Chapter 06 / The rounds

October 5th, 15.002

La Paz, Ashveil Desert, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

Months had passed since the new year fireworks, and La Paz was no longer the half-finished refuge it had been when they first gathered on the shore. Walls rose higher, halls filled with new voices, and routines had carved themselves into everyone’s lives. Families doubled, the school rang with laughter and fights, soldiers drilled in the dust, and plans whispered in the main Command Tower stretched further than the desert’s horizon. The city was still raw, still young, but it was alive; it felt like it would last.

Jeda woke to that thought more often than not.

He scrubbed his face, brushed his teeth at the cracked mirror above his sink, and tugged his tie, knot perfect, uniform impeccable. “Another day in paradise,” he muttered around the cigarette stuck between his lips for breakfast.

His shoes echoed through the barracks hall as he stepped into the morning air. The desert sun had only just cleared the ridge of the Citadel, washing the concrete in pale gold, too bright for how little he’d slept. But there was work — always work — and his job was to see it all.

It's been a while since my last round of check-ins, he thought to himself. Command Chamber first.

The main Tower loomed at the center of La Paz, a brutalist sphere unyielding, like it had been made straight out of the desert’s soul. Its shadow stretched long across the courtyard as Jeda approached, cigarette smoke curling around his face.

“Let’s see who’s trying to save the world before lunch,” he muttered, pushing the heavy doors open and stepping inside.

The Command Chamber smelled like stale coffee, the same as always. Maps littered the long stone table, some pinned, others curling at the edges.

Axis was already in his seat, posture sharp as if he was made from the same material as the concrete walls. Dominique lounged opposite him, tie askew, spinning a quill between her fingers like she’d rather skip the talking and move straight to action. Ailin sat at the far end, still as water, pale gaze on the papers in front of her.

Jeda dropped into his chair, mug steaming. “Good morning, my little Committee. What world-ending horrors are we starting the day with?”

Axis slid a file across. “Concordia. What else.”

“There are no other countries doing shady stuff? I mean, for a change,” Dominique muttered, though her eyes sharpened as she leaned in.

Axis’s tone was clipped, precise. “The Prowar party holds total control now, with no opposition. These past months they’ve behaved… responsibly. No purges. No raids. Just bureaucracy and speeches about stability. Strange, to say the least.”

“Tch.” Jeda was already frowning, and for once he didn’t bother to hide it. “According to my sources, not even one group is rebelling.”

“Do we have any news about what's going on at The Barricade?” Ailin asked, voice calm but cutting.

“Rumors remain. Since last year, when I first received word about the place being reactivated, The Barricade hasn’t stopped moving. Training escalated beyond defense. Not only for guarding purposes—”

“That’s the problem,” Axis interrupted. “They’re increasing military power by force and giving no official explanation. What are they planning?”

“Maybe it’s just another political move,” Dominique offered.

“Plus, the whispers of Calamity-hunting…” Jeda dropped in like it was nothing.

In the old war, Concordia perfected the technique of bargaining with different sized Calamities. A soldier might trade a limb for inhuman speed, or a Commander might sacrifice an eye to secure an infiltration plan. Dangerous, temporary pacts that gave them brutal edges in battle. The rumors now suggested they were repeating the same strategy. Not just involving Great Calamities, like Elexi, but medium and lesser ones too, stitched into an arsenal.

Dominique snorted. “I’ll say what we are all thinking: what if it’s just rumors? And nothing more.”

“Maybe we were too quick to paint them monsters,” Jeda said, playing around with a cigarette he wasn’t allowed to light. “They want separate races, separate territories, no mixing. Maybe that’s their idea of peace. Ugly, but peace.”

“That’s bullshit. You don’t believe that.” Dominique’s voice was louder, frustration raw.

“Of course I don’t,” Jeda shot back. “But if we force everyone to think like us, how are we better? If they’re not planning attacks, not hurting civilians… maybe we judged too fast. I don’t know. I’m trying to understand.”

“Our existence alone contradicts their ideology. They will never tolerate us.” Dominique’s tone was bitter, final.

“Any word from the President?” Ailin asked suddenly, voice polite, almost too polite.

Jeda’s smirk faltered, just slightly. “No. Nothing. I want to believe our beloved President is doing the job and hasn’t been captured… or worse.” He didn’t finish the idea.

