Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Petals of spilled wine blossoming forevermore under a sky caught between dusk’s teeth. A sea of crimson singing in memoriam just beneath the wind. And there, ahead of me, him.

Silver hair, entwined in moonlit thread, swaying with each step he took. Bare feet brushing through flowers that trembled beneath his touch. The field stretched on. Endless. Unwavering. Yet I knew, somehow, we were going somewhere.

Then, the field of crimson bled onto obsidian. The sky arched into vaulted ceilings where old parchment and floral fragrance drifted through the air.

The library stood as it had always been there, its towering shelves swallowed by black ivy, its crystal floors cracked open by roots. Moonlight fell in shafts through broken stained glass, painting the dust in shades of sapphire and gold. And still he was there, waiting.

Strands catching the light like spider silk, framing features I couldn’t quite catch. My eyes failed to focus, leaving his face a void. Still, he was silent.

But this time, he held something in his marred hands.

A book.

Old leather, soft as skin, its edges gilded with tarnished gold. He pressed it into my palms—no hesitation, no ceremony. It was as unceremonious as it could be, the leather nearly slipping through my fingers before I remembered to tighten my grip.

Beneath my fingertips, something pulsed. A heartbeat. Or maybe it was just my own, clawing at my chest. Pressed into the spine, a single red dahlia. Its petals were perfectly preserved, sealed into skin with a reverence that told me it had meant a great deal to someone. Perhaps it still did.

My own shaking hands peeled away at the edges of the paper, scared to leave a single crease as its pages fell open. Blurred words scribbled among the pages, nothing legible, nothing meant for me to see.

I ran my finger along it, smudging the ink as I realized it was fresh. My eyes fell to the stain on my finger, then, the world unstitched itself.

Shelves slumped inward, their ancient tomes bleeding ink as the words inside them crawled free, pooling black and glossy on the floor. The windows wept color, streaks of crimson sliding down the walls. Even the air grew thick, syrupy, like the air itself was melting.

Rain.

Cold. Sharp. Sudden. It flooded through the collapsing library as the night rushed in. The same starless sky that had cradled me as the ground fell beneath my feet. Petrichor flooded my senses. My knees hit wet gravel.

This night.

The edge. The water below me reflecting the lights of the valley in front of me like drowned stars.

No. I’d already left. I’d already…

The book slipped from my hands, its pages fluttering open like wings before the rain soaked them through, turning them to pulp. The spine peeled and the dahlia freed itself from its cage. Crimson petals scattering in the wind, each one a drop of wine swallowed by the dark.

My hands moved before my brain could. I reached for the last petal against that inky backdrop.

And fell.

The ground fractured like a mirror, the shards slicing past me as I plunged into the abyss. Cold and unforgiving. Constellations unravel into streaks of light that lead nowhere. The rain became static. The static became a song that buried itself in my soul.

Then impact.

Not hard. Not soft. Just…final. A seed carried on the breeze to find new soil.

—

My knees hit the pavement, cold and wet. Not rain nor water. Something thick and crimson clinging to the cracks in the concrete, coating my fingers like warm syrup when I braced myself. Mine? It was a shame I didn’t have the foresight to wear something more protective than shorts. Clearly, I should have accounted for not actually dying.

Energy sparked through the air as the sound of electricity hummed around me. Buildings caved me in on either side, allowing only a jagged slit of neon caressing the sky. A billboard flickered through the gap, Linkon City’s Top Dealership, proudly displaying a car that definitely didn’t exist in 2025. The ad stuttered, glitched, then reset.

My nose twitched as my brows furrowed. A suffocating, hot feeling flooded over my chest.

Beep. A sound so mundane and normal it was…ridiculous in this context.

My eyes narrowed on the alley mouth. Shadows moved across the dimly lit wall as my ears trained in on the heavy thudding of boots hitting hungry pavement.

I tensed, having half the mind to look for an escape. My eyes landed on exactly that, a fire escape. Option one. Option two—

A blur of blonde streaked past me.

The gunshot rang out, sending vibrations through my bones. I flinch hard enough to bite my tongue, spinning around to face her.

Her knee was planted on a twitching Wanderer’s back, pressing her pistol to the back of its exposed weak spot as she delivered the final blow. The Wanderer dissolved like a shadow under light, its remains floating away into the night.

Her locs swayed around her waist as she turned to me, brown eyes meeting mine when recognition flooded over me. Her outfit and gun told me that this…this was the game’s MC. Not the MC I played as, but a version I had drawn recently. Dark brown skin, cat-like eyes…the gap between her front teeth when her lips curled into a smile.

“Sorry if that scared you,” she said, holstering her pistols with a practiced flick. “Wasn’t expecting to be on duty tonight, but… Wanderers have no concept of overtime.”

Her voice was warmer than I’d imagined. Lighter too.

Then her eyes dropped to the mess of crimson soaking my knees, and her face changed. I’d never seen someone cycle through emotions so fast.

A sharp inhale, lips pressed thin as if she was bracing for bad news, then her hands twitched towards me before she decided to move.

She dropped to a crouch in front of me, clean leather boots stepping into the blood without hesitation. “Okay, okay.” Her shaky exhale blew gently across my bangs. “We’re going to be so calm about this and see if you can stand.”

I nodded slightly in response, still racking my mind to figure out what exactly was happening.

She helped me up, her grip firm under my elbows. Up close, I could see the frayed edges of her skirt and the chipped polish on her nails. That was too real. Much too real.

“You’re shaking,” she mumbled, the tone reminding me of someone who just found a small, scared animal.

She shrugged off her jacket before I could protest or insist I was fine, wrapping it around my waist to cover the stains. “There. Good enough until we can get you some medical assistance.” Her eyes trailed up to my face, smiling wider with that toothy grin. “I like your hair. It’s like mine.”

I pause, my head tilting a centimeter to the right as I let out a chuckle. “Yeah,” I deadpanned, holding up my pasty white forearm next to her umber skin. “I bet we could switch clothes and no one would ever know. We’re practically twins.”

She snorted, flicking a loc over her shoulder. “Please. You’d drown in this skirt. But—” Her fingers closed around mine, and the world split open.

The visions came in fragments, words overlaid as if they were torn out of a book. A mix of natures past, hers and mine. Arguing with Caleb when he didn’t do the dishes on time so she could mark it down in her list of grievances. A dark room with a worn, empty dog bed and the faint glow of a phone screen. Then the visions began to blur to the point that the only thing I could make out was a mess of colors melting into each other.

She ripped her hand away like I’d burned her, eyes narrowing in what I assumed was fear and curiosity. “What kind of Evol is that?”

“I…” I blinked up at her blankly before staring down at my palm. My fingers buzzed with residual energy, the same as hers. The same frequency. Resonance. Something that should be impossible. I had no Evol. I shouldn’t even reside in this world.

“Who are you?”

Her voice had changed. The playful lit was gone, replaced by the cold precision of a hunter assessing a threat. I watched her fingers twitch toward her holster. Not drawing yet, only flirting with the idea of it.

“Rain,” I said, my name tasting strange on my tongue. Like an admission of guilt. I shake my head as I speak. “I’ve never had an Evol. I don’t know what that was.”

The sharp intake of breath through her teeth sounded almost like a whistle. When she finally moved, it was to shake her head slowly. Thankfully and unthankfully, not to pull the trigger. “You’re going to be trouble.” A pause. Then softer, with a sense of awe at the realization. “You’re…what I saw. You’re not from here?”

It wasn’t quite a question. Moreso, it seemed like she was piecing together a puzzle, and she was doing it flawlessly. “Yes,” I confirmed. My throat tightened around the next words, struggling to move them onto my tongue. “I’m supposed to be dead.” A beat. I watched something flicker behind her eyes. “Then somehow I woke up here and… I—well, I was supposed to be dead.”

Her slender hand rose between us, not reaching, just telling me to pause. “Okay. We don’t know how we got here.” Her head tilted, eyes lit up with something dangerously close to delight. “Willow.” Her name. She held her thumb and forefinger in a frame position as she studied me. “Yep. Definitely alien freak material.”

Her hand dropped, but the mischief didn’t. “Good thing I collect strays. I’ll put you in a jar.” She mimed shaking something, like a snow globe. “Watch you swirl around all mysterious-like.”

I let out an awkward sigh, a poor attempt at a laugh. “Yeah, you should not be trusted with any living thing.”

“Too late.” She plucked at the sleeve of her jacket, still tied around my waist. “Already put my claim on you.”

My eyes scanned the sleeve, watching it slip between her fingers. “Right. Because we’re in the omegaverse.” I deadpanned.

“The what?”

“The…” I paused, my mouth falling open slightly. “Actually.” I look up at her, smiling nervously. “I can’t explain that one. Too much lore.”

“Sure…” Willow said, high-pitched, a bit condescending in her tone. She rocked back on her heels, that usual grin falling back on her face after the confusion went away. “First rule of being an alien freak. You have to be well fed.” She snapped her fingers. “Second rule. You’re buying.”

I blinked, face falling. My hands moved to intertwine in front of my mouth in a hasty prayer position. With feigned dramatics, I cried out. “Is this my punishment for making niche references that don’t exist here? Am I already going into debt? Am I meant to slave my life away?”

“Yes!” Willow winked, already grabbing my arm and dragging me along toward the alley mouth. “I am so generously fronting you some credits. At a reasonable interest.”

“Define reasonable.” I sighed, shaking my head.

Her fingers clamped tightly around my wrist, in what I assumed was out of excitement. “Fifty percent APR,” she chirped, bringing me into the soft glow of the Linkon streets.

“Fif—” I paused, digging my heels in. “Fif—what. Fifty percent?”

“It’s a very reasonable rate.”

“That’s literally— you’re literally a loan shark. Oh my god you’re gonna kill me.” I look away dramatically, putting a quiver on my voice. “You’re gonna kill me and sell me for parts.”

Willow gasped, pressing a hand to her chest with equal dramatics. “Sell you for parts? Rain, baby, please.” She patted my cheek with her free hand. “You’re clearly grade-A interdimensional contraband. I’d auction you.”

“Right, because that makes me feel so much better.” A long sigh fell from my lips, swaying into her shoulder to stumble her. “The world is so dangerous here, even my savior is out to get me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Willow finally released my wrist from her sturdy grip. Her arm slung around my shoulders, steering me toward a dingy storefront with a sign that simply read “Noodles???” in glowing letters. “Tell you what. Since you’re such a whiny little debtor—”

“Why are we going to a place that’s not even aware they make noodles?”

“—I’ll knock it down to forty-five percent if you let me name your firstborn.”

I choked. “What.”

Willow held up three slender fingers. “Current top contenders: Bartholomew. Sparkle, short for Bartholomew. Or…” Her grin turned something feral. “Interest.”

The noodle shop door slid open with a wheeze, releasing a cloud of steam that smelled like soy sauce and garlic.

“Yeah, alright. You’re delusional. Where’d they find you, the asylum?”

She gasped hard. “Excuse you—” A beat. Then, with terrifying sincerity. “The proper term is ‘high-security psychiatric retreat.’ And for your information,” she added, steering me towards a booth in the corner, “they didn’t find me. I escaped.”

The booth’s vinyl seat stuck to my thighs as I slumped into it. Across the table, Willow flopped backward with the grace of a thrown ragdoll. “Yeah, you look the type.” I said blankly.

She waved a hand. “Yeah, details, details. The point is—” She raised her hand to call over a server. “—I have excellent survival instincts.” A young woman came over and I watched as she placed an order of noodles for the both of us. Which was for the best, I didn’t know if I could handle trying to decide from a million options at the moment.

The server walked away with our order and Willow turned her mischievous grin back on me. “Which is why you’re my new retirement plan.”

I sighed and threw my head back against the booth, sliding down the seat. “And how am I going to do that exactly?”

“You’re like a psychic piggy bank.” She grabbed a pair of chopsticks and cracked them open. “Those visions? Premium intel. You showed me three separate disasters that haven’t happened yet.” She pointed the chopsticks at me. “So. Options.”

Willow held up a finger on her free hand for each point.

“One. You crash on my couch, do your ‘mystical oracle’ thing for me, and we find a way to profit off it and split it seventy-thirty.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes pointedly. “Excuse me?”

“Two. I don’t tell the Association about the whole ‘weird alien from another dimension’ thing, and you…” She squinted. “Do my dishes? I’m improvising here.”

The third finger hovered, then, slowly, curled back down. “Mm…no, that’s it. I’m open to negotiation.”

The server silently came back to the table, placing two mismatched bowls of steaming noodles before us. I grabbed my own chopsticks and cracked them open before swirling them in the broth. I took a few moments, silently thinking.

Realistically, it was better to let Willow believe I was some weird seer or something of the sort. That was much easier to explain than attempting to tell someone they were a video game character.

My eyes trailed over Willow’s frame as she stuffed her face with noodles. “I need to know where we are in this timeline first.” I said slowly. “How’s Caleb? Would you say he’s…6 feet above or…you know…under?”

Chapter Text

The couch springs groaned under my weight as I shifted, the thin blanket tangled too tight around my legs without providing the proper weight to keep me settled. The discomfort of the makeshift bed beneath me was just annoying enough to keep me too spiteful to even consider sleeping. Not that I slept during the night regardless.

Willow’s apartment was quiet. Suffocatingly so. The only sound that filtered through the home was the distant buzzing of an air conditioner and the muffled sounds of snoring from beyond her bedroom door.

I exhaled, rolling onto my back, the fabric of the couch sticking to my skin. The air was thick, but not with heat. It was just…heavy. A pressure, a pull, a lure.

My hand reached up to the ceiling lazily, letting gravity press on my nerves. I stared at the ceiling through my fingers. Digging into the plaster were tiny cracks, a few spread against the vast expanse. One. Two. Three…

Cold.

A shudder wracked my body, sudden and violent. My breath stopped, sharp, wet. The taste of copper flooded my mouth. I coughed. Blood spattered across my palm.

My eyes trained on the crimson drops, blurring in and out of focus. A single blink, and the apartment poured into starless sky.

Pain, white-hot and searing, erupting from my chest. My knees hit the ground first, then my hands. The gravel bit into my skin, sharp and unrelenting. Blood dripped from my lips splattering against the rocks like ink on parchment.

The side of my face pressed into the wet earth, the chill of it seeping into my bones. My vision blurred at the edges, tunneling into a single, fragile point. A sapling, barely more than a twig, acting taller than it is despite its leaves trembling in the wind. And beneath it, nestled in the dirt, a single red poppy bent at the stem. Cradled. Sheltered. Safe, but not unbroken.

Letters began to appear one by one across my vision, like text overlaid on a screen. The words were written slowly, delicately, one by one.

The poppy cried out as a petal was ripped from its core by the cruel wind, its voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be scattered to the wind soon...”

The sapling shuddered in response, its fragile branches straining against the gale.

“I will catch you.”

Another petal tore free. Then another. The poppy’s stem bent further, its vibrant red fading at the edges. The letters came faster now, ink spilling across the sapling.

”Every piece. Every 𓎲. However far the wind takes you—”

My mind startled but my body lay motionless, watching as an eye formed in the ink, covering the words.

The poppy’s last petal clung desperately before surrendering to the storm. The sapling’s roots dug deeper, branches spreading to surround the poppy’s fallen core.

”I will 𓎲𓎲.”

Two eyes now, steady, unblinking. Something beyond, something that stared past the story, past the illusion, and locked its gaze directly on me.

My breath hitched.

The eyes narrowed, assessing, before disappearing completely.

Then, firm hands came to rest over my eyes with a reverent touch. A voice, distorted beyond recognition, whispered against the shell of my ear.

“Skipping books already? Did you get bored?”

A thumb brushed my temple, slow, tauntingly so.

“Fine.” An exasperated, rather dramatic sigh. “Let’s start simpler.”

For a moment, there was only darkness. Then, the hands lifted from my face. They left behind a phantom warmth of their touch.

I blinked. Blinked again.

The library had unfolded around me once more. This time, only, it was different.

The shattered stained glass had reformed, casting fractured patterns of light across the floor. The broken shelves stood whole again, and at the center of it all, where the crystal floors had split open, a massive tree now rose. It was rather wide, and its branches stretched through the vaulted ceiling and beyond to hold the very sky in place.

Crimson petals drifted down from its boughs, catching in my hair, sticking to my skin like drops of wine.

I reached out, and one petal dusted across my palm before swirling away on an unfelt breeze. It drifted toward the shelves, drawing my gaze to rows upon rows of leather-bound books. In this section, each spine was imprinted with the same flower.

My fingers itched to touch them, to trace the embossed petals. My fingers began to move forward, when suddenly I felt a presence behind me. A hand shot out from the left, catching my wrists.

“Ah-ah.” The voice was amused, almost teasing. Still, it filtered through my ears and processed as a distorted noise even with the clear tone. “Not that one.”

I startled, whipping my head toward the speaker only for another hand to cup my chin and gently turn my face forward again. Warm fingers guided mine to a different book, pressing my palm flat against its spine.

“Here.”

Then—nothing. The presence vanishes as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only the ghost of its warmth behind.

Letting out a puff of air through my nose, I pulled the book from the shelf. The flower on its spine was unfamiliar and delicate. Layered petals in shades of pink. Almost like a rose mixed with…something else. Flowers were not my specialty.

The moment I gently peeled open the book, the scent of old paper and something fairly floral rose from the pages. The first line was written in elegant, looping cursive.

Begonia class. For tales of caution.

I turned the page.

The handwriting changed abruptly, shifting into something tilted and inconsistent. Something familiar. It looked like…

I let my thoughts trail off and began to read.

The memory of the noodle shop flooded back.

Willow’s fingers digging into my forearm, nails threatening to break skin. Her eyes were wide and desperate.

“What do you mean Caleb’s going to die?” The way her voice had cracked on his name, the way her grip had tightened like she could physically wrench the truth out of me.

I’d told her the truth. Caleb was going to die. An explosion.

“You’re going to tell me how to stop it,” she’d said, like it was going to be easy.

And I’d agreed to tell her once I knew how to stop it, just to get her hands off me.

But now, staring at the book in my hands…

Caleb needs to die.

Petals rustled forward and blew the book closed on their own will. I reached the conclusion this place wanted.

My fingers twitched around the book as the library unravelled around me.

I blinked.

The ceiling cracks stared back at me. One. Two. Three.

My hand was still raised, fingers splayed against the dark expanse of Willow’s apartment. The blanket was tangled around my legs, the couch springs creaking under my weight.

Willow might kill me.

I sat up too fast, vision swimming as a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My heart pounded erratically against my ribs before slowly, ever slowly, settling into something slightly steadier. I pressed my palms against my knees and exhaled slowly, waiting for the world to stop tilting.

Okay. New Plan.

If I lead her to Caleb’s death without preventing it…I would need a way to survive in this world without depending on Willow. Being an undocumented interdimensional traveler was going to make things rather difficult.

Xavier.

The other “alien freak” in this game. One who just happens to have access to many forged identities. He and Jeremiah could easily whip me up a new identity.

But getting his trust? That was the problem. Considering Willow didn’t know about the identities yet, approaching him for such a thing would be nearly impossible. And the second I broke Willow’s trust…that identity would disappear faster than I could blink.

I slumped back against the couch, letting my eyes close.

So, back to square one.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair to fix my wavy bangs as I weighed my other options.

The N109 Zone.

The name alone sent a prickle of unease down my spine for more reason than one. A lawless stretch of the city where the Association’s influence withered to nothing…if I could slip in unnoticed and find some dirty work, I could disappear there.

But disappearing required surviving first.

And surviving the N109 Zone meant being able to fight. Or at least not die immediately. The later I was good at, apparently. The former…if I was going to be honest about it, I hadn’t fought anyone since I was a kid on the playground trying to befriend. Useless. Especially against the violence of guns, Evols, and trained bounty hunters and assassins.

I would last just long enough to take a single step in the city and nothing more.

The only person who could shield me from the dangerous city and the association was…

Sylus.

The thought settled like a stone in my gut. If I could somehow earn his favor, or at least his tolerance, I would have a shot.

But again, there was a flaw in that thinking.

I was not the MC. Sylus didn’t do favors for strangers, only transactions that would benefit him. The second he sensed I was a risk to Willow’s well being or happiness?

Well.

Dragons weren’t known for their mercy.

I let my head hang over the back of the couch, eyes still closed as I felt the moonlight shining on my face through the balcony window.

No papers. No skills. No long-term allies.

Just me and the stories in my head. Again.

I let out a slow breath, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes until colors burst behind my eyelids.

Would it be possible to convince him somehow?

The question hung in the air, absurd and desperate. Sylus wasn’t just loyal, he was entirely devoted. A dragon who would raze entire city blocks on MC’s—Willow’s—word alone. Compared to her, I was a stranger. A liability. A walking, talking loose end with no leverage and no way to prove I was worth keeping around.

At least, if I were to die, the best option would be to die at Sylus’s hands.

It would be quick. Efficient. A one sided twisted and beautiful poem that only I would see.

I froze.

…Okay, that is a deranged thought to have.

Still. Would I just be wasting this life if I didn’t at least try to see him?

The N109 Zone lingered in my thoughts. Dangerous, but a possibility nonetheless. If I could just get there, find some way to prove my value before the wolves chewed me up.

I stopped.

No. That was just forcing it. What right did I even have to see him? He was a real person now, after all. It didn’t feel right to try and fabricate some interaction with him for my personal gain.

I would just have to drop it for now, and focus on what I could control. Primarily, what I was going to tell Willow.

I opened my eyes, head still draped over the back of the couch. My gaze fell to the balcony window behind me, moonlight shimmering along the railing.

Then, a shadow moved.

A sleek, metallic shape perched on the railing, its glassy eyes catching the soft glow of the city.

My entire body stilled as my eyes landed directly on his. Red, glowing. My heart dropped to my stomach, lips pressed into a light pout as I attempted to discern what brought that little beast here.

It was nearly 3am. Willow was long asleep in the other room. There was a window to her room for Sylus to keep an eye on her. Why was Mephisto staring at me instead? Unless…I was being assessed as a threat.

Mephisto tilted his head as he studied me with an eerie, calculated stillness.

I didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. I just stared at him, wide eyed, until I felt tears forming in my eyes. They blurred my vision, turning Mephisto’s sharp edges into smudged streaks of moonlight and shadow. My chest ached with something stupid and childish. Longing. Relief.

Real.

And he was watching me.

I whipped my head forward, tearing my gaze away from Mephisto before the dam could break completely. The sudden movement sent my bangs tumbling across my vision.

What an irrational desire to have.

The whisper of metal feathers brushing together filled the air, bringing me to focus back on the bird.

I stood up abruptly, the blanket pooling around my ankles. I glanced down at my attire, becoming too aware of what I was wearing. No binder, just Willow’s oversized shirt swallowing my frame.

It felt humiliating. I looked exactly like what I was—a stray yanked off the streets.

Taking in a shaky inhale, I shuffled toward the balcony door, then crouched down with my knees pulled tight to my chest. A poor shield, but better than nothing. The glass was cool against my fingertip as I pressed it lightly, right where Mephisto’s beak was an inch away from it.

“You’re a cute little thing,” I murmured, voice thick.

The mechanical bird tilted his head, well hidden gears whirring.

A stupid question bubbled up before I could stop it. “Is he treating you well over there?”

Idiot.

I glanced down, feeling a frown take over my face as the words left my mouth. I’d just revealed I knew much more than a random stranger should. Now I’d be branded as a bigger threat than I had been before.

Mephisto’s eyes flickered, processing. Then, to my shock, he hopped closer to allow for his beak to tap once against the window. A soft click right where my finger rested.

A response?

I tilted my head at the bird, brows furrowing in curiosity as I studied his form. I was at a loss for words, a loss for thoughts.

Mephisto tapped the glass again, more insistent. His red eyes bore into mine, unblinking.

I bit the inside of my lip, my throat felt tight. Did he…want me to open the door?

Slowly, I reached for the latch, my fingers trembling. The moment the seal broke, the night air rushed in. Cold. Sharp. Carrying the faint scent of rain and something metallic. Mephisto didn’t move, still sitting on the balcony, watching.

Then, he spread his wings.

My heart dropped to my stomach, half-expecting him to fly off into the night. Instead, he simply adjusted his stance. His gaze never left mine.

A beat passed.

Then another.

I moved to close the door when I was promptly interrupted with a screeching caw.

I flinched, looking at the bird with confusion as my heart pounded in my chest. “...Are you messing with me right now?”

Mephisto’s head tilted again. It felt almost playful.

A scoff left my mouth, disbelieving. “You are.”

The bird let out a grating chirp. His voice was never the most pleasant, even in game, but he was a crow, not a dove. His voice wasn’t meant to be pretty.

I pressed my lips together, holding back a pout. I was torn between irritation and something dangerously close to fondness. “You’re worse than him.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Mephisto went still.

I was really good at knowing how to keep my mouth shut. This was just an off day.

Mephisto’s eyes flickered, the red glow intensifying for a fraction of a second before dimming again. His head tilted as if he meant to reassess me entirely.

My fingers tightened instinctively around the edge of the door.

A loud snap echoed from his beak clacking together. Mephisto hopped forward, one little step at a time, until he was close enough that I could see the intricate seams of his feathers.

Then, he leaned in and nipped my finger.

“Ow—!” I hissed, jerking back. It didn’t hurt, not really, but the audacity of it—

Mephisto let out a low grating noise as he puffed out his chest.

I stared at him, torn between indignation and disbelief. “You little cu—”

The mechanical crow let out a sound suspiciously like a laugh, a sharp, staticky cackle that made his feathers vibrate. He fluffed himself up even more, clearly pleased with himself.

I narrowed my eyes, huffing loudly at him. “What, did he program you to have his biting problem too?”

Mephisto’s eyes flashed crimson at that, his feathers ruffling with clear indignation. He let out a series of rapid, irritated caws. Squawking back at me.

I tensed and held a finger to my lips, panic flashing through my eyes at the sound. “Shh— you’re going to wake up Willow.”

The crow hopped closer, deliberately stomping his talons against the hardwood floor with each step. When he reached close to me, he paused, then with a deliberate slowness, turned his back on me.

I slowly let my hand settle back on the floor, blinking at him. “...Are you…giving me silent treatment?”

A single, dismissive tail feather flick.

I felt my lips curling into a small smile before I could stop myself. “Come on Mephi, I just don’t want you to get caught stalking her.”

Mephisto’s head whipped around so fast I heard the faint whir of gears. His eyes narrowed into slits, the tips of his wings twitching.

Was he offended by the nickname?

I bit the inside of my lip to poorly attempt at holding back my smile. “You should be grateful."

My finger moved to gently tap Mephisto’s head, only for his beak to snap with an audible clack just millimeters from my fingertip.

I yanked my hand back, letting it hover hesitantly in the air. “Biting problem. You’re definitely his.” I whispered, shaking my head. “Sorry for touching. I’ll always ask first from now on.”

Mephisto tilted his head, considering my apology with an unsettlingly human-like intensity. Sylus needed to calm down with the upgrades to his programming.

After a tense moment, Mephisto gave a quite squawk. Then, to my astonishment, he lowered his head just enough to brush the crown of his skull against my still outstretched finger.

The contact lasted barely a second before he pulled away. I felt something bubbling over in my chest. “You should know I feel honored.” I said, hesitantly. “Can I, again?”

Mephisto’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move away. He gave a flick of his wings and tilted his head.

Carefully, I extended my hand again. I waited for him to show signs of disapproval, but he only tilted his head once more.

My fingers made contact with his sleek feathers. The surface was cool and smooth under my touch. I traced the delicate seams between his artificial plumage, silently admiring the craftsmanship.

Mephisto’s head dipped slightly, encouraging me to scratch at the base of his neck.

“Mm,” I hummed, unable to keep the affection from my voice, “all tough and scary until someone finds your sweet spot.”

Mephisto cawed and butted his head against my fingers when I dared to slow my petting. Demanding.

The scene was rather familiar. It reminded me of a card where a certain someone was cursed with cat ears and a tail. I felt like I had just tamed something similar.

I hesitated, fingers still buried in Mephisto’s feathers. “Do you think…there’s a way I could get into the N109 Zone?”

Mephisto went completely still. The playful demanding glint in his crimson eyes faded, replaced by something far more cold and calculative.

Then, without warning, he wrenched himself away from my touch. His wings snapped open, sending a gust of wind rushing past me as he launched into the air.

I stared in disbelief as he vanished into the night sky without so much as a backward glance.

That little bitch.

I sat there on the cold floor, hand still suspended in midair where Mephisto had been just seconds ago. The sudden absence of his weight left my fingers tingling with a strange emptiness.

I let my hand drop into my lap with a sigh, glaring off to the side. As I turned to crawl back onto the couch, something caught my eye. A glint of iridescent black on the floorboards near the balcony door.

Mephisto’s feather?

I scooped it up carefully, running my thumb along its edge with a reverent touch.

I felt challenged.

I curled my fingers around the feather, feeling it press into my palm.

I needed to get in.

I stared at my palm, attempting to recall all the information I knew about Sylus that could give me an upper hand in a negotiation. But the man was too precise. Too calculated. Too knowledgeable.

“Allow me to jog your memory. From your past, to your future, to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit.”

That was the line of someone who knew the future. Or at least, knew parts of it. Meaning, walking into the N109 Zone with ‘future knowledge’ as my bargaining chip was useless at best, suicidal at worst.

But…

My thumb traced the feather’s spine.

Likely, he couldn’t predict a variable that shouldn’t be possible. Shouldn’t exist. A reader who’d fallen into the pages. He couldn’t predict me.

Then again, it was possible I was overthinking it. Forcing it.

Whether he was all-knowing or just dangerously perceptive, the outcome was the same. I needed something more valuable to him than Willow’s word.

A bitter sigh escaped me.

Nothing.

Maybe I should just tell Willow the truth, avoid the situation altogether.

But then I’d risk…

I pushed to my feet, the feather tickling my skin as I pocketed it.

Fine.

If I had nothing to offer, then I’d go with nothing to lose.

The only thing I needed was a plan to get there.

Chapter Text

The first thing I registered was the smell of coffee. Bitter and rich, curling through the air like an insistent finger beckoning me awake. The second was the weight of Mephisto’s feather in my pocket, pressing against my thigh through the thin fabric of my borrowed shorts.

Then came the voice.

“Rise and shine, prophet boy.”

A sharp poke to my ribs.

I huffed, curling tighter into the couch cushions.

Willow’s laugh was bright, too loud for the morning. “Nope! Up. Now.” Another poke, harder this time. “Come on, spill. Did you have any weird dreams? Of the prophetic kind?”

Ah.

Right.

I cracked one eye open, squinting up at her.

Willow was already dressed, her locs pulled into a loose ponytail. It was messy, a few strays of blonde at the front, but it fit her style. She held a mug of coffee clutched in one hand. The other hand hovered threateningly near my ribs, ready to jab again.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to sit up. The world spun momentarily, my vision blurring before settling down. The feather shifted in my pocket.

“Unfortunately,” I said, rubbing at my eyes, “I did.”

Willow’s entire demeanor changed. The teasing glint in her eyes sharpened into something desperate. She leaned forward, face in mine, too close. “About Caleb?”

The lie sat heavy on my tongue, and I let it flow over. “I think so? It wasn’t exactly about him but…I think it’s a clue of some kind.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug. “Tell me.”

I let my gaze drift down to my hands, picking at the dry skin that had begun to peel around my fingers. “There was a place. Somewhere in Linkon probably. I don’t know where, but I could see it clearly. There was something inside that I think could help.”

Willow’s brows furrowed. “That’s it? No address? No name?”

I shook my head then let my gaze fall back on her. “It doesn’t really work like that. It’s more like…impressions. Feelings. Just images.”

I paused, watching her face change as she processed the information. “I was going to go look for it today, alone.”

“Alone?” Her voice pitched higher, her face contorting with confusion. “Why?”

“Because,” I said slowly, firmly, “I was alone in the dream. If you come with me, it might change things. If we deviate, things could go wrong.”

Willow chewed her bottom lip, eyes flickering over my face like she was searching for cracks in the story. I kept my expression carefully calm, remorseful that she couldn’t come with.

Finally, she sighed. “Fine. I have work anyway.” She shoved the coffee into my hands, the hot liquid spilling over slightly and burning my hands as I flinched. Willow leaned in, gripping my shoulder tightly. “Rain. If this is about Caleb…” Her voice wavered, desperate, demanding. “Just find something. Please.”

The guilt bubbled in my throat for a split second before I swallowed it down with ease. I nodded. “I will, don’t worry.”

—

The streets of Linkon swallowed me whole the moment I stepped out of Willow’s apartment building. The city was a living, breathing beast. Signs flickered like heart beats, the hum of traffic thrummed through the pavement beneath my feet. The air smelled of fresh food, exhaust, and something faintly metallic.

I had a destination in mind. Rafayel’s studio.

At least, that was the plan. In practice…

In the game, his studio was tucked away along the coast of Linkon City, Whiteshore Bay. Or…was it Whitesand? The biggest problem I was running into here was my own faulty memory. I knew Sylus’s memories and cards like the back of my hand. Everything besides that…was drifting away faster than I could attempt to latch onto it.

It didn’t help that Linkon, in reality, never had a map in game. And Infold had a habit of reusing backgrounds for many different scenes.

Which meant, there was no way for me to navigate the world.

The streets twisted and forked without warning, alleys bled into main roads, and every corner looked the same yet entirely unfamiliar.

Still, my stubborn determination to find that overgrown fish pushed me forward.

I wandered for what felt like hours, my boots scuffing against the pavement as I squinted at street signs too blurred to read from a distance. This city needed better infrastructure. I had no clue how to get anywhere, and the coast was too far to see from where I was standing.

A group of teenagers brushed past me, their laughter sharp and bright. One of them shot me a curious glance, likely taking in my disheveled waves and the way I kept pausing to scan my surroundings like a lost tourist. Both were accurate descriptions of my current state.

This is fine. This is perfectly fine.

The city seemed to shift around me, rearranging itself every time I turned a corner. The bay remained frustratingly out of reach, like a mirage. A digital billboard overhead flickered, displaying an ad for some high-end tech I didn’t recognize. The time flashed in the corner. 15:47. I easily translated it to 3:47 PM on the 12-hour clock.

Willow would be off work soon.

My feet throbbed with each step, the dull ache radiating up my calves and settling into my knees with unwanted weight. My boots, once comfortable, now felt like leaden traps, rubbing against my swollen ankles with every movement. I winced as I shifted my weight, the sharp sting of a forming blister making itself known on my left heel.

My stomach growled loudly, a hollow, insistent sound. The single cup of coffee Willow had shoved into my hands this morning had long since worn off. I hadn’t eaten since last night’s noodles, and even then, I’d barely managed half the bowl before I nearly started falling asleep at the table.

I didn’t have my medicine in this world.

I paused at a crosswalk, leaning heavily against a lamppost as I massaged my eyes, too sensitive in the bright Linkon sunlight.

The city’s noise pressed in from all sides—honking cars, chattering pedestrians, the distant hum of an overhead metro—each sound grating against my frayed nerves.

My vision swam around the edges, a combination of exhaustion, hunger, and the relentless midday sun beating down on me.

Stupid.

I had no money. No way to buy food if I stumbled upon another restaurant. No way to call Willow for help even if I wanted to. I’d left with nothing but the clothes I had come to this world with and Mephisto’s feather carefully tucked into my pocket like some kind of pathetic good luck charm.

Okay. I wasn’t going to use the word pathetic in reference to Mephisto. That would be cruel of me. He was my little angel that could do no wrong.

I forced myself to move again, each step sending fresh spikes of pain through my soles. I could feel my legs trembling slightly, my muscles protesting the continued abuse. I needed to sit down. Needed to eat. Needed—

A sharp cramp twisted through my stomach, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

It’s fine.

Keep moving.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until colors burst behind my eyelids. The world swayed slightly, my vision swimming at the edges. Exhaustion gnawed at me, sharp and insistent.

That’s when I heard it.

Humming.

Faint at first, so soft I almost dismissed it to just a memory in my head. But memories weren’t audible, and I had no memory of this melody.

I lifted my head.

The sound came from an alleyway to my left. Narrow. Shadowed. The kind of place you’d avoid unless you had a death wish.

I took a hesitant step.

The melody pulled at me, slow and mournful, the sound of a voice I couldn’t place. Familiar all the same. Something that didn’t belong here.

I shouldn’t follow it.

My feet moved.

I stepped into the alley’s mouth, vague protests of impending doom filled my thoughts.

The walls stretched, the brickwork warping like wet paint under a brush. Strokes painting towering trees with smooth, mottled bark that gleamed faintly in the moonlight. Their branches arched overhead in a tangled canopy, leaves echoing a whispered tune.

The air smelled different here. Rich earth flowing into floral, undercut with the metallic tang of blood. My boots sank slightly into damp moss as I took an uneasy step forward, the humid air clinging to my skin.

The tree.

It rose from the forest floor as a silent sentinel, its trunk wide enough that three people couldn’t have encircled it with their arms. The bark was smooth and strangely patterned. Patches of silvery-gray giving way to deep russet, like the skin of some ancient fiend.

Its branches spread wide, heavy with clusters of crimson seeds that glowed faintly in the dim light, each one encased in a delicate black pod that split open to reveal the jewel-bright interior.

Petals drifted down like drops of blood, catching in my hair, sticking to my skin.

The humming stopped.

The forest was utterly silent now, save for the occasional plink of a seed pod bursting open and spilling its contents to the ground.

I reached out, drawn to the tree’s strange beauty like a moth to flame. My fingers hovered just above the bark, close enough to feel the strange warmth radiating from it. The tree shuddered, its branches creaking like old bones. The seed pods began to burst all at once, a rain of crimson that pattered against the moss like gentle rainfall.

My fingers finally made contact with the bark. Warm and alive beneath my touch. Without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the tree’s broad trunk.

A sigh escaped me, my entire body going slack as the pain, the exhaustion, the hunger, the ache in my feet, all melted away at once. It was like sinking into a hot bath after hours in the cold, or the first deep breath after surfacing from drowning. My muscles unwound, my heartbeat steadied. I felt safe.

