks she must have had an allergic reaction to something she ate. It could have been bad if we hadn’t gotten her to the hospital, though. Way bad. But she got help right on time, thanks to you. Hansel, I’m so grateful for your help."

"It's good to hear that she’s fine," said Hansel sincerely, although hearing Mrs. Delano thank him made him want to squirm.

“The doctor thinks it might be best if Margo stays here tonight,” she said. “So I’ll be staying here too.”

“That’s fine.” Hansel extended her car keys to her. “I’ll be going back now.”

“No. Stay. It will be dangerous out there. Wait until sunrise.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly, still trying to hand her the keys.

“No, no. I think you should stay.” She noticed Hansel’s adamant expression. “But if you really insist on going you should at least leave in a car. Take my car. You will have more protection that way.”

Hansel put the keys in her hands. “Thanks for worrying about me. But I really will be fine.”

He headed for the exit. He had made it out of the building when she caught up with him again. “Wait. I didn’t even pay you for the ride.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” said Hansel. “I used your car.”

“But you risked your life to help us!” She tried to push a folded note of currency into his hand. “How can I let you leave empty handed?”

"It's supposed to be volunteer work," said Hansel. He had an aversion to people wanting to pay him money. "If I accepted money, it won’t be volunteering anymore."

“Oh don’t,” said Mrs. Delano. She had a no-nonsense, determined look on her face. “You are not going to refuse my car and my money.” She kept persisting until in the end Hansel gave in and just took the cash.

"Thank you again for helping us. Thank you so very much."

"You're welcome," Hansel replied politely, although there was a hollowness edging his voice. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, guilt gnawing at his insides. Would lovely Mrs. Delano feel like thanking him if she knew about what he did?

“Are you both done?” a new voice asked from behind. Darkness parted to reveal the boy from before. Hansel grew tense. Hadn’t he left already?

Mrs. Delano’s eyes flitted between Hansel and the boy in astonishment. "Hansel, you never told me you had a twin brother."

"I don't."

Mrs. Delano frowned. "But he looks just like you." She scrutinised the boy. "What's your name?"

"Ask Hansel," said the boy astutely.

"He has no name." Hansel told the truth.

Mrs. Delano's frown deepened. Maybe she thought Hansel didn't want to give out the boy's name; after all, Hansel's own name had been hard-won, something only very few of his clients had managed to coax out of him. But then, a sudden, knowing smile lit up her eyes. "I see. You two brothers must be having a fight. I've got twins too. I know what it's like." Now that Margo was out of danger, she seemed to be radiating with positivity. "Don't worry. Things will turn out fine between the two of you."

Hansel doubted it, but he made no comment.

After exchanging their final goodbyes Hansel set off for home, the boy tagging him in the shadows. Hansel wanted him to stop following him but he was certain there was nothing he could do to make that happen.

On his way, Hansel paused to inspect his wounds under the light of a streetlamp. They'd all stopped bleeding on their own a little while ago. He didn't know if it was a peculiarity of the shadows or a peculiarity of him: shadow-inflicted wounds on his body never tended to bleed for long no matter how severe they were. It sure was a convenience.

He was about to move on when, all of sudden, something strange caught his attention.

He was standing under direct light from the streetlamp, but he had no shadow.

Hansel went still. Where there should have been a Hansel-shaped puddle of darkness on the pavement by his feet, there was nothing. It seemed like his body was letting all of that light pass right through, as though he were a boy made of glass.

"I told you, didn't I?" said the boy in a hushed voice, like he was uttering a secret wish. "But you just wouldn't believe."

Hansel's lips twitched. So the boy had actually told him the truth? Was he really his shadow come alive?

“I told you,” repeated the boy, his tone challenging.

Hansel pursed his lips. He started walking again, wanting to get back to his house as soon as possible, where he could take apart and make sense of this mess in peace. It must be sleep-deprivation, he reasoned, making him see things. Everything should go back to normal by tomorrow—or as normal as it could get in Heart City.

By the time he reached his house he was practically dragging his feet. There was light in his bedroom window. He must have forgotten to turn off his desk lamp before he went out. He walked inside his house and was about to close the front door after him when the boy spoke again.

"Don't close the door."

Hansel halted mid-motion.

"Invite me in," said the boy, his eyes like twin voids—fathomless. He had one of his hands on the door to keep Hansel from closing it all the way.

"Why should I?"

"Because I can't come in unless you do."

Sweet, thought Hansel.

It was a good thing that the boy couldn't come in. It was good that one more mystery about the shadows had been solved. So this must have been the reason behind the shadows's inability to enter human residences even though they were so powerful.

His whole body was sagging against the door with exhaustion. All he wanted to do was throw himself across a bed and sleep. The boy was still standing at the door, waiting for an answer. Hansel gave him a blank look.

"They say it's dangerous to invite strangers in," said Hansel. Then he shut the door and turned the lock.