The chamber dimmed as a square of blue light flared at the end of the table. Aaron’s voice carried through the projection, crisp and controlled. He’d been listening the whole time.

“Eloria stands steady. The Elunthar Woods’ borders are secured, but the beasts keep pressing harder. More frequent. More savage. We’re holding, but the patrols stretch thin.” His tone shifted, heavier. “I might need some… professional reinforcements.”

Jeda laughed, sharp and sarcastic. “I’ll ask her.”

Aaron ignored it. “Also, I’ll just assume Tech isn’t there, so please tell him I received the components he wanted. And that they cost me more than I liked.”

“Tell Tech yourself,” Dominique snapped, slouching lower in her chair. “Or better, tell him to drag his genius ass to a meeting for once.”

Aaron smirked faintly. “If I could.”

Axis’s patience snapped. “It’s irresponsible. He’s head of intelligence. His absence leaves us blind.”

Jeda lifted both hands, palms out. “Easy. Ari, send me the intel, I’ll share them with him and talk to him. He listens to me.” He smirked.

“Really?,” Dominique muttered, clearly sarcastic.

“I’ll just die trying,” Jeda shot back.

Axis cleared his throat, ticking off the smaller matters. “A pack of dead-living wolves has been gnawing at the wards on the east perimeter. If we don’t repair it, they’ll infiltrate in the middle of the night. I'll take care of it.”

Dominique sighed, stretching as she stood. “I’ve got a meeting with the Triad later. Civil Quarter looks steady, but they want more of something ready before winter.”

The projection flickered, Aaron’s face paling into static before vanishing. The chamber felt heavier without him.

For a moment, no one spoke. Only the shuffle of Ailin’s papers, then her voice again, low and certain.

“Elaris holds. Umbra pretends nothing is happening. Concordia plots and waits. The war is already here — only its shape hasn’t revealed itself yet.”

Jeda fluttered his lashes. “I just love how you sit silent for hours and then drop something terrifying like it’s nothing.”

Ailin ignored him, sliding a slim folder toward his side of the table. “Deliver this to Tech.” She rose, already turning.

Jeda plucked the folder off the table, smirking to himself. “Guess that’s my cue.”

The meeting was over.

♥︎

Jeda’s steps crunched over the sand of the northern yard. Training cadets leaned lopsided, the obstacle half-buried in dust — but what caught his eye was the trio stepping out the far gate from the Academy’s building: Sukira, Ryn, and Axis, all in uniform, as expected.

He stopped, exhaled smoke, and muttered under his breath, Spirits and demons. The one excuse I have to get close to her, and Axis snatches it up for work. Damn you, dead-wolves or whatever. Axis, you professional fool.

He smiled at his own thought, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead of following them, he slipped into the building through a back door that stood just before the training yard in front of him.

Inside, the air was cooler, steel beams and concrete walls echoing every footstep. The gym was finished — polished floors, rows of equipment, already smelling of sweat. A few other rooms looked ready too: lecture and strategy halls waiting for recruits, archives still empty. Jeda barely glanced at them, following the not-too-low hum of voices.

Oh, he’s here. I miss him. 

The sound led him to the library.

Rows of shelves, half-filled with mismatched books and scrolls, gave the space a strange, unfinished grandeur. The library looked completely different from that dump room that was months ago. 

At one of the long tables sat Elon, posture straight but relaxed, eyes fixed on Risha — who was mid-rant, arms flailing.

“…and Nima said she didn’t want to try the spell, and I told her it wasn’t even dangerous, because dad– I mean Elon– says it isn’t if you concentrate, but then I thought maybe it was dangerous, because actually last week when Reno fell off the rail, that was dangerous but that wasn’t magic at all but magic can make things—”

Elon breathed softly, the kind of patient noise that meant he was listening, even if half his mind was elsewhere, letting the kid rumble around thoughts as much as he wanted to. 

Risha leaned closer to him, eyes bright. “But I think she could be amazing, don’t you? She’s really smart. She just… doesn’t want to. Nim just says it’s dangerous. Every time.”

Jeda leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You ever wonder why, kid?”

Risha twisted in his seat, surprised. “Why what?”

“Why she keeps saying it’s dangerous. You think