The humming returned, softer now, vibrating through the tree and into my bones. A lullaby without words, soothing and familiar. Beneath my palms, I felt a pulse. A heartbeat. Gentle but fast, like the flutter of a bird’s wings.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm sync with my own. The scent of blood shifted, faded, something new wrapping around me like a velvet embrace. A deep amber resin, warm and golden, mingling with vanilla that made my mouth water. Beneath it, something smoother, like sun-warmed silk brushing against skin, and a whisper of well-worn leather. Then came the wine—dark and heady, a decadent red that curled through the other notes tight with a ribbon.

And roses.

Not the sharp, perfumed kind, but wild roses. Petals crushed underfoot, their sweetness tempered by earth and thorn. It was entirely intoxicating, filling my senses until I could taste it on my tongue and feel it sink into my lungs with every breath.

I exhaled, my body melting further against the tree. The humming swelled, wrapping around me like arms, pulling me deeper into its rhythm.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The heartbeat quickened slightly, matching the flutter in my chest.

Then, a whisper against my ear. Soft, deep.

“Go on.”

My fingers dug into the bark, clinging tighter. My soul sinking in, placing roots of its own.

But somewhere, far away, a crow cawed.

I gasped, jerking back as the world rushed in again.

A sharp pain pinched my ear.

“Ow—!” I hissed, twisting to see Mephisto perched on my shoulder, his feathers gleaming under the dim streetlights. His crimson eyes burned into mine, unblinking.

”Caw.” A scolding sound.

Before I could react, he took flight, swooping low before circling back, hovering just out of reach as if waiting.

“Mean—” I rubbed my ear, scowling, trying to gather my thoughts. I gave up after I couldn’t come up with a good enough retort.

Mephisto flapped his wings, then let out another grating caw before darting down the alley. He paused at the corner, wings flaring impatiently.

Follow?

“Okay, okay.” I muttered, rubbing my still-tingling ear where he’d bitten me. I pushed myself forward, legs still unsteady, and stumbled after him.

The crow gave a sharp caw before darting down the alleyway. I followed, struggling to keep up with Mephisto as the narrow passage twisted between looming brick buildings. The air smelled of salt and fish as we neared the bay, the tight urban corridors gradually opening to the wider expanse of the waterfront.

Mephisto banked sharply, veering towards a side street where large properties pressed together. I hurried after him, my breath coming faster as the ache in my feet flared anew. The crow landed atop a rusted streetlamp, his talons clicking against the metal as he peered down at me.

“Fly slower?” I grumbled, itching my eyelid.

Mephisto ruffled his feathers before launching himself forward again.

Ungrateful beast.

The street sloped slightly, leading to a wrought-iron gate that had rusted from years of sea air. A yard of various plants sat behind the stone fence. Mephisto landed on the metal railing with a soft clang before scattering away when the fence swung open.

It seemed Rafayel hadn’t fixed his habit of leaving the gate unlocked. Or, he was expecting Willow to be the only person randomly appearing at his home.

I pushed through the overgrown garden, my boots crunching on gravel as lavender brushed against my legs. The scent of salt and herbs hung heavy in the air, mixing with something sweeter. My stomach growled traitorously.

“You’re lost,” a voice drawled from somewhere ahead, the usual lithe, playful tone replaced with a tone befitting a creature from the darkest depths of the sea.

I froze.

Through a gap in the wild rosemary, I saw him. Rafayel lounged against a weather-beaten bench, one long leg crossed over the other, swirling what looked like a half-eaten yogurt cup. The fading sunlight caught on the silver rings adorning his fingers, the glint of a loose bracelet at his wrist.

The damn fish hadn’t even turned to look at me.

Mephisto cawed loudly from the rooftop.

Rafayel’s lips twitched. “Unless you’re here because someone,” he shot a glare upward, “decided to play delivery service, you’d better start explaining before I make a new smore’s flavor.”

My mouth went dry. This was too real.

I stepped forward, gravel shifting underfoot. “I need you to get me to The Nest.”

Rafayel’s fingers stilled around his yogurt bottle, knuckles whitening for a fraction of a second before relaxing. His lips curled into something too sharp to be called a smile.

“Is that so?” He tilted his head, the dying sunlight turned his irises molten. “And why would I do that?” A fake playfulness to his voice, dragging out the “why”.

Mephisto let out a warning croak from the rooftop. I ignored him.

“You walk into my home,” Rafayel continued, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, “uninvited. No introduction. No explanation. Just a demand.” The corner of his mouth twitched. He had a habit of dragging out his words, just like in the game. “Do I look like a tour guide to you?”

I crossed my arms, irritation flaring at his, very reasonable, defiance. “Okay, you look like a tour guide, so either take me there or tell me where to go.”

Silence.

Rafayel laughed.

It wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was the kind of laugh that usually preceded someone getting punched, or I guess in this case, burned alive. He tipped his head forward, purple strands of hair falling in his face and catching the light. His eyes glittered with something dangerous that made my instincts stir.

“Oh, do I?” He leaned further forward, shirt bristling against his skin. His voice dropped lower, dropping the playfulness from his voice. “Let me make this clear for you, since your brain cells decided to go for a swim.” A deliberate pause. “I don’t take orders. I don’t give directions. And I certainly don’t escort random, mouthy strays into The Nest just because they ask nicely.”

Another pause. “Which…uh. You didn’t ask nicely.”

I held his gaze, pulse hammering. If I were a more sane person, I would just leave. Unfortunately for everyone involved in this situation, I was not. I smiled, letting my gaze soften with practiced ease. “You’re right. I didn’t ask nicely.”

I took another step forward, my face dropping all pretense of politeness. “You’re an overgrown fish with two legs who’s obsessed with a girl who—let’s see—mysteriously disappeared on what was basically your wedding night and led Lemuria into despair.” My hands moved sharply with each word, fingers splaying in the air.

Rafayel’s expression went terrifyingly cold.

“I,” I continued, voice rising, “am running on eight ounces of coffee that Willow gave me this morning, and I would like to get this done before she thinks I’m dead and decides to completely derail this timeline.”

The garden fell silent.

Rafayel slowly uncrossed his legs and stood. The movement was fluid, predatory. His shadow stretched long across the gravel as he stepped toward me, the air around him shimmering faintly with heat.

“You,” he said quietly, “have five seconds to explain how you know any of that before I—”

“Burn me to a crisp?” I asked, scrunching my face in annoyance. Refusing to back down even as my pulse pounded in my throat and my hands shook. “Please do. I’d like to see if I finally die or if I’m just going to wake up here again.”

Rafayel sighed dramatically, rolling his violet eyes. “Please,” he drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “What are you? A time bomb?”

I squared my shoulders, looking up to meet his gaze without flinching. “Wanna find out?”

Mephisto let out an ear-splitting caw from the rooftop, feathers ruffling in clear disapproval.

“Quiet, you.” Rafayel shot back, glaring up at the crow. “You’re the one who brought this disaster to my doorstep.” He turned his attention back to me, studying me with an unsettling intensity.

After a long moment, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Fine. You want to go to The Nest? Fine.” He took a step closer, close enough that I could see the flecks in his irises, smell the faint salty scent clinging to him. “But here’s how this is going to work. You tell me exactly who you are, how you know the things you know, and why you’re so desperate to get there.”

His lips curled into a smile, sharp. “And if I like your answers, maybe—maybe—I’ll consider helping you.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but he held up a finger, silencing me with a dramatic sigh as he shook his head. “And enough with the barking.”

I closed my mouth with a click of teeth. I exhaled sharply through my nose, pouting almost. “Fine.”

I hesitated, just for a second before speaking. “I’m Rain. You’re the character of a game I played. I died. I woke up here. Willow took me in. God, that sounds stupid.”

Rafayel’s face faltered for half a second before settling into an amused smile. “Oh, this just keeps getting better,” he purred, circling me like a shark. “Let me guess, I’m your favourite character and you love me so much you had to use The Nest as an excuse to get to me? I’m honored bu—”

“Absolutely not. You’re second place, buddy. But…you were my first main…” I crossed my arms, tilting my head thoughtfully.

That stopped him mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he held up his hand. “Okay, okay. Pretend I believe this excuse. Why The Nest? Why is it so important?”

I glanced away, pursing my lips together as I struggled to find what I wanted to say. “I’m…trying to get my hands on Sylus.” I paused, scrunching my face at the phrasing. “Professionally. I need to make a deal with him.”

Rafayel stared at me pointedly, then turned his gaze to the crow observing us. “Right…and you’re just saving the bird for a snack later?”

I blinked at him. “Why would I eat Mephisto? He’s metal.”

The artist sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Your brain must be bloated with water. Why are you going to The Nest to get to Sylus when you could just…” He gestured at Mephisto. “...ask him yourself? Through the bird?”

I paused, my eyes traveled to Mephisto who tilted his head with an almost smug air. That damn crow. I glanced down at my feet, frowning as I processed the information. My lips moved soundlessly as I worked through the logic. “No…” I shook my head slowly, eyes narrowing, brows furrowing. “That’s…too easy.”

Rafayel sighed, shaking his head as he placed his hand on his right hip. “Sure…” He turned to address the crow directly. “Tell your ‘master’ he’s got a…” Rafayel waved a hand in my direction, “...whatever this is, asking for him. And that if he doesn’t come deal with it, I’m tossing it into the bay.”

Mephisto let out a caw before taking flight, his wings glinting in the fading light. I watched him disappear over the rooftops, my mouth hanging open slightly.

“You’re ruining my plan.” I grumbled, turning to glare at Rafayel.

Rafayel tilted his head, shifting all his weight to his left side. “Your plan?” He scoffed, turning to saunter back toward his studio. “Puh-lease, a concussed goldfish would have a better plan. Seriously, no money, no weapons, and apparently no common sense.” He threw a dramatic look over his shoulder, smiling at me. “I just saved your life. You’re welcome.”

I scrambled after him, my boots crunching on the gravel path. “Hold on—Rafayel, I still want to try.”

Rafayel stopped in his tracks, spinning around with an exasperated sigh. “Oh for—No. Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere near that place.” He gestured at my disheveled appearance. “You look like you decided to wrestle with an eel and lost. Now get inside before—”

A sudden shadow passed overhead. Before either of us could react, something small and hard smacked Rafayel square in the head with a sharp thunk.

“Ow! What the—” He clutched his head as a crimson seed tumbled to the gravel at his feet.

Mephisto circled above us with a triumphant caw before landing on the studio’s roof, preening his feathers with clear satisfaction.

Rafayel stared at the seed, his expression shifting from irritation to something unreadable. He didn’t move to pick it up, just stared.

When he finally looked up at me, he had an annoyed expression on his face. Eyes rolling over, lips pulled into a pout. “Fine,” he said defiantly, “I’ll take you to The Nest.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the studio door without a word. After a few steps, he paused and glanced back. “And bring that thing in with you.” He added, nodding at the seed still on the ground before disappearing inside.

I hesitated for only a second before scooping up the strange seed. It sat unnaturally warm in my palm, its crimson surface shimmering with faint iridescence. It pulsed faintly, like a tiny heartbeat, only temporarily. The moment my fingers closed around it, Mephisto let out a satisfied croak from the rooftop and the beating stopped.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped across the threshold after Rafayel as the studio door swung shut behind me with a decisive click.

Chapter Text

The inside of Rafayel’s studio was exactly as I’d imagined and seen through small clips in the game. Chaotic, cluttered, yet somehow elegance still drifted in the air. Canvases leaned against every available surface, some half-finished, others splashed with bold strokes of color that could only have been made by Rafayel’s talented hands. Jars of paint and brushes littered the floor.

Rafayel had already flopped onto a plush couch, sprawling across it like some fair maiden who had fainted. He watched me through half-lidded eyes as I hovered near the doorway, still clutching the crimson seed in my palm.

“So,” he drawled, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers, “last chance to run away.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, shaking my head.

A beat.

My head was swirling with too many overly complicated explanations of why I wasn’t going to back down.

Rafayel muttered something under his breath, rolling his eyes before sitting up. “Alright, fine. But you’re gonna need to change.” He gestured vaguely at my outfit.

I frowned. I thought the outfit was rather fitting. Considering I had died in it and all of that.

Rafayel gave me a slow once-over, as if he was verifying his first opinion on my outfit. “Yeah. You look like a fish that got lost in someone’s storm drain.”

Rafayel pushed himself off the couch with a dramatic sigh, stretching his neck side to side before sauntering towards a large wooden wardrobe tucked away down a hall. He yanked the doors open, revealing an eclectic mix of clothing. Flowing silks, tailored jackets, delicate dresses, even the more casual pieces still carried his signature flair.

“You’re lucky I keep spares,” he mused, rifling through the hangers with practiced ease. “Mostly for Willow, but seeing as she’s already picked you up as her project…she’ll let this one slide.”

I bristled slightly at the mention of her name but didn’t argue. Instead, I watched as he pulled out a sleek black ensemble. A fitted turtleneck, high waisted leather shorts, and a long, asymmetrical coat with silver embroidery along the cuffs.

“Here.” He tossed the clothes at me without warning. “Get changed.” He pointed towards a room down the same hall. Assumedly a bathroom.

I caught the bundle against my chest, fingers curling into the fabric. I hesitated for a moment before stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

Setting the clothes down on the edge of the sink, I took a deep breath and peeled off my shirt. The cool air prickled against my bare skin as I reached for the black turtleneck, slipping it over my head. The fabric was soft, fitting snugger than I thought it would on my frame.

The shorts were high-waisted, the material supple but structured. I buttoned them carefully, adjusting the fit before pulling on the long coat. The weight of it settled comfortable over my shoulders.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused. It looked like something an idol would wear, meaning it was undeniably Rafayel’s style. The black made my pale skin appear even lighter in contrast, the sharp lines of the coat accentuating my frame in a way that felt foreign.

I reached into the pocket of the shorts I had been wearing previously, carefully taking out Mephisto’s feather to place it in the pocket of my coat along with the red seed. The leather shorts I was currently wearing were clearly made for women. They had no pockets.

Rafayel’s voice drifted through the door, muffled but unmistakably annoyed. “—no, I’m not holding your little stray hostage. I—”

A pause.

Then louder, exasperated. “Fine. Hold on.”

A sharp rap on the bathroom door made me flinch. “Willow’s on the phone,” Rafayel called through the wood. “She wants to talk to you.”

I hesitated, fingers lingering on the feather in my pocket before opening the door. Rafayel stood there, phone extended toward me, his expression unreadable. As I took it, he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know how to lie, right?”

I blinked at him, then brought the phone to my ear. “Hey, Willow.”

Her voice crackled through the line, loud with worry. “Rain? What the hell are you doing at Rafayel’s? What happened to scouting out that place?”

I took a calming, deep breath as my fingers tightened around the phone. My voice came out smooth, practiced. “I am still. I got…lost. I ended up in Whitesand Bay and I figured I could hunt down Rafayel. It was easier than trying to find my way back to your place.” My voice got quieter, as if I was trying to keep Rafayel out of the conversation. “I think he might know something about it.”

A beat of silence. Then, softer. “Oh.” Relief bled into her tone. “That’s good. Did you find anything useful yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, glancing at Rafayel who was now watching me with raised brows. “We’re still looking. I don’t know how long it will take.”

“Okay.’ Willow sighed. “Just…keep me updated, alright? And don’t let Rafayel distract you.”

Rafayel, who had clearly heard that, pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“I won’t,” I assured her, “I’ll call you with his phone if I find anything.”

“Alright.” A pause. “Be careful, Rain.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone, handing it back to Rafayel. He took it, tilting his head to the side as he tucked it into his pocket.

“Wow,” he mused teasingly. “So easy.”

I shrugged, narrowing my eyes as I looked away. “Sure.”

Rafayel gave me one last assessing look before turning on his heel and striding back toward the wardrobe. “Go wait in the studio, I need to change too.”

I lingered in the hallway for a moment before making my way back to the larger area of the studio. My boots clicked against the cold stone floor.

I wandered over to one of the half-finished canvases propped against the wall. It was a stormy seascape, the waves rendered in thick, violent strokes of deep blue and black. It reminded me of the first painting of his that we encountered in the game, but this one was different.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Rafayel emerged, now dressed in an ensemble that looked like it belonged on a runway rather than a casual outing. A deep indigo suit, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbones. He loved showing those off, apparently. There were too many outfits of his with his damn tits out.

He caught me staring and sighed. “You have a problem.”

I let out a quiet huff and turned my eyes away immediately. “Are we going or not?”

“Okay, someone’s desperate.” He moved towards the entrance, fixing his hair neatly into place. “Come on, then.”

I followed him out of the studio, the evening air cool against my skin as we stepped through the garden. The sky had darkened, the first stars just beginning to prick through the inky expanse.

Mephisto swooped down from the rooftop, landing on my shoulder with a soft click. He was very clingy. I didn’t know if it was of his own accord or if it was…

Rafayel led me through the winding streets of Linkon, his stride casual yet purposeful. The city lights flickered around us, neon signs casting shifting hues across the pavement. The air smelled of salt and something faintly electric, the hum of the city constant against my ears.

Mephisto remained perched on my shoulder, his weight surprisingly light. I would have to chase him off soon.

We turned down an alley, the sounds of the main street fading behind us only to be replaced with the loud thumping of music. In the alley, a bright white neon sign buzzed softly, casting an ethereal glow over the stone.

The Nest.

The letters hummed with an almost hypnotic energy, their light reflecting off the polished black door beneath them. Two figures stood guard on either side, their postures relaxed but their eyes sharp, a short line of people waited to crowd inside the venue.

Rafayel stopped, turning to me. “Last chance to back out,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could die, you know.”

I stared blankly across at the bouncers, my fingers brushing against the feather in my pocket. I turned to gently caress Mephisto’s head before I shooed him off my shoulder. “You can’t come, Mephi.”

Mephisto let out a disgruntled krrr, nipping at my fingers before fluttering to a nearby windowsill. His crimson eyes burned into me, I rolled my eyes in return.

Turning back to the bar, I waved at Rafayel with a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, get me inside.”

Rafayel sighed dramatically and strode forward as if he owned the place, his chin tilted just slightly upward. The bouncers straightened as we approached and stepped aside when Rafayel flicked his wrist at them. It seems like he was still coming here often regarding the matter of the paint…or whatever else had brought him to The Nest in the first place.

Hopefully, that man he was meeting with in the game wouldn’t be here.

We crowded into the bar. The noise hit me first. A low, thrumming buzz of conversation among the loud music, the clink of glasses, the occasional burst of drunk laughter. The air inside was cool, scented with something rich and smoky. Incense, maybe, or aged whiskey. Perhaps just a good old cigar. And the bodies…all the bodies dancing on the floor or crowding together to discuss deals. Waiting to sink their teeth into the newbies.

Rafayel glanced down at me, his lips curling into a smile. “Nervous?”

My fingers twitched at my sides, my nail flicking against my skin. “No.”

He hummed before nudging me towards the bar that was dominating the corner of the room. Its surface polished to a mirror shine among the black marble, the bartender moving behind it with practiced grace.

Rafayel shoved me towards a stool and sat beside me. His hand reached to a stack of neat cards with a quill and ink pot nearby, grabbing both paper and pen and handing them to me. “Did your game tell you what to do with these? Or do I have to spell it out?”

I yanked them from him a bit too eagerly, my eyes narrowing on him with a glare. “I understand the gist of it.” I said grumpily, moving my body away from him to shield the paper and what I was going to write. I didn’t enjoy people watching me write, even for simple things like this.

I hesitate for a moment, the quill hovering over the card. I didn’t know what to write. Didn’t have a clue. I remembered vague ideas of a plan, an offer but…the thoughts seemed to drift away just out of reach.

What was my bargain?

What could I possibly offer?

What value did I have?

Nothing.

Something grew warm in my pocket, thumping delicately. The seed. The tree that grew in the library. The stories the library held.

Right, that’s what it was. The plan. Probably.

I wrote in careful, hesitant strokes.

A story.

Rafayel leaned over, trying to peek at what I’d written. A slapped a hand over the card, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes and slumped back onto his stool, waving a lazy hand toward the bartender.

I hadn’t even gotten the chance to watch the ink fade because of that fish.

The waiter approached with a polite look on his face. He took the card carefully in his hands, scanning it over before nodding at us. He disappeared into the back without a word.

I moved to hand the quill back to Rafayel. He got it out, I was going to make him put it back in.

Rafayel took the quill between his slender fingers, spinning it between them with practiced ease before setting it back down in the pot to his left. “Your bargaining chip is a little weird, don’t you think?”

I shoot him an icy glare before I pointedly turn away from him. “I don’t have much to offer, I’m doing what I can.”

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The hum of the bar faded into the background noise as I drummed my fingers against the polished surface of the counter, my knee bouncing restlessly.

Rafayel, annoyingly, seemed perfectly at ease. He had even ordered himself some fancy cocktail, sipping it with an infuriating air of nonchalance.

I could feel people wandering around behind me, some getting too close in their dazed state. I felt myself curl up to the counter, feeling disgust and irritation bubbling under my skin.

The waiter reappeared, carrying a single clear glass filled with a colorless liquid. He set it down in front of me without a word, staring politely.

I stared at it.

Vodka? What did that mean?

I snatched the glass up eagerly before Rafayel could say anything, tipping it back expecting the burn of alcohol. I held my breath, only to choke when the taste of plain, lukewarm water hit my tongue.

I lowered the glass slowly, blinking at it in confusion before turning to Rafayel.

He was laughing.

Shoulders shaking, fingers pressed to his lips like he was trying and failing to hold it in. His violet eyes sparkled with amusement, crinkling at the corners as he shook his head.

“Oh, oh,” he gasped between breaths. “The look on your face—”

I scowled. “Explain.”

Rafayel finally managed to compose himself, though his smile remained firmly in place. “It means,” he drawled, leaning in slightly, “your little bargain didn’t catch any attention.” He tapped the rim of the glass with one manicured nail. “Water. Neutral. Fish didn’t take the bait. No deal.”

My stomach dropped.

No deal.

Of course. It made sense, logically. Stories don’t hold much value, and the writing was rather vague. I could have used a better descriptor, marketed myself more, been more entic—

Rafayel sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the stool. “Alright, time to go before you get any more delusional ideas.” He flicked a strand of hair out of his face, tilting his head toward the exist. “Come on, let’s get you home before Willow guts me for sushi.”

I didn’t move. My eyes darted across the bar as I continued to process, continued to think.

Rafayel reached to drag me off the stool, his fingers brushing against my shoulder. I flinched away instinctively, hand moving up to shove his hand away before I stopped myself.

I recollected myself.

As if nothing had happened, I stood smoothly and stepped past him toward the crowd. “Let’s go,” I said, tilting my head as I looked up at him.

Rafayel exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t comment, falling into step in front of me as we wove through the throng of bodies. The music pulsed louder here, the bass vibrating through the floor and up my legs. The air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, perfume, and sweat.

Halfway to the exit, a figure in a sleek black suit sidestepped directly into Rafayel’s path, bumping into him with deliberate force. Rafayel stiffened, his hand snapping out to catch the man’s wrist before he could pull away.

A beat of silence passed between them, then the stranger slipped something into Rafayel’s palm before melting back into the crowd without a word. I couldn’t see what it was, I could only see the exchange.

Rafayel’s fingers curled around the object, his expression darkening. He turned to me, his voice low but firm. “Stay here. Exactly here. Don’t move.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already stepping away.

“I mean it,” he added over his shoulder. “If you wander off, I’m not fishing you out of whatever gutter you end up in.”

Then he was gone, swallowed by the sea of bodies.

The music pulsed around me. Bodies pressed close, their laughter and shouts blending into a meaningless roar. I stood frozen in the middle of the floor, my fingers twitching at my sides.

Everyone around me moved in sync with the rhythm, their faces blurred together, smudges of color where features should be. Their voices melted together, rising and falling in waves that crashed against my skull. The lights overhead strobed, casting everything in fractured hues of neon that made my eyes ache.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. The air was thick, suffocating. My chest tightened.

Then—

A familiar laugh cut through the noise.

My head snapped up.

There they were.

My friends.

Not Willow. Not Rafayel. Not a character.

They danced in front of me, their faces suddenly sharp, clear. Real. One of them turned, grinning, their red hair bouncing as they swayed to the beat. They reached for me, their fingers brushing my wrist.

“Come on!” They shouted over the music. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My throat felt raw, tight. I wanted to tell them—I needed to tell them—.

But the words wouldn’t come, my thoughts dissolving with every beat.

Their smile falters. “Seriosuly? Dude, you didn’t have to come with us if you were just gonna stand here like a weirdo.”

A sharp pang shot through my chest.

Before I could react, I felt a daze wash over me.

I rubbed my eyes, another friend appeared at my side, leaning in close. Her breath was warm against my ear. “Hey, my girlfriend wants to leave so we’re heading out.”

I blinked, nodding my head. “Okay,” I managed. “I gotta stay. I’m supposed to drive the others.”

She blinked back at me, furrowing her brows. “What? No, they left like an hour ago.”

My stomach dropped, fingers twitching. “What?”

“Yeah, they said they were gonna get food and head home.” She shrugged. “You must’ve missed it.”

I felt around my pants, trying to find the keys to the car. My thoughts blurred together and sent a stabbing pain through my brain. I rubbed my eyes again, my pulse pounding in my ears. “I can’t find the keys, I think they took them. Can I get a ride with you guys?”

“What? Speak up, babes.” She shouted, trying to hear me over the music.

I tried to open my mouth again, speak louder, but a small figure had already grabbed her arm and tugged her away.

The music swelled, the bass thudding like a hammer against my ribs. The lights flickered faster, blurring everything around me once more.

My body slammed into cold, unforgiving stone. Pain exploded through my ribs, my spine, my skull. A wet, ragged gasp tore from my throat as I curled inward, my vision swimming with black spots.

Blood.

I could feel it, hot and slick, seeping from my nose, my lips, the split skin at my head. It pooled beneath me, dark and shimmering, reflecting the fractured sky above.

A book lay in front of me.

Empty.

Pages bare.

Waiting.

A shadow fell over me. Sleek black shoes stepped into my line of sight, polished to a mirror shine.

“Go on, tell me whose undoing you will be this time.” A voice murmured, smooth as silk.

My fingers twitched, reaching for the book. A sharp pain shooting through my joints.

I was sitting, knees drawn to my chest, the hum of a computer fan the only sound in the room. The screen in front of me glowed faintly, half-written words staring back.

A happy ending.

How?

It felt too fake. Forced.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, frozen.

How do I end this?

I felt pain swallow me once more.

I was on the ground, the book in front of me, blood still dripping from my lips. The pen was pressed into my hand, cold fingers guiding mine.

“Write,” the voice urged.

My hand trembled, watching the ink stain the page.

Then a hand settled over mine, warm.

Fingers enveloping, lacing through my grip to release the pen from my hand.

The club snapped into focus around me, the music still pounding, the lights still flashing, the crowd pressing in on all sides.

But this time, a hand was gripping mine.

Firm. Unyielding.

I looked up.

Crimson eyes stared down at me, burning brightly in the dim light.

His grip tightened, testing. “That’s,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the din like a cold blade, “not quite the story I was looking for.”

Chapter Text

The world sharpened around me. The music, the lights, the crush of bodies all snapping back into focus with painful clarity. Sylus’s grip on my hand was unrelenting, his fingers cool against my clammy skin. His gaze bore into mine as he leaned just a little closer, assessing, calculating, peeling back every layer of my thoughts with just a look.

My fingers twitched under his.

Sylus.

His presence was overwhelming, a quiet storm wrapped in tailored black. The scent of him, something dark and metallic, wrapped around me, drowning out the mix of alcohol and sweat in the air.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find any words.

Sylus’s lips curled, just slightly. Not a smile. A predator amused by prey that didn’t yet realize it was caught. “You’re the one who offered me a story,” he mused, his voice low, measured. “Yet you seem surprised I’d come to collect.”

My brows furrowed, eyes trailing down from his eyes to his nose to his lips as my mind became suffocatingly packed with thoughts.

He’s real. He’s here. He’s touching me. He’s—

“You’re lost in too many things.” Sylus’s voice cut through the noise, barely above a whisper, yet it silenced everything else. His thumb pressed against the pulse in my wrist, a slow, deliberate pressure. “Pick one.”

I stilled, breath hitching.

Was my spacing out that obvious? It couldn’t be. No one’s noticed it before. Is it because of his ey—

He tapped my wrist.

Right.

I took a breath, trying to force my voice to stay steady. “Why are you here? Did you take the deal?”

Sylus’s grip shifted, his fingers sliding to lace through mine in a way I could only perceive as a mockery of intimacy. His skin was cool, smooth. Unnervingly perfect. “I took interest,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The music pulsed around us, I could feel it pooling in my throat. At this point, my legs were practically ghosts, save for the eternal pain they were currently suffering through. Yet, despite all of this, I could only seem to focus on the way his fingers tightened, just slightly, when I tried to pull away.

“You—” I started, then stopped, my thoughts scattering again.

Sylus sighed, a quiet, exasperated sound. “Try again.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, frustration prickling under my skin. “You ignored the deal.”

His lips twitched. “Better.”

His approval burned worse than scorn.

He shifted his weight, drawing our joined hands closer to him. The lights from above flickered as he turned my wrist, exposing the veins beneath my pale skin. “Walk with me?”

I furrowed, scrunching my nose slightly in confusion. “Why?”

His answering look sliced through me. Amused, impatient, certain. The silent ’must you really ask’ hung between us until I felt my features relaxing under his gaze.

Wordlessly, I nodded.

He turned on his heel, tugging me forward with him. The crowd parted for him like reeds before a current. People moved without complaint, shifting aside just enough to let him pass.

I stumbled after him, my free hand reaching for the feather in my pocket, only to freeze when my fingers found empty fabric. The feather was gone. The seed was too. A cold wave of panic crested in my chest, my heart skipping a beat.

“Looking for something?” Sylus’s voice curled around me, velvet over steel.

I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. “No.”

The word tasted bitter. The look in his eyes when he glanced back at me told me he was amused. It made my suspicions of him grow.

He pulled me through a door tucked into the shadows of the back wall. One of apparently many, as I could see the doors lined up in a row now that I knew where to look. The noise of the club muffled instantly as the heavy door swung shut behind us, leaving us in near silence.

The room was small, dimly lit by light strips along the floor. There was a single desk, polished, filled with only necessities, pens and paper, stamps. Likely, somewhere to further confirm business.

Sylus released my hand, stepping away to lean against the edge of the desk. He crossed his arms, watching me with that same unnerving stillness.

“Now,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “shall we try this again? Properly.”

I flexed my fingers, the ghost of his grip still lingering. What exactly was he looking for? Waiting for me to say?

I could feel a frown forming on my lips, eyes narrowing as my gaze fell to where his hands perched upon the desk. It was hard to see much detail, but I could make out where his veins bulged.

He sighed, folding his arms leisurely across his chest. “You just can’t stay focused, can you?”

I met his gaze again, before promptly looking away to where the stack of papers rested on the desk behind him. “I offered you a story.”

“You did.”

“And you didn’t take it.”

“I didn’t.”

I exhaled sharply, feeling frustration bubble over at not being able to understand his intentions. “Then what are you doing here?”

Sylus sighed, uncrossing himself as he tilted his head, looking at me as if the answer was obvious. It wasn’t.

“What you offered,” he said slowly, “is only something in your possession. It’s not your story.”

I blinked. “It’s still a story. Arguably an important one.”

He let out a low sound that wasn’t quite a chuckle, more like a quiet hum. His index finger tapped once against his temple in a gesture that felt both mocking and intimate. “If I wanted just any story, I wouldn’t have bothered with you at all.”

I felt my shoulders tense, the muscles in my jaw tightening. “You’re still talking around the point,” I snapped. “Why are you here?”

Sylus’s lips curved into something that wasn’t a smile. It was too sharp, too knowing. Taunting. The dim lighting caught the crimson glint in his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. “I want your story,” he said, the words deliberate.

The air left my lungs in a rush. I could feel my temperature rising at his closeness, at his words, his intent for something that was mine. My fingers twitched at my sides, a tingling sensation aching in them, growing rather numb.

My story? I had no clue what he could possibly mean, besides…that one I’d abandoned half written before my death.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Sylus didn’t break it. He just watched me with that unbearable patience, as if he already knew how this would end.

When I finally found my voice, it came out rough. “I don’t have one.”

Sylus tilted his head, a strand of silver falling across his forehead. “Oh?” The single syllable dripped with amusement. “None at all?”

I stabbed my nails into my palms, but I couldn’t feel them at all.

Before I could retort, he moved. Too fast. Too smooth. His fingers brushed against my temple, light as a whisper, yet the contact burned. “You’re drowning in them,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “You just don’t know how to let them out.”

I jerked back as if scalded, my pulse pumping so hard I could feel it in my ears. “You don’t know that,” I spat, too loud, too raw.

Sylus didn’t react to the outburst. He simply straightened, his hand falling back to his side. His expression remained infuriatingly calm. “Don’t I?” he asked, soft as a blade sliding between my ribs.

He was a problem.

A big, annoying one.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, bringing my hands in front of my chest as I gently massaged them, the flesh having turned purple and swollen from the blood pooling in them. “Fine. What kind of story do you want?”

Sylus’s left hand moved, presenting his palm to me. A swirl of crimson mist swirled from his hand, revealing a certain feather and seed I had lost earlier.

Thief.

Sylus’s finger twirled the feather absently between them, his gaze never leaving mine. “I want a happy ending this time. You can make that happen, can’t you?” His voice dropped to a low whisper that curled around me like smoke.

Right.

Whatever that means.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, dark mist coiled around his hand, threaded with veins of red. The feather and seed dissolved into the haze, twisting together as the mist pulsed like a living thing.

I watched, transfixed, as the darkness condensed, solidified, until all that remained was a single earring. Delicate, yet sharp, black metal formed intricately over the feather, while the seed now took on the appearance of a gem fitted in the style of a dragon’s eye.

Sylus held it up between us, the gem catching the light. “A deal, then?” He murmured, voice uneasily quiet, tired. “Your story, for my protection right?”

My breath hitched. The earring was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous, as if it was going to bite me if I touched it wrong.

Sylus stepped closer, his free hand lifting toward my ear. He paused just before contact, waiting.

A silent question.

Permission.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, giving him a small nod as I felt my stomach flutter about. I felt disgusted. I shoved it down.

His fingers were warm against my skin as he brushed my hair aside. The press of the earring’s post was sharp, precise. A quick pinch, then the click of the clasp securing it in place.

The moment it was fastened, warmth bloomed from the point of contact, spreading through me like ink in water. My vision swam for a heartbeat, colors bleeding at the edges before snapping back into focus.

“There,” he said, his thumb brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. He leaned back, examining his handiwork, but his gaze looked dissatisfied, as if something was missing.

I turned my face away, not wanting to be scrutinized. I lifted a hand to my ear, fingers trembling as they traced the metal. It hummed under my touch, alive in a way that made no sense until I remembered the smallest fraction of what his Evol was capable of. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could create entire worlds with it.

Sylus tilted his head, studying my reaction with those piercing eyes. I didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched.

“Don’t lose it.” He said firmly, voice low.

I scrunched my nose briefly as I processed his tone, my fingers still pressed against the metal. “Knowing you…does it do something?”

A slow, knowing smile curled at the corner of his lips. “You’ll find out.”

The vagueness of his answer sent irritation bubbling up once more. I dropped my hand, forcing my expression to stay neutral even as my heart beat loudly. “You’re not going to explain?”

Sylus’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Bitch.

A beat of silence stretched between us, then, without warning, Sylus turned toward the door, his coat flaring with the movement. “Come,” he said, not looking back. “You’re wasting time.”

I hesitated, looking at him with my brows furrowed. “Come where?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. A flicker of something passed over his features before he schooled them back into cool indifference. “Consider this your first lesson in survival,” he said, voice low. “When I tell you to follow, you follow.”

Sylus didn’t wait for me to catch up this time. He strode through the door, shadows clinging to his frame.

And like a lovesick fool, I followed.

—

The moment I stepped through the door after Sylus, the world twisted. The club’s noise vanished as if someone had flipped a switch. One second I was in the dim backroom, the next—

Cold night air slapped my cheeks. My boots hit uneven cobblestones as I stumbled forward, barely catching myself before face-planting into the alley wall.

I whirled around. No door. No club. Just a dead-end alley.

“Wha—”

“Keep up.” Sylus’s voice came from above.

I craned my neck. He stood perched on the edge of a roof three stories up, coat fluttering like dark wings against the moonlight. Before I could protest, he leapt and disappeared over the rooftop.

“Really? Are you kidding me?” I hissed.

Metal clinked above me. Mephisto circled once before diving after his mother.

Even my son was betraying me.

I stared at the crumbling brick wall. No ladder. No handholds. Just slick moss and decades of grime. I could feel a headache forming. Even if I could somehow climb, my arms shook from exhaustion, and my legs were practically numb and useless at this point.

What the hell was Sylus doing?

The earring pulsed warm against my skin.

This was a test, wasn’t it?

Given his character and his relationships with others…he liked testing things before he kept them. Though, usually, that involved trying to kill him first…he had better run from me once I caught up to him because I would be his next attempt after this.

I took a deep breath and reached for a nearby rainpipe. Rust flaked under my fingernails as I tugged on it, testing its sturdiness. It was…undesireable, but it seemed like the sturdiest thing here. I gripped it tightly, wrapping my arms around it as I hauled myself up, muscles screaming. At the very least, I remembered how to climb things like this. Constantly climbing trees as a kid engraved it into me.

Halfway to the first landing, my foot slipped. I barely caught the next support drilled into the wall with my elbow hooked through it, pain lancing up my arm. I looked down, and felt myself tense up, my vision lengthening and shortening before I snapped my gaze away. I had to keep moving.

Sylus’s shadow appeared at the roof’s edge. He didn’t offer help. Just watched.

Bastard.

Gritting my teeth, I climbed. By the time I dragged myself onto the rooftop, my palms were bleeding, my breath came in ragged gasps. Sylus stood silhouetted against the moonlit harbor, examining his gloved hands as if bored.

“Took you long enough, sweetie.”

I kneeled bent over on the concrete roof, taking deep breaths as the world kept spinning around me. He was lucky I wasn’t one to pass out. “I say this,” another breath, “from the bottom of my heart.” I looked up at him, trying to slice him open with my glare. “Go fuck yourself.” I flipped him off with a trembling hand.

His lips twitched. “Charming.”

Wind whipped between us, carrying the scent of his cologne towards me. I slowly got up, bracing myself as I stumbled over to him, holding my arm as I tried to ease the pain.

Sylus watched my approach with amusement, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. The hook in his nose was illuminated by the night, and my eyes were trained on it.

I stopped just short of colliding with him, his hand reaching out to catch my elbow with surprising gentleness.

“Careful,” he murmured, though his grip was firm enough to steady my swaying form. “We wouldn’t want you tumbling off the roof before our lesson begins.”

I jerked my arm away, immediately regretting it as the world tilted dangerously. “What do you mean ‘begin’?” I spat, branching my hands on my knees. “I just scaled this fucking building for—”

“For the purpose of showing you this.”

He stepped aside, holding his left hand out without expectation. Just…there, in case I wanted it. I took it, steading myself with his strength as I looked at the sprawling cityscape beyond the rooftop’s edge. It stretched before us like a living creature, its lights pulsing like veins in the dark expanse. Cars sped down the streets, residents rather lively for the night.

“The N109 Zone,” Sylus said, following my line of sight.

A chill ran down my spine. Even from here, I could see the telltale signs of danger among the streets. My stomach twisted at the thought of navigating the city alone.

“Why are we here?” I asked, turning to look up at him.

Sylus turned to face me fully, his hand never leaving mine. “Why act confused, it’s where you wanted to go,” he said simply. “But you’ll die before sunset if I don’t teach you a few things first.”

The certainty in his voice sent a shiver through me, my hand reflexively squeezing his as I buried any other feelings that might arise. This wasn’t mine to keep.

I opened my mouth to protest, falsely claiming I was stronger than I looked, but he continued before I could speak.

“You were right, that earring isn’t just for show,” he said, tapping my earring with his free hand. “It’s a tether. And a warning system.”

I reached up instinctively to touch the metal where his hand had just been. It hummed warmly beneath my fingers. “Of course it is. What kind?”

Sylus’s smile was lopsided, his teeth not showing. “The kind that tells me when you’re about to do something stupid.” He stepped closer, leaning over as he flicked my forehead. “Like wandering into a dangerous nest without a plan. Or trying to demand the leader of Onychinus’s attention. He’s a dangerous man, you should really be more careful, kitten.”

The wind picked up, whipping my bangs directly into my eyesight. I hastily moved to try and pull them aside so I could keep my eyes on Sylus. “I had a plan.”

“Ah yes,” Sylus drawled, “your brilliant plan to…what was it again? Tell me a bedtime story?” His tone was unbearably taunting, I wanted to bite his face.

I steeled my face, pursing my lips together in annoyance. “And who actually took that deal? I’m sorry, did you want a glass of milk with that story? Maybe a cat bed to sleep in?”

Sylus stared at me for a heartbeat, silence falling over us—then laughed. A rich, deep laugh that resonated from his chest. His shoulders shook, silver hair catching in the moonlight as he tilted his head.

It was disarming.

I knew that laugh too well. I never imagined I would hear it like this. Real.

His crimson eyes glittered with something I didn’t have the right to name. “A cat bed? Really?”

I crossed my arms, heat rising to my cheeks. “I said what I said.”

“Not going to repeat it?” He stepped closer, bringing my hand up to his chest, his tone teasing. “Let’s see if you’ve got a fight in you to back up your attitude.”

He guided me away from the edge of the rooftop, finding stable ground for me to stand on before he released me and took a few steps back. He shrugged his jacket off. “Show me your stance.”

“What?”

“Now.”

I stared at him with confusion, which only earned a dramatic sigh from him. He stood feet apart, fists clenched, arms blocking his head.

A fighting stance. Right

I barely had time to plant my feet before he struck, a blur of black leather and lethal grace. His kick swept my legs out from under me. I hit the rooftop hard, the impact rattling my teeth.

Sylus loomed over me, extending his hand to help me up. “Again.”

I scrambled up, wiping drool from my lip as I glared at him.

This time, he purposefully slowed down, exaggerating his stance so I could study it. “Eyes on my center. If you can’t focus on everything at once, focus on where the body will twist to predict movement.”

I mirrored his steps, knees trembling. He attacked without warning, a flurry of strikes I barely blocked. I was lucky he was holding back, slowing his hits to a forceful tap just to make a point.

“Too slow.” His elbow connected with my ribs. “Too obvious.” A knee to my thigh. “Stop thinking too much. React.”

When he reached to grab my wrist, I twisted into the motion instead of pulling away. Momentum carried me into his arm and I bit down on the flesh there as he squeezed my wrist.

Sylus froze.

The taste of iron bloomed on my tongue. Metallic and strangely sweet, like pomegranate seeds dipped in mercury. His pulse thrummed against my teeth, a rapid staccato that betrayed his calm facade. For a brief moment, the world narrowed to the heat of his skin, the hitch in his breath, the way his fingers had instinctively gripped my waist.

Then he laughed again. Low. Breathless. Alive.

Sylus didn’t pull away. His free hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers pressing into my hair to keep me there. Not forcing, just holding. His pulse jumped under my teeth as his voice dropped to an amused murmur.

“There you are.”

The words vibrated against my lips, warm and approving.

His thumb stroked along my jaw, coaxing me to bite harder. The metallic tang of his blood filled my mouth, rich and strangely intoxicating, like something forbidden I’d been starving for.

Mephisto let out a sharp krrr from the ledge, wings flaring.

I finally jerked back, panting, my lips stained crimson.

Sylus didn’t even glance at the wound, half-moon marks engraved into his skin. It was already knitting itself closed, tendrils of red energy flickering over the torn flesh before it smoothed over entirely.

He tilted his head, studying me with approval. “Finally decided to fight back, kitten?”

I inhaled sharply, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. His blood smeared across my skin, glistening in the moonlight. “Don’t call me that.”

Sylus smirked. “Why not? It suits you.” He flexed his healed arm, examining how it healed. “Small. Feral.” He turned his gaze to meet mine. “Likes to bite.”

I bristled, turning my face away from him as I used my sleeve to try and wipe more of his blood off my face. I wasn’t Willow, I wasn’t an MC, I didn’t earn that nickname and it was leaving me unsettled. A cruel reminder of what I’m not.

Speaking of Willow, Rafayel was going to kill me, probably, seeing the blood stained on the outfit meant for her. I was lucky at least the fabric was black.

“Why do I have to wait? Why not take me there now?” Logically, of course, I knew why I couldn’t go right away. I had loose ends to tie up. I had a lie to sell to Willow. Multiple.

“Ah…so impatient.” Sylus clicked his tongue, stepping back to retrieve his discarded coat. “You’re not ready,” he said simply, shrugging the leather back over his shoulders.

I huffed. “I literally just—”

“Bit me?” He leaned over me, poking my forehead. “Cute. But you need to be stronger.”

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest, ignoring the way it made my muscles ache. “B—”

“You’ll go when I say you’re ready. Not before.”

I felt my eyes stinging at the firm rejection, my fingers moving to run my nails along my thumb.

The comparison came unbidden. MC’s first meeting with Sylus in the game, how he’d taken her straight to his home and let her parade around the N109 Zone. Kept her close. Protected her. Even in their past lives, they spent their time together as soon as they could meet.

With the way his attitude had been, I had accidentally let myself think I could recreate something similar. It’s more likely, he was treating me without a cold attitude because he knew more than I did, possibly even about me being here in this world.

Then…it was likely that happy ending he wanted…was one for him and Willow. And somehow, I was the one that could make it happen.

Sylus stepped closer, fingers brushing against my earring. “You’re thinking too loudly,” he murmured. “Don’t.” A light pinch to my earlobe before he stepped back once more.

I jerked away from his touch, holding my hand up to create a barrier between us. “I’m allowed to think.”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders. “Come. You need food.”

The abrupt change in topic left me blinking. “What?”

“You look like you should have fainted hours ago.” He gestured dismissively at my trembling form. “Besides, a little birdie told me someone hasn’t had anything to eat since last night.”

“Traitor.” I murmur quietly, locking onto Mephisto’s form on the ledge. I place two fingers near my eyes before flipping them around to point towards him. “Watch yourself.” I say, scrunching my nose.

Sylus let out the slightest chuckle before extending his hand to me once more, red mist circling his palm. “Come on, kitten.”

I glared at the nickname, but I took his hand anyway.

His fingers closed around mine with a gentleness, his grip warm despite the cool night air. Red energy cackled between our joined hands, the tingling sensation making my hand twitch. “Don’t let go,” he whispered, just as I felt a daze come over me as the world dissolved into a whirl of crimson smoke.

Chapter Text

The world reformed around me in a dizzying rush of color and light, my stomach lurching as solid ground materialized beneath my feet. I stumbled forward, disoriented, half expecting to feel my face smack into something again, only to find Sylus’s firm grip on my hand steadying me. His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me tightly against him as I swayed.

When my vision cleared, I found myself standing in a sleek, modern penthouse. All dark wood and polished steel, floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering, vibrant expanse of the N109 Zone below. The air was crisp, filtered, carrying the faintest hint of something metallic. Gun oil, maybe, or just the tang of ozone from the city’s perpetual hum.

The space was immaculately clean, carrying sleek, yet undeniably luxurious, furniture. A large L-shaped black leather couch framed two tables, a low glass coffee table with a black sculpture, and a taller table with large, worn books sitting on it. It wasn’t the only seat in the room, as there were armchairs on either side of the couch near their own tables. This man had many tables, thinking about it.

The walls were lined with high arches and paintings. Behind the couch shat a neat display of guns, which, if it were anyone else, would have made me nervous at the sight of one of them being missing. The floor was a black marble, polished to perfection, with soft ash-colored rugs sitting atop where the seats were.

I knew this place.

I’d seen it before in the game, in screenshots, in fan art. But standing here, breathing the same air as Sylus, feeling the hum of the city beneath my feet, seeing everything that wasn’t included in the game—

It was wrong. Wrong for me to be the one experiencing it.

Still, my hand refused to let go of his as my feet moved on their own, aching as they did. I walked in a daze, past the archway, into the large hall, eyes trained on the kitchen.

“Funny,” I heard the voice from behind me, Sylus’s hand moving to grip my waist to stop me from going any further. “You act like you’ve been here before.” He turned me to face him, crimson eyes flooding me with amusement, his silver hair catching in the light like liquid mercury.

“Should I be worried I have a stalker?”

I stilled, feeling my blood run cold. Stupidly, I blurted out the only excuse I could think of. “You have big windows. Easy to peek through.”

Okay. That was not helping my case.

His smirk deepened, and he took a deliberate step closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with him. “Is that so?” His voice was a low purr, the kind that made my body betray my will and make me shiver. “And what else have you…peeked at, I wonder?”

My skin burned, hair standing up on the back of my arms. I placed my hands on him, promptly pushing myself away, out of his grip. “Right, you’re so weird.”

Sylus stepped back, giving me ample space as he placed his thumbs in his front pockets, tilting his head as he studied me. “Am I?”

“Yes.” My voice came out harsher than I intended. “You just told me that I wasn’t ready to be in the N109 Zone. That you wouldn’t take me here, but—” I gestured sharply at the space around me. “You brought me here anyway? To your home? In the N109 Zone? What the hell?”

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then slowly, he exhaled, the ghost of a laugh in the sound. “You really do think too much.”

“That’s not an answer at all.”

“No?” He tilted his head, staring at me like I was a puzzle he was figuring out too fast. “Then here’s an answer. Consider it…motivation.”

I stared at him, frowning. “Motivation?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “You climbed a building to bite me. I’m curious what you’ll do when you realize how much further you have to go.”

I felt my lips part slightly, tongue flickering over my teeth.

Annoying prick.

Sylus laughed, low and rich, like he could read my thoughts that were pouring insults in his direction. He gestured toward a hallway, eyes trailing over my features. “Bathroom’s the third door on the left. Clean yourself up. You look like a vampire that lost a fight with his prey.”

I scowled at him, but I didn’t argue. My face was still sticky with his blood, the aftertaste of iron and something unnervingly sweet still pooled in my mouth. It was probably best that I cleaned up before eating.

I stepped into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind me.

The bathroom was sleek and modern, all black marble and chrome, with a shower large enough to fit three people. My reflection stared back at me from the elegant mirror, lips still stained with Sylus’s blood, along with my cheek where the blood had been accidentally smudged. My hair was in complete disarray.

On the counter sat a neatly folded stack of clothes. Black silky pajama pants and an incredibly soft grey cotton shirt. A pair of fresh boxer briefs rested on top, still in their packaging. Expensive-looking. The fabric smelled faintly of Sylus, the scent unmistakable. I only sniffed it for a few seconds. Like any normal person would.

A towel sat neatly folded beside the clothes, along with an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. I glanced into the shower to find it was already stocked with necessities.

I paused in the middle of the bathroom, staring at all the items within it. Had that scheming little beast planned this? I can’t imagine he normally kept items ready for guests…considering he didn’t have guests, and considering the clothes seemed to be my size.

I turned the faucet on, splashing cold water on my face, scrubbing away the last traces of blood with a gentle facewash that was conveniently placed on the sink.

My thoughts swirled as I stared at the toothbrush. Maybe it was for Willow? Just in case? But…I pushed down my thoughts, brushing my teeth until the taste of iron was gone.

The shower was both a relief and my damnation. Scalding water pounded against my aching muscles, steam curling around me as I scrubbed away the remnants of the night. The shampoo smelled heavenly and entirely expensive. The conditioner even more so. I had never achieved hair so soft in all twenty-one years of my life.

Admittedly, I had sat down for most of the shower, my body struggling too much to stay upright. And consequently, I had nearly blacked out right there on the floor. Though, that easily could have happened while standing too.

When I finally stepped out, skin pink and steaming, the clothes fit with unsettling perfection. The sweatpants sat snug around my waist, and the shirt was slightly oversized how I liked it, and entirely too comfortable. Like I was being lulled into something.

That dragon knew too much, and it was starting to unsettle me.

I emerged from the bathroom, hair towel-dried and scrunched into curls, turning down the hallway to get to Sylus.

When I found my way to him, he was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The scent of spices and something rich—curry, maybe—filled the air.

Sylus turned at the sound of me walking into the kitchen, his crimson eyes sweeping over me. “Better,” he murmured, setting down the wooden spoon. “Though I see you’ve made yourself quite at home with my conditioner.”

I reached up, self-consciously, to touch my damp, still-forming curls. “It was there,” I said defensively.

“Mm.” His lips twitched as he approached, reaching out unexpectedly to tug at a strand of my hair.

The casual intimacy of the gesture sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine, accompanied by a sickening feeling in my stomach.

“You look like a wet kitten.”

Feeling gone.

Sylus’s fingers lingered for a moment too long before withdrawing, smirk widening at the glare I sent his way. “Don’t look so offended,” he said, turning back to the stove. “It’s an improvement from the blood-covered stray I dragged in.”

I crossed my arms, scowling as I sat down at the kitchen island. The marble cool against my elbows, a stark contrast to the warm air of the penthouse.

The scent of spices grew stronger as he lifted the wooden spoon with his left hand, blowing gently on the steaming liquid before offering it to me. “Taste.”

With a huff, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the spoon, feeling Sylus’s free hand gently holding my jaw still. The flavour exploded across my tongue. Rich, slightly sweet, with just enough heat to make my lips tingle. My eyes widened despite myself.

“Good?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction by inflating his ego more. “It’s…edible.”

Sylus chuckled, turning back to the stove. “High praise.” He turned the heat off, ladling the curry into two bowls with practiced ease.

Sylus set the steaming bowl in front of me, the rich aroma of coconut milk and spices making my stomach growl traitorously. He pulled up a bar stool opposite me, watching with undisguised amusement as I tried to maintain my scowl while simultaneously inhaling the scent of the food.

“Go on, eat,” he said, picking up his own spoon. “Before you pass out from hunger.”

I stabbed my spoon into the curry with more force than necessary. “I am eating.”

The first bite was heavenly. Perfectly balanced between creamy and spicy, the tender chunks of chicken practically melted on my tongue. I couldn’t stop the small, involuntary noise that escaped me before it was too late.

Sylus’s head tilted, his spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. “Like it that much, kitten?”

I pointedly took another large bite, chewing slowly and making a ‘sorry’ gesture signaling I couldn’t answer with food in my mouth.

His lips twitched. “Alright, then.”

We ate in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being the clinking of spoons against ceramic and the distant hum of the city below. The food was…so good it was offensive to me personally. Rich and complex, layers of flavor that had me questioning how the hell he made it so fast. Had the chef started it, and he kicked him out to look like he made it? Did he use his powers?

When I finally set my spoon down, the bowl scraped, clean, I rubbed my tired eyes that had been threatening to close through the entire meal. Without my medicine, eating made me drowsy, and the long, tiring day I had wasn’t helping much.

Sylus’s crimson eyes tracked my every movement as I fought to keep my eyelids from drooping. “Fighting sleep already?” He murmured, that damn smirk playing on his lips. “And here I thought you’d at least last until dessert.”

I rubbed at my eyes again, the warmth of the meal settling heavily in my limbs. “Shut up,” I muttered, though the words came out more whining than spiteful. My fingers twitched toward my empty bowl. “There’s…dessert?”

Sylus chuckled, the sound rich and dark and delicious. And I shouldn’t be saying that. “Always so hungry,” he mused, moving to the refrigerator.

I watched as he retrieved a glass dish covered in plastic wrap, revealing a perfectly layered tiramisu beneath. My mouth watered instantly, the rich espresso scent hitting me from across the kitchen.

He set it down in front of me with a quiet clink, along with a spoon. I was expecting a plate to be placed alongside the large dish, to be served a plate, but instead he smiled at me. He leaned forward, tapping my temple. “You can be greedy, take all you want, kitten.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. The first bite was pure decadence, creamy mascarpone, bitter espresso, the delicate crunch of cocoa-dusted coffee-soaked biscuits. Again, a noise of satisfaction escaped me.

Sylus leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with that expression again. “You’re loud when you enjoy things,” he observed.

I swallowed my bite, glaring up at him. “Can you not do that when I’m trying to enjoy my food? It’s distracting and annoying. Can’t eat a meal in peace around here.”

Sylus chuckled again. “And here I thought you’d appreciate my company,” he teased, reaching out to swipe a finger through the mascarpone where I was reaching for a bite of my own.

“Get your own dish.” I pouted, moving to smack his hand away, only for him to grip my wrist with his free hand.

He licked the cream from his finger, looking at me as if he weren’t a greedy thief. “But yours tastes better.”

I scowled, dragging the dish closer towards me as I shoved another large spoonful into my mouth just to spite him. The sweetness was almost overwhelming now, but after the long, exhausting day, it just tasted as heavenly as it did on the first bite. My eyelids grew heavier with each bite, the warmth of the penthouse and the full weight of my meal dragging me toward sleep.

Sylus watched me for a long moment before sighing. “Alright, kitten. Your face is going to land in the tiramisu if you keep going like this.” He plucked the spoon from my fingers before I could protest.

I blinked up at him, my vision swimming with exhaustion. “I wasn’t done,” I hissed, though my words slurred together.

Sylus set the dessert aside, far out of my reach. “Yes, you were.” His fingers brushed past my hair, gently, before flicking my forehead. I whined. “You’re about three seconds from passing out.”

I wanted to argue, but my traitorous body sagged forward of its own accord. I could have sworn my eyes were open, but everything was dark. Strong arms caught me before I could faceplant into the marble.

I jolted awake as my body left the stool, arms flailing instinctively to grab onto something—or in this case, someone. My fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as my drowsy brain struggled to process the sudden movement.

“Relax,” Sylus whispered, his voice a low rumble against my ear as he adjusted his hold, one arm beneath me. Show off. “I’m not dropping you.”

My head lolled against his shoulder. “Put me down,” I mumbled into his shirt, the words muffled by fabric that smelled faintly of gunmetal and expensive cologne. “I can walk.”

“Can you?” His voice was still too close to my ear, dripping with that teasing tone. “Should we give it a try?”

Before I could answer, Sylus shifted his grip slightly, just enough for my feet to brush the floor. My knees immediately buckled, forcing me to cling tighter to his shirt as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

“Such a shame.” His chest vibrated with quiet laughter as he effortlessly lifted me again. “A stubborn kitten won’t admit he needs help.”

I gripped his shirt tightly, tugging on it as I felt defensiveness bubbling up. “What I need—” I paused, a sudden thought piercing through my drowsiness. “I need to get back to Willow.”

Sylus didn’t pause his stride as he carried me down the hallway. “It’s fine, kitten. You don’t need to worry about that.”

I blinked up at him, eyes trained on him as he glanced down at me briefly before focusing his attention on the way ahead of him. “What? No, I’m going to worry about that.”

“Rafayel.” He glanced down at me again, more purposeful. “He’ll tell her you’re staying with him tonight. Too tired from your…what was it? Searching for something from your ‘vision’?”

I furrowed my brows, staring up at him. My fingers tightened around his shirt further. “How would Rafayel know to do any of that? I left him at the club. He wasn’t even there when you came in.”

Sylus sighed, shifting me slightly in his arms, just enough to pull out his phone with his free hand. The screen lit up, revealing a text thread.

Unknown: You owe me for this.
S: Add it to my tab.
Unknown: I’m adding interest.
S: Sure, if it makes you feel better.

I stared at the exchange, my sluggish brain struggling to process. “You have his number?” The words came out small, bewildered. I had sensed that in the game, the leads had some awareness of each other, but it seemed this world specifically was taking that to another level of play.

Texting each other… “How? Why? When?”

Sylus tucked the phone away without answering, pushing open a door at the end of the hallway with his shoulder. The room was beyond dimly lit, dominated by a massive bed with black silk sheets that looked sinfully soft. It wasn’t his room, at least, I would have recognized it if it were.

He set me down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure I wouldn’t topple over. “You’re overcomplicating things,” he murmured, pulling away from me. “Which is why you’re going to sleep now, kitten.”

My mind whirled with unanswered questions, but my body was betraying me, sinking deeper into the mattress with a traitorous sigh. My eyelids fluttered shut despite my best efforts.

The last thing I felt was Sylus’s fingers carding gently through my damp hair.

Then nothing.

A soft hum curled through the air in my half-asleep state.

It was the same melody he’d heard before. Gentle, like a lullaby half-remembered. The voice wasn’t Sylus, that much I knew. Yet it was familiar in a way I couldn’t place.

Who…?

The thought drifted, unfinished. I should have questioned it, should have opened my eyes and searched the dim room for the source. But the voice didn’t feel like a stranger’s, nor did it even feel out of place.

It felt like someone had been humming for a long time, and I was only now focusing on the song. I felt like my earring was being tugged on, annoyingly. Insistent.

I stirred, the sensation of fingers brushing against my cheek pulling me reluctantly toward wakefulness. The touch was light, reverent, tracing the curve of my cheekbone before threading gently through my hair. It wasn’t Sylus. The hands were too small, the touch too delicate, as if it were scared.

Yet, it didn’t feel like an intrusion.

My head rested against something soft yet stiff. A lap, I realized. The scent of rain and something floral curled around me, familiar in a way that made my chest ache. The humming continued, soft and melodic, a song I felt I should know but couldn’t quite remember.

I tried to open my eyes, when white text unfurled across my vision like ink spreading on parchment, stark against the darkness behind my eyelids.

[Hello, little fragment.]

My breath hitched. The words pulsed gently, as if alive.

[You’ve wandered far, haven’t you?]

Fingers traced the shell of my ear, tugging lightly at the earring there. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts soothing and unsettling.

[But that’s alright. Petals drift. It’s what they do.]

My fingers twitched against the sheets. This was another one of those dreams.

[No, not a dream.] The text shifted, rearranging itself hesitantly as if it were thinking. [Though I suppose it might feel like one.]

The fingers in my hair stilled, then resumed their gentle strokes. The humming returned, softer now, as if to soothe my rising unease.

[There’s a story you must write.]

The words shimmered like moonlight on water, ethereal and fleeting. My breath caught in my throat.

[A story?] I thought, watching in horror as the question formed in front of my eyes.

The text rippled in response, letters twisting like vines. [It’s an old song. An old tale.]

A thumb brushed over my cheekbone, lingering there as if to wipe away something unseen. The scent of rain grew stronger, laced with something metallic. Blood, maybe, or the change right before a storm.

[You’ll write it again.]

The words shimmered, then dissolved like mist, leaving behind only the faintest impression. The humming disappeared with the words.

Then, a sharp tug on my earring.

My eyes flew open.

The room was dimly lit by moonlight spilling in through white curtains against the tile floor. There was no city view, no black silken sheets. Only a soft couch beneath my head and paint splattered across the floor, dripping canvases spread out across the way.

Chapter Text

I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding out of my chest. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me, my vision flickering out as I came crashing back down on the plush fabric. My fingers dug weakly, stiffly, into the couch, my eyes blinking rapidly as I tried to make sense of my surroundings and recover all at once.

First things first. This wasn’t Sylus’s penthouse.

The scent of oil paints and turpentine filled the air, thick and cloying. Scattered artworks, paintbrushes, paints. This was definitely Rafayel’s studio.

My head throbbed as I tried to piece together how I’d gotten here. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in Sylus’s guest room, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under as those tender fingers carded through my hair…it was entirely out of character. Or, at least it would be in character if I were Willow, but I was not.

So, the next question…was it just a dream?

A shiver ran down my spine. I ignored the pain in my arm to reach up and touch my earring, half-expecting it to be gone. It was still there, cool metal humming faintly under my fingertips.

[You’ll write it again.]

Right. Because that is such a helpful instruction that leaves me with absolutely no questions.

A soft rustling sound came from across the room. I tensed, my head snapping towards the noise.

Rafayel sat slumped in an armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a sketchbook balanced precariously on his lap. His violet eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but they flicked up to meet mine as soon as I turned over to face him fully.

“Awake?” he drawled, his voice rough and cold. He snapped the sketchbook shut and tossed it onto a nearby table with a careless flick of his wrist. “You’ve been out for hours.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. Too many questions. I let out a shaky breath as I slowly moved to sit up, only to be hit with a wave of dizziness. Lying down all day it was going to be, then. “How did I get here?”

Rafayel’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained cold. “You don’t remember? How tragic.” He dramatically leaned forward, emphasizing every point of movement as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Overgrown bird dropped you off like a stray kitten on my doorstep. Said he had too many problems on his plate to add you in the mix.”

My heart dropped to my stomach, fingers tightening around the edge of the couch. My gaze towards Rafayel went cold. “Sylus said that, really?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, the bird. Who else?”

“Right.” I exhaled sharply through my nose, dragging my nails along my thumb to pick at the skin. Every nerve in my body felt like it was lit on fire with pain, my body felt like dead weight, and I had no energy at all. A flare-up. Definitely triggered by…everything I did yesterday.

I shifted on the couch, forcing myself to sit upright. I knew I was in the den of an apex predator, despite how Rafayel portrayed himself to MC, he was still entirely dangerous. “And you just…what, took me in on his word? Lied for me, let me sleep here?”

Rafayel arched his brow. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you wanting me to toss you into the bay instead? Feed you to the fish?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “If you want it that bad, we can go right now.”

I frowned, eyes furrowing as I looked at him, my face scrunching in protest as I talked. “Fuck you, Rafayel.”

“Ungrateful.” Rafayel murmured as he stood, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. “Luckyyy for you, I have better things to do than argue with a half-dead stray.” He examined his nails, one hand on his hip, exaggerating his disinterest. “Willow called. Twice.”

That got my attention. My stomach twisted. “What did she say? What did you say?”

“The truth,” he said, shaking his head disappointedly at me. I felt like I was going to throw up. “That you passed out from exhaustion, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. She bought it.” His violet eyes flicked up to meet mine.

I’m sure the look on my face was priceless to him. I grabbed one of the pillows laid out on the couch and launched it at his face. “Asshole! Lead with that next time!”

Rafayel let out an exaggerated gasp as he easily side-stepped out of the pillow’s attack range, staggering backward with a dramatic flourish. He clutched his chest as if I’d struck him with a blade.

“Ack—!” His free hand flew to his forehead, his voice pitching into a wounded whine. “Such cruelty! After I nursed you back to health, sheltered you from the storm, and this is the thanks I get?”

He purposefully turns around, glancing over his shoulder with a pout on his face. “You’re more aggressive than a blind shark. How rude.”

I rolled my eyes so hard that it started to give me a headache. “What the hell are you talking about? The most you did was insult me and lead me into danger.”

“I was so helpful!” He sniffed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like a Victorian maiden on the verge of a fainting spell. “I spent my precious time guiding you around against my will, and you had the nerve to run off. And I, your beautiful prince, had to fend off the evil dragon.”

“Wow. So brave.” I deadpanned, resisting the urge to jump him.

Rafayel sighed, dropping the act immediately. I watched as a cold, detached gaze fell over him again. Bored. Disinterested. “Now, since you’re clearly feeling better.”

I stilled, still feeling the pain wracking through my body. But I didn’t say anything. If we were in an apocalypse setting, likely, I would be the hidden zombie that infected everyone because I selfishly stayed quiet.

“Can you make yourself useful and go back to Willow already? Seriously, you’ve been around enough.” Rafayel used his hand to wave me off.

My fingers twitched against the couch cushions. The dismissal stung more than I wanted to admit, even if it was expected. Rafayel had no reason to keep me around, Sylus’s cryptic agreement, or was it blackmail, aside.

“Fine,” I muttered, forcing myself to stand despite the way my legs nearly gave out beneath me and my vision faded temporarily. “Since you’ve been so generous.”

Rafayel watched me with an unreadable expression as I steadied myself against the armrest. His gaze flickered briefly to my earring before he turned away. “Your clothes are on the chair by the door,” he said absently. “I won’t show you the bathroom again. Find it yourself.”

I glanced down at myself, realizing I was still wearing the borrowed pajamas from Sylus. The soft fabric smelled like him. My heart twisted painfully before I forced the feeling away.

“Right,” I said, voice flat. I shuffled toward the chair, my movements stiff and uncoordinated. The pain was worse now that I was standing, a deep, throbbing ache that radiated from my joints to my fingertips. Every step sent fresh spikes of discomfort up my spine.

The fabric was warm, as if they’d just come out of the dryer. Maybe he was feeling merciful after all.

I took the clothes and stumbled my way back to the bathroom. Changing was only a mildly aggravating task. Pain blossomed as I pulled the fabric over my head, my heart pounding unbearably with a tightness while my arms were lifted.

It took an embarrassingly long time for every clothing piece to be swapped back into my original clothes. I stood in the mirror, examining my face. My freckles had faded into my pale skin to the point they were only noticeable up close. A consequence of never being in the sun. Though the dark brown beauty marks still remained scattered across my face. Patchy stubble was starting to grow in again, and I realized I would have to get my hands on a razor sooner or later.

I glanced down at my leather jacket, black and red. It was a bit scraped up, but that was fine, since I apparently looked so scrappy to everyone else. My eyes then settled on the side of my jacket, widening slightly when I realized something was missing.

That something being a replica of Sylus’s brooch. Something I had bought and proudly worn on my jacket for as long as I had played the game.

I pushed out of the bathroom, making my way back to Rafayel. “Hey, when I left my clothes here, did you happen to see—”

I was cut off by the sight of Rafayel standing near a table, finger tapping against a velvet box. “Don’t leave without this.”

I cautiously walked over, standing beside Rafayel. The velvet was smooth, and the box left me with many questions. I flipped it open, revealing a sleek black phone that looked much too luxurious and well-made to be anything from America. This was truly Linkon.

I stared at it, not daring to take it out of where it sat. “...why? This isn’t your style. Did he leave this?”

Rafayel scoffed, leaning over the table to bring my attention solely on him. “No, a jellyfish grew legs and dropped it off while you were sleeping.” He tilted his head, shifting his weight into my space more. “Obviously, it’s from him. Take it.”

I blinked up at him. There were…too many questions to be had about why the hell those two were communicating. Or beefing. It felt like they were beefing.

I glanced back down at the phone, carefully taking it out of its case. I powered it on, waiting to see what the interface looked like. “Thanks…?” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure why I was thanking him.

Rafayel waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it. And as far as Willow knows, you got it from me. Because I’m so kind and generous.”

I glanced over at him, face unamused. “You’re just trying to get brownie points from her.”

He smiled and snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “Exactly.”

I huffed and turned my attention back to the phone. Going through it briefly, it looked like it already had a lot of information loaded on it. More than I should have, but most importantly, it had Willow’s contact information. Including her address and a navigation map to get me there. It also, for some reason, had Rafayel’s information as well.

I glanced accusingly at Rafayel, who just stared at me with that same calculating gaze. He really didn’t trust anyone but MC, and he was making that perfectly clear. “What is your deal with Sylus? In the game, the leads weren’t interacting with each other, so why do you two have a secret club going on?”

Rafayel’s face turned to what could only be described as pure disgust. “Secret club?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Puh-lease. That thing and I just happen to move in the same circles. Business associates at best.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, unconvinced. “Sure, business associates. Let’s go with that.” I say, nodding my head mockingly at him.

He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s a small world when you run in the circles I do.” His violet eyes flicked to the phone in my hands. “Speaking of…that thing should have everything you need.”

He took the phone from my hand, thumbs navigating around the interface expertly until he opened a bank app and laughed. “Wow, you’ve even got a little emergency fund. How nice.”

Upon hearing the word fund, I snatched the phone back, shoving a hand in his face as I stared at the app. “What the—?”

Rafayel’s hand gripped my wrist, his nails digging bluntly into the skin as I felt a cold shiver run through my body despite the heat that was radiating from him. “Don’t touch.”

Yes sir.

I nodded my head, looking away from him. “Didn’t mean to—Sorry, Rafayel.” I looked back at him, watching his eyes assess me before releasing my wrist.

I pulled my hand away from him carefully, letting my attention drift back to the bank account. Did his protection also come with…this? “Is he serious?”

Rafayel sighed, leaning against the table with that infuriating casual grace. “Oh, deadly, I’m sure. Probably considers it pocket change.” Rafayel smiled innocently, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve heard he takes good care of his strays.”

I exited the bank app, ignoring the way my fingers shook. “Alrighty…” I navigated to Willow’s contact, clicking on the address listed in the notes to pull up directions. “Thank you for your hospitality. And death threats, I guess.”

Rafayel let out an amused laugh, placing his hand on his hip as he tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make it a habit.” He then jerked his head toward the door. “Go on then. Before Willow comes and manhandles me again.”

Right. Willow.

I tightened my grip on the phone and headed for the door. “Sure, buh-bye.”

The afternoon air was cool against my skin as I stepped outside, the salt-tinged breeze doing little to clear my throbbing head. I started the navigation to Willow’s apartment, then clicked on the icon to message her.

Rain: This is Rain, Rafayel got me a phone so I don’t get lost 😣 I’m on my way to the apartment

I glanced at the time. It was around 3 pm. I had…slept in rather late. Or I was up rather late. Both things are true, probably. That meant, though, Willow wouldn’t be off work for 2 more hours. It could take me that long to walk back, or I could call a taxi using Sylus’s fund. However…the possibility of running into Xavier…

Better not risk it. That man’s jealousy was…

The phone buzzed in my hand as Willow replied, much faster than I expected.

Willow: where r u rn? lemme swing by u can update me

I paused, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I considered my text.

Rain: Just left Rafayel’s studio, I can meet you closer to the apartment? Halfway??

Her reply came almost instantly, a link that opened up a little cafe somewhere in Linkon.

WIllow: im abouttt the same distance away from this place we shuld get ther at the same time

Rain: Okay! I’ll see you there 😫😫😫

I started the navigation, debating if I should take a cab, but…if Willow was on duty, she likely would be walking around for the most part. At least, I couldn’t remember MC getting around by vehicle during work. My memory wasn't the most reliable thing in the world, however.

Walking it was.

And it was horrible.

Linkon stretched out around me, a labyrinth of high-rises and crowded streets, and yet it all felt numb, distant. Like I was moving through a dream while my body screamed at me to stop. Each step sent a fresh jolt up my legs, my muscles stiff and knotted from yesterday’s strain.

Without my usual playlist blaring loudly in my ears to help me regulate, everything was too much. The chatter of pedestrians, the rumble of cars, the way my own breath sounded too fast and loud in my skull.

I started to pick at the skin on my thumb again as I walked.

This was stupid.

I could call a car, but at this point, I was already too far into the walk, and I felt that I couldn’t back out.

Yet, for some reason, I was more mad at Sylus for not including headphones with his little care package.

I glanced down at my phone, thumbing through the contacts until—

There it was.

Sylus.

I considered it for half a second before my fingers started moving.

Rain: No headphones with the phone? Are you trying to kill me?????

I hit send before I could rethink it, then immediately regretted it. What was I expecting? A response? An apology? A sudden delivery of wireless earbuds via Mephisto? Yeah, I’ve lost it.

My phone buzzed almost instantly.

Sylus: I didn’t realize I was your personal concierge, kitten.

Rain: You are now, ring ring bell boy

Almost immediately, three dots appeared, indicating he was typing. My stomach flipped. Why was he even awake in the first place? If I remembered his schedule correctly, it was two hours before his usual waking-up time.

Sylus: If you wanted my attention, you only had to ask.

My fingers twitched against the screen.

Rain: Uhm, I asked for headphones not attention??

A pause. The dots lingered.

Sylus: Really? Then why did you message me instead of buying some yourself?

I paused, stopping in the middle of the walkway. There was no way in hell I was that easy to see through.

Sylus: Check your jacket pocket.

I frowned as I reached into the pocket of my jacket. My fingers brushed against something small and smooth. I pulled it out, revealing a compact case of wireless earbuds. Matte black with red accents. My aesthetic, but they were Sylus’s colors too.

And when did that bastard even put those in here?

Rain: Remember when you were worried I was stalking you? Well now it’s my turn to worry you’re my stalker

Sylus: You’re welcome.

I rolled my eyes, but a small, traitorous smile tugged at my lips as I popped the earbuds into my ears. They fit nicely, the noise-cancelling feature instantly muffling the chaos of the city around me. A soft chime signaled they were connected to my phone, and suddenly, music began to play. Something slow, melodic, classical, with a haunting violin.

I hadn’t expected them to play music automatically.

I opened the music app that was downloaded to the phone, seeing a playlist already added and playing. Was this his music taste then?

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly as I resumed walking. The pain was still there, a mix between throbbing and complete numbness, but the music helped dull the edges, made it easier to keep going.

I would have to see if this world had any music from my world. Later.

The cafe Willow had chosen was tucked into a quieter corner of the city, a small, unassuming place with ivy crawling up its brick exterior. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit me as I pushed open the door, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the crisp afternoon air.

Willow was already there, perched on a stool by the window. Her dreadlocks piled into a ponytail, yet they still came down to her lower back, given how long they were. She looked up as I entered, her amber eyes lighting up with relief before narrowing into a playful glare.

“Rain! Took you long enough,” she called, waving her finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. “I was worried you were gonna get lost again.”

I slid into the seat beside her, pulling the earbuds out and tucking them into the case in my pocket. “Sorry, Willow,” I said quietly, stretching my aching wrist. “I walked too slow.”

Willow’s gaze flickered over me, her expression shifting from teasing to concern in an instant. “You look like shit,” she said bluntly, reaching across the table to poke my cheek. “Are you okay? Did you find anything?”

“I’m okay.” I shrugged weakly, smiling at her as I shook my head. “I’m sorry I didn’t find much. All that walking for nothing, I guess.”

Willow’s finger lingered on my cheek, her hand moving to gently brush just beneath my eye where the dark circles were likely pronounced. “Seriously, Rain,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “You look like you got hit by a truck. Twice.”

I sighed, leaning back slightly. “I’m fine. Just…tired.” I turned my gaze towards my hands, diligently picking at the skin. It was so dry and cracked…I hadn’t had lotion to use for a while, which was aggravating my need to pick.

“You’re lying.” She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. Too gentle. “What’s going on?”

My stomach twisted in knots. I shook my head, looking back up at her. She was still in her work uniform, Hunter's watch still on her wrist. It was best to just send her on her way and go lie down myself. “I’m not really lying…I just overdid it yesterday with all the walking around. My body’s not used to it.”

Willow’s expression softened, but the suspicion didn’t leave her eyes. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come to get you.”

“I didn’t want to bother. I was too focused on looking around, too.” I muttered, glancing away.

“Rain.” Her hand reached out, gripping my wrist gently. I stilled at the contact, scrunching my face in brief disgust before I steeled my expression. Luckily, I was turned away. Willow was very touchy. “You’re not a bother, seriously. I wouldn’t have picked you up if I wasn’t going to take care of you.”

I smiled politely at her, nodding my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll be better at leaning on you.” I moved my hand away from hers, reaching over the counter to grab a packet of salt. I promptly ripped it open and started eating it like it was candy.

Willow’s eyes widened as I poured the salt into my palm and licked it up. “What the hell, Rain?” she hissed, snatching my hand away. “Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?”

I let out a whine, immediately pulling my hand back from her grip to continue eating the salt. “Nuhuh, I need salt.”

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head before shaking her own. “Okay, you’re a mess.” She took the tray of salt packets away from me before I could grab another. “Too much sodium is bad for you. You need to get that in check.”

My jaw dropped wide open seeing her guard the salt packets. I stared up at her, then at the packets, then up at her again. “What the hell?” I reached for them, only for my hand to be smacked away.

“No—bad Rain.”

“Dude.” I paused, still looking at her in disbelief. “I wasn’t joking when I said I needed salt. It’s supposed to help with flare-ups.”

Willow’s brows furrowed. “Flair ups? Do you have a condition?”

I nodded my head, reaching for the salt again. “Yeah, chronic. I’m managing it.”

She didn’t look convinced, still gatekeeping the sodium. “Do you have meds for it?”

“Not here.”

Her frown deepened, then she promptly stood up. She set down the tray, far away from me, and then gripped my arm. “Okay, we’re going somewhere.”

I pouted. “Where?”

“To see a doctor.”

I nearly choked. “Wha—Willow, I’m fine—”

She held up a hand, cutting me off. “Nope. Not negotiable. Consider it part of paying off your debt. I can’t have you be too sick to repay me.” She leaned in, voice dropping. “You’re my responsibility now, so suck it up.”

Alright then.

I stood up, opening my mouth to argue, but the room tilted abruptly. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, my vision tunneling into black. My hands shot out, gripping onto Willow for stability.

“Rain?” Willow’s voice sounded distant, muffled.

I blinked rapidly, or at least I think I was blinking, trying to clear the darkness as my vision eventually returned to me.

“Okay, that’s it,” she muttered, her voice tight with worry. In one swift motion, she yanked the Hunter’s watch off her wrist and slapped it onto mine. The device whirred to life, its screen flashing as it scanned my vitals.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screen flashed red, Willow’s face frowning as she read the numbers. “What the hell, Rain? That is not a normal standing heart rate.”

I rubbed my eye, unfazed by the numbers. “That’s like…normal for me?”

She grabbed my shoulders, her grip firm. “Rain, do you have a heart condition?”

I paused, thinking briefly. “Well…it technically is?”

Willow’s expression darkened. “That’s not a good answer.” She pulled out her phone, typing furiously. “We’re going to the doctor. Now.”

On the screen, I could see it was a text message to Zayne. My stomach dropped.

“Willow, wait—”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no. No waiting.” She gripped me tightly, dragging me to the cafe’s entrance. “You don’t get a say. We’re going.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling much too overwhelmed as the world swayed dangerously when she dragged me along.

I really—really—just wanted to lie down.

Chapter Text

The waiting area outside of Zayne’s office was sterile, bright, and overwhelmingly white. At least for my taste. The scent of antiseptic and too-cold recycled air clung to everything, settling sharp and acrid in the back of my throat. I sat in one of the stiff fabric chairs, fingers drumming restlessly against my knees, my palms damp with sweat.

Willow paced in front of me, locs swaying with every impatient step, her phone pressed to her ear as she muttered something hushed. I didn’t know who to, I couldn’t hear the voice on the other side of the phone, and Willow hadn’t mentioned any name.

I hunched over, resting my forehead briefly against my hands. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights overhead was starting to drill into my skull, each flicker feeling like the flash of a camera aimed directly at my eyes.

What I wouldn’t give to be in the soothingly dark lighting of Sylus’s home with all those cool, silky fabrics and…

God, I wanted to lie down so bad.

Worse. I needed to.

I swallowed against the nausea creeping up my throat and willed the room to stop its gentle swaying.

“He’s coming,” Willow announced, snapping her phone shut.

I let out a quiet huff as I turned to look down the hall. Zayne, indeed, was coming. There was something inappropriate to be joked about there, but I didn’t even have the energy to make the joke.

Zayne walked silently down the hall, crisp white coat buttoned neatly over his broad shoulders. His expression was its usual unreadable calm, professional, and detached, but his sharp eyes flicked briefly to my hunched posture, my shaking hands, before landing on my face.

“Rain,” he said.

Flat. Neutral.

Not a question, just a confirmation on his end.

I straightened as best I could, forcing a polite smile. “Doctor Li.”

His eyes shifted slightly, unamused.

Willow jumped up, grabbing my arm and hauling me out of my seat toward him with too much enthusiasm and force. “Zayne, he literally passed out on me—”

“Technically, it was only presyncope.”

“—and his heart rate spiked when he stood up—”

“It does that.”

“He’s been drinking salt like it’s candy—”

Zayne held up a hand, calmly. “I saw the texts.” His eyes locked onto mine. I was half-convinced he could see my soul withering under that gaze. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Willow shove me forward. “Alone.”

Willow faltered. “But I—”

“Alone, Willow,” he repeated, firmer.

I was surprised. With all the HIPAA violations he was racking up with his relationship with MC, I almost forgot he was truly a doctor that took his oath seriously.

Willow huffed, but she knew better than to argue with Zayne about a patient. With a last narrowing of her eyes at me, she plopped back down in her chair, arms crossed.

I followed Zayne into the office, my stomach twisting with every step. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in that unnervingly pristine space.

Zayne gestured to a chair that had been pulled out and angled away from his desk. “Sit.”

He did not have to tell me twice.

I sat down, palms pressed into the edge of the fabric, fingers curling.

Zayne went to his side of the desk, typing away at his computer briefly before turning to me. “We don’t have a record of you in our system. I would like to get a chart started for you, but right now we’ll focus on questions relating to your symptoms.”

I nodded my head, eyes trained on him while he was talking, then awkwardly trying to find some place else to look so he didn’t feel like I was staring.

“Willow implied you have already been diagnosed. Were you diagnosed with POTS?”

I blinked, nodding my head once more. “Yes. Is it that easy to tell for you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled a drawer open, taking out a small blood pressure cuff and heart monitor. “I’m a cardiologist,” he neatened them out before turning his gaze toward me again. “And symptoms like yours aren’t hard to recognize.”

I nodded. I was doing a lot of nodding. Was that weird? “I guess I’m just not used to people recognizing it so quickly. My diagnosis was a long process.”

Zayne simply hummed and powered the device on. “Is it okay if I take your blood pressure and note your heart rate and oxygen levels?”

“Yes, sure.”

He stood, moving around the desk as he motioned for my arm. I held it out, my hand trembling. He fastened the cuff tightly around my bicep, placing the clip to the heart monitor around my finger. “You’re going to feel a tight squeeze, then the pressure will release slowly.”

I nodded, and the machine did just that. It let out a small huffing noise as Zayne manually inflated the cuff, seeing as he didn’t keep a big machine in his office to do it for him. It squeezed my arm uncomfortably. I held my breath without thinking.

Zayne’s eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Please remember to keep your breathing steady.”

I exhaled sharply, taking the effort now to count my breaths to make sure I was breathing properly.

The cuff loosened, Zayne taking note of the numbers in his head before removing the cuff and heart monitor. “Your blood pressure is good. Do you know if it typically drops with the postural changes?”

I shook my head, glancing down at my arm where the cuff had been. “No, it only drops a little bit, then bounces back. My heart rate is really low in general, so my heart rate doesn’t reach numbers that are too crazy…but they’re still big jumps.”

Zayne nodded his head stiffly, moving back to the drawer to grab a stethoscope. “May I listen to your heart?”

I tilted my head slightly as I nodded. “Yes, that’s okay.”

He came over to me, kneeling down to my level as his hand snaked to press to my back to steady me against the stethoscope.

Yet the moment his hand made contact with me—

A sharp pain lanced through my fingers, searing and sudden, like someone had plunged them into boiling water. I hissed, jerking back, just as Zayne had reeled back himself, clutching his eye as he looked at me.

And the room melted.

Hospital white bled into deep mahogany shelves, the sterile scent replaced by the earthy musk of aged paper and ink.

Except, this was a library that I recognized immediately. Not as mine, but as someone else’s.

The Fractal Library.

Neat. Ordered. Sterile.

And standing behind the front desk was a librarian. Tall, black hair, yet his face was obscured from my view.

Then, as fast as it came, it was gone.

The hospital snapped back into place, the sterile air rushing into my lungs all at once. Zayne had recoiled, leaned against his desk with one hand covering his eye, his breath coming out in a sharp exhale. His fingers curled against his temple, his physician’s calm fracturing for the first time since I’d met him.

We stared at each other. Silent. A recognition filtering between our eyes.

His gaze dropped to my hands, now clenched tightly in my lap, shaking violently.

“You saw it,” he said. Not a question.

I moved my head slowly, glancing up at him with a nervous air. “...yeah.”

He exhaled through his nose, my eyes dropping to his hands where I could see him attempting to regain control of his Evol. “We,” he murmured, voice rough yet calm, “shall not speak of this to Willow.”

My fingers flexed. It still stung. “I won’t say a word.” Even though I desperately wanted to.

Something flickered in Zayne’s expression as he fixed his posture. Not quite surprised but…assessing.

His gaze flickered to the stethoscope that had fallen around his neck, before he carefully pulled it off and set it aside. “I will make an appointment for you to come back, get a proper examination, and get a chart set up in our records.”

Zayne sat down in his chair, gaze falling over me as he appeared to observe me more. After a few moments, he turned his attention toward his computer. “Willow mentioned you had medication to manage your symptoms, but you do not currently possess any?”

I hummed in agreement, shifting in my chair. “Yes. It was called…pyrid…duhgist…meen…” I paused, brows furrowing. “I don’t know how to pronounce it, but it’s used to treat a type of muscle disease.”

Zayne nodded slowly, eyes trained on his computer as he typed away. “Pyridostigmine. Did it work well for your symptoms?”

“Yes. It was relatively new, but it helped.”

The soft clacking of the keyboard filled the quiet room as I watched Zayne work. His fingers moved efficiently over the keys, his expression unreadable yet focused as he inputted something onto the computer.

Finally, he looked up from the screen, his emerald eyes meeting mine once more. “I will prescribe you a temporary supply of pyridostigmine,” he said, voice as measured as ever. “It’s an outdated treatment for POTS, but since it’s what your body is used to, I will keep you on it before I can do a proper examination.”

A printer hummed to life behind him, spitting out a sheet of paper. He picked it up and handed it to me, his fingers purposefully staying away from mine.

“It will be a month's supply, but I want you to come back before then for a complete evaluation. Understood?”

I took the paper carefully. “Understood.”

He paused, eyes locking on mine with precision. “Any other concerns?”

I gave him another polite smile. “No, thank you.”

Zayne studied me for a long moment, as if debating whether to push further. Instead, he stood and walked to the door, holding it open for me.

“The pharmacy is on the first floor. Have Willow pass my number along to you,” he said, pausing to think. “My schedule is a bit unclear as of the moment, but I will let you know when I have time available to see you again.”

I nodded and stepped out into the waiting area, where Willow immediately sprang up from her seat.

“Well?” she demanded, eyes darting between me and Zayne’s stone-faced expression.

“He gave me a prescription,” I said, gesturing to the paper.

Willow snatched it from my hands, attempting to scan the content before Zayne plucked it away from her.

“That is a violation of privacy, Willow,” Zayne interjected smoothly from behind me, handing the paper back to me.

Willow pouted, crossing her arms, clearly unsatisfied with not being able to snoop. “Come on,” she huffed, grabbing my arm. “Let’s get your meds.”

I followed Willow to the hospital pharmacy, my steps slow and measures to avoid triggering another dizzy spell. Willow, on the other hand, moved with her usual effortless energy, her locs bouncing with each step.

The pharmacy was quiet, with only a few people waiting in line. Willow dragged me to the counter, shoving the prescription at the pharmacist with a bright smile. “Hi! We’d like this filled as soon as possible, please.”

The pharmacist, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, took the paper and scanned it briefly. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

Willow nodded eagerly. “Perfect! We’ll wait.”

I sank into one of the chairs in the waiting area, rubbing my eyes. I was too tired to be irritated at Willow’s crossing over obvious medical boundaries.

We spent the next 15 minutes sitting together, me in silence, while Willow talked about a friend. Something about missing her and wanting to see each other more. My brain felt too foggy to pick up on any details. I offered a vague, “You should just go see her then, why wait?”

Then, soon enough, I was handed a small paper bag with my medication inside. Willow snatched it before I could, peeking inside like a child with a candy bag.

“Pills?” she said, pulling out the bottle to inspect it. “I don’t know why I was expecting more.”

I took the bottle from her, tucking it into my pocket. “Sorry, it’s not super exciting.”

She pouted, but didn’t say anything more about the medicine. “Okay….let’s get you home.”

—

By the time we reached her building, my vision was swimming again. I barely registered the elevator ride up, the way Willow’s hand hovered near my elbow as if expecting me to collapse at any moment.

When we stepped inside, I beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan. Willow followed, arms crossed, watching me with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“You’re not okay,” she said bluntly.

I waved a hand dismissively, face burning into a pillow. “I’ll be fine. Just tired.”

Willow huffed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water. “Take your meds.”

I groaned, sitting up to take the glass of water as I took the pill bottle out of my pocket. I swallowed the pill with some effort, the damn thing refused to go down, but the water was soothing against my dry throat.

Willow sat on the edge of the coffee table, studying me. “You scared me today, don’t do that again,” she admitted quietly.

I blinked up at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” She sighed, taking her locs down from her ponytail. “But you need to take better care of yourself. You can’t just ignore this stuff.”

I looked away, my fingers tracing the edge of the glass. “You should be taking your own advice. I know how you are, always ignoring your own stuff and putting yourself in the way of danger.”

Willow’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “How much did that weird vision thingy show you?”

I hesitated, debating how much information I wanted to reveal. “It…showed a lot. Mostly about you. Your relationships with people. Events from your life.”

Willow sighed, standing up. “So you basically know everything about me.”

I nodded my head, shrugging my shoulders. “For the most part…”

Willow put her hands on her hips, lips pressing into a thin line. “Do you,” she began, voice dripping with skepticism, “know why this keeps happening to me?”

I blinked up at her, brows furrowing. “What keeps happening to you?”

Her jaw clenched for a moment, glancing away. “Forget it. Just…get some rest. I’ll be staying at Tara’s tonight, okay? So don’t go running off while I’m gone.”

I tilted my head, brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, was Tara the friend you were talking about?”

She looked at me like I was stupid. “Yeah, I mentioned her name like 50 times when I was telling you about her earlier?”

I paused, glancing away as confusion settled onto my face more. “Oh…” I looked back at her, shrugging my shoulders. “I must have been really out of it, I’m sorry.”

She sighed, shaking her head pitifully at me before she disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone in the dim glow of the living room lamplight.

The couch cushions sagged under my weight as I slumped back down, the soft fabric scratching against my cheek. The medication wouldn’t help much. It was only meant to lessen symptoms, and some days even that wouldn’t happen.

I missed my wife.

Wife, in this case, referring to Sylus.

Normally, on days like these, I would just listen to his secret time audios in my bed and sleep the pain off, or play through all of his cards for the millionth time.

Slowly, carefully, I eased onto my side, curling my knees toward my chest in a tight ball. I could…just text him. But what reason would I have?

I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen before I finally typed.

Rain: Sylussss let me train with you again tonight

The reply came almost instantly.

Sylus: No.

I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek as I felt my heart starting to ache.

Rain: What why????

Sylus: You’re in no condition to train.

I huffed, rolling onto my back and holding the phone above my face.

Rain: But I need to catch up to you :(

I watched as the typing indicator blinked for a moment before his response appeared.

Sylus: You’re worried about the wrong thing. You should be worried about catching up to a normal sleep schedule.

I bit the inside of my cheek, tongue running along the back of my teeth at the jab. Alright buddy.

Rain: You’re just scared I’m gonna be better than you

The pause was longer this time.

Sylus: You’re so amusing when you’re delusional, sweetie.

Sylus: You just want to see me.

I pressed my lips together, a mix of irritation, anxiety, and something dangerously close to affection curling in my chest.

Rain: Nuhuh. You’re just neglecting your duties as my mentor

Sylus: Really?

Sylus: And what duties would those be?

God, I could practically hear the teasing amusement in his voice. The way he would drag out the ‘really’ and take a sharp breath before the next sentence.

I needed to be put down.

Rain: Well as my mentor shouldn’t you be telling me what your duties are??

Sylus: Should I, now?

Sylus: Or would you prefer if I took you away and gave you a proper demonstration?

What the hell.

My breath hitched. My fingers hovered over the screen, torn between typing a snarky retort and just begging him to take me now since he was apparently offering.

I must have taken too long to respond, because my phone buzzed again.

Sylus: What? No response?

Sylus: Is something wrong with your head or did you fall asleep already?

Rain: Shhhhhh you’re interrupting my thinking time some of us put time and effort into our responses yk

Sylus: Dangerous habit, kitten.

Rain: Whatever. Your fault you won’t train me tonight.

A pause. The typing indicator flickered.

Sylus: Tomorrow.

Rain: Tomorrow??? For what???

Sylus: Get some rest, Rain.

Rain: Sylus???? Wtf does tomorrow mean?????

Rain: Hello?????

I pouted, setting my phone down as I shifted deeper into the couch.

I must have fallen asleep at one point, because when I shifted over, the entire apartment was shrouded in darkness. I peeked at my phone, reading the time as 1:03 am. Below the clock were a few messages from Willow, likely saying she had left for Tara’s, however long ago.

I dragged my fingers across the screen, unlocking my phone to read Willow’s messages.

Willow: gone 2 tara door is lcked back after wrk 2morrow pls don die

Willow: don eat all the ice cream

Willow: lol aint no ice cream left jk

Sometimes, trying to read her texts was difficult.

I tossed my phone aside, only for it to buzz immediately.

I groaned, picking it back up.

Sylus: Since you’re awake...

Rain: Excuse me?

Sylus: I believe someone begged me to train them today.

Rain: You said tomorrow???

Sylus: Check the time, sweetie.

I frowned, glancing at the time. I guess, technically, the new day had started.

Rain: Okay then where are you??? What are we doing???

Sylus: Look on the balcony.

My fingers froze over the screen. A shiver ran down my spine as I slowly turned my head toward the balcony doors. The curtains were drawn, but through the thin fabric, I could just make out a tall, dark silhouette standing motionless outside.

Heart pounding, I pushed myself up from the couch, wincing as my stiff muscles protested. The hardwood floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I padded toward the balcony. My hand hesitated on the curtain for a moment before drawing it aside.

Sylus stood with his back to the glass doors, silver hair glowing in the moonlight, hand tucked casually in his pocket. The black leather of his jacket gleamed against the city lights beyond. Sensing my presence, he turned his head just enough for me to catch the crimson glow in his eye.

“Going to invite me in?” His voice, quiet as it was, carried perfectly through the glass.

I fumbled with the lock, fingers suddenly clumsy, before sliding the door open. I didn’t step aside to let him in yet. “You’re so lame.”

Sylus arched a brow, the moonlight catching the sharp angle of his jawline. “Lame?” His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk. “As I recall, you wouldn’t stop harassing me until I agreed to—”

I yanked him inside by his arm before he could finish. The movement sent a jolt of pain through my still sore arms, but I ignored it. Sylus stumbled forward deliberately, letting me pull him across the threshold with surprising ease for someone of his size.

“Shut up.” My grip on his jacket loosened as I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. “What are we training for at one in the morning?”

Sylus didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered down momentarily before meeting mine again. “Well, as your mentor,” he murmured, reaching up to flick my forehead. “I’ve realized a new skill you need to be trained in.”

I paused, moving to rub my forehead as I glanced away. “What skill?”

Sylus’s smirk grew, leaning forward to hover his lips against my ear. He teasingly tugged at the earring, practically purring against me as he spoke. “Would you like to find out, kitten?”

Chapter Text

“This isn’t training.”

“No?” Sylus arched a brow, already strolling past me toward the massive windows overlooking the city. The neon glow of the N109 zone’s skyline painted shadows across his face. “Tell me, what is training, then?”

I crossed my arms. “Fighting. Running. Learning how not to die.”

He chuckled, low and rich, before flicking his fingers lazily toward an open doorway. “True, but that’s not the training I had in mind tonight.”

I followed his gesture.

Not a training room.

A pool.

Or perhaps a spa. Most of the space was dominated by a stone pool, deep enough to submerge in, its clear water shimmering under recessed lighting. Even in the dark, I could see the steam rising from the pool. Evidently, it was being heated. I could see the other half of the room held fancy poolside loungers, along with rolling cabinets stocked with what looked like oils and salves, and steaming towels.

I stared.

Sylus leaned into my view, unbuttoning his cuffs with deliberate slowness. I had pictured this exact scenario about 50 times. Just…with a very different ending in mind than the one that was going to play out today.

“A lesson for you, a fighter is only as strong as his ability to recover.” He rolled up his sleeves, baring forearms that I did not stare at. “And right now, you recover like a concussed kitten.”

I bristled. “I recover just fine—”

“You can barely sit upright without swaying,” he cut in, unimpressed. “That,” he gestured toward me, “is quite the liability.”

So he wanted me to kill myself. “So what, this is some kind of recovery training?”

“Mm.” He reached for a bottle of lavender-scented oil, pouring a measure into the water. The sharp, earthy scent curled through the air, undercut with something herbal. Maybe it was eucalyptus?

“What’s rule number one of survival, kitten?” He moved toward a storage closet, taking out a large bag of something like bath salts, and began to empty it into the water.

I furrowed my brows, stepping closer to him to see if the bag had any descriptors on it. “Don’t die?” It just seemed to be a bag of Epsom salts, but it had no writing on it. Likely, it was a special blend made for Sylus.

“Adapt.” His crimson eyes flickered down to meet mine. “Vulnerabilities come in many forms, you must adapt to every one of them.”

I opened my mouth to argue—

“Clothes off,” he ordered.

I froze, my face immediately turning to disgust as I looked at him. “Excuse me?”

Sylus didn’t even glance up as he tested the water temperature with his fingers. “You’re not bringing dirty clothes into my pool.”

I scowled, still, placing my hand over his to get him to turn his gaze to me. “Yeah, right. I’m not doing that. What happened to providing for me? You know, like giving me a proper swimsuit?”

Sylus’s hand stilled beneath mine. For a moment, we stayed like that. His fingers resting in the water, mine pressed over them in silent protest. With deliberate slowness, he turned his hand palm-up beneath the water’s surface, catching my fingers between his.

The movement was casual. Careless, even. But the way his thumb brushed over my knuckles had me thinking of five different ways I was going to eat his face.

“You misunderstand me,” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly. “I am providing for you.” His fingers tightened slightly around mine. “I just want a canvas to work with. Binder and boxers, preferably.”

I blinked at him, suddenly aware of how close our faces were. My eyes glanced down to his lips, I could smell his breath being so close to him. Something expensive, dark, rich, yet also like pomegranate. A wine, maybe? Either way, it shouldn’t be as distracting as it was.

“Want to or need to?” I asked, but I was already moving to shimmy off my shorts. It was all rather chaotic since I refused to let go of his hand until I had to, unlinking us to slide my shirt off over my head.

He didn’t wait long before his hand was gently brushing against the fabric of the binder, red mist swirling around it, before moving his hand to hover just above my boxers. He didn’t touch, just hovered, as his Evol worked and changed it into something else entirely.

I glanced down at the changes, seeing how my boxers had changed into boy shorts, with the fabric melting into see-through mesh that traveled up my stomach to meet the top half of the swimsuit. The sides were neatly cut out to accentuate my waist, and I could feel that the back top was open as well. It was black and red, and had an elegant air to it that made me feel out of place wearing it.

I was only glad that somehow, the swimsuit was still binding.

I looked back at Sylus, who was staring over me with a look I couldn’t describe. His crimson eyes dragged over the lines of the swimsuit, lingering in places that made my skin prickle with heat. “Is it okay with you?” he asked, voice much too soft.

My fingers twitched, resisting the urge to cover myself. “You’re…are you going to keep staring, or are we actually going to do whatever recovery training this is?”

A slow smirk curled his lips, his hand moving along my wrist. “Why can't it be both? I’m a greedy fiend, kitten.”

Before I could retort, he turned toward the pool with a fluid motion, red mist enveloping him as his own outfit shifted into swimwear. I was beginning to think he liked chains too much, since he was always decorating himself in those body chains fitted with jewelry.

My eyes stayed trained on him as I watched his back muscles shift with his movement. I was done for. I was so done for.

The water rippled around his waist as he turned back to face me, arms resting on the pool’s edge. Unfortunately, I was no better than a man, and was having trouble pulling my eyes away from his chest. “Are you going to come in, or do I need to carry you?”

I forced myself to move forward, slipping my feet into the water. Sylus reached his hand out to me, offering it for stability, and I gladly took it as I stepped further into the water. The pool seemed to go rather deep on one end, but on this shallow end, it had a small cove-like area where sitting was possible. Like a built-in hot tub, almost.

I held tightly onto Sylus as I dragged him over, the warmth of the water curling around me as I settled onto the submerged seating ledge, the heat seeping into my sore muscles instantly.

Beneath the surface, Sylus’s fingers still laced through mine. His thumb traced absent circles against my knuckles that I barely registered.

“You tricked me,” I muttered, watching the fragrant steam curl between us. “This isn’t training at all.”

Sylus’s smirk appeared again. His free hand came up to push damn strands of silver hair from his forehead, the movement causing water to slide down his chest. If I weren’t as strong as I was, I would be licking that thing—

“It is training, though. Call it…advanced tactical recovery methods.”

“Sure, cause that is definitely real and has a meaning.”

He let out a scoff, leaning back against the stone edge as he pulled me to hover over him, my hand catching the wall behind him to steady myself. “You’ve been running your body into the ground like it’s disposable.” His thumb pressed harder against my knuckle, a dangerous look flashing across his eyes.

Was he…hurt? Concerned? I couldn’t tell.

“This isn’t how you press on.”

I stilled entirely, going frozen as the words registered in my head. I remembered too well those words and how they played out in the game. A claymore struck through his chest. His dying will.

I felt my expression turn to distress immediately, and I stared at him for a few moments before decisively collapsing into him. My knees hit the ledge on either side of his legs as my forehead pushed against his chest. “Don’t say that kind of stuff.”

I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t know what he knew, or what he was playing at by treating me this way. Sylus always knew more than he let on, and he often let on that he knew a lot. So, then, what was he hiding now?

There was no logical reason for him to be treating me this way when his soul was tied to Willow, and I wasn’t even meant to be in this world.

Sylus went very still when my forehead hit his chest. His breath caught before evening out again, deeper than before. His free hand hovered briefly at my back, hesitating. Then, with a tender touch, his palm settled between my shoulder blades.

Warm. He was so warm. I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking into him further, my arms coming to wrap around him loosely as I promptly straddled his waist with my legs.

“You’re not the type to cling like this, kitten,” he murmured. His tone was light, and the way his fingers curled possessively against my spine to press me closer told me he was enjoying this at least. “You hate when people touch you.”

“I do,” I muttered. Always knew too damn much. This was exactly the kind of thing I was supposed to be avoiding, yet here I was pressing my head against his chest continuously. A silent plea for him to play with my hair.

“Headbutting me won’t help you, kitten,” Sylus whispered, his chest rumbling against my forehead. His fingers traced idle patterns along my spine, each touch sending tiny electric shocks through my overheated skin. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t communicate.”

He practically sang out the last word, as teasing as he could be.

I frowned, only headbutting him again, harder this time. “Don’t play dumb. You should know what I want.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him. “Do I?” His palm slid up to cradle the back of my skull, fingers threading through damp waves. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems you want about twelve contradictory things at once.”

I grabbed his free hand, guiding it toward my face just to try and bite his finger.

He reacted, of course, faster than I could chomp down on his skin. He laughed, flicking my forehead. “Ah-ah, no biting.” The water lapped at our tangled limbs, steaming between us as his grip on me tightened. “What exactly were you hoping to accomplish with that?”

I pouted, reaching for his hand again, only to press it to my head. “I got cuteness aggression. It’s not my fault. It’s yours, actually.” I felt my eyelids growing heavy, blinking one eye at a time before I gave up and relaxed into him once more.

Perhaps, those people online saying you get sleepy around your loved ones weren’t making things up after all.

The moment my body relaxed against his, Sylus made a quiet, amused sound in his throat. His fingers tightened slightly in my hair before he dragged them downward in slow, methodical strokes.

“Mm, no—” I whined, grabbing his wrist. “Other way.”

Sylus’s lips twitched. “So bossy.”

But he obeyed, the tips of his fingers dancing back up to my scalp, nails scratching lightly at the roots before working their way through my damp hair.

I sighed, content, tipping my head into his touch.

“So desperate for attention.” Sylus pressed his thumb against a tense spot behind my ear. His voice was a low, taunting purr. “If you wanted me to touch you, all you had to do was ask.”

I grumbled dismissively, leaning into him more. “Doesn’t matter. You’re touching me now.”

The hand in my hair stilled briefly before resuming its motion. “And if I stopped?”

“Nooooooo….” I felt a whine bubbling up in my throat.

He chuckled, the vibrations of it coursing through me. “See? This is what I meant.” His fingers knotted gently in my hair, tilting my head back to my head back just enough for his eyes to meet mine. “You don’t know how to ask for something you want.”

I blinked up at him. Face too close, lips too close, his scent thick in my lungs. Thankfully, I was very strong-willed and didn’t consider jumping him at all. “I just told you I don’t want you to stop.”

Sylus studied me for a long moment, then laughed and looked away. “That’s not what you said at all. You need to ask me properly, kitten, or I can’t help you.”

My pulse stuttered, my breath coming faster. I moved my hands, curling them against his chest. “I don’t want you to stop, Sylus. Can you please keep going?”

Sylus’s smile was slow. “Was that so hard?”

And then his nails were dragging through my hair again, with more pressure this time, massaging in rough circles until I melted under his touch.

I let my eyes slip shut again, my body sinking into his. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was complaining to myself about giving in too easily to his demands, but it was so warm and soothing under his touch that I managed to drown the thoughts out.

“You know, you could have anything you wanted if you would just ask me, Rain.”

I hummed, vaguely registering the words. “That’d be too easy.”

His fingers stilled in my hair. The sudden absence of touch had my eyes fluttering open to protest.

“You make everything unnecessarily difficult.”

I frowned, dramatically hiding my face back in his chest. “Blah, blah, blah, Rain can’t hear you because Rain’s asleep right now.”

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers finally resuming their movement. “Asleep,” he repeated, voice dripping with amusement. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

I hummed vaguely in response, too relaxed to form proper words. The warm water and Sylus’s touch were turning me into putty.

His fingers trailed down to massage the base of my skull. “You should know,” he murmured, lips brushing the crown of my head, “that ‘asleep’ kittens don’t usually grip their handlers so tightly.”

I hadn’t even realized my fingers were digging into his shoulders. Slowly, I loosened my hold. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Sylus chuckled, his other hand coming up to trace idle circles between my shoulder blades. “I see.” The pad of his thumb pressed into a particularly stubborn knot, working it loose with care. “And do all sleeping kittens also whine when the petting stops?”

Whine? I did no such thi—

His hands withdrew completely.

I made a noise. A pathetic, undignified noise that absolutely could not be classified as a whine. Do not believe what he tells you.

Sylus arched a brow, I glanced up to see him looking far too pleased with himself. “Fascinating.”

Kill yourself. Okay, no, we’re not going to say that. “Shut up.” I reached for his wrist, dragging his hand back to my hair with far too much enthusiasm. “Again, please.”

Sylus resisted for just a moment, just long enough to make me pout again, before relenting with a laugh. “So kind of you to say ‘please’, kitten.”

“It’s because I’m so generous.” I sank into him with a sigh.

The heavy double doors to the pool burst open with a dramatic boom.

“BOSS!”

Two voices, high-spirited and brimming with mischief, echoed through the space. Sylus sighed, his fingers tightening briefly in my hair before withdrawing entirely.

I eagerly whipped around to see the two figures standing in the doorway, both dressed in their typical sleek black outfits, their faces obscured by matching black masks.

My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, my god, my shaylas.”

Sylus sighed again, deeper, weary. “Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you not to disturb us?”

Unfortunately for Sylus, I was ecstatic.

I shoved my hand in his face to cover his scowl, and hopefully prevent him from talking more. “Luke! Kieran!” I twisted to try and move off Sylus’s lap, grinning widely at them.

Sylus’s grip on my waist tightened reflexively. “Kitten.” A warning growl whispered into my ear.

I ignored him entirely.

The twins froze mid-step, tilting their heads in eerie unison. Even through the masks, I could feel their amusement.

The one on the left—Kieran, definitely Kieran—cocked his head further. “You know our names?”

Luke dramatically shook his head. “Awww…and here we were planning on a grand entrance to introduce ourselves.”

I could still feel myself smiling, waving a hand at them. “No, no, don’t let that stop you. Matter of fact, I have amnesia.” I paused, pretending to faint against Sylus. “Where am I…? Who…who are you?”

The twins exchanged a glance, and I could only hope they were eating this up.

Luke threw his arms wide in a dramatic presentation. “Fear not, lost soul!” he declared, sweeping an exaggerated bow. “We are—”

“The legendary traitors of the N109 Zone!” Kieran cut in smoothly, executing a perfect parallel bow.

Luke fake-punched his shoulder. “We decided on guardians of the N109 Zone.”

Kieran sighed. “Right, but traitor makes us sound more serious.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose, the water rippling with his exasperated exhale. I, meanwhile, was preening. Finally, some chaos I could handle.
“You,” Sylus said, voice dripping with irritation, “have ten seconds to explain this interruption.”

Kieran straightened immediately. “We have urgent intel on—

“—the shipment from the western docks!” Luke finished, bouncing on his toes. “It’s already gone soooo wrong.”

Kieran nodded solemnly. “Flames were involved.”

“Unplanned flames,” Luke clarified.

Sylus’s grip turned uncomfortably tight on my waist. “And yet you felt this couldn’t wait until after we were done?”

The twins exchanged another glance.

“Are you ever going to be done?” Kieran asked mildly.

Luke tapped his masked chin. “I don’t know, boss, lately you’ve been gone forever.”

Sylus looked as if he was contemplating drowning them both. “Fine, unplanned flames,” he repeated, his voice giving him away with the way it softened into a gentler tone.

Kieran inclined his head. “Very unplanned.”

"And now there are unplanned authorities swarming the docks," Luke added cheerfully.

"And unplanned hunters sniffing around," Kieran continued.

"And—"

Sylus held up a hand. The twins immediately fell silent.

“You’re telling me,” Sylus began, “that the one shipment I explicitly told you two to handle without excessive property damage—”

“It wasn’t our fault!” Luke protested.

“—is now a blazing beacon for the hunters association?” Sylus finished, ignoring his protests entirely.

Kieran scratched the back of his neck. “Technically, the fire was already there when we arrived.”

“That’s not really a helpful explanation,” I muttered, unamused.

Both twins suddenly turned their faces toward me.

“You’re supposed to be on our side!” Luke cried.

Kieran crossed his arms. “He’s too comfortable in the boss-man's lap to care about us.”

My spine stiffened, and I suddenly became hyperaware of my thighs resting on Sylus’s and how his grip on my waist was so possessive and warm.

Sylus tugged me closer to him, my back hitting his chest. “Get out.”

“But the shipment—” Luke tried.

“Out.”

The twins exchanged yet another glance before shrugging.

“Yes, boss,” they said in unison, backing toward the door.

Then they vanished as quickly as they’d arrived, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them with a thud.

Silence fell across the pool.

I blinked at the empty doorway, then slowly turned to Sylus. “You scared them off.”

Sylus massaged his temple. “Obvious observation.”

I shifted again to place my back against his chest once more. My head leaned back to rest against him, tilting up as much as I could to get a better look at his face. “Do you think there were actually flames, or were they just trying to spy—ow!”

Sylus pinched my side, trying to hide the smile growing on his face with his hand as he rested against the ledge. “Don’t go giving them ideas, sweetie.”

I swatted his hand away, hiding my smile with an exaggerated pout. “They don’t need my help scheming.”

“I should drown them,” he whispered, more to himself than to me.

“You’re not actually mad at them,” I said, shifting again in his lap.

Sylus’s gaze slid to mine, crimson and searing. He didn’t answer. Instead, his palm slid along my stomach before his other arm came to hook under my knees. He lifted me up with him as he stood, flipping me around in time for me to see the water rolling off him in gleaming rivulets. His swim trunks sat low on his hips, clinging to every line of muscle and—

Okay. Stop staring. That beast is not meant for my eyes.

“What are you looking at? You’re bold, kitten.”

My eyes snapped back up to his, feeling my face flush with red-hot embarrassment. “I’m actually blind, and it’s very rude of you to assume that I can see.”

Sylus’s laugh was a low, dangerous thing, his grip tightening to steady me against him. “Is that so?” His breath fanned hot against my ear as he carried me effortlessly toward the pool’s edge. “Then I suppose you won’t mind if I…”

His finger dug into my hip as he shifted down to—

Alright buddy.

I threw my hand in front of his face, pressing my thighs together. “Whoah?”

Sylus smiled, rearranging me so I was carried bridal-style against his chest, laughing quietly. “Sorry, kitten.” He stepped out of the pool, water dripping onto the tiles as he grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. “I would never act so crude, at least not without your consent.”

Excuse me?

I just turned my head away from him, feeling my blush creep down my neck and up to my ears.

Sylus wrapped the plush towel around my shoulders, his hands lingering just a beat too long before he grabbed his own.

“Are you going to put me down…?” I asked, staring at him confused as he began to dry himself off with one hand.

“Put you down?” He echoed with feigned ignorance, his smirk growing as he finished drying himself off. “Why would I do that when I worked so hard to get you here?”

He tossed his towel aside before grabbing mine, moving it messily around my hair as I hissed and tried to smack the towel away. “Because,” I huffed, “I’m perfectly capable of walking?”

“Mm.” He lifted the towel off my head and tossed it down next to his. He turned, starting to carry me down the corridor. “Do you want to walk, sweetie?”

Well, he’s got me there. Checkmate, I guess.

His bedroom was just as I remembered from the game. The decadent, massive bed with its black and red silk gleamed under the soft, dim lighting.

He walked past it, setting me down instead in his bathroom. I scrunched my nose at my feet hitting the cold tile, glancing up at Sylus as I held onto his biceps. Steadying myself.

He glanced at me, smiling, before flicking my forehead. “Sorry, kitten, you’ll have to hunt for your own clothes tonight.” Sylus nodded his head towards the large walk-in closet beyond the bathroom entrance. “I’m sure you’ll find something you like.”

And find something I did.

I walked out of the bathroom, changed into silky black pajama shorts that fit me perfectly. Though I couldn’t say the same for the oversized shirt I was currently wearing. I had stolen it from the large section of clothes that were obviously not meant for me.

I was beginning to come to terms that my will was not as strong as I thought it was. Nor was my self-control.

Sylus wasn’t even paying attention when I emerged from the bathroom. He was lounging on the edge of his bed, changed into his own clothes, scrolling through something on his phone.

He didn’t look up as I moved closer.

I kicked his foot, making him give me space to stand between his legs.

I watched as his gaze lifted slowly, sliding up my bare legs to where the hem of his shirt hung midway down my thighs.

“Interesting choice, kitten,” he said, voice dripping with amusement as he set his phone down. He hovered his hands above me, one over my bare thigh and the other over my waist. His fingers twitched, tilting his head as if to ask me permission or wait for me to fold.

I folded. “I like my shirts oversized for bed.” I crossed my arms, shuffling myself forward until his hands pressed into my skin.

He gripped me immediately, pulling me forward as I stumbled into his lap. “Really?” He paused, taking a sharp breath. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with it being mine?”

I stilled, face twitching as he caught me red-handed.

Bastard.

I pushed his chest back against the bed, only to give myself more room to roll off him and make my claim on the other side of his bed.

I lay on my stomach, picking at the silk fabric of the pillow in front of my face before glancing to the side at him. “You’re delusional. I would never do that.”

Sylus chuckled, rolling over onto his side to face me. His fingers moved to trace idle patterns along my thigh where the oversized shirt had ridden up. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetie.”

I pressed the side of my face into the pillow, my eyes trailing from his to somewhere far off, then back to his and back again. At this point, I was just trying not to gasp or have any unwanted reactions. “I’m a fantastic liar, fuck you. You’re just…a better liar, so you know everything.”

The mattress dipped as he shifted closer, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “Am I, now?” His fingers brushed the shell of my ear, making me shiver before he gently tugged on the earring. “You really haven’t taken this off,” he murmured against me. I could hear that stupidly smug approval lacing his voice.

I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, nose scrunching defensively. “It’s my good luck charm.”

“Are you sure?” he teased, but his crimson eyes softened. His fingers slid from the earring to trace instead the skin below my eye. “I think you’re much better suited to be a good luck charm yourself.”

Okay. How the hell were normal people supposed to react to that?

I stared at him, unable to hide the shock and confusion on my face. My eyes danced across his face, pretending like if I looked hard enough, lines of text would appear to give me an answer, but they didn’t.

“Sylus…” I turned over, facing him fully as he hovered over me.

Sylus waited, eyes locked onto mine, his fingers had moved back to tracing idle patterns along my thigh. That infuriating smirk played at the corner of his lips, like he already knew exactly what effect his words were having on my brain.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I finally managed to say, my voice embarrassingly uneven.

His smirk only widened. “Why would I do that?”

He leaned in closer, moving his fingers to slide up my throat before gently pressing in to feel my pulse. Unfortunately for me, my heart was hammering so fast I could practically feel it in my throat, meaning he could definitely feel it.

“You’re not funny,” I muttered, shifting to lightly punch his arm.

“Ow…” He laughed while pretending the hit had actually hurt, the vibrations shaking me from how close he was. “But I don’t recall telling a joke, sweetie.”

I hated him.

He was so cruel, mean, and he was trying to kill me. Actively, mind you.

“Your face is a joke,” I grumbled, lifting my legs to place them against his stomach in an attempt to push him off. It doesn’t work, of course. Sylus caught my foot before it could connect with his abdomen, his fingers tightening around my ankle. “Fine. Feed me, servant.”

He didn’t push me away, instead he dragged me closer. “Oh,” he mused, tilting his head as he studied my flushed face. “Am I your servant now?”

I sighed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Yes. Servant. Mind your manners.”

His lips curved. “And now I’m being rude?”

“Yes,” I hissed, kicking my free leg for emphasis, which only resulted in him catching that ankle too.

Sylus chuckled, moving to pin both of my legs against his chest. “What a demanding little kitten I’ve acquired.”

I struggled halfheartedly against his grip, kicking my feet to no avail. “You didn’t acquire anything. I acquired you.”

“Is that so?” His grip on my ankles tightened just slightly as he leaned down, his silver hair falling forward to brush against my shins. The warm scent of his cologne flooded my senses. “Then why do you keep coming back when I call?”

My mouth opened, then closed again. No clever retort came to mind, only the thought that I was definitely going to bite his face. My teeth snapped together.

Sylus watched my internal struggle with evident amusement before releasing my legs. “You’re only taking good care of your servant, right? Since seeing you makes him happy.”

I paused. My way out, but…did he really mean that last sentence? “Exactly. I only have one servant, so as the good boss I am, I can afford to make sure he’s happy despite his ridiculous demands.”

He let out a laugh, light and genuine. That rich tone lessening to make way for something less practiced. I found myself smiling, sitting up to press my fingers to his right eye.

“Well, now that I think about it, kitten…” His head turned toward my hand, just enough for his lips to brush against my knuckles. “I’m starved.”

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the parchment as I dipped my quill into the inkwell. The scent of old paper and drying ink filled the air, grounding me in the quiet solitude of Sylus’s study.

I had started writing the night of the pool. It had been nearly two weeks since then.

I hadn't wanted to write anything for a while. Not because I didn’t want to write—no, writing had always been my escape, my lifeline—but because now, after everything, the words felt different. The story had changed.

It was a complicated story in the first place. One about a boy who dreamed of another world, another soul. He spent his days weaving stories, crafting heroes and villains, countless battles and tragedies all for Weilai, the character the boy had been writing for as long as he could remember.

The boy…his name was Rain. I had been trying to write this story long enough that he had been me before I was me, and it was only fitting I had taken his name as my own.

Regardless, the boy had written and rewritten Weilai’s story countless times, shaping it to mirror his own loneliness, his own desperation for control. But no matter how many times he rewrote the ending, it always concluded the same way. Weilai standing alone in the cosmos of a collapsing universe, time unraveling around him.

And then, one day, Rain woke up inside that story.

I myself had never finished their story. I could never find their happy ending. I had written too much tragedy to come back from it logically.

But…something was telling me to rewrite it. So, I was giving it another try.

The only thing that was irritating me now, was the realization of how similar Weilai was to a certain silver-haired man. It was eerie looking at it now. They shared similarities down to being a dragon, even down to their looks. Though Weilai started with black hair, his future silver hair was a result of…the loop, which made him more similar in the end.

I should yell at Sylus for copying my character.

A hand settled on the back of my neck, warm and familiar.

“You’ve been staring at that book for hours, kitten.” Sylus’s voice was low, amused. “Have you started a diary?”

I didn’t lift my head. “Nuhuh. Diaries are lame. Why would I want my mental illness immortalized on paper.”

Sylus chuckled, leaning down to thumb over the paper. “And this…isn’t?”

I turned my head just enough to glare up at him. “Okay, fuck you, then.”

Sylus’s smirk deepened as his fingers trailed from the parchment to tangle in my hair. His breath was warm against my temple. “What are you writing that has you so defensive?”

I turned around in my chair, back covering the pages as best as I could, as I pressed my hand into his face. “None of your business.”

His eyes glinted with amusement as he simply gripped my wrist and nipped at my palm. "Haven't I made you my business?” he purred, lips brushing where he had just bitten. “Especially when you’ve been hiding in my study all evening instead of being with me.”

“Okay, well, first of all, not hiding. Second of all, you’re doing boring things.” I grumbled, twisting away from him. The movement made the loose collar of his shirt—I was rebranding it as my shirt—slip off one shoulder.

"And now I'm boring you to death?"

“I’m working hard to provide for you, Sylus.” I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “It’s hard being the breadwinner in this relationship. You take all my money, eat all my food, steal all my clothes, and what do I get in return? Nothing.” I glanced up at him, a slight pout on my face.

Sylus arched a brow, his fingers tightening around my wrist. “Is that so?” His thumb traced slow circles over where my pulse was growing faster. “And here I thought I was the one providing you with shelter, food, and…” His crimson eyes flickered down to the shirt slipping off my shoulder. “Clothing.”

I huffed, using my free hand to tug the fabric up over my shoulder. “This is literally my shirt, I have no clue what you’re talking about, stop lying.”

“Really?” He leaned in closer, his free hand coming up to toy with the collar. “And what else is yours, kitten?”

My breath hitched as his knuckles brushed along my collarbone. I could feel my face heating up as I tilted my head away. “You’re clingy.”

Sylus chuckled, the sound dark and rich. “Clingy?” His grip on my wrist shifted, fingers interlacing with mine as he pressed my palm flat against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, I could feel the fast thrum of his heartbeat.

His pulse was racing.

But…it was always unnaturally high, so that couldn’t mean anything.

My fingers curled against his chest, scrunching the fabric of his shirt. “You’re close.”

Sylus took in a sharp breath, his lips twitched. “To be honest…” He leaned forward, breath warm against my ear. “I could be even closer.”

I let out a shaky exhale, feeling my body shiver against him despite my yelling at my brain to do exactly the opposite. I scrambled out of the chair, clambering out of his grip as I hit the hardwood floor. I was expecting him to chase me, to grip my waist and bring me back to his arms, but he didn’t.

I turned around, settling my hands to prop myself up on the floor as I stared at him. The bastard was holding the book, flipping through the pages.

Okay.

Cool.

I had about 5 seconds to debate killing myself before I saw the smile on his face.

Sylus’s fingers traced the parchment with a tenderness that made my stomach drop, his eyes flickering across the pages. The smile playing at his lips was…too much.

I scrambled to my feet, lunging for the book. “Give it back—”

He held it effortlessly out of reach, his free hand catching my waist as I collided with him. “Patience, kitten.” His thumb pressed into the dip of my hip, steadying me. “I’m not done admiring your work.”

The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric, and I felt myself stilling as I glared up at him. “It’s not finished, you can’t read it,” I muttered, trying—and failing—to snatch the book again.

Sylus hummed, tilting his head as he scanned another page. “How odd,” he mused, voice soft. His gaze flicked to mine, eyes gleaming with amusement. “These characters feel familiar, sweetie.”

I scowled. “Coincidence.”

“Is it?” He flipped another page, his smirk deepening. He seems to have found something interesting, because he pulls the book closer to his eyes before snapping it shut with one hand, playing off his interest with a shrug. “It reminds me of something.”

I paused, letting my hand hover over his arm. “What does it remind you of?”

He hummed, turning the book over in his hands. “It’s…a sad tale based on an old song.”

I felt my body freeze over, as if someone had dumped cold water over my head. Someone had used those words before. Why did he know them?

His face turned to mine, eyes having lost their confident amusement. Instead, he looked at me like he was searching, waiting for something he’d lost. “Does it sound familiar?”

My fingers tightened around the fabric of his sleeve. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “Just…the phrase.”

His expression didn’t change, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Hm,” he murmured, turning to brush his thumb absently over the spine of the book. “I suppose it could be a common phrase if you read many stories.”

I hated that tone on him. That quiet, resigned acceptance.

My hand shot out, taking the book from him to set it aside. I grabbed his hands, holding them tightly in mine. “Don’t do that. Tell me what it means. “ I demanded, voice harsher than I intended. “What does it mean to you?”

Sylus exhaled slowly. He shifted his weight, hands pulling from mine.

I protested, but he held up a hand, tapping my head briefly before pulling back.

“Once,” he began, voice low, “there was a garden.”

I stilled. Was he about to use that garden analogy for his and Willow’s parting?

“There was a young tree, meant to be uprooted to make space for new plants. But next to it, a flower suddenly appeared, it wasn’t meant to be there.”

Sylus glanced away, holding his chin with his hand as he thought. “The flower was stubborn. It survived by telling stories, ones that the gardener would whisper to the other plants to determine how they would grow, or die. And the flower…it saw the tree. Saw how the gardener’s hands lingered too close, how the axe hovered. So when the gardener was gone, the flower told many stories to the tree, where they grew strong and tall together. Where all of their friends could be happy too.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. This was definitely not the story, nor the myth Willow and Sylus shared. But…when I left, the game was nowhere near finishing. It could be that I was uncovering a plot that hadn’t been told yet...

“But the gardener didn’t like that.” Sylus’s voice dropped, rougher, distant. “The flower was supposed to tell stories of endings. Of fate. So when the flower wrote a story where the tree would never die…” His jaw clenched. “The gardener plucked the flower. Scattered its petals beyond the garden walls.”

Okay, what the hell was going on? “Did the gardener…you know…get the tree too?”

Sylus blinked at me, then let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “No, of course he didn’t. The tree grew so big it stretched beyond the garden and beyond the walls. It searched for every last scattered petal.” He leaned against the desk, hand reaching for the book once more. “But when it finally found them all, the flower kept writing and scattered itself further.”

I frowned.

I guess it made sense for it to be Willow, since in the lore MC had a habit of…well, leaving. Definitely, we were the problem in some of the stories, but there wasn’t enough time to fix those problems.

“Why would the flower do that, sweetie?” he murmured, gently grabbing my chin to face him. “Care to share your thoughts?”

I paused, leaning into his touch subconsciously as I racked my brain. There were many possibilities. I could think of at least 50 reasons why the narrative would be that way. “As a writer…” I sighed, twisting my lips back and forth before scrunching my face. “Your question is too complicated. I don’t have enough information to give you a good, solid reasoning. A common trope could be that the flower isn’t doing it to harm the tree, but rather to keep it safe. We don’t know what could be going on behind the curtains.”

My best guess was that the stories the flower told would have no power against the gardener if it stopped. Then, it had to keep writing from far away to keep the tree alive.

Sylus studied me for a long moment, then his expression smoothed into something lighter, more teasing. He released my chin with a flick of his fingers. “Don’t think about it too much, kitten.” His voice was a low purr, deliberately dismissive. “It’s just a story.”

I glared at him, swatting his hand away. “You’re the one that asked.”

“And you’re taking it too seriously.” He straightened, rolling his shoulders with an air of nonchalance before plucking the book from the desk. “Here.” He held it out to me, his smirk returning. “I quite enjoyed it. But let’s not forget about our deal, kitten. I’m still waiting on a happy ending.”

The moment my fingers closed around the book, Sylus’s grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered in a sing-song tone, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetie.”

I shoved him back with my free hand, face burning. “Yeah, right. You can wait. Took you, like, centuries to find Willow again.”

Sylus froze, eyes widening fractionally before tilting his head. “Why are you thinking Willow? Seriously, what’s wrong with your head?” He scoffed, leaning over me. His hand came to gently press against my head, fingers carding through my hair. “Whose story do you think you’re in right now?”

—

Willow’s apartment was cozy, at the moment.

Well, it wasn’t anywhere near Sylus’s level of…comfort…it was comfortable in the way a well-loved home should be. The couch was slightly dented in the middle from too many movie nights. A blanket was tossed over one armrest, tangled and soft from me using it. A half-empty mug of tea forgotten from the morning sat on the coffee table, steam long gone.

It was lived in.

And it was currently exploding with noise as Tara, decked out in oversized sweatpants and a cropped tank top that read “I put the ‘psychic’ in ‘psycho’”, dramatically slammed a card onto the table between us.

“Uno!”

Simone groaned, slapping a hand over her face. “You have got to be kidding me! This is the fifth round in a row.” Her hair was falling over her shoulders, outside of the usual ponytail I would recognize her with from the game. I didn’t comment on the fact that she was wearing both Willow’s shirt and her shorts.

It seems like Willow loved putting people in her clothes.

I was also wearing her shirt, but I suspected those two had...something...going on. The three of them, for the matter.

Willow flopped sideways in her arm chair, reaching over the edge to very awkwardly take a sip from her drink. The girls had made some sort of…pink concoction of a drink. It tasted heavenly, and it was definitely going to fuck everyone up at the end of the night.

“Tara cheats,” Willow whined, throwing herself around again to stare down the shorter girl.

Tara gasped, clutching her chest. “Betrayal! From my own best friend?! How could you!” She turned to me, eyes wide and sparkling. “Rain, back me up here. You saw me play fair!”

I glanced down at my twenty-one cards remaining in my hand, then back at her single triumphant Uno card. Yeah…no. “Well…” I tapped my chin, exaggerating a thinking face. “If we think about this very logically with no bias at all…you’re definitely cheating.”

Tara threw her free hand up, waving it around accusatory. “You’re all lying because you hate women! My deck just loves me—”

Simone cut her off by launching a couch pillow directly at her face.

Tara shrieked, catching it and retaliating with a wild swing, knocking over her half-empty drink in the process. The cup tipped, spilling the glitter pink liquid across the coffee table.

Willow jumped off her spot on the chair, scrambling to the table in her drunken state. “Don’t worry Tar, I will clean up any mess you make, including the one on my f—”

Tara dropped her card and slapped a hand over Willow’s mouth, her face flushed a deep red. Even her shoulders were flushed. “Don’t say that stuff!”

I booed, holding up a thumbs down as I shook my head in disappointment. “Censorship! Let my queen speak her truth!”

The smell of spilled pink cocktail lingered in the air as Willow flailed under Tara’s hand, laughing against her palm with muffled protests.

Simone leaned forward to flick Tara’s ear. “You’re gonna suffocate her, genius.”

“Good!” Tara squeaked, though she reluctantly pulled her hand away, wiping Willow’s spit off on Simone’s shoulder.

Simone gasped in offense, shoving her back only for Tara to nearly topple over, saved only by Willow catching her wrist as Simone toppled on top of her. For a second, the three of them glanced at each other, all of them flushing in their own way.

I had third-wheeled so hard I became a fourth wheel somehow.

The three of them untangled themselves with varying degrees of drunken grace, faces still flushed from the close contact. Willow cleared her throat, brushing imaginary dust off her shorts.

“Alright, alright,” Willow said, waving her hands as if to physically dispel the tension. “New game! One where Tara can’t cheat.”

Tara whined, hiding her face in her hands as she kicked her feet. “Stop slandering me!”

Simone rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness there as she nudged Tara’s shoulder. “Truth or Dare. It’s your favorite game.”

Tara perked up, grinning widely. "Finally! You guys never let me play!”

Willow clapped her hands together, nearly knocking over another drink. “Perfect! Rain, you’re first.”

I blinked. “What? Why me? That’s not fair.”

“Because you’re the newest,” Tara said, leaning forward with a grin. “And because my cards won’t let me read you and look into your juicy little secrets.”

I sighed, sliding down the couch until I was practically lying on it with my legs extended. “That’s not my fault. Tarot cards never read for me.”

Willow giggled, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. “Truth or Dare, Rain. Do it, or I'll put these puppies near you.”

I looked at her in horror, jaw dropped open. “Do not come near me with those things, Willow, I swear to god—”

I groaned, rubbing my face before I leaned forward and stole Willow’s drink. Downing it myself. I hadn’t been keeping up on my shots, so I was decidedly much sober than the rest of them. “Dare.”

Willow’s smile turned dangerous. “I dare you to text the last person you were talking to before this and say, ‘I miss you.’”

I had never given someone a side-eye so quickly before. “What are we, kids? Couldn’t have thought of something better?”

Tara leaned forward, reaching her hand out to me as she waved it. “No, no, you have to do it.”

Simone smirked, shooting me finger guns. “No take-backs.”

I clicked my tongue, staring at them with the most deadpan face I could muster. “You are all sick and twisted and need to grow up.” Still, I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up, and Sylus’s contact was still the first thing opened on it. Luckily, I had changed his contact name to something else in the very likely case that Willow wanted to snoop through my phone. Spyro. Like the dragon. It was funny to me.

The girls scrambled to crowd around me, eager to see who I was texting, more so to make sure I was actually doing it.

I sighed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. This might be my death sentence.

Rain: I miss you

I hit send before I could overthink it.

Almost immediately, the typing bubbles appeared. I felt my stomach lurching with anxiety, even though I knew he would respond well.

Spyro: That’s not like you, kitten.
Spyro: Are you playing around with your friends?

Alright, stalker.

Rain: FUCK YOU ACTUAKLY GOD FORBID A MAN HAVE SEPARATION ANXIEYTY

The bubbles appeared again. Then disappeared. Then appeared.

Spyro: Come home.

My breath caught. Home?

Tara snatched the phone out of my hands before I could overthink a response, cackling as she read the messages. “Oh my god, who is this?!”

Simone leaned over, gasping. “Kitten? Kitten?! You let this man call you that?”

I threw my hands up defensively. “I don’t let him—he just does it to annoy me—”

The girls erupted into a fit of giggles, smacking each other from how hard they were laughing.

Willow was nearly crying from how hard she was laughing, snorting as she took the phone. “Who even is this Spyro person, and why do they sound like a Victorian gentleman trying to court you? I thought you didn’t know anyone besides me and Raf.”

Tara was practically vibrating with excitement as she climbed over me to settle herself on Willow’s lap, taking the phone as she scrolled through it. “Oh my god, look at these. ‘Did you eat today, kitten?’ ‘I left your favourite tea in the study—’ Are you dating a butler?”

Then Simone climbed over me to join the pile, snatching the phone. “This reads like some crazy fanfiction. ‘It’s getting cold outside, you should borrow my coat.’” She mimed a gagging motion. “Disgustingly sweet. Who even talks like this?”

I lunged for my phone, but Willow intercepted me with a catlike grin, holding her hand on my shoulder as she kept me back. “Wait, wait! He’s typing!”

The phone pinged with another message.

Spyro: You’re being quiet. Should I be concerned you’re being held hostage?

Tara gasped. “Oh, this is so good.”

Willow’s fingers flew across the screen before I could stop her.

Rain: ur so cute i wnna bite u

I relaxed when I saw Willow using her usual typing style. It was too far from mine, there was no way Sylus would mistake it for me.

Spyro: Please return the phone to Rain.

The girls let out a collective ”Ooooooh” as the message popped up, their faces lighting up with mischief.

I was ready to run away. In fact, I would if it weren’t for Simone being toppled over my lap.

Willow was already typing back.

Rain: ur no fun rains here drunk n wearing my shirt btw :P

Spyro: …Who is this?

Tara smiled, nuzzling into Willow. “He sounds so jealous.”

Simone grinned. “We’re so messing with him, right?”

Before I could protest, Willow had tapped out another reply.

Rain: my fav sleep shirt super soft n comf he looks soooooooo cute in it nglll

Rain: im gnna hav to bring out the strap laterr if he keeps this up

I looked at her in horror. “Excuse me?”

She winked at me, clicking her tongue. “Hope you’re prepared.”

Spyro: Willow, then.

Willow blinked. “Uh. That is unsettling.”

Spyro: As his friend, you should know he doesn’t like people talking about him in that light.

The girls froze.

Simone pulled the phone down, staring at it in shock. “He just lectured you.”

Tara clung to Willow, twirling a loc around her finger. “He sounded so disappointed in you, too. I don’t think you’re making a good impression.”

Willow sat perfectly still, blinking at the screen. “...This is the weirdest man I’ve ever had the displeasure of talking to.” She raised a brow at me, the tips of her fingers pressing to her chin as she leaned forward, eyes wide with sudden realization. “Wait. Wait. Is this the mysterious ‘fuckbuddy’ I’m not allowed to know about?”

I paused, reeling back with horror and disgust on my face. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb!” Willow pounced, digging her nails into my thigh through the fabric. “You’ve been sneaking off for weeks, at all hours! And you always come back looking like you’ve been manhandled.”

Tara’s mouth dropped open. Simone gasped as if she’d just pieced together the murder weapon in a crime drama.

Okay. I wasn’t going to play this game. I kept my voice harsh with an even tone. A warning, if they were listening. “No. That is absolutely not what is going on. Stop it.”

Willow grinned wickedly and gripped Tara tightly, squishing her face. “Okay! New objective! Expose Rain’s secret boyfriend.”

Simone fist-pumped. “Yes!”

I felt my stomach twist violently as the room seemed to spin. The lights of Willow’s apartment buzzed too loudly in my skull, the laughter of the girls grating against my nerves like sandpaper. The alcohol that had tasted sweet moments ago now churned sour in my gut, my skin prickling with uncomfortable heat.

“Guys, I mean it, stop it.” My voice came out strained, fingers gripping the couch cushions too tightly. I could feel the overstimulation creeping in.

Tara squealed, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, he’s blushing! He’s actually blushing!”

The sound was like knives in my ears. I clenched my jaw, my breath coming too fast as Willow leaned in, her vanilla perfume suddenly suffocating.

“Look at him!” Willow cooed, dragging her nails lightly down my arm. I immediately slapped her hand away, something sharp and panicked clawing up my throat. Willow laughed, immediately placing her hand on my arm again.

“Stop it!” I raised my voice, furrowing my brows.

“Aww, don’t be like that Rain!” Willow pouted, the girls giggling around her.

I promptly threw Simone’s legs off me and stood up. Harsh words threatened to spill out, but I swallowed them down, even though it would offer me relief. The air felt too thick to breathe, my chest constricting painfully.

“Rain?” Simone's voice was softer now, cautious.

I gripped my phone away from them, barely registering the concerned looks they exchanged.

“You’re being really weird about this,” Willow said slowly, watching me carefully for any sign to either tease or back off.

“Yeah, sure, fuck off.” My hands fumbled with the door handle before I finally yanked it open. “I need space. Won’t be back.”

I staggered outside the door, ignoring the calls after me. My vision blurred at the edges as I stumbled down the apartment steps, bile rising in my throat.

Then I was sitting in some alleyway, my entire body trembling. The cool brick wall against my forehead was the only thing grounding me as I gasped for air.

A vibration in my hand.

I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look. My skull pounded. I could hardly think.

The phone vibrated again. And again.

I was ready to break it. I was ready to smash it against the ground and stomp on it over and over.

Instead, I forced myself to look at the screen, planning to put it on do not disturb. Until I saw that I had messages from Spyro on top of recent messages from the girls.

The name sent my stomach lurching, still irritated from the events that just occurred, and seeing the name Spyro was just inflaming it more.

I was going to ignore him more, but, I forced myself to change it back to Sylus and instantly felt calmer looking over the messages.

Sylus: You forgot your jacket.

Sylus: And your shoes, apparently.

Sylus: Most importantly, you forgot me.

I stared at the texts, feeling too nauseous to even respond. My head hurt too much to read the words.

I slumped against the brick wall, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to shrink into myself. The cold from the pavement seeped through my thin pajama pants and shirt, making me shiver.

My phone buzzed again.

I ignored it.

A gust of wind cut through the alley, and I curled in tighter. My bare feet were freezing against the pavement. How many times have I done something like this before? I was so stupid.

My phone buzzed again, I finally looked at the screen to see Sylus’s name lit up, an incoming call. I stared at it, unsure if I wanted to answer. Unsure if I wanted to hear his stupid smooth voice comforting me.

But I didn’t want him to worry. Or, I did, just not too much.

I swipe to answer and put it on speaker.

“Are you hurt?”

I swallowed, still unable to speak.

A pause. Then, quiet. “Do I need to come get you?”

“Stop it,” I snapped, finally. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to at all. “Stop it, Sylus.”

A deep breath on his end.

“Okay.” His voice was impossibly soft. “I won’t do anything without your say, but I’ll stay on the line. Just to know you’re safe.”

I had been gritting my teeth, expecting some pushback or argument, but instead he did the opposite. I felt myself unwinding, just slightly.

It was silent for a minute or two, then a soft humming came over the phone. It was rough, and out of tune, but it was comforting. Familiar.

I closed my eyes, pressing the phone closer to my ear. He kept humming until I finally spoke up. “Sylus?”

He paused, silent for a brief moment before responding. “Yes?”

“Are you here?”

His reply was immediate this time. “I’m here.”

I shifted, scrunching my face to try and ease the tension in my head. “I’m ready to go home now.”

“I'll bring you home, then.” He didn’t hang up, just stayed on the phone as I heard the faint noise of rustling clothes and footsteps from the other side of the line.

I curled my fingers into the fabric of my shirt, grateful he couldn’t see the way my hands shook at the moment. The alley smelled of damp concrete and distant garbage, but the chill night air helped clear my head. My bare feet flexed against the pavement, toes curling unconsciously.

Then I heard footsteps rounding the corner.

“Found you,” he said softly, both through the phone and across the distance.

I ended the call with a wobbly exhale as he approached. He moved slowly, giving me time to protest, stopping just out of arm’s reach. The streetlights caught on his silver hair as he tilted his head, studying me.

He didn’t say anything, just crouched down to my level and shrugged off his coat. Black, lined with red silk. Heavy, yet surprisingly warm. He draped it around my shoulders, and the weight of it was immediately comforting. I could feel the warmth from his body heat still radiating off the fabric, and it smelled just like him.

I pulled the fabric tighter around myself. The sleeves swallowed my hands whole.

Sylus studied me for a moment longer before smiling. He stood slowly, offering me a hand. “Let’s get you home.”

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the television cast shifting blue hues across the bedroom as I burrowed deeper into the weighted blanket Sylus had draped over me. The fabric was silky and cool against my flushed skin, the gentle pressure soothing the lingering tension from earlier. Some nature documentary played quietly in the background, something about lions.

The door creaked open.

Sylus stepped inside, freshly showered, his silver hair damp and tousled. His red pajama pants hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp V of his waist and the subtle trail of gray curling up his abdomen. He carried a steaming mug in one hand, the scent of pomegranate and herbs curling through the air.

“You’re still awake?” he murmured, rounding the bed.

I hummed, curling tighter into the blanket. “I’ve adapted to your sleep schedule.”

Sylus let out a small chuckle as he smiled, setting the tea on the nightstand before sliding into bed beside me. He was ever careful not to jostle me. His fingers brushed my forehead, pushing back my bangs to scan my face. “Still feeling down?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just thinking, now.”

Sylus smiled, releasing my hair to fall back over my forehead. “You do that so often. Don’t you have any better pastimes?”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “I have other pastimes. One’s sitting in front of me.”

He let out an amused huff, settling against the headboard, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine beneath the blanket. The silence stretched, comfortable, broken only by the documentary narrator’s voice.

“Do you want to ask?”

Sylus paused, turning to look down at me. “I don’t need to.”

I moved my knee, gently poking his thigh with it. “Are you curious?”

“I am.” His voice was softer now, quieter. “But you don’t owe me any explanations, Rain.”

I stared at him for a few moments, then shifted to rest my head on his lap. “I want to tell you,” I stated, looking up at him. I held up my hands, to which he responded by lacing our fingers together.

“Then I want to know.”

I gave his hands a gentle squeeze, studying the lines on his fingers. “Willow and the others were teasing me. But they were taking it too far, for me at least. They said we were fuckbuddies, or boyfriends.”

“Ah.” Sylus leaned back, but kept his hands in place with mine. “And that upset you?”

I nodded my head.

“Because the implication was that you and I are involved, or…something else?”

I shook my head. “Something else.” I paused, absentmindedly moving his hands around as I tried to gather my thoughts. “They didn’t…stop…when I told them to.”

Sylus’s fingers tightened around mine, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles. His voice was quiet. “I’m sorry they didn’t listen to you. It shouldn’t have happened.”

I exhaled through my nose, pressing our clasped hands against my sternum. “I hate it. When people—” I squeezed my eyes shut. “—when they don’t listen or touch me and they think it’s funny—”

A low rumble built in Sylus’s chest, disapproving, protective, but he didn’t interrupt.

My knee pressed harder into his thigh, grounding myself. “I felt like they decided what was okay for me, like I didn’t have a say.”

“You always have a say. At least with me, I’ll make sure you always know that.” Sylus's voice was firm, honey coated promises dripping from his tongue. His fingers uncurled from mine, only to brush a loose strand of hair from my forehead.

I leaned into it, letting my eyes flutter shut. I let out a small sigh. “You spoil me.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “I just provide the adequate care needed for flowers of your kind,” he corrected. He leaned down, his breath brushing my ear as he murmured. “But yeah, I guess I do spoil you.”

The soft glow of the television muted to black as the documentary ended, leaving only the ambient hum of the apartment surrounding us. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Sylus’s breathing beneath me, the warmth of his lap against my cheek. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of rain pattered against the windows.

Sylus’s fingers continued their idle path through my hair, his touch careful but firm in a way that grounded me. I could still smell the untouched tea lingering in the air. I guess I had distracted him.

I shifted, pulling away from him to sit up, eyes glancing over his nose before trailing up to his eyes. “Sylus?”

“Hm?” He glanced down, his crimson eyes dragging away from the darkened screen to meet mine.

I butted his shoulder with my head before pulling back. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

His lips quirked to the side. “Sweetie, you could’ve called me at any point and I would have.”

I scrunched my nose. “But I didn’t want to call you. Too much work.”

Sylus exhaled through his nose, amused. “I’m just glad you answered my call, then.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “You wouldn’t have stopped calling until you knew I was safe.”

He laughed at that, low and warm. He flicked my forehead. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I swatted at his wrist without any real force behind it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m just saying it was nice.” My voice dipped quiet. “You didn’t make me explain to come get me.”

He stilled for a moment, tilting his head as he looked at me. He sighed, amused, “I don’t need an explanation for everything.” He paused, his voice quieting to a whisper as he drew in closer. “Sometimes, I just want to know you’re alright.”

A familiar warmth settled in my chest. Comforting. Steady. Safe. Home.

My breath hitched as I studied Sylus in the dim light. The way the shadows clung to the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the faint glow catching the silver of his lashes. His lips were slightly parted, still curved from his last laugh, and I found myself tracing the shape of them with my gaze.

My throat tightened.

He’s so…I was screaming in my head over how cute he was. How lovely. How…everything.

My fingers twitched before lifting, trembling slightly as they hovered just shy of Sylus’s jaw. Sylus didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just let my hand drift closer until my fingertips finally brushed skin. Warm. Always so warm.

I exhaled shakily, my palm settling against Sylus’s cheek, thumb skimming the ridge of his cheekbone. Sylus leaned into the touch immediately, his lashes fluttering as my fingers slid higher, tracing the shell of his ear before settling there. I felt like I was holding the world in my hand.

My vision blurred.

Sylus’s breath stuttered, finally looking at me as he nudged his face into my palm. “Suddenly feeling touchy?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My thumb pressed gently beneath Sylus’s eye.

God. He was so beautiful.

Sylus’s expression shifted, something unguarded and raw, before he turned his face just enough to press a kiss to my palm.

I chewed on my cheek.

Sylus smiled against my skin, whispering in a sing-song voice. “You’re staring, kitten.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers flexing against his jaw. “Yeah,” I whispered, voice choking, “I am.”

Sylus’s smile widened, just a little. “Should I assume your eyes like me? You stare a lot.” Teasing.

My chest squeezed. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so instead, I leaned forward, using my free hand to gently brush my fingers against his hairline before carding through his hair.

My fingers tangled in silver strands, soft as silk between my fingers. Sylus made a quiet noise, deep and rumbling like a purr, his eyelids fluttering shut as I massaged gentle circles against his scalp. The tension seemed to bleed out from his shoulders, his breathing evening out.

“I love your hair,” I murmured without thinking.

Sylus huffed a soft laugh, slowly opening his eyes. “Do you?” His voice was rough with something warm and indulgent. “Should I grow it out for you, kitten? Would you like that?”

I easily pictured his mullet from the Catch-22 banner, feeling a smile grow on my face as I remembered how sassy he had been there. “It would suit you.” My fingers tightened possessively in his hair just thinking about it.

Sylus’s laughter rumbled through me, the vibrations traveling from my fingers tangled in his hair down to where our knees touched. He leaned his head into my touch the way a cat arches into pets, eyes gleaming like liquid fire.

“Only if you promise to braid it for me,” he hummed, capturing my wrist before I could pull away. His thumb traced circles against my racing pulse. “But your fingers are so small, they won’t be able to reach the best parts.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I tugged sharply on his hair in retaliation, making him groan. “Are you saying weird things on purpose?”

“Who knows?” He caught my other hand, pressing a kiss to each fingertip. “I’m simply saying I like your touch.”

The tenderness in the gesture stole my breath. My hands flexed instinctively, torn between grabbing his stupidly handsome face and shoving him away. “Can you stop being cute for two seconds—”

“Now why would I do that,” he purred, leaning into my space, “when it makes you look at me like this?”

My thoughts stuttered. Moonlight caught the silver streaks in his hair and made his lips look extra flushed. He had that stupid smile on his stupid face and I wanted to give him a stupid kiss.

I squeezed my eyes shut instead, scrunching my face and shaking my head as if it would physically shake away my desire. “Gross.”

His laughter filled the air, light and airy, one of his genuine, unrestrained laughters that sent heat curling through my stomach. “You’re so gross, Sylus,” he mocked, raising his pitch to match mine, squirming around as if to act like me.

I didn’t do that.

Bitch.

I kicked at him weakly with my foot, but Sylus had immediately dropped my hand to catch my ankle effortlessly, his fingers circling the joint with familiar ease. His smirk only widened as he tugged me closer, yanking me into his lap.

“Gross,” he murmured, eyes glancing down before meeting my eyes again. “Awful. Disgusting. Terrible. You’re running out of words, kitten.” His voice dipped lower towards the end, that smile still on his face. “You might just have to say what you actually mean.” He whispered, his voice growing lighter again.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, fingers twisting in the warm skin as he pulled my flush against him. My legs bracketed his waist automatically, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. I could feel how flushed my face was.

“You don’t know what I mean,” I hissed, but my lie was no good. “Maybe—you—you’re acting—ugh.”

Sylus hummed, thoroughly amused with my reaction. His hands slid up my thighs to grip my waist. “Mmm, yes. I. Me. I’m acting. My behavior is so bad isn’t it?” he mocked again, laughing as he gripped my waist tighter. “I should be punished, really.”

I shivered, fingers tightening in his hair. The silver strands slipped like silk between my fingers as I gave it a sharp tug. “You’re horrible at mocking me.”

Sylus chucked, leaning back against the head board. He released one hand from my waist to instead put it behind his head.

That damn pose.

He stared at me with his eyes, and I could see the slight smile to them. “And what am I horrible at exactly?” He paused, speaking with more air. “Be specific.”

I scowled, pressing my tongue against the inside of my cheek. I removed my fingers from his hair entirely. “Everything. I can’t be specific when you’re so bad at it.”

Sylus arched a brow, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips as he studied my face. “Your words are so mean, kitten.” He squeezed my waist with his hand before gently releasing it. “But you’re sitting so nicely on my lap. Someone will have to make a new story about the kitten who cried wolf.”

I made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle free. I braced both palms against his shoulders to push back, but Sylus retaliated by sliding one hand up my spine, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.

"Where are you going?" He didn’t move to trap me further, and I didn’t move to leave.

I huffed, shoving at his shoulder. “Don’t be greedy.”

Sylus laughed, the vibration rumbling through my thighs where they pressed against his hips. “I don’t think I’m being greedy enough,” he said simply, tightening his grip.

“Really?” I tilted my head, leaning forward as I ran my hands down the warm skin of his shoulders to rest on his chest. I brush my nose against his collarbone as I look up at him innocently, trying and failing to hide the smile on my face. “Then you can handle this, right?”

I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into his shoulder.

He hissed, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. His arm wrapped instinctively around me. “Don’t bite,” he drawled, adjusting me in his lap to be further away from him. “You’re being unreasonable.”

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing away before looking back at him. “I think your tea’s cold.”

Sylus exhaled deeply, giving me that long-fake-suffering look I knew so well. “And whose fault is that, sweetie?” His fingers tapped an absent rhythm against my hipbone.

I glanced over at the forgotten mug, steam long gone from its surface. “Yours,” I said automatically, moving my hand to poke where red teeth marks bloomed along his shoulder. “You weren’t paying attention.”

“My deepest apologies for getting distracted by a certain hungry kitten trying to bite chunks out of me.” He craned his neck to look at his shoulder, clicking his tongue when he saw the mark. “I’ll try my best to be a better servant next time.”

I rolled my eyes, letting myself lean back against his hand that was pressed against my back. “Alright buddy, just go on and drink your cold tea.”

Sylus glanced over at the tea, a cute, grumpy scowl appearing on his face. “I don’t want it.” His nose scrunched slightly in distaste.

“Sylus, has anyone ever told you you’re spoiled?” I rolled my eyes to hide how completely enamoured I was with that look of his.

Sylus gently wrapped his hands around my wrist. His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Pot,” he murmured, crimson eyes staring into mine, “meet kettle.”

I paused, letting out a huff as I felt myself pouting slightly. “I never understood what that phrase meant.”

Sylus chuckled, bringing my hand back to his face to nuzzle into my palm. “It means you’re just as spoiled as I am, kitten.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I was interrupted by him biting my palm and licking the mark. “Don’t pretend you’re not,” he teased in that sing-song voice, laughing when I pinched his thigh.

I yanked my hand back with an exaggerated gasp, rubbing the damp spot on my palm against his bare chest. “Gross. You’re so gross.” My voice cracked halfway through, telling how flustered I actually was.

Sylus’s grin widened, shark-like, teeth and all. He grabbed my wrist before I could retreat too far, pressing it back to his face so he could kiss where he had bit me. “If I was as gross as you claim I was, would you really be sitting on my lap right now?”

Sylus’s words bounced around my head, his lips still brushing against my palm to give me kisses over and over. I curled my fingers against his cheek, nails lightly scraping against his skin.

“I’m sitting here because you’re warm,” I said. It was only half a lie.

Sylus hummed, unconvinced. His thumb traced the delicate bones of my wrist. “Is that all?”

I nodded my head.

That smile twisted into a knowing smirk, grazing his teeth over my palm. “Ah, so I’m just a glorified heater.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, nodding again. “Exactly.”

Sylus chuckled, releasing my wrist to instead tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered there, tracing the curve of my jaw before dropping away. “Then I suppose I should be grateful for my usefulness.”

I rolled my eyes, shifting in his lap. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He mocked, pressing his hands into my hips. “You’re the one biting me like a feral cat.”

I rested my hands on his thighs, poking my nails into them. “You deserved it.”

“Did I?” His fingers flexed against my hip, digging his own nails into me in return. “And what is my crime this time?”

“Existing,” I said, nodding my head in agreement with myself.

Sylus laughed, the sound warm and rich over the documentary playing in the background. It was long forgotten, just like the tea. “You’re cruel, kitten.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling wide as I let out a small huff. “Someone likes when I bully him.”

“Someone does,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the jut of my hipbone. “But I think that someone is you.”

My breath hitched. My fingers dug into his thighs as I shifted in his lap.

His gaze flicked down to where my nails were leaving little indents in his skin, then back up to my face. “Eager?”

I shook my head, glancing away. I didn’t even bother replying with how flushed my face was.

Sylus released my hip with one hand to instead reach up and gently cup my cheek. He turned my face back towards his, his thumb tracing the delicate skin beneath my eye. “Don’t hide from me, kitten,” he hummed.

I stilled, suddenly feeling like the air had been punched from my lungs. My fingers flexed against his thighs again, using the grip to move myself further up his lap towards him.

“Rain?” His voice was quiet.

“What?”

“Are you happy right now?”

The question caught me off guard. I thought about it for a while. I knew immediately that my answer was yes, but the fact that my answer was immediate was…unsettling. “Yeah,” I whispered, “I’m happy here.”

His lips curved into that soft smile of his, but I stopped him before he could speak again. “Are you happy, Sylus?”

His thumb stroked over the curve of my cheekbone. I watched the way his chest rose and fell with each steady breath, how the light illuminated his lashes.

“Happy,” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. His fingers moved to splay slide up my shirt, splaying his fingers across the cold skin of my back. “That’s an interesting question.”

I felt my heart drop. I didn’t fight his hands, I was too focused on why he wasn’t answering the question. I leaned forward, cupping his face between my hands. “Are you not happy?” My brows furrowed, eyes searching his.

Sylus’s expression softened as my fingers traced the contours of his face. His crimson eyes held mine, impossibly fond. “It’s bittersweet,” he murmured, tilting his head into my touch. “But right now, with you…I’m happy, kitten.”

I frowned, bringing my face closer to his. My thumb reached up to gently trace the bridge of his nose before swiping across his brow bone. “Bittersweet? Why is it bittersweet?”

Sylus exhaled through his nose, his breath warm against my fingers. His hand slid up my spine, then back down. “Because,” he paused, reaching forward to playfully nip at my finger. “Someone still has a lot to remember.”

Was he sad about Willow?

Was he thinking about her since she texted him with my phone?

I pulled my hands away from him slowly, which only had him chasing after my touch. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fighting back my own envy as I placed my hands on him again. “But you’ll get to see her in a few months, right? Since Caleb’s fake death will happen soon and then…everything else.”

Sylus let out a pained, disgruntled noise. He leaned forward, flicking my forehead, hard. I winced and immediately hid my face from him. “What the hell?”

“You’re going down the wrong path, kitten.” He pulled me close to him, chest flush to chest.

I frowned more, face falling into confusion. “What do you mean? I’m just following the game’s story.”

Sylus sighed, his fingers tightening around me. “Didn’t I ask you before whose story you were in?” His voice was quiet, pouting almost.

I blinked. “What?”

His thumb traced idle circles against my hips, his gaze distant for a moment before refocusing on me. “You’re only thinking about the game’s story.” He tilted his head, studying my face. “But the story you’re in right now isn’t the game’s.”

That only brought more confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sylus exhaled softly, trailing his hands from my back down to my thighs then up to my face. He gently tugged on my earring, gazing into my eyes with such an intense, deep longing. “I’m still waiting for you, Rain.”

Chapter Text

The scent of old parchment and dried ink curled through the air as I stepped forward, my bare feet brushing against the library’s crystalline floor. The polished surface was cool beneath my skin, sending a faint shiver up my spine as I took in the transformed space around me.

It was…livelier now, at least since the last time I had been here.

The last time I’d been here, it had been nothing more than a fleeting moment. A very brief, disorienting connection with Zayne before it all disappeared again.

Since then, I hadn’t seen this place at all.

My fingers rose to brush against the earring, the metal warm under my touch. It pulsed in response, a steady, rhythmic beat that echoed through my bones. Alive. Just like the library.

I…wasn’t blind.

As much as I pretended to ignore the signs in front of me, as much as I clung to the idea that something like this couldn’t possibly happen to me, I knew.

I had come to some conclusions since my time in this world.

First, when Sylus said the earring was a tether, he hadn’t meant something to keep an eye on me just in that world. I theorized that it had something more to do with keeping me from wandering aimlessly through random timelines. The…slips…hadn’t really happened since I wore the earring. I could test it by taking it off, but…that was related to another point.

Second, Sylus knew me. He knew me before this current timeline. In another life. Many others, if his cryptic words and stories were anything to go by. I didn’t remember, still, but Sylus wasn’t one to lie or fabricate truths about those kinds of things.

If he said he was waiting for me, then I’d trust he was waiting for me.

Third, Astra was involved.

Somehow.

The only problem with this theory was that I had almost nothing to go on beyond the Fractal Library and Sylus slipping in the word fate when he was telling his story. It could be a coincidence, but Astra seemed to be tangled up in everything.

Likely, this was just another thread for him to toy with.

Back to the earring point. If I took off the earring…what exactly would I be welcoming in?

But right now, none of that interested me.

If I were back in the library, then there was a certain someone I was going to remember.

A certain someone with long, silver hair and a conveniently blurry face.

My steps echoed across the floor as I walked further into the library, past neatly organized shelves, their spines adorned with various flowers. It didn’t take long before I found myself at the large tree that had taken root in the middle of the structure.

The tree loomed ahead of me, its massive trunk gnarled with ancient bark that almost shimmered in the moonlight. Its branches stretched impossibly high, disappearing into the vaulted ceilings of the library, each one heavy with clusters of crimson seeds encased in delicate black pods. Just like the gem of my earring had once been.

I moved to press my palm against the tree—

“You shouldn’t touch that if you don’t know what it is, sweetie.”

I whirled around, heart hammering against my ribs.

Silver hair spilled over his shoulders like liquid moonlight, the strands shifting even though there was no breeze. His face…still frustratingly blurred like a painting left unfinished.

“You,” I sighed.

“Me,” he agreed, pushing off the nearby shelf he had been leaning on.

I didn’t move. I let him come to me.

“You keep coming back here,” he mused, tilting his head in that familiar way. “Should I be flattered?”

I ignored him, turning back to look at the tree. Its branches creaked above us, scattering flecks of crimson light across the library. “I’m looking for a story.”

The silver-haired figure chuckled, circling me as his fingers brushed against my earring. “You’re standing in a library, sweetie.” His voice dropped down to a low whisper. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

I lifted my palm to hover just inches from the tree’s bark, feeling the strange energy radiating from it. “It’s a story you should know very well.” I glanced over his blurred features, eyes narrowing before I promptly gripped his face between my hands, yanking him down to eye level.

“Stop hiding your face from me, Sylus.”

“Ah.” He paused, reaching his hands up to gently lift mine off his face. “Looks like someone finally listened to him.”

The blurred features beneath my palms shifted and twisted, like a camera lens trying to focus on an image before finally…

Blood-red eyes, sharp cheekbones, beautiful nose, a smirk I’d know anywhere.

Sylus blinked at me, eyes narrowed, before crinkling with amusement. He straightened, running a hand through his hair. Longer here, much longer, falling past his shoulders in silken waves. The movement exposed a braid that I hadn’t seen before, silver tangled in ashen brown.

I slipped my hands out of his touch, moving to brush my knuckles against the braid. It was…familiar, a feeling of something that I’d done before. The pattern of the weave, the unevenness from accidentally not making the sections equal weight. The overwhelming feeling of “Mine.” My eyes shifted up to his, watching how they softened under my gaze.

Sylus exhaled through his nose, the sound almost like a laugh. “It is yours, yes,” he agreed, soft amusement filtering through his voice. His fingers moved to card through my hair. He gently grabbed a section of my hair at the roots between his two fingers. “Your natural color is growing out.”

I froze at his words, my fingers instinctively moving to touch the roots of my hair. I knew it had been growing out, but…had it gotten that long?

Sylus’s hand lingered near my temple, his thumb brushing against a strand. “Like snow melting off the earth,” he murmured, though I didn’t feel he was really talking to me.

The library seemed to hold its breath around us. Even the tree’s rustling branches stilled as I stared at this unfamiliar-yet-familiar version of Sylus. His longer hair, the way he carried himself more freely than the Sylus I knew, the way he looked more tired, the creases on his face deeper. The way he has said him instead of me.

“You’re not the same as my Sylus, right?” I asked without thinking.

His fingers stilled in my hair, crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Your Sylus?” he repeated, voice laced with quiet amusement. “That’s an interesting way to say it, kitten.”

I didn’t back down. “You’re…different.” My fingers found the braid again, tracing its length. “This is a different time.”

He paused, simply tracing my motions with his eyes. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, dropping his voice to that low, intimate register that always made my pulse stutter. “Am I not still yours, too?”

I paused, dropping the braid as I met his gaze. “That’s not what I mean, and you know that.”

Sylus—this older, wearier version—exhaled through his nose and caught my wandering hand. His palm was just as warm as I remembered, yet calloused in different places than the Sylus I knew. “Time isn’t linear here. Not like how you think it is.”

I frowned, moving to catch his fingers between mine. “Then explain it to me.”

Sylus chuckled, fingers tightened around mine. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in slow, thoughtful circles. “You’re getting bossy.”

I squeezed his hand back. Hard. I didn’t know whether it was to prove something or to hide the shaking in my hands. “Sylus,” I said, trying to stay firm, but I could hear the slight whine in my voice.

His lips quirked. He guided my hand to press against the tree’s bark, the rough surface scratching the dry flesh of my palm. “Think of time here like…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. “A book. Maybe even an anthology.”

I frowned, staring at the lines within the tree as he continued talking. “You can read it in an order that makes sense, but some stories simply don’t happen in order.” He pressed my palm harder against the tree, his fingers tightening their grip on me. “You can flip to whatever page you’d like, but you tend to only remember the parts of the story that made you feel joy.”

His hold on me was becoming painful. “Or the parts that hurt.”

His fingers uncurled from mine, gently trailing down my wrist before stepping back. His palm faced me, five fingers splayed. “The story you’re looking for isn’t mine to handle.”

I tilted my head, brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you—?”

His gaze flickered to the side of me. “Do you want him to know, kitten?”

I glanced at my side, but there was nothing there except for the lone tree.

He had the audacity to laugh.

“Looks like you do.”

His fingers curled down in a mocking wave. “Bye-bye, kitten.”

A hand burst through the bark of the tree and seized me by the wrist, yanking me forward so fast my vision blurred.

I barely managed a gasp before I collided with—

Myself?

Only different. His hair fell in long curls of ash brown, unlike my bleached hair, with bangs that hid my eyebrows. And his outfit—

He pulled me into a crushing embrace, arms wrapping around me like vines, locking me in place. His grip felt desperate, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt, his face buried against my shoulder as mine was against his.

Warmth seeped through where our bodies pressed together, and the strangest sensation came over me. My body felt as if it were melting into water, limbs dissolving into something weightless. I felt myself sinking into him, our edges blurring, until the space that separated us disappeared entirely.

It was only me.

Memories collided into one another, exchanging stories previously unread. Only the ones that I wanted to see, only the ones I was allowed to.

A breeze carried the fragrance of wildflowers and the earthy musk of damp soil. The air was alive with the quiet hum of a waking world. Birds chittering in the distance, the rustle of leaves overhead, the distant babble of a stream.

I blinked against the sudden brightness, my vision adjusting to the golden light filtering through. I was standing in the middle of a sun-drenched meadow, knee-deep in swaying grass dotted with tiny white and red blossoms.

But I wasn’t alone.

A figure knelt in the grass a few paces away, his back turned to me. Silver hair—long, unbound, glinting like spun moonlight—spilled down his shoulders. Red lines carved down his back, meeting with dark, shimmering scales. His claws were buried in the soil, delicately working at something I couldn’t see.

I moved without thinking, my bare feet whispering through the grass as I approached. The hem of my own shirt brushed against my thighs with each step. I could see brown curls bouncing as I moved forward.

He didn’t turn as I neared, but his fingers stilled.

“So quiet. Last time you came barrelling over,” he mused, voice warm with amusement.

I crouched beside him, curling my knees to my chest. “I’m practicing the art of silence so I can sneak up on you one day.”

His lips quirked, but his eyes remained on whatever was cradled between his palms. “You? Sneaky?” A low chuckle. “Sweetie, you trip over your own feet when you’re excited to see me.”

I pouted, leaning forward over his shoulder to peer at what held his attention. Nestled in the damp earth was a tiny sapling, its leaves still curled tight like a sleeping child’s fist. Delicate roots cradled in Sylus’s cupped hands, dark tendrils of energy coiling around them like gentle fingers.

“What’s this one?” I asked, reaching out to brush a fingertip against one of its tiny leaves.

“A red bean tree,” he murmured. His gaze flickered to me, crimson eyes catching the light like shards of stained glass.

I wrinkled my nose. “Beans grow on trees?”

“Not that kind of bean,” he laughed. His thumb stroked the underside of a lead before pressing it into the soil. “Humans gave the tree a meaning. Love and yearning.”

I plopped down fully beside him, my knee knocking against his thigh. I trailed my hands along his arm, watching his fingers twitch against the sapling. “For a big, bad, terrifying fiend, you’re kind of a sap.”

Sylus’s lips twitched. “Sap,” he repeated dryly, his tone making it clear he didn’t appreciate the pun.

I grinned, reaching over to tug on a loose strand of his hair. “You will suffer through my jokes and you will laugh at them like a good lover.”

His clawed fingers flexed in the dirt, but his expression softened as he made eye contact with me. “Do I now? I thought that vow meant you’d actually become funny when we became lovers.”

I scoffed, leaning forward to press my nose against the curve of his neck. He smelled like a field of flowers after rain, maybe part of that was my doing. I nipped at his neck before gently soothing the skin over with my tongue. Claiming him, like I had done so many times already. “You’re so mean. I should throw you back in that pit.”

“Okay.” He knew I wouldn’t do it. His fingers found my hand, guiding it further down his arm until it reached the sapling’s roots. “Help me plant this one,” he said softly. “It should remember your touch, too.”

The soil was cool under my fingers, damp and rich. Sylus’s magic curled around me, dark and familiar. I nuzzled into his neck as his hands guided mine, helping me lower the tree into the ground. “Where did you get this from? You didn’t get it from the market when we went.”

“It’s mine.” His face turned to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It’s easy to make things if they’re for you.”

I grumbled, half-heartedly claiming he was being sappy again.

Sylus chuckled, his voice low and warm against my ear as his clawed fingers laced through mine in the soil. “If you ask nicely, I’ll even build you a library for you to fill with your little stories.”

I blinked up at him, fingers still tangled with his. “A library?”

“With vaulted ceilings,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple, “and shelves so tall you’d need a ladder to reach them.” His thumb traced idle circles against the back of my hand. “Every story you’ve ever written, bound in leather and tucked away just for you.”

I leaned into him, shaking my head with a smile on my face. “It would be impossible to fill up the library. Do you know how many lifetimes I would need to write that many books?”

Sylus hummed thoughtfully, his claw tracing the length of my finger before his tail came to curl around me, tilting my chin up. His crimson eyes burned with a quiet intensity. “Then you’ll have to stay with me through every one of them to fill your library.” The tip of his tail flicked against my lower lip. “Weave your stories into my bones until even time forgets which of us dreamed the other first.”

I shivered as his breath ghosted over my skin, the meadow around us suddenly feeling too warm. “I dreamed of you first, and we both know it.” My hands pulled away from his. I must have been distracted by his words because when I glanced down, the sapling had been secured into the soil and was ready to grow on its own.

His tail tightened around me, bringing my attention back to him. “Mm, sure, but…” He promptly wrapped his arm around me to haul me over his shoulder as he stood up. “I only care about one thing.”

“Sylus?” I yelped, nails scratching lightly along his back as I tried to find the best way to hold onto him.

His answering chuckle vibrated through me as his hand tightened around my waist. “Making sure your soul remembers how much I love you.”

I frowned, kissing his skin. “There’s no way I would forget.”

His claw dug into my skin as he carried me through the meadow, the swaying grasses parting before us like an obedient sea. The scent of crushed greenery filled my nose as I wiggled in his grasp.

“Stop squirming, petal,” he rumbled, the vibrations traveling up from his chest to where I was draped over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather I drop you in the creek up ahead?”

I huffed, pushing myself up just enough to see the glint of sunlight on water between the trees. “You wouldn’t,” I hissed, my fingers curling tighter into his shoulders.

The responding growl he let out was all teeth, that particular purgatory purr that always set my pulse racing. “What makes you so sure?”

We reached the water’s edge in a flash, and he swung me down with a surprising gentleness, letting me hover just above the running water. The evening sun painted his silver hair in molten gold as he tilted his head, watching me with those burning crimson eyes.

“I’m sure.” I dug my nails into his skin, gripping him tight as my toes skimmed the water’s surface, sending ripples dancing across the creek. “Because you love seeing me dry, wrapped in your furs by the fire.”

His pupils dilated, claws flexing against me. He hummed, then grinned widely with that mischievous smile of his. He leaned close to me, teeth grazing against my earlobe as he whispered. “Mm, but I want to see you cold so I can warm you up.”

“Sylus, no—”

The moment the word left my lips, Sylus’s grip slackened just enough for me to slip through his arms with a shriek. Cold water swallowed me whole, shock ripping the air from my lungs as I plunged beneath the surface. The creek rushed around me, bubbles swirling my vision before breaking the surface with a gasp.

Sylus stood on the bank, grinning down at me, his tail flicking lazily behind him. “Oops.”

I sputtered, shaking water from my hair. “Oops? You absolute—” I lunged for him, but he stepped back just out of reach, laughing.

“Careful,” he teased, crouching down, tail swaying like a predator’s. “You wouldn’t want to get me wet, would you?”

“No, actually, that was my plan.” I seized his wrist, yanking with all my might.

For a fleeting second, he let me think I had won. His body teetered forward, eyes widening in mock surprise, before his other arm shot out, catching my waist as he let himself fall in.

We hit the water together in an explosion of spray, Sylus twisting so he could take the brunt of the impact, my body pressed flush against his as the current swirled around us. When we surfaced, his arms were locked around me, drops glistening as they slid down his grinning face. “Oh no, you’re all wet because of me.”

“You,” I hissed, shoving at his chest, “are the worst.”

His claws traced my spine, pulling me closer despite my protests. He purred, nose brushing against my throat. “Now what was that about furs by the fire?”

I had no words to say to that man, so I sent him a glare instead.

His low chuckle reverberated through my chest where we were pressed together. One clawed hand came up to push wet strands of hair from my face, his thumb lingering at my temple. “Look at you, already shivering. How unfortunate.” His voice dripped with false sympathy as his tail coiled possessively around my waist beneath the water.

I snapped my teeth at him, reminding him that if I wanted, I could easily sink my teeth into his flesh. Yet, the way my body shivered and curled into his warmth betrayed me. “You’re enjoying this because you are—” My fingers dug into his shoulders as a particularly strong current made me slip against him. “Carry me home, now.” I pause. “Please.”

He let out a huff that almost sounded like he was trying to cover up his laugh, but the next thing I knew, he was surging upright. Water cascaded off us both as he held me with one arm curled around my waist. “You,” he muttered, “are entirely too spoiled.”

I reached up, twisting myself in order to gently press both my hands to the soft skin of his face. “Really?” I gently pressed my thumbs into him, tracing idle circles beneath his eyes. “And here I thought someone wanted me to be greedier.”

Sylus nipped at my fingers with a low growl. The water dripped down his shoulders as he stepped onto the bank, droplets catching gold in the fading sunlight. “Greed has nothing to do with it,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re spoiled because you whine when you don’t get your way.”

I hummed, moving to wrap my arms around his shoulder as I tugged him even closer to me. “Don’t care.” My teeth found his bottom lip, nipping at the soft flesh. “Warm me up.”

The sound he made was somewhere between a growl and a laugh, his arms tightening around me as wings spread from his back. “Impatient little thing,” he muttered against my hair. “I told you I would take care of you.”

The world tilted as Sylus launched us into the sky, his powerful wings cutting through the cooling evening air. I buried my face against his neck, closing my eyes tight, fingers digging into him as wind whipped around us. His breath was warm against my temple, each beat of his wings sending droplets scattering from our soaked forms.

“You’re taking too long,” I grumbled into his skin, punctuating my complaint with a sharp nip to his collarbone.

His claw came up to press warningly against the back of my neck. “Keep biting and we’re stopping right here, sweetie.” Below us, the forest blurred into shadows as we ascended toward the ruins of a mountain castle we had fled to and made our home.

I huffed but obediently stilled my teeth, contenting myself with nuzzling into him instead, my nose rubbing back and forth against his chest.

The stone terrace came into view, bathed in the golden glow of torchlight. Sylus landed with barely a sound, yet his arms remained locked around me as if he were reluctant to let go. The heat from his body seeped into mine where we pressed together, though the dusk air still raised goosebumps across my damp skin.

His hand trailed down to close around my wrist. Firelight danced in his crimson eyes when he tugged me forward, his grip warm and firm.

“Come,” he said, exasperated, before his voice dropped to that tender timbre that always made my soul ache. “Let me fix my mistake.”

Chapter Text

The fire crackled as Sylus guided me toward the hearth, his fingers weaving between mine with possessive certainty. Shadows danced across the ancient stone walls as he pulled me into the circle of warmth, my damp clothes steaming in the heat. His tail curled around my ankle beneath the fur he’d tossed over my shoulders, the motion so instinctive it made my gut twist with a sickening need.

“Still trembling?” His thumb brushed the racing pulse at my wrist, lips quirking when I bit back another shiver. The dragon had the audacity to look proud at what he’d done. “I did warn you.”

I rolled my eyes, bending my head over to shake out my damp hair, water drops flicking across his skin. I could feel myself growing dizzy from the motion, having to readjust to instead hold onto him.

His tail tightened around my ankle as I swayed, pulling me flush against his chest to steady me. A low, satisfied hum reverberated through him as he caught my elbows, his warmth radiating through the damp fabric between us.

“Careful,” he murmured, claws grazing my waist before rising to cradle the back of my head. His fingers sunk into my wet curls, tilting my chin up so the firelight spilled across my face. The heat in his gaze was more scorching than the fire beside us. “Wouldn’t want you collapsing before I get you out of these wet clothes.”

I scrunched my nose, turning my face away from him. “Really, so that’s what this is about?”

He grinned, wicked and fiendish. “No. It started as teaching a brat a lesson,” he admitted, tail sliding higher up my calf. “But now…” A claw hooked into the collar of my soaked shirt, dragging the fabric down my shoulder just enough to bare skin to the hearth’s heat. “I’m just enjoying you dripping all over my floor.”

My gaze turned back to meet him, an unamused look falling over my face. “Your floor?”

His grin turned predatory as his fingers tightened on my shirt. “My floor,” he purred, voice laced with a rough tone. “In my castle. Where my little storyteller is currently making a mess after I had to fish him out of the creek.”

I scoffed at him, mouth dropped in disbelief at his words. My hand pressed into the warmth of his chest, shoving him in protest. “You threw me in!”

Sylus caught my wrist effortlessly, fingers circling the delicate bones as he brought my palm back against his chest. His heart thundered beneath my touch. “And I fished you out,” he countered, talons pricking teasingly against my inner wrist. His breath was warm against my lips when he leaned in, silver lashes casting shadows over those burning crimson eyes. “What more could you possibly want from me? Go on, use your words.”

His words curled in my stomach, my fingers pressing into his pectorals.

The crackling fire bathes us in amber light as Sylus crowded closer, his free hand lifting to tangle in my damp curls. The scent of wet earth still clung to us both, mingling with woodsmoke as his nose brushed mine.

His lips hovered just shy of mine, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners. The fire’s glow danced across his sharp features, lighting up the water droplets still clinging to his silver lashes. I could feel his breath mingling with mine, dark and sweet like pomegranate wine.

His other hand slid down my waist, claws pricking lightly through the soaked fabric of my shirt as he pulled me flush against him. The heat of his body burned hotter than the fire that was meant to be warming me up.

“Can’t find your words?” His voice dropped to a low rumble that vibrated against my chest. “Tch. And here I thought you loved the sound of your own voice with how much you ramble on around me.”

I let out a huff, my face scrunched together in annoyance as I moved past him toward the nest of furs near the hearth. Purposefully, I was avoiding eye contact, avoiding saying a word to him.

Sylus’s claws caught my waist before I could take more than two steps, spinning me back into his chest with a low growl. “Don’t leave.” His breath was hot against my ear, teeth grazing the shell as his tail lashed behind him, accidentally sending a rock scattering across the floor. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I dug my nails into his arms, but didn’t fight the way his grip tightened. I didn’t stop him from dragging me closer until his wings curled around us like a blanket. The firelight flickered through the translucent membranes, painting us in gold and shadow.

“To the furs. I’m trying to warm up,” I muttered, refusing to look at him.

His laugh was hearty, deep. “But that’s my job.” A claw hooked under my chin, tilting my head to the side in order for him to have more space to press his nose against my neck.

I opened my mouth to complain, and then suddenly I was weightless. Hauled over his shoulder like a stolen prize as he stalked toward the furs. His palm burned against the back of my thighs as he carried me, claws brushing sensitive skin in a way that made me squirm.

The moment his knee hit the furs, he tumbled us down together, twisting at the last second so I landed sprawled across his chest instead of the pelts. Water still dripped from my clothes onto his bare skin, tracing the ridges of scars more ancient than my bloodline.

“Everything’s okay now.” One hand cradled the back of my skull while the other slid up my spine beneath my damp shirt, claws pricking just enough to make me arch into the touch.

His wings folded around us like a second set of arms, trapping me in the heat of his body. The hearth’s crackle faded beneath the sound of his pulse.

I frowned, now feeling the damp clothing sticking to my skin in a way that made me feel sick. I shifted on top of him uncomfortably, fingers pulling at the fabric.

Sylus let out a low chuckle as he watched my discomfort, crimson eyes glinting in the firelight. His claws caught the hem of my soaked shirt, eyes glancing down before meeting mine. “So fussy,” he murmured. He tilted his head, the rough pads of his fingers tapping against my skin. “Can I?”

I nodded.

He dragged the shirt upward with a deliberate slowness, careful not to accidentally scratch me with his claws.

I shivered as the damp fabric peeled away, exposing me to the cold air. He dripped one hand beneath my back, unravelling the wrap tightened around my chest with practiced ease.

“Does that feel better?” His voice was a rumble against my skin as he tossed the wet clothing aside.

“It does. Feels better,” I murmured half-heartedly, mostly focused on the way his eyes stared into mine so kindly.

His hands swept up my bare sides, thumbs tracing the curve of my ribs before settling on my waist. The firelight painted gold across my skin, chasing away the last of the chill as his palms burned hot against me.

“Really? I think you’re still cold,” he whispered, claws prickling lightly just above my hip bones.

His wings flexed around us, blocking out even the slightest draft from the ancient stone walls. The furs beneath us were warm from his body heat. His tail had curled around my calf tightly, possessively. I hadn’t realized I was shivering.

He let out a displeased grunt seeing me affected by the cold. “See? You’re still shivering.” Sylus’s grip tightened, one claw hooking into the waistband of my shorts. “You’re going to catch a chill,” he said, voice dropping to a rough purr. “Is this okay, too?”

I chewed on my inner lip and nodded, lifting my hips slightly to help him drag the wet fabric down my legs. His claws barely skimmed my skin, but every accidental brush sent sparks dancing along my nerves.

It wasn’t long before his own wet pants had joined the pile of our discarded clothing.

Sylus’s wings curled tighter around us, cocooning me in his head as he settled me against his chest. His hands roamed over my bare skin, calloused palms leaving trails of fire in their wake. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, breath ghosting over my skin.

His claws drifted lower, skimming the small of my back as he held me close. “I can’t believe you threw me in the creek,” I grumbled.

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through him. “You’re lucky I fished you out,” he teased, fingers digging lightly into the flesh of my rear. “Normally, a fiend would have left you without so much as a second glance.”

I scoffed, a smile growing on my face as I took in the way his eyes looked as if they had hearts shining in them when he looked at me. “It’s because you’re so abnormally in love with me.”

His laugh was quiet, barely above a whisper as he cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my lips.

“Abnormally,” he agreed. “Our fate has been anything but normal.”

His fingers tangled in my damp hair, tilting my head back as he kissed me, deep and slow, like he was memorizing the taste of me, mapping the shape of my mouth against his. His skin burned hot, branding me wherever we touched.

When he pulled away, his teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging gently before letting go. “A fiend meant to be bound to someone else and a human who was never meant to be a part of any fate at all.”

“Meant to be bound to someone else,” I echoed, a pout falling on my face as I looked away.

“What are you pouting for? You know I don’t care about predestined fate.” The firelight danced in his crimson eyes as he studied me, his claws tracing idle patterns across my bare back. “And you’re so greedy, you stole me all for yourself anyway,” he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with something ancient and possessive.

I shivered, pressing closer to his warmth. His scent filled my senses as his hands wandered lower. “I just…wanted something to be mine for once.”

His fingers stilled against my back, claws pressing just shy of breaking skin. He let out a small laugh, almost in disbelief. “Of course, I was always going to be yours, that’s not a question.”

He rolled us over in one fluid motion. The furs beneath us shifted, his wings flexing to cage me in completely. Firelight danced across the sharp angles of his face as he loomed over me, silver hair falling like a curtain around us. “Every scar. Every curse. Every wretched, bloody thing I am and will be. Only you can keep my soul.”

I stilled, staring deep into his eyes as rose dusted across my face. “Sylus…” I breathed out, light, desperate.

Sylus’s voice dropped to a growl, the sound vibrating through my bare skin where our bodies pressed together. “I tore my name from fate’s ledger and rewrote it on your soul. Do you understand what I’m saying?” His claw traced around my heart. “The only divine will I’ll follow is yours.”

His mouth found the hollow beneath my jaw, teeth scraping in a way that made my breath hitch. “The warmth of your skin. The sound of your laughter. The way your soul feels when I—”

The fire popped loudly, startling me for just a second.

Sylus let out a gruff, pressing his nose deep against my neck. His breath came in short, hot bursts against my skin, inhaling.

I snaked my hands around his neck, tangling my fingers in his silken hair. I leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his head. “Sylus,” I whispered again.

His head snapped up, gripping my left hand to press firmly against his chest. His pulse hammered beneath my touch, warm and alive. “This heart,” he murmured against my lips, claws gently pricking at my ribs, “beats only where yours does.” His hold on me was gentle, delicate, and his eyes told the same tale. “Abnormal, stolen, rewritten, I don’t care what they call our fate.” His lips pressed a tender kiss to mine, briefly. He didn’t fully pull away when he spoke again, “As long as they call me yours.”

His words settled into my bones, leaving my skin tingling at the thought. My fingers tightened in his hair as he hovered over me, our breaths mingling in the quiet crackle of the hearth.

“Mine?” I echoed, the word tasting too sweet on my tongue. “Even when you’ve got gods demanding otherwise?”

Sylus’s laughter was dark, rich like honeyed wine. He nipped at my lower lip, drawing a startled gasp from me before soothing it with his tongue. “Especially then.” His claws traced lazy circles along my hip. “I won’t give them a chance to take you from me.”

I giggled, I didn’t know whether from the sheer stupidity of his statement or the fact it was making me flustered. “Do you really think you could win against a god?”

His gaze burned into mine, molten and unyielding. “I’d end the world if it meant keeping you.”

I stilled, pulling him close to me, even though it wasn’t possible for him to get any closer. I felt the burning heat of his skin against mine, taking a deep breath. I looked into his eyes, searching. “Ending the world is boring. You should make me my own instead. Somewhere Astra can’t reach us, where we get to make the rules.”

He let out a deep huff, a little groan in his voice seeping through. His pupils dilated, swallowing the crimson of his irises. Sylus looked utterly disarmed. His claws twitched against my skin. “Careful.” His voice was rough, the way it got when my words amused him too much. “You’re filling my head with ideas.” His tail curled possessively around my thigh, the barbed tip pressing against my skin.

I grinned, biting back the shiver that threatened to crawl up my spine. “Aw,” I whined teasingly, tilting my head back against the furs. “I thought I had good ideas.”

“Your ideas are dangerous, petal.” His claws dug in just enough to brand me with crescents as his teeth dragged along my collarbone. “What if I like them too much?”

I arched beneath him, nails scraping down the ridges of his spine where his wings met his back. “You can use any ideas of mine you want,” I whispered against his parted lips. “Like I said, they’re good ideas.”

His breathing hitched, wings twitching where my nails grazed the sensitive membranes at their base. The firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw as he bared his teeth in a grin.

“Tell me another one,” he rumbled, shifting his weight to cage me more completely beneath him. His claws found my hair, twisting strands around his fingers as he tilted my head back. “Another idea.”

I let my eyes flutter close, pretending to consider it as my hands explored the hard planes of his chest, tracing marks I would be able to see even in my dreams. “Why stop at one world?” I mused, tapping my fingers against his heart. “We could have a thousand worlds. An entire universe just for us.”

Sylus made a low sound in his throat, the vibration traveling through where our bodies pressed together. His tail slid higher before flicking in clear impatience, or even desperation. “More.”

I let out a content huff. “More?” I tilted my head, daring to skim my nails lower down his stomach just to feel the muscles tense under my touch. “Let’s…” I paused, wrapping my arms and legs tightly around him. I gripped him tight, pressing my face into his long, silky hair. “Use my stories to make the worlds. You don’t like writing and you’re impatient, so you can’t make a good story.”

Sylus froze against me, his body going entirely still. When he pulled back to look at me, his pupils were still dilated, crimson but a mere sliver in his awe-filled gaze. “You’re serious,” he whispered. It wasn’t a question.

I blinked up at him, suddenly feeling my pulse stutter. There was something terrifying in your desires being uncovered so easily. “It’s just a fun idea, it’s not that serious. We can’t even do something like that.” I glanced away, not wanting to stare into his eye.

“You are serious,” he gruffed, harsher than he likely meant it to sound.

I let go of him, turning on my side to face away from him completely.

Sylus let out a displeased huff, immediately following my motions. His large frame settled in front of me, wings sprawled out behind him. He didn’t give me a chance to hide away. His hands trailed gently along mine, claws disappearing to make way for a more delicate touch. “Don’t hide.” His voice was quiet, eyes meeting mine with nothing but love in them. “I’m not trying to dissuade you.”

His finger traced a delicate circle around my ring finger, over and over. Yet, his eyes never left mine. I let myself ease into the furs, my hair falling into my eyes before Sylus quickly held my curls up so his eye contact wouldn’t be broken.

I stayed quiet for a few moments, just staring at him. He never hid his desires. Never made me guess at what he wanted, even though I liked to pretend he did.

I leaned forward, pressing our joined hands to my lips. “I do want it.” I swallowed hard when his fingers flexed against mine. “Just one life with you isn’t enough. I want…longer than eternity with you.”

Sylus’s fingers stilled against mine, his entire frame going rigid for a heartbeat before relaxing into something dangerously soft. His lips twitched, that familiar smile dancing at the edges of his mouth.

“Really?” He almost sounded like he was in disbelief. “That’s quite a long time, sweetie. Are you sure you won’t get bored?”

I continued to stare into his gaze. I was sure I had some kind of stupid, vulnerable look on my face. Maybe it showed him how much I loved him. I shook my head, simple. “I won’t. Will you?”

A shudder ran through him. I studied the way his lips curled more, revealing his deceivingly dull teeth behind his lips. “No. I could never.”

I felt something tugging deep within the confines of my soul. I nuzzled my nose against the warm, rough skin of his hand. I pressed my lips to his palm, my fingers tightening around his. “I can’t lose you.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. I could tell he was hungry for something. “Then take half of me,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. His breath was warm, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll take half of you.”

A shiver raced down my spine. My pulse thundered beneath his touch, so loud I was certain he could hear it. “Half?” I echoed, my fingers twitching against his.

“Half my soul,” he murmured, leaning in until his forehead rested against mine. “Half of yours.”

The fire crackled, its light flickering wildly, casting shimmering lights across his face. His free hand came up to press against my chest, right over my heart. His palm rested warm against my skin.

I bit the inside of my cheek briefly, my breath coming shallow. “That’s a thing? You can do?”

Sylus let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I’ve already promised to create entire worlds for you. Sharing our souls is simple in comparison.” His voice raised to a teasing tone, I could hear the smile in his voice. “It’ll be nice.”

I didn’t hesitate. My hand lifted, mirroring his, pressing flat against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong beneath my palm. A rhythm I knew as well as my own.

“Then have me,” I whispered.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, reverent and kind and telling of the love he held. A searing heat erupted between us, not painful, but overwhelming, like sinking into a bath of liquid fire. My vision blurred, the world narrowing to the point where our skin touched, where his lips were on me.

A quiet, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through my bones. A quiet melody comforting me as something pulled inside me. Not from my body, but from somewhere much deeper. A thread of my very being, unraveling from the core of me, slipping free like silk through fingers.

At the same time, something foreign and warm seeped into me, flooding my veins, curling around my ribs, settling deep in my chest like a seed taking root. Another voice joined the melody, harmonizing—albeit rather terribly—with the song.

Sylus.

The cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his pulse, the way his claws flexed instinctively when I gasped. All of it woven into a melody that now lived between my ribs. Pomegranate and wine danced on my tongue.

Sylus pulled back just enough for me to see his face. His pupils were blown wide, his lips parted on a shaky exhale. “...Can you hear me?” His voice scraped raw, claws pricking along my chest. “Can you taste my soul?”

I nodded, dazed. The new presence inside me thrummed. Wild. Ancient. Hungry. Yet it curled around mine with terrifying gentleness. Like a dragon guarding its hoard.

His answering grin was all teeth. “I can hear your beautiful voice too.” His head dipped, forehead pressing to mine as his tail wound possessively around my thigh. “And…you taste sweet.”

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, still feeling dizzy from the mingled essence of our souls. “Sweet?” I repeated, my fingers flexing against his chest.

Sylus hummed, letting out a low, pleased growl as his claws trailed down my ribs. “Like red, bleeding fruit and almond essence,” he murmured, licking his lips deliberately. “But it burns with something wild, like wine.” His nose brushed my cheek, inhaling deeply.

I stiffened, suddenly aware of my own breathlessness, the way my lungs burned like I’d been holding my breath for too long.

Sylus let out a chuckle, pulling back as his thumb traced the shape of my bottom lip. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” His voice was softer now, edged with something like wonder. “Feeling each other.”

I nodded, pressing my forehead against his collarbone. “Yeah,” I admitted, my fingers moving to tangle in his hair. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Do whatever you want with it,” he murmured, claws skimming the line of my jaw. “It’s yours.”

I stilled, sitting with his answer for a moment. It’s mine. I traced the curve of his shoulder with my free hand, feeling the hard muscle beneath warm skin. “What does it feel like for you?” I whispered.

Sylus tilted his head thoughtfully, staring at me as if I should already know the answer. “It feels…” He paused, deciding his next words carefully. “Like I will never forget the reason why life is meant to be beautiful.” His claws pressed lightly into my hip, not enough to break skin, but enough to feel closer. “That reason feels an awful lot like you, Rain.”

Sylus…

I didn’t have time to respond before he kissed me. Desperate, hungry, loving. The taste flooded my senses again, richer this time, headier.

His tail tightened around me, pulling me closer, sealing any last bit of space between us. His soul pressed against mine, warm and alive and his.

Ours.

I let myself melt into him, into us, until I was shoved back, and it was only me once more. Lying in an empty bed hidden beneath cool, silken sheets that clung to my skin.

Chapter Text

The neon glow of the N109 zone spilled through the endings of the closed curtains along the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting Sylus’s shoulders in faint streaks of red and cyan. He sat silhouetted against the cityscape, one hand loosely gripping a half-empty glass of red liquor while the other scrolled through his phone.

I watched from the hallway, bare feet silent against the cold marble as I padded closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with gunpowder greeted me before he did.

It was obvious he had been on a…business outing. Even more obvious was the fact that he had been hurt. His shirt lay unbuttoned, baring his abdomen to the low light of the penthouse. There were no visible wounds at this point, assuming he had healed himself, but the way he looked particularly grumpy and had dirt and smoke residing on his skin told me what had happened.

I stopped in front of his legs, watched as the hand holding his phone shifted to the side, making his lap readily accessible to me.

I didn’t hesitate. I climbed into his lap, my knees pressing into the expensive leather of the armchair as I settled against him. His phone clattered onto the side table, forgotten when his hand came to rest possessively on my thigh.

“Where’d you go?” I asked quietly, plucking the glass from his fingers and attempting to down the remainder in one go. It didn’t happen. I only managed a small gulp as my face scrunched inward, the liquor burning its way down my throat, settling warm in my stomach. It had a sweet, fruity taste to it, but I could never get over the burn.

Sylus didn’t protest at my thievery, just arched a brow as I coughed. “I had work,” he answered, reaching out to wipe a stray drop from my chin with his thumb. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of my jaw. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping. What brings my greedy kitten out of hiding?”

I missed the warmth of him from my memories. The touches. The care. Both from this life and that one. I leaned into his touch, seeking more. “I woke up. You were gone.” The admission came out soft, vulnerable in a way that made my skin prickle. It was alarming to actively ignore the defensive attitude I had built up to protect myself.

His expression shifted instantly, crimson eyes scanning my face with a tender look that made me burn inside. “I know. I’m sorry, kitten.” His grip around me tightened, shifting me closer to him. “Did you have a bad dream?”

I shook my head. “No, it was a good dream.” I turned my face away, but he caught my chin, gently guiding me back to meet his gaze.

His thumb brushed the corner of my lips, his expression soft in the dim light. “A good dream, hm?” His voice was low, a rough edge of amusement threading through it. “Then why do you look like you lost something precious?”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, placing the glass down on the side table before my hand moved to hover over his bare chest. “I did,” I muttered, unable to keep the huff out of my voice.

Sylus tilted his head, grabbing my hand to carefully bring it to his face, pressing a trail of kisses from my fingertips down to my wrist. “What did you lose?”

His lips burned against my skin, searing through me until I shuddered. The answer clung to my ribs, thorned and heavy, but beneath that crimson gaze, I had no strength to lie. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say the answer either.

His fingers tightened around my wrist when I hesitated, lips lingering against my pulse. The look he gave me was somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Just…” I trailed off, my voice barely above a whisper. “You.”

Sylus went still, his breath slowing. He leaned back against the chair, pulling me with him. He huffed, followed by his lips quirking into a smile. “How could you lose me?” He asked, teasingly. “I’m right here, aren’t I? Or do you think I’m just a ghost?”

Sylus’s fingernails pricked lightly at my thigh, his grin widening when I tried unsuccessfully to swat his hand away. “Oh? Are we fighting now?” His voice dripped with amusement as he leaned in. “Did losing a dream version of me really make you this grumpy?”

I wrinkled my nose, shoving at his chest with all my might, which did absolutely nothing to move him. “I take it back. Get off me.”

He laughed, loosening his grip on me. His left hand came up to motion to the way I was sitting on him. “But kitten, you’re the one on me.”

I scrambled to untangle myself, the warmth of his body shifting beneath me in ways that made my ears burn red. His hands caught my waist before I could escape, holding me captive with effortless strength.

“Let me go,” I grumbled, digging my nails into his forearms. The scent of smoke clung to his skin, distracting enough that my grip lacked its usual bite.

“Why?” His mouth curved into that infuriating smirk as he leaned closer, lips brushing my earlobe. “I don’t want you to go.”

The words sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I turned my face away once more, only for his fingers to slide up my back, pressing between my shoulder blades until my chest bumped against his.

“I don’t like you being so far away from me,” he murmured, his breath warm against my temple.

I huffed, flattening my palms against his chest. “You literally left me?”

Sylus chuckled, shifting me so I could straddle his lap in a more comfortable position. His hands settled low on my hips, thumbs tracing idle circles. “Work doesn’t count as leaving, sweetie. Unless you’d prefer I take you with me next time?” His hand moved to flick my forehead teasingly. “But someone has to get stronger first. I can’t send a kitten into danger untrained.”

My nose scrunched, and I couldn’t help the pout that fell on my face. “Someone needs to be a better teacher. I bet if I asked Rafayel, he could have me ready to conquer the world in like 3 days flat.”

Sylus’s grip on my hips tightened, just slightly. “Are you trying to make me jealous, kitten?” He scoffed. I could see his tongue trace along his bottom, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Your tactic lacks one thing. You don’t seem so convinced. Nor do you sound like you even want that.”

The leather of the armchair creaked under my squirming as I adjusted in his lap. “Fine. That just means I don’t have to admit I was lying. So technically I never lied,” I shot back, fingers tapping against his chest. “He’d probably drown me. Or make me beg to be drowned.”

Sylus let out a huff. “Lucky for me,” he mused, hands sliding up my sides in a slow caress that left goosebumps in their wake. “I feel like I distinctly remember banning you from drowning?”

I shrugged my shoulders, grabbing the glass again just to have something to do with my hands, swirling the dregs of crimson liquor before taking another sip. The burn was less biting this time, but I still scrunched my nose. “I’ve been banned from a lot of things.”

“Well, aren’t you just a menace?” He asked teasingly, plucking the glass from my fingers and setting it aside with a quiet clink. His hand came up to cradle my jaw, tilting my face toward the light. His thumb brushed the faint purple shadow beneath my eyes. “These were getting better, but now they’ve come back.”

I leaned into his touch, staring at him in a mix of shock at his attention to detail. “Well, I think the thing with Willow and the girls took like 10 years off my life. You’re just seeing the effects in real time.”

“Ten years? That’s generous.” His fingers gently traced the skin of my face, trailing from my eyes down to hold the sides of my face. “You look like you’ve aged twenty. Maybe more.”

I gave him a proper side-eye, flaring at him as my lips curved in annoyance. “Oh, that’s good. I’ll finally look as old as you do, gramps,” I retorted.

Sylus let out a deep laugh. His fingers drifted downward, smearing the remnants of the drink across my bottom lip with his thumb. “What does that make us?” He leaned in close enough that his breath fanned warm against my mouth. “An old married couple that bickers all the time?”

My stomach swooped in response to his proximity. His crimson eyes were lit up like he was looking at a star-filled galaxy through them. “Married? Who said we were married?” I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re having delusions of grandeur, Sylus,” I teased.

Sylu’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh? So you mean I haven’t put a ring on this finger yet?”

He caught my left hand with one of his, tracing a slow circle around my ring finger with his thumb. “That can be easily fixed, sweetie.”

I froze, staring at our joined hands as warmth flooded my cheeks. His thumb kept moving in absent circles, right where a wedding band would sit.

“Uhm—” My voice came out embarrassingly shaky. “Sylus,” I said, confusion and panic lacing my voice.

Sylus’s smirk sharpened, his nails pricking gently at my skin where he still held my hand captive. “Why are you so shy now? You’re the one who just said you dream about me. Tell me how many times you’ve dreamt of this scenario,” he murmured, his voice syrup-thick with amusement.

My face burned bright. “I do not—”

His thumb pressed against my lips, silencing me. “Ah-ah. I’m enjoying these so-called ‘delusions of grandeur’.”

I grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from my mouth. “Sylus…” I paused, tilting my head. “You should get cleaned up. Unless you’re planning to abandon me again and leave me all alone in this tiny, cold, empty place?”

Sylus sighed, exaggerating the motion as he rolled his eyes. “Tiny, cold, empty,” he mocked, tapping my nose with his finger. “You bite the hand that has spoiled you so generously.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but in a blink, his arms encircled my waist, and he stood, lifting me effortlessly. The sudden movement made me scramble to wrap my legs around him, my arms instinctively clinging to his neck.

“The hand tastes good.” I huffed as he carried me toward the master bath. “I can’t help it when I’m starving. You should really feed me more.”

His low chuckle rumbled against my chest. “Hungry? First you complain I feed you too much, then you complain I don’t feed you enough? You should really make up your mind, kitten,” he hummed, the tease clear in his voice as he kicked the bathroom door open with his foot.

The bathroom lights flickered on automatically, set to a dim, atmospheric setting. Steam already curled from the enormous sunken tub, the water shimmering under the warm lights. Sylus must have activated the system remotely. Likely while lounging dramatically in his armchair like some brooding villain.

I squirmed in his arms, feet kicking slightly. “Why are you bringing me with you? I’m already clean and in pajam—”

Sylus leaned down and dropped me.

Not onto the floor, but directly into the tub. Water sloshed over the edges as I flailed, hissing at the sudden heat. My silk pajama bottoms clung to my skin, weighed down by the water. Sylus watched, smug, arms crossed, as he loomed over me.

“Sylus—!” I splashed him, but he dodged effortlessly, the water barely grazing his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he purred, already sliding his shirt off the rest of the way. Dust and dried blood were smeared across his chest and abdomen. Likely, the blood wasn’t even his, but from how tired he looked earlier, I could tell whatever “errand” this was had left him drained.

Thinking of it, this moment was giving me rather…intense deja vu. It was almost as if I had just experienced being thrown into a creek by a certain someone.

He had behavioural issues.

Okay, he didn’t at all. I was just upset.

I leaned over the side of the tub, scanning the vast expanse of the bathroom. My eyes landed on a closet, one that would likely have washcloths and the like. “Sylus, go get me a washcloth.”

Sylus exhaled through his nose, but obeyed, presenting his back to me without further protest as he disappeared into the closet.

He came back quickly enough, tossing the cloth to me. I dipped it into the steaming water, wringing it out before motioning for him to come closer. “You need to get that blood off you.”

Sylus let out an exaggerated sigh, but bent down obediently, bracing his hands on the edge of the tub. His smirk didn’t falter, even as I dragged the damp cloth over his chest with more force than necessary.

“Ow,” he said noncommittally, not even flinching as I scrubbed at a stubborn streak of crimson near his ribs.

“You’re not even trying to help,” I grumbled, fingers slipping on his damp skin. The cloth had begun to turn murky, swirling with a faint pink tint of watered-down blood.

Sylus just hummed, tilting his head as he watched me work. “I’m enjoying the view too much.” His fingers tapped the rim of the tub. “Keep going.”

I huffed, immediately dropping the cloth outside of the tub. “Okay, wash yourself.” I stood up, aiming to climb past him, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and dragged me into his lap. I sighed, glaring up at him, my pajama pants sticking uncomfortably to my skin. “You,” I said slowly, “have issues.”

Sylus’s fingers tangled in the soaked fabric of my shorts as he pulled me flush against his chest. “I do have issues. I have you,” he murmured, lips skimming the shell of my ear. “I think that counts as several issues in one,” he said cheerily.

I groaned, hands braced against his bare shoulders. “Wow, thank you for being so kind,” I deadpanned. I made no real effort to pull away.

Sylus chuckled against my temple, tracking a drop of water down my cheek with his thumb. “You can leave at any time if you don’t like it, sweetie.”

I scoffed, pressing my palms firmly against his chest. “So tempting,” I hummed, my fingernails trailing against his skin. “I think I should.”

Sylus grinned, tilting his head like a predator watching prey fall into its trap. “Oh?” His fingers traced up my spine, sliding beneath the soaked fabric of my binder. “Would you really leave me?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Right now? Yes. Immediately.” I moved, and this time he let me slip away from his grip.

Sylus let out a quiet hum of amusement, staring at the fingers that had just been holding me. “I guess it’s okay, but only for right now.”

I flicked water at him with my fingers as I walked away from him. “I’m just going to grab my phone, don’t look so sad.” I padded towards the bedroom, dripping water across the marble floor as I went.

Sylus’s laughter followed me. Rich, dark, and entirely too pleased with himself. “Phone?” His voice carried from the bathroom, laced with amusement. “Kitten, you should know there are better ways to ask to record me in the bath.”

I rolled my eyes, snatching my phone from the nightstand before turning back. “No,” I called, rubbing my temple as I sat down beside him, still by the edge of the tub. “I just have a bunch of texts to go through from…stuff about earlier. Or yesterday. However time works. With the girls. When I crashed out and left the party.” I sighed, unlocking my phone as I leaned on his shoulder, letting him see the growing pile of notifications. “I need the council’s help, or else I probably won’t respond. Overwhelming and all that.”

Sylus wrapped an arm around me, fingers coming up to twirl my hair around his finger. “The council,” he mused, eyes glancing over my phone screen. “And I’m going to assume this council is me?”

I nodded my head, sighing dramatically. “Yes, yes. You’re my most trusted advisor and all that.”

Sylus let out a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before examining the messages on my phone. His fingers still toyed absently with my hair, twisting the damp strands between his fingers. “Well,” he murmured, scanning through the group chat’s rapid-fire texts. “At first, they were worried they went too far, but it seems the longer they went without hearing from you, their texts turned…more antagonizing. Tara, at least, is trying to keep the peace.”

I scrunched my nose, leaning more heavily against him. “Ugh, I don’t want to look at it, I'm going to be sick,” I whined, only nuzzling into him more. “I told them to stop and—and I needed—I—” I went quiet, feeling myself fumble over my words.

Sylus’s thumb brushed along my cheekbone. “You were overwhelmed,” he whispered gently in my ear. “You told them when to stop, and told them you needed space. You communicated your needs even on the verge of a meltdown and removed yourself from the environment. You did the best you could.” His fingers tightened in my hair.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, staring at the phone screen. “I know that…” I trailed off, eyes glancing down to where I had been picking at the skin around my thumb. I groaned, face scrunched as I bumped my forehead against Sylus. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.”

Sylus caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You hate a lot of things, kitten,” he murmured, his thumb stroking along my jaw. The glow of the bathroom lights made his crimson eyes shine brightly.

I huffed but didn’t argue further, letting my forehead drop back against his shoulder. His skin still carried the faint scent of gunpowder from his earlier ventures. “You could just…” My fingers traced figure eights along his bicep. “Answer for me.”

Sylus hummed, a low, considering sound. “And what, exactly, would you like me to say to your little friends?” His fingers pressed gently into my cheeks, squishing them as I pouted. “I can type it out for you, but I can’t answer for you.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, nudging him with my knee. “Tell them I’m okay, just tired and need space to regulate, or something like that.”

Sylus exhaled through his nose, squinting at my phone screen with a sigh. “Good enough for me.” He typed slowly, his lip curling slightly at whatever response immediately buzzed back.

“This Simone person has some bite to them.” His voice raised high, attempting to imitate her tone. “We thought you were dead in a ditch or something. It’s a bit too dramatic to run off like that.”

I let out a groan, flopping backward dramatically onto the bathroom floor. The tiles were cool against my overheated skin. “I can show her what dramatic really looks like,” I muttered, throwing an arm over my eyes.

Sylus chuckled, peering down at me. His silver hair hung in messy strands around his face. “I’m sure you could.” He tapped at the screen again. “Willow texted you in a private chat saying ”I love your stupid face, Rain, I’m here for you and I’m sorry we went overboard with the teasing.’” He paused, still squinting at the screen. “Or, that’s probably what she said. She types…with a lot of abbreviations.”

I stayed sprawled on the cool tile, staring up at the ceiling as Sylus continued narrating the responses. The steady hum of the bathwater, his deep voice, and the low atmospheric lighting of the room created a soothing rhythm that kept me calm.

“Tara says, ’Next time just punch me in the face if I’m being too much, I can handle it. But seriously, I’m glad you’re okay.’” Sylu’s tone dropped into something drier. “Are they all like this?”

I sighed, dragging my hands down my face. “They’re worse together. Hyped up more than a pack of wild toddlers getting their hands on a bucket of sugar.”

Sylus chuckled and set my phone aside, leaning over me to flick my forehead. “Well, it seems like they care about you in their own way.”

I scrunched my nose, batting his hand away. “Caring is exhausting.”

“Is it now?” He tilted his head, pushing himself off the bathroom floor to stand up. “But I feel so honored that I’m the one who gets to put up with you.”

I kicked at his feet half-heartedly, Sylus not moving an inch. “Wow. I’m being treated so cruelly by my own—” I paused, the word lover lingering in my throat.

Sylus smirked. “Your own…?” I could see his hands moving to unbuckle his pants.

I rolled onto my side, refusing to dignify that with a response. Soon enough, his pants and briefs were tossed on the floor within my line of sight. Then came the sound of footsteps and water sloshing around as he presumably got in the tub.

My face burned red.

His fingers trailed down my leg, making me flinch. His hand immediately pulled away at the first sign of panic.

I sat up, turning to look at him. He was leaning over the tub, staring at me with those big, round eyes of his. “Do you want to join me? Your pajamas are already ruined, but you can run off, too.”

I stared at him for a few moments, not even blinking. Undoubtedly, Sylus was naked in front of me right now. And…offering… something. “Sylus, are you trying to make me remember the creek?” I blurted out, pulling my knees close to my chest.

Sylus’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating. “Oh,” he murmured, looking almost startled by his own actions, or by me. “Then I suppose that dream you had wasn’t really a dream after all.” He leaned back in the water, letting it lap at his chest. “What did you remember?”

I hesitated, gently picking at my leg as I gathered my thoughts. “We were somewhere,” I began. “A meadow. You planted a tree for me. Promised me a library.” I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to recall as many details as I could. “I was being a brat, so you dropped me in the creek with my clothes on, then…brought me back to this castle. I think we lived there because we were running from something. I don’t know.”

I stared at the way bubbles clung to his shoulders. “You were very…devout. To me.” I paused, scooting closer to the tub on my knees. “You loved me. We shared souls. I’m pretty sure I’m inside of you, right now, actually.”

Sylus went completely still, the bathwater rippling around him. His crimson eyes burned into mine, unblinking, sparkling. “And…” He paused, moving forward. I could see in his gaze that he was trying desperately to think of the right thing to say. “How does knowing that make you feel? Is it…what you wanted? Is it what you want now?”

Sylus’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the tub. The water had gone still around him, steam curling lazily over his shoulders as he studied me. There was something painfully vulnerable in his expression. The way his eyebrows pinched just slightly, how his lips parted like he wanted to ask more, but there was a line he didn’t want to cross.

“It’s…” I hesitated, watching the tension coil through his shoulders. “Terrifying. But…comforting too,” I admitted quietly. “I mean, it’s something I had always hoped and ached for, but…”

I moved closer to the tub, leaning down slightly so we could be at eye level. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I’m starting to wake up from a really long nightmare.”

Sylus made a wounded noise in the back of his throat. His hand shot out, dripping water across my thighs as he gently held my hand in his. “Well, this isn’t exactly the place I wanted to be having this conversation.” He sighed, lightheartedly. “And I’m not so greedy that I will do this naked in a bathtub.”

I smiled, letting out a huff that mirrored a laugh as I glanced away slightly. “I think I just have bad timing.”

He kissed my palm, then set it down. “Well, I can always make a better time for you. As long as you’re not burning for answers right this very second, that is.”

I scoffed, but a smile was still growing on my face. “I’m so graciously patient and can wait until you’re decent.”

Sylus huffed out a laugh, his fingers trailing down my arm one last time before releasing me. “When I’m…decent,” he drawled, only smiling more, “we’ll talk properly. Just stay close. Don’t wander off, kitten.” His voice had dropped to something softer, certain yet vulnerable.

I nodded, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Sylus.”

His answering smile was big, relieved. “Wait for me.” His hand found mine again, squeezing briefly before letting go.

“I will.”

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm, golden light across the silk duvet as I sprawled across Sylus’s bed, chin propped on one hand while the other scrolled absently through my phone.

His borrowed shirt, one of his finer silks this time, slid ever so slightly off one shoulder. The hem of the shirt pooled around my thighs, riding up to reveal the short black shorts I was wearing beneath them. The scent of his cologne clung to the fabric, dark and expensive. It made my stomach do weird flips whenever I buried my nose in the collar. Which I unfortunately did often.

Footsteps made their way across the hardwood. I didn’t glance up from my phone, though my pulse stuttered at the sound.

“Have you picked up a new profession in stealing my clothes?” Sylus mused as he rounded the bed.

I kicked my feet idly behind me, focusing intently on my matching game. I made a noncommittal hum, too 'in the zone' to respond properly.

Sylus let out a displeased gruff, settling his warm hand on the small of my back, fingers splaying over the dip of my spine. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asked with a pout in his voice. His thumb traced circles just above the waistband of my shorts, the casual intimacy making my skin crawl.

“I’m doing something important,” I murmured, still refusing to glance at him.

The warmth of Sylus’s palm seeped through the thin silk shirt as he slowly moved his hand up my spine. His thumb pressed against the knobs of my vertebrae one by one as my fingers tightened and flexed instinctively around my phone. I had to bite back the shiver he caused.

“Kitten,” he murmured, almost teasingly, leaning down until his breath fanned across the back of my neck. “I asked you a question.”

I stubbornly kept my eyes glued to the glowing screen, swiping candies with increasing dramatics. “I answered. I said I was doing something important. Did you need me to repeat that again?”

A low chuckle vibrated through where his chest pressed against my side. Without warning, his teeth grazed the shell of my ear, sharp enough to startle a gasp from me. I attempted to replicate something like a turtle hiding in its shell, only I curled awkwardly to try and pull the collar of his shirt up to cover my neck.

His fingers caught my phone before it could tumble to the floor. I heard the sound of it clacking gently against the nightstand before his attention turned back to me. “There we go,” he purred into my ear, “Now I’ve got your attention.”

I turned my face to glare at him over my shoulder, his hair loose and damp from his shower, clinging to his forehead. “Rude,” I grumbled.

Sylus smirked, catching my chin between calloused fingers. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted my face up toward his. “You’re the one ignoring me while wearing my clothes in my bed,” he whispered into my ear.

I huffed, crossing my arms as best I could while lying on my stomach. “Well, actually, it’s my bed now. I just claimed it, right now.”

His brows lifted, and in one smooth motion, he rolled me onto my back, caging me beneath him. “Oh?” His voice dropped to a dangerous purr that made my stomach flip. “So you’ve finally decided to stake your claim? How very greedy of you, kitten,” he said, voice taking on a sing-song tone near the end.

The way his body pressed against me sent my core bursting into heat, skin tingling. I felt my breath catch in my throat. I pressed my lips together, biting them for a brief moment. My fingers curled instinctively against the sheets. I didn’t know what else to do with them. “Someone’s been encouraging me to be more greedy from the beginning.”

Sylus leaned down until his face was near mine, his scent surrounding me completely. “I have,” he admitted in a rough, possessive voice. “But we still have unfinished business to discuss.”

His hand found mine, lacing our fingers together as he brought them to rest over my chest. I could feel my heartbeat racing against his touch, the warmth of his skin seeped into mine. When I stilled and focused my thoughts on him, I swear I could feel his heartbeat tangling together with mine just beneath the surface.

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing. Mine quick. His steady. His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles as he studied my face, waiting. His weight pressed me into the mattress, grounding me even when the proximity threatened to make me float away.

I tilted my head slightly. “The whole…soulmate..thing…conversation?”

Sylus’s lip twitched. “The very same.” His free hand came up to brush a stray curl from my forehead. “But we don’t have to—”

“Yes.” My fingers tightened around his. “I want to keep talking about it.”

His expression softened, his thumb pausing mid-circle. The dim light caught the silver strands in his hair, making them glow like moonlight. “Then tell me, Rain,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “What’s frightening you?”

The question, so gently and knowing, pierced straight through me. My breath hitched as my walls threatened to crumble under his gaze. I looked away, focusing on the seam of his shirt where it draped over my collarbone.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “It’s just…complicated.”

His hum was warm against my skin as he ducked his head, pressing a kiss to the hollow of my throat that made me gasp and squirm beneath him. “Then, let me help you make it simple.” He pulled back, staring into my eyes with a sincerity that felt almost frightening. “What do you want? Tell me.”

I watched him watch me with that devastating patience, that same unshakable certainty. Like he was waiting for me to come home. I felt vulnerable under his gaze. I felt anxious, overwhelmed. “I don’t know.”

His gaze flickered with a hint of disappointment. A gentle smile fell over his face, and he leaned further back, pulling away from me. I didn’t know if it was to give me more space or something else.

I gripped his arm. Tightly. I pulled him back to me.

Shock flashed through his face before he huffed, letting out a small laugh. “Do you need it to be simpler?” His hand trailed along my arm up to my wrist before tangling our hands once more. “Rain, do you want me?”

My first instinct was to immediately blurt out a rushed yes and beg him to kiss me. Unfortunately for my desires, my logic refused to step aside and just let it happen.

I froze up, staring into his eyes. “Sylus…” I trailed off, trying to get the words to leave my mouth. “Do you want me?”

His fingers stilled against mine. The ever-composed Sylus looked entirely startled by my question. Offended, almost.

Then, slowly, his lips curved into a hungry smile.

“Kitten,” he warned, pressing his forehead to mine, “have I not made that painfully obvious?”

His breath ghosted over my lips as he leaned closer, close enough that I could count every silver lash framing those burning crimson eyes.

“I’m bad with social cues,” I whispered defensively.

His thumb traced my lower lip, rough and warm. “I know,” he murmured. “So, remember the look on my face when I tell you this.”

I paused, making sure my attention was laser-focused solely on him.

His expression shifted. No teasing. No guarding. Just raw, aching honesty and desire. “There is nothing I want more than you,” he said slowly, deliberately. His fingers traced the line of my jaw, gently holding my face in place. “Your soul is half mine, kitten. And I intend to keep it that way.”

I could feel my throat tighten, both with affection and anxiety. A question burned deep within me. “Is it only because of my soul—my past that you…you’re doing this?” The rest of my fears died on my tongue. Are you sure you want this version of me?

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound stuck between exasperation and fondness. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on my jaw before he leaned in, his breath warm against my face.

“Foolish boy,” he hissed, voice rough with emotion. “Do you truly think I am only chasing after a memory?”

He released my jaw, moving his hand to flick my forehead. “I have fallen in love with you over and over again. Every version. Every life.” His forehead pressed against mine, our gazes locked on each other. “I’m looking at the person I’m falling for all over again right now.”

Sylus sighed, his fingers tracing the shell of my ear before threading into my hair. “Don’t overthink it,” he murmured, lips brushing my forehead. “Just let me—”

His voice broke with the weight of centuries bearing down on him. I felt the tremble in his hands as they cradled my face. Raw vulnerability flickered in his crimson eyes, something ancient and desperate. “How can I prove to you that I’m devout?”

Reverence settled over me, seeing him break for nothing other than love.

I reached up, trying to keep my hands from shaking as my fingers traced the curve of his cheek. The warmth of his skin beneath my touch grounded me, made this moment feel real in a way nothing else in my life had before.

Sylus said the earring was a tether, but I felt it had nothing to do with whatever magic was in it and everything to do with it being his.

“You don’t have to prove it,” I whispered, my throat tight. “You’ve already shown me. I’ve just been pretending to be blind.”

Sylus’s breath hitched, his lashes fluttering as he leaned into my touch, he turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my palm. “You still doubt,” he murmured against my skin.

It wasn’t an accusation, just a quiet observation.

He could see right through me.

I chewed on my lip. “I’m trying not to.”

His grip on me tightened, his fingers flexing against my jaw before relaxing again. “Then let me try something,” he said, voice dropping to that dangerous purr again.

Before I could ask what he meant, Sylus shifted, his body sliding against mine as he moved to straddle my hips. The weight of him settled on me, intoxicatingly, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of the shirt I was wearing.

His hands found mine again, bringing them to wrap around his neck as he leaned down. His breath was warm against my lips, his silver hair falling forward and tickling my forehead.

“My soul is yours,” he whispered, fingers moving to gently press against my lower lip. “Not because of what we were, but because of who you are. This stubborn, ridiculous, infuriating creature who wormed his way into my heart all over again.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Every nerve in my body was alight, hyperaware of every point where we touched. I would have wanted to run if it weren’t for his weight pressing down on me and telling my nervous system I was safe.

His gaze trailed to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “There is no universe in which I wouldn’t fall for you.”

My fingers tangled into his hair, nails scratching gently against his scalp.

He let out a shaky exhale, and I could smell the hint of wine on his breath from earlier. “So, the only thing I ask is that if you are to remember anything, remember to wait for me.”

“Okay,” I said immediately, not an ounce of hesitation in my voice. “I’ll remember it well.”

He hummed in content, and my eyes drifted to his lips. Memorizing the shape of them, studying how his cupid’s bow was particularly defined, how his top lip made an m-shape. The way the corners of his lips were upturned like a wild cat. How kissable they were.

I could feel the flush creeping up my neck, my fingers tightening in his hair without meaning to.

Sylus stilled above me, looking at me like he recognized exactly what I was thinking. He pulled his thumb away from my lips, only to bring it back to tap against them twice. “Kitten,” he murmured, voice holding that teasing lilt. “You look like you want something.”

I turned my face away, hiding my embarrassment. The movement made his soft hair tickle my cheek. “I don’t want anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The bastard had the nerve to laugh, entirely too pleased with himself as the rich noise echoed across the room. “Mm, sure, kitten.” He leaned closer, his nose brushing against my cheek. “But…” He trailed off, thumb finding its way back to my lips. “I want something.”

My stomach fluttered. My heart pounded in my chest. I almost felt like I was floating. “What do you want?” My voice came out embarrassingly small.

Sylus tilted my face back toward his with gentle fingers. His crimson eyes burned deeply into my soul. “I want to kiss my other half,” he whispered. “If he’ll let me.”

I most definitely was feeling lightheaded. I tugged him closer, just by a centimeter or two. “Do you have to ask when you know it's what I want?”

His thumb traced my bottom lip again, pulling on it slightly. “Of course I do.” His breath was warm against my mouth. “I like making you ask for it, too.”

I huffed, my nails digging lightly into his scalp. “You’re so mean.”

Sylus grinned, wicked and sharp. “I am,” he purred. “You should really do something about that.”

My face burned hot, staring at him for a long moment. My chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to gather my courage. Then, with a tiny, frustrated noise in the back of my throat, I yanked him down. My lips pressed against his in a way that was both desperate and shy, uncertain.

It wasn’t like I had done this before.

But it didn’t matter, because Sylus groaned against me, his hands cradling my face as he kissed me back as gently as he could with centuries of pent-up devotion.

I naively tried shoving my tongue into his mouth, poorly following what I’d seen on screen.

It lasted only a brief second before Sylus was pulling back, hand holding my chin firmly in place as he chuckled against my lips. “Already trying to devour me?” He teased, eyes gleaming dangerously. “Patience, kitten. Let me help you.”

He leaned in, nose grazing mine as he tilted his head slightly. His breath was hot against my lips, the scent of wine and Sylus filling my senses. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, could feel every point where we touched like a brand on my skin.

Slowly, he closed the distance between us. His lips met mine in a soft, gentle press. No tongue, no urgency. Just a sweet, chaste kiss that made my heart flutter wildly in my chest. He held it there for a long moment, letting me feel the plushness of his lips, the warmth of his mouth, how soft it was.

Then, he pulled back incrementally, only to dip down and press another kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then the other corner. Then the center of my bottom lip. Each one softer than the last, until I was leaning up into him, chasing more.

Sylus knew I wanted more. I could tell with the way he smiled against my mouth, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, long fingers threading into my hair.

“Part your lips for me, sweetheart,” he instructed, voice taking on a cheery tone. “Just a little.”

I did as he asked without hesitation, feeling the cool air hit my tongue.

Sylus took advantage of this, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. He licked into my mouth slowly, tongue dragging along mine. Tasting me. Exploring me. Devouring me.

He pulled back, looking at me with hungry eyes. “Good boy,” he purred, thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips. “You have a habit of sucking. Did you realize that? Or are you doing it on purpose?”

My cheeks burned hot. Did I?

Sylus didn’t give me much time to think about it as he let out a low groan, fingers tightening in my hair as he deepened the kiss. I drew his tongue into my mouth, his sliding against mine. Teasing it. Coaxing it to move with his.

Sylus’s other hand slid down my side, palming my hip possessively. He used the grip to lift my hips up, pulling me flush against him until I could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against my softer curves.

He kissed me until I was breathless, until my lips were tingling and my head was spinning. Until I was clinging to his shoulders, fingers flexing over and over as my nails dug into his skin.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were red. Swollen. His chest was heaving, just as mine was. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole.

His thumb traced my bottom lip, catching a bead of saliva that had been dripping from the corner of my mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough with want. He brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick the bead.

If I had a dick, I would be unbelievably beyond bricked by now.

Speaking of.

Something…was definitely poking me.

I stilled as my body finally registered the unmistakable pressure against my thigh. My brain short-circuited, torn between the heady rush of arousal and a sudden spike of anxiety. My fingers twitched against Sylus’s shoulders, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

Sylus, ever vigilant, noticed immediately. His expression softened, swallowing the hunger in his gaze to make way for something warmer. Concern. “Rain?” His thumb brushed my cheek before he swept me up, flipping our positions so I was the one straddling him now.

Plenty of room to leave. Plenty to stay.

“We can stop,” he offered. His voice and expression did not tell me what he would prefer. It seemed he only cared about…me.

My throat felt tight. My hands were placed on his chest, fingers digging into the warm flesh. “I don’t know,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

I felt my skin crawling, fingers moving to pick at my thumbs as my eyes darted back and forth, keeping my gaze away from Sylus. I suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope, being scrutinized and documented for every little thing I do. I wanted to explain, talk out the feelings swirling inside of me, but I didn’t have words for any of it.

Worst of all, no matter how stupid it was to doubt Sylus’s devotedness, I feared losing him.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes searching mine. Sylus’s hands came up to still my restless fingers, his touch unbearably gentle. He squeezed my hands once before bringing them to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. “Stay with me, kitten.”

His hands moved to cradle my face, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours,” he coaxed, voice whisper-soft.

Every bone in my body was telling me to run and hide. To just…disappear. My fingers moved to grip his wrists, coaxing him to hold me tighter. “I’m just…” I turned my face into his palm, letting my hair fall over the side of my face. “Scared.”

“Don’t hide,” he whispered, impossibly tender, waiting until my reluctant gaze met his. “I will never do anything that you don’t want. Anything you aren’t ready for.” His thumb swiped beneath my ear, gathering a wetness I hadn’t realized was gathering in my eyes. “Sex isn’t a price for being loved, Rain. Not with me.”

A shudder ran through me at his words. The sincerity in his crimson eyes was devastating.

“I know that,” I whispered, the usual bite long gone from my words. “Logically, I do. But…but my body it ju—it freezes up when I think about…” My voice trailed off, closing my eyes as I nuzzled into his touch.

Sylus tucked a stray curl behind my ear, gently, slowly. “Tell me what scares you most about it. You can hold my hand, I’m here.”

My throat worked as I struggled to articulate the tangled mess of fears clawing at my ribs. I felt like someone was choking me. I wanted to move, hide in his chest, but my body couldn’t allow even that.

His hand found mine, giving it a squeeze. I squeezed him back, hard, nails digging into his skin. He hissed, but he didn’t let go.

---

“Losing control,” I finally managed. “Being vulnerable like that. It’s—” I paused, swallowing. “I can—it’s—I…” I let out a frustrated huff, stuttering over my words as what I had wanted to say began to appear like muddy water in my mind.

Sylus shifted us carefully, rolling onto his side while keeping me cocooned against him. His arms wrapped around me in a hold that felt safer than any locked door. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to interrupt or rush me. He simply held the side of my face, stroking his thumb along my cheek as his other hand still suffered the brunt of my squeezing it.

I took in a deep breath, letting it settle in me, recycle, then release. I stayed silent for what was likely minutes. Somewhere along the way, Sylus had started humming, and I had found myself buried beneath his chin, breathing in his familiar scent.

“It’s…to willingly give it up…to be able to consent and…sha—” I paused, my voice cracking. “It’s easy for other people. To just…have fun and hook up with someone pretty or fuck on the first date or…just things like that.”

His hand stroked down my back in a slow, soothing motion. He only moved to press a kiss to my head, giving me the space I needed to let my emotions pour out of me.

I sighed, melting into his touch, letting it calm me, ground me as I worked through the mess in my head. “I could never do that. I don’t…I don’t understand how people can do that, or why. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling tighter into Sylus’s shirt. “Okay, that’s besides the point.” My voice wavered as I struggled to keep going. “I guess I was just…never comfortable with that stuff. I know—I know part of it is my upbringing. How I was raised.”

Sylus’s hand stilled on my back, waiting patiently as I gathered my thoughts. His thumb traced slow circles against my spine, grounding me.

“Sex was bad,” I continued, my words barely above a whisper. “Anything regarding pleasure was bad. A sin. It wasn’t something that should ever be talked about. Even romance was something to be shamed for. At least in my family.” My throat tightened as memories pressed in.

Sylus’s grip on me tightened as I spoke, his body radiating warmth against me. His hand now pressed firmly between my shoulder blades, holding me tight.

“Everything was something that could be shamed or judged,” I whispered into his chest. “There was a right and wrong for everything, but even the right way ended up being wrong all the time.” My fingers twisted in his shirt until my knuckles ached.

His breath hitched when my nails dug in harder.

“I couldn’t be wrong, so I just…had to shut up and hide everything. Learn how to be good, pure, obedient, silent.” I felt something bubble up in my throat. “Everything I learned was just…something that tied into being pure. So I was clean, ready to be a good wife and mother.” My voice turned venomous. “I hated it so much. The way that place just…groomed me as soon as I could talk.”

Sylus made a low noise in his throat, something between a growl and a whimper. His hand moved to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair gently.

Turning my face deeper into his chest, I inhaled the familiar scent of his body wash like it was the only pocket of air I had, drowning underwater. “Everything just felt…so shameful.” I closed my eyes, squeezer them tighter than necessary. “I couldn’t even tell my parents when I got—” My throat closed around the words, my breath coming in short and scattered.

Sylus held me tighter, and his entire body went rigid beneath me.

“When I got…hurt,” I forced out, the words jagged and unfamiliar on my tongue. “Because it was bad. And it was for adults. For marriage. And I wasn’t an adult, and neither was she.” My voice broke completely, tears beginning to form in my eyes.

“I can’t even remember how old I was, but I—I didn’t want to be shamed for something that was done to me, that I couldn’t help.” I paused, loosening my grip on his shirt. “I didn’t even think they would believe me. I thought I’d get in trouble, be called a liar. Because how could a kid do that? Why would a girl do that to another…or at least at the time I was a girl.”

A noise came from Sylus, low and protective. His arms wrapped around me like steel bands, crushing me comfortably against him with a possessiveness that should have frightened me. It didn’t. I made me feel protected. A foreign feeling.

“I think really…” I whispered against his skin, “I just didn’t want to be a fuss. I couldn’t. My sister…was always acting out. She needed help. The kind of help that didn’t allow room for my parents to look after a second person.” My fingers unclenched from his shirt, only to grip his bicep instead. “I was too young when I could see how much it was hurting all of them. I had to be the easy child. That's just how it had to be.”

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, his entire body tense beneath me. I could feel the barely restrained fury vibrating through him, yet his touch remained impossibly gentle as he cradled me against his chest.

“You were just a child,” he murmured, voice thick with something between sorrow and rage. His fingers threaded through my hair with aching tenderness. “Your parents should have been there for you. It’s not an excuse.”

I shook my head, feeling defensiveness bubble up inside me. “Everyone says that, but it’s just not true.” I pulled back, looking up at him. I could feel that my face wasn’t as upset as I had wanted it to be, only a long sorrowful look instead. “My parents tried. Keeping their kid alive was more important than having one who would be angry at them down the line. I know she was just a kid, but all I have are the memories of her doing everything she could to try and make sure she couldn’t be saved.”

“It felt like she only calmed down when I had perfected the art of taking up such little space that I just…” I paused, glancing down at my hands. “Disappeared.”

---

I could feel Sylus’s muscles lock under my hands, his breathing turning ragged. His fingers flexed against my back, tension radiating through every tendon.

When he spoke, his voice came out in a rough whisper. “I would burn entire kingdoms to ash if it meant keeping you safe now.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, catching a tear falling down. “But I understand that destruction doesn’t heal old wounds.”

He shifted us carefully until I was cradled fully against his chest, his chin resting atop my head once more. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear anchored me as his fingers drew gentle patterns along my spine.

“You will never be unseen with me,” he murmured into my hair. “Take all the space you need and more. Be greedy. Be loud. Be furious.” His lips brushed my forehead. “I don’t mind spending every second of eternity making sure you never disappear again.”

The tension in my chest eased at his words, his gentle touch, though a nervous flutter remained. The crash that came from being vulnerable, reading lines from my own personal story, swept over me.

Sylus seemed to sense my unease, pressing another kiss to my forehead before pulling back just enough to meet my gaze properly. His expression softened as he took in my face. “Beautiful,” he breathed out, as if he couldn’t stop the words from falling off his tongue. “And mouthy. And stubborn. And entirely too clever for your own good.”

I scoffed, feeling a smile form on my face. “Are you insulting me right now?”

“What do you mean? It’s a compliment,” he challenged, smirk widening when I rolled my eyes. “I like your bad attitude.”

I wheezed, holding back my laugh as I grabbed his face, leaning forward to press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. No expectation. Just warmth. Just comfort. Just us. And the smile I couldn’t contain spread between kisses.

When I pulled back, Sylus’s expression had already grown soft again. “And,” he whispered, “you already know how to take what you want with me. Just as I wished.”

Sylus’s soft expression instantly transformed into amusement as my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. I groaned, pressing my forehead against his collarbone. “I’m so hungry. Get me food, manservant.”

Sylus arched his brow. “Manservant?” He pressed his palm flat against my stomach, gently trailing his fingers along it. “That sounded like a feral animal. You really are hungry.”

I swatted his hand away, despite enjoying feeling just how much space his large hands take up on my skin. “Yes, I just said that. Do you not hear well, Sylus? Be honest.”

His deep chuckle vibrated through me as he tightened his arms around my waist and effortlessly rolled us upright, bringing me with him. “I can hear just fine.” His fingers lightly traced my ribs through the fabric of his borrowed shirt. “And I can remedy that for you…unless you’d rather keep complaining?”

I snapped my mouth shut, teeth clacking. Shutting up. I shook my head, eyes begging him to feed me.

He brought my hands to wrap around his neck, holding him tight before he scooped me up in his arms, one arm beneath. My legs kicked back and forth as he held me.

“Don’t squirm,” he said, a smile on his face. He adjusted his grip as he carried me down the hallway. “Wouldn’t want to drop my precious treasure.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t fight it. I had learned that if I threatened him by saying he wouldn’t drop me…likely…he would. Besides, I was enjoying it.

The kitchen was bathed in soft golden light, the cityscape of the N109 Zone glittering in the night beyond the tall windows. Sylus deposited me onto the marble countertop with exaggerated care, hands lingering on my waist.

“Behave,” he ordered, giving my hip a light pinch before turning to the fridge.

“Bossy,” I muttered, kicking my feet lightly against the cabinets.

He shot me a look over his shoulder, a warning written in amusement, before rummaging through the fridge. “Now, what could possibly satisfy your appetite?”

I hummed, eyes glancing down to his posterior as he looked through the fridge for ideas. “What dessert do we have?”

Sylus straightened with a small container of strawberry tiramisu in hand, a variation of my favourite dessert. The creamy layers practically glowed under the warm kitchen lights as he popped the lid off. I leaned forward eagerly, but to my horror, he took the first bite himself.

“What the hell, man!” I protested, reaching for the spoon. “That was mine.”

He smirked, licking a dollop of mascarpone from his thumb in slow, deliberate strokes. “You should come get it, if you want it so bad, kitten.”

Alright.

Before he could react, I grabbed his face and pulled him in, pressing our lips together in a messy kiss. The sweetness of the dessert mingled with the lingering taste of wine on his tongue, and I couldn’t help the satisfied hum that escaped me as I tasted it.

Sylus melted into the kiss, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head while the other balanced the dessert. When we finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, his lips were shiny with the remnants of cream.

“Greedy little thief,” he mused, eyes shining with unmistakable affection as he offered me the container. “Sweetie, if I’d known you’d be this desperate after a single kiss—”

I cut him off by grabbing the ceramic container from his hand and setting it aside with a decisive clink. My hands found his face again, pulling him closer as I darted forward to lick along his lips, chasing every last trace of sweetness.

His hands found my waist instantly, gripping tight as he sealed our lips together again. The kitchen faded around us, none of it mattered when Sylus’s mouth moved against mine with hungry precision. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart with teasing nips until they parted for him.

“Sylus,” I managed to breathe out between kisses, my back hitting his hand that was guarding me from hurting myself on the counter as he crowded me against it.

He pulled away just enough to speak against my lips, free hand sliding up to cup my face. “I could feast on you for centuries and still starve.”

The intensity in his crimson eyes and deep voice made my stomach swoop. “Shut up,” I murmured shyly, lacking a bark behind my words. “I’m trying to enjoy my dessert.” The tiramisu could wait. I had found something far sweeter to savor.

Chapter Text

The humid air of Rafayel’s seaside studio clung to my skin as I sprawled across his battered leather couch, idly flipping through a sketchbook filled with half-finished watercolor portraits. The scent of saltwater filled the room. The owner of the studio was currently glaring at me from across the way, paintbrush still dripping cerulean onto the floor.

“You’ve been sulking here for three days. The sigh of you is making me sick,” Rafayel drawled, tilting his head. His violet eyes were sharp, scrutinizing. “And can you please stop checking your phone every five seconds?”

I snapped the sketchbook shut, putting it aside to reveal the phone that was lying on my chest, screen facing up for me to be able to read any notifications I got. “I’m not sulking. And I have been reasonably checking my phone.”

“You haven’t.” He flicked his brush at me, splattering blue across my socks. “Every time I see you, you look like a wet stray that got kicked out. Please, stop coming to my home. It’s annoying.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting up, careful not to get any paint on the couch. “Womp womp. You’re my hostage. Deal with it.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, setting his paintbrush down. “Please just tell your lover-boy to come home early from whatever it is he’s doing.”

I shot Rafayel my most withering glare, curling my fingers around the phone. “How the fuck do you know—” I cut myself off with a frustrated noise, tossing a throw pillow at him instead. “He’s working. You know. Doing important Onychinus leader things. Or whatever.”

Rafayel caught the pillow with one hand, looking unamused. He dropped the pillow and leaned against his easel. “So you’re what…lonely? Missing your boyf—”

“Rafayel, if you’re going to start teasing me about this, then I will actually burn this studio down faster than you can activate your evol,” I threatened, voice flat. My fingers twitched against my phone, resisting the urge to check for the hundredth time if Sylus had texted yet. He hadn’t. Which was fine. Totally fine. He was busy. I wasn’t some clingy kid who needed constant attention.

“You know,” Rafayel said, picking up his brush again. His expression softened unexpectedly. It freaked me out. “That man would find a way to do the impossible if it were something you wanted.” He swirled crimson across the canvas with practiced strokes. “A simple ‘come home’ text won’t—”

“I just don’t want to be a bother,” I hissed, the words coming out sharper than intended. I took a deep breath, suddenly focusing on a loose thread dangling from the couch. “He’s got like, actual responsibilities. Not just…me.”

The rhythmic sound of Rafayel’s brush scratching against the canvas faltered. When I dared a glance at him, he was studying me with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Rain,” he said slowly, “I don’t like playing matchmaker, so I’ll only say this once. You are his responsibility. By choice. I’m sure he’s made that c—”

My phone buzzed violently on my chest. I cut him off with a loud shush as I fumbled to grab it, nearly dropping the device in my haste. The screen lit up with a single notification, but, to my disappointment, it was just another message from Willow.

I let out a loud sigh, settling back down on the couch as I closed my eyes tightly. “I’m going to kill myself.” Not really.

“Sure, if it will get you out of my studio, then go ahead.”

“Okay, fuck you?”

Rafayel flicked another paint droplet at me, this time splattering across my cheek. “Don’t be so dramatic. Either text him or stop moping like a lovesick octopus.”

I wiped the paint off with my sleeve, glaring. “What the fuck is a lovesick octopus? Are you just making shit up now? Like, hello?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes. Swirling his brush in a jar filled with murky water. “Just because you’re stupid doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

The studio door burst open before I could whip out my insult in response. Willow stood in the doorway, locs swinging, eyes blazing with fury. “Oh my god, I knew you’d be hiding here!”

Rafayel immediately switched his expression into something lighthearted and playful, his fingers tightening around his brush. “Willow,” he said smoothly. “Perfect timing. I was about to kick him o—”

Willow stomped over, planting her hands on her hips as she loomed over me on the couch. “You’ve been ignoring me again!”

I shrank back into the cushions. “I texted you saying I was fine…”

“Three-word answers don’t count, Rain!” she snapped, grabbing my wrist. “We’re going home. Now.”

I dug my heels in, clinging to the couch. “That’s not your choice to make!”

Willow’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Rain, you don’t even exist in this world. You don’t have a choice.”

My stomach dropped at her words as I felt my blood boiling underneath my skin. A familiar, protective rage surged through my veins.

“Really?” My voice came out low and dangerous as I wrenched my wrist from her grip. “Sorry for ruining your perfect little story with my presence.”

Willow sighed, but didn’t back down. “That’s not what I meant, and you kn—”

“No. Whatever you say your intentions are, I don’t want to hear it.” My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting crescents into my palms. “Stop pretending to be so righteous. Do you think saving me will get you brownie points? Does it make you feel good thinking you’re the only one that can fix whatever I am?”

The color drained from Willow’s face.

Rafayel had gone still by his easel, violet eyes flicking between us like he was trying to figure out how far to let this go.

Willow took a step forward, hand reaching to grip mine. “I never said—”

“Stop touching me!” The yell tore from my throat raw and desperate. Before I could think, my hands shoved against her shoulders hard enough to send her staggering back into jars of pigment, crashing to the floor in an explosion of color.

Then Willow was on me in a heartbeat, slamming me against the back of the couch, causing it to rattle with the force. The studio lights swam in my vision as her forearm pressed against my throat.

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed. Up close, I could see the furious sheen in her amber eyes. “I didn’t drag your ass out of that alley because I pitied you. I did it because you had information and you were going to tell me how to save Caleb.”

I wheezed as Willow’s arm dug into my windpipe, my hands immediately flying up to claw at her arm. My nails raked deep red lines into her skin, blood pooling under my nails, but she barely flinched.

Rafayel’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “Enough.” But neither of us listened.

My vision swam as her arm pressed deeper into my throat, barking words at me I couldn’t hear through the ringing in my ears. I could feel my fingers going numb from the lack of oxygen, but I refused to go down. My hands found their way to her face, moving to dig my nails into her eyes in panicked defense.

Before I could do any permanent damage, Willow was yanked off me, and the air returned to me with a painful ache.

I coughed, wincing at the pain burning in my throat with every breath I took. My voice was reduced to a weak scratch as I tried to yell, even speak. My body lunged forward before my brain could catch up, fingers curling as I aimed for Willow’s face.

I slammed into a chest as arms wrapped around me. Rafayel’s grip was tight, locking my arms at my sides as he pressed me flush against him. My breath came in ragged gasps, my throat still burning from Willow’s assault. I couldn’t even tell him to let me go as I thrashed in his hold, but he didn’t budge.

Willow, mid-lunge, didn’t stop in time. Her fist collided hard with Rafayel’s shoulder instead of my face, the impact making him grunt. His grip on me tightened, briefly painful, acting as a living shield between us.

Rafayel’s voice cut through the tension. “Cease.” The single word carried an unfamiliar weight, his usual playful tone replaced by something ancient and cold.

Willow froze mid-step, her fists still clenched. “This isn’t your business, Rafayel.”

“It is when my home is your battleground.” His grip on me didn’t loosen, but his fingers no longer bit into my skin. “You’re both acting like sharks fighting over the same meal when there’s plenty more fish to eat. It’s nonsense.”

I wheezed, my voice a ruined whisper. “She—started—”

Willow’s glare could have shattered glass with how forceful it was. “I was trying to help you—”

“By cho—” I coughed, nails digging into Rafayel’s forearm where he still held me captive.

Rafayel sighed dramatically. “Enough.” His tone left no room for argument. “Willow, leave.”

Her jaw tightened. “He can’t just hide here forever—”

“And you can’t force him to play the role you want.” He turned his gaze towards her over his shoulder, eyes alight with warning. “Go.”

For a heartbeat, Willow looked ready to argue. Then her shoulders slumped. With one last scathing look in my direction, she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the canvases leaning against the walls.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I finally managed to wiggle my way out of Rafayel’s grip, immediately moving to the jars that had been knocked over. Some were shattered, some were only shaken up.

My hands shook slightly as I knelt to gather the broken glass, my fingers brushing against pools of spilled paint. The vibrant hues swirled together under my touch, staining my skin. I could feel Rafayel watching me from behind, that heavy silence pressing down on my shoulders with a physical weight.

“The mess isn’t important right now,” he said at last, voice carefully neutral.

I ignored him, carefully stacking the jagged shards in my palm. The cuts were minor, barely noticeable against the paint staining my fingers. There was comfort in the methodical rhythm of it. Pick up, examine, discard. Something tangible to focus on besides the way my pulse still pounded in my throat and my stomach twisted.

Rafayel sighed and crouched beside me, his hand hovering over my wrist, stopping my frantic movements temporarily. “Rain.”

I didn’t glance up at him. “I just want to do this right now,” I whispered, wincing at how raw my throat felt.

He studied me for a long moment before standing. “Okay, since you want to be all stubborn and mopey. At least use gloves.” He disappeared down a hallway before returning with thick rubber gloves that he dropped unceremoniously into my lap. “Don’t bleed on my floor, please.”

There was no real venom behind his words. Just dramatics. If anything, he sounded almost…concerned.

I tugged the rubber gloves on, continuing in silence until every piece of glass had been picked up and discarded into a trash can.

Rafayel studied me again before shaking his head. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around with surprising strength for someone so lean.

“Alright, cleanup crew,” he announced, nudging me toward a metal sink on the far wall. “Wash that paint off before you track it everywhere.” His voice took on that familiar dramatic flair as he gestured to my stained hands.

I obediently scrubbed at my hands under the cold water, watching swirling colors disappear down the drain. The sensation grounded me. The sting of minor cuts. The way the dried paint resisted before finally peeling away.

Rafayel appeared by my side with a first aid kit, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Let me see.” Before I could protest, he’d grabbed my wrist and was inspecting the damage with delicate precision. “You shouldn’t be so careless with your hands. You use them to write, don’t you? Take care of them.”

The antiseptic stung as he dabbed it over the cuts, his touch gentle.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, taping a small bandage over the deepest cut. “You and Sylus are always making messes for me to clean up, so be more considerate of me before starting something next time.” There was something almost grudgingly fond in the way he said it that made me tilt my head.

“What do you mean?”

A notification pinged from my phone, where it lay abandoned on the couch. My attention shifted. I dried my hands before moving to my phone.

Finally, a message from Sylus.

Sylus: I miss you, kitten.

Sylus: What trouble have you gotten into while I’m away?

I typed back immediately.

Rain: Come home?

Almost instantly, three dots appeared.

Sylus: So something did happen? Or did you just miss me that much?

Rain: Both???

Sylus: Well, I’m on my way, sweetie.

Sylus: Don’t run off, I’ll come pick you up.

Rain: Thank you ILYYY

Sylus: I can say the same, but I’d rather you hear it in person. Be safe, kitten.

The moment I set my phone down, I caught Rafayel staring at me with an annoyed look.

“What?” I crossed my arms, defensive.

He made a show of examining his nails, violet eyes flicking back to me with exaggerated innocence. “Nothing. Just amusing how quickly you perked up at his texts when you’ve been moping all day.”

I scowled. “I wasn’t moping. And—” A realization clicked. “Can you finally explain what the deal is between you and Sylus?” My eyes narrowed. “You’re not really supposed to know each other in the game, and I’m not buying that ‘business partners’ stuff or whatever you tried to tell me last time.”

Rafayel’s teasing smile twitched. For a fraction of a second, his melodramatic mask faltered. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Annoyance? Unease?

With a practiced flourish, he tossed his head over his shoulder. “Oh, please. You think someone like me would voluntarily associate with that guy?”

He wouldn’t have let what he said earlier slip if he didn’t want to talk about it. Why was he deflecting now? Was he hoping for some grand reveal? “Rafayel.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh before leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. “Fine, fine.” His voice dropped, just slightly. A hand pressed to his chin thoughtfully as he spoke. “I owe him a debt. We’re not particularly fond of each other, but we’re stuck in this arrangement until I’ve paid it off.” His lips curled slightly, as if the admission left a bad taste in his mouth.

I frowned, deciding to do my own deflection this time with a joke. “Rafayel, you didn’t go gambling your life savings, did you?”

Rafayel let out a small laugh, rolling his eyes. “Puh-lease, I’m not that bad with my money.”

Before I could make another jab, my phone buzzed again. My attention was immediately stolen away.

Sylus: Found someone for you.

Attached was a picture. Mephisto perched on Sylus’s shoulder, talons digging into his coat, staring directly into the camera with his cute, creepy little eyes.

I felt the corners of my lips twitch upwards in a subtle smile.

Rain: YOURE BRINGING MY SON HOME??!??!

Rain: HES SO CUTIEEE OMGGGGMN

Sylus: I would tell him you think that, but he might bite me if he thinks I’m the one saying it.

I exhaled through my nose, mimicking a breathy laugh.

Rain: Womp womp tell our son he’s cute right now

Rafayel muttered something under his breath before dramatically throwing a pant rag at me. “Clean up your mess before he gets here.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Okay, okay.”

Rain: Rafayel is making me work pls save me hes gonna torture me

I didn’t wait to see his reply before sliding off the couch, rag in hand.

As I scrubbed at the paint stains on the floor, my mind kept wandering back to Rafayel’s words. A debt? What kind of debt could possibly tie him to Sylus? I stole glances at him as he resumed painting.

“So,” I started, sitting back on my heels. “This debt. Is it like…financial? Or…something else?”

Rafayel’s brush stilled for just a second before continuing its strokes. “You pry too much,” he sighed dramatically, shaking his head. He didn’t even turn to look at me.

A frustrated huff escaped me as I picked at the rag in my hands. “Why are you being so weird about it? I won’t snitch if you tell me.”

This time he did turn, violet eyes narrowing. “Why are you so obsessed with my business?” His voice was light, but there was an edge to it that warned me to tread carefully.

I could hear my phone buzz. Probably Sylus again. I ignored it for now, focusing on Rafayel’s tense posture. “I just…” I paused, searching for the right words. “I hate when people keep information from me. It makes me anxious. And it’s uncharacteristic of you to be helping Sylus.”

“Aww, are you jealous?” He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“No, I—” I cut myself off with a groan. “God forbid I want to be informed.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, Rafayel sighed dramatically, setting his brush down. “He helped me with something once,” he admitted. “Something important. Now I owe him.” His lips twisted into something bitter. “And now he gets to call in favors whenever he pleases.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Are you happy with that, or are you gonna try and pry some more?”

“Yeah, just one thing to add.” I flicked a glob of wet paint from my rag directly onto his cheek. The bright cerulean splatter stood out starkly against his pale skin. “Yep, all done now.”

Rafayel froze, his eyes widening in exaggerated outrage. “Excuse me?”

I grinned, feigning innocence. “I think you’ve got something on your cheek. You should really be more careful when painting.”

“Be more careful?” He swiped a finger through the paint on his cheek, staring at it in disbelief. Then his gaze snapped back to me, violet eyes flashing with mischief. “Oh, you’re dead.”

He lunged for his paint palette, fingers curling around a handful of crimson.

Yelping, I scrambled backward as he closed the distance between us and swiped at me. I barely dodged in time, the streak of red grazing my shirt instead of my face.

“Rafayel!” I laughed, grabbing a discarded brush and flicking droplets of paint at him in retaliation. A few specks landed on his white shirt, staining it with messy flecks.

He gasped, as if I had just murdered his firstborn.

I stuck my tongue out, already reaching for another weapon. A jar of turquoise paint that I uncorked easily. “I’d start running if I were you, fishboy. Make sure those legs work.”

Rafayel vaulted over the couch with unexpected agility, his paint-smeared fingers outstretched. “You’re so gonna regret that.”

I threw the paint at him.

It splashed across his chest in a glittering wave, the blue-green dripping down his front like an ocean spilling onto shore. He looked down at himself, then back up at me, his expression shifting from theatrical fury to something playful.

“Hey Rainy, you should watch your head.”

I barely had time to process his words before he tackled me onto the couch, wrestling me down with one hand while the other smeared paint across my face. I thrashed, kicking, laughing as the fight devolved into a mess of color and childish swearing.

I managed to twist just enough to grab a handful of his hair and yank, not too roughly.

Rafayel yelped, recoiling. I took the opportunity to flip us and pin him down instead, my knees digging into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. I grinned triumphantly, wiping my paint-streaked hand across his forehead in a final, smug victory streak.

“What was that about watching your head?” I teased, breathless.

Rafayel’s chest heaved beneath me as he glared up, his appearance now a chaotic canvas of smeared blues and reds. He looks ridiculous. I probably looked worse.

The studio door swung open with a quiet click.

I immediately turned my head to see Sylus coming through the doorway, Mephisto perched on his shoulder.

Rafayel froze underneath me. “I can explain,” he said, voice cracking.

I only smiled up at Sylus, motioning for him to come closer.

Sylus blinked. Processing, then a smile curled on his face. “No, no need to explain,” he mused, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “This is already amusing enough.”

Rafayel groaned beneath me, throwing an arm over his face in defeat.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop grinning.

Sylus was home.

I shifted to turn my full attention to Sylus. Mephisto let out an excited sound, flapping his wings before swooping from Sylus’s shoulder to land on the armrest near my head.

“Tell him he’s cute,” I immediately demanded, nodding toward Mephisto.

Sylus arched a brow, unbuttoning his jacket with slow precision, he surveyed the warzone of paint splatters around us. “You tell him,” he hummed. “He doesn’t want to hear it from me. You’re the one he likes.”

Mephisto clacked his beak at Sylus in what I could only interpret as sass before hopping onto my shoulder, preening at my paint-flecked hair. I reached my hands up to pet him.

“Don’t get paint on him, sweetie,” Sylus warned, though the amusement in his voice betrayed the sternness.

I kissed Mephisto’s head instead, earning a contented croon. “You’d look cool with some red tips, Mephi. He’s just a hater.” I sighed, shaking my head disappointedly at Sylus.

Sylus’s gaze flickered between me, the dramatically sulking Rafayel, and the carnage of the studio. “I leave you for a few days, and you turn my lover into an abstract art exhibit?”

“He started it,” Rafayel cut in, throwing his arms up before letting them flop back onto the couch. “I was doing actual work.”

Sylus hummed, stepping closer. His fingers brushed the smear of paint on my cheek, smudging it further as his thumb traced the edge of my jaw. “I can see that.” His voice dropped, whispering just for me. “You’re covered in paint. Should I be jealous that someone else got to play with you?”

A shiver ran down my spine at the warmth of his touch, the rough pad of his thumb catching on my lower lip. “It’s okay, I saved some for you.” I reached up, moving to smear paint on his face.

He easily caught my hand, crimson eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched me. “Cute.” He stepped back, pulling me off the couch with his movement. “I suppose we should clean this up before we go.”

Rafayel sat up, glaring at the mess before pointing dramatically at me. “He cleans it. He threw the first paint.”

I immediately turned to pout at Sylus. “Help me? Pretty please?”

Sylus exhaled, but the corner of his mouth quirked. He crouched down beside me, rolling up his sleeves. “You’re lucky you’ve won my affection.”

Rafayel gagged. “I’m leaving before whatever this is gets worse.” He stood, shaking his head at both of us before dramatically walking off down a hall. “Let me know when you’re done flirting!”

Silence settled between us as Sylus wiped a streak of paint from my cheek, his eyes glancing down to my neck. Still red, likely, if Sylus was taking notice of it. His jaw tightened. “It wasn’t Rafayel?”

I shook my head, glancing away. “Willow. Got into a fight. I don’t know. I don’t remember it that well.”

He frowned, pressing gentle kisses to the mark before pecking my lips. “Forgetting already?”

I shrugged my shoulders, chasing his warmth. “I have goldfish brain. Spent too much time around Rafayel, he’s infecting me with bad memory.”

He laughed, fingers moving back to my face to clean up some more paint. “You must have really missed me. I missed you, too, kitten.”

My cheeks warmed up. I turned my face to the side, pretending to focus on cleaning up. “Womp womp.”

Sylus paused, his fingers stilling against my paint-streaked skin. “Womp womp?” he repeated, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean this time, kitten?”

I turned my face away, scrubbing harder at a stubborn smudge of paint on my arm. “It means womp womp.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I see,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Then, should I try translating for you? Womp womp, a phrase often used by a certain kitten who is too flustered to speak properly, in this case, being used to replace the words ‘I missed you.’”

I huffed, heat creeping up my neck. “No, actually, it’s being used to replace ‘I love you.’”

Sylus went very still for a moment, just long enough for me to glance at him from the corner of my eye. Then his expression softened, the teasing glint in his crimson eyes melting into something unbearably fond.

“Really?” His voice was impossibly soft. “Then…womp womp.” He tilted his head, studying me. “Can you guess the meaning?”

I rolled my eyes, but my pulse betrayed me, hammering wildly beneath his gaze. “I’m dumb,” I said defiantly, staring stubbornly away from him still. “You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

Sylus cupped my chin, gently turning my face back to his. His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “It means, ‘I love you too.’”

He didn’t give me the chance to argue, quickly sealing our lips together with a kiss.

It felt so natural, like we had been together for millennia, that it was hard to think that kissing was something we had only started doing a few days ago.

He pulled away, fingers gently brushing against my neck once more. “You should tie up your loose ends with Willow. The story’s changing, you don’t have to suffer through hurtful things to get the ending you want.”

The mention of Willow made my fingers still against the paint rag. I stared down at the swirling colors staining my hands, avoiding Sylus’s gaze. "I don’t know how to fix it," I admitted quietly. "Every time I think about talking to her, I just..." My voice cracked.

Sylus studied me for a long moment before sighing. "You don’t have to be perfect," he said simply.

I blinked at him. "What?"

Sylus shrugged his shoulders. “You’re always trying to make the perfect story, whether that’s your writing or how people view you.”

I stared at him, fingers tightening against my arm. “That’s not—” The words died in my throat as I realized he was right. Even right now, I was calculating how to make everything fit neatly. How to craft the perfect resolution with Willow. I was even planning out branches of conversation with Sylus as we were talking, trying to find the right thing to say.

Sylus’s fingers brushed my cheek, smearing the paint further. “You don’t have to script this, kitten.” His voice was impossibly gentle. “Stories tend to be messy. People are messier.”

I swallowed hard. “But what if—”

“What if it’s beautiful anyway?” He smiled. “You think I didn’t adore you the moment you came barreling into my life? You could be the very end of this world, and I’d still survive through the beauty of your disaster.”

I stared at him in silence. Awe. There was really no arguing with a man whose devotion spilled out of every pore of his being. “I expect that phrase to be part of our wedding vows.”

Sylus laughed, low and warm, catching my chin to press a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll add it to my draft.” He stood, pulling me up with him. “Now, let’s finish getting this place cleaned up so I can bring you back home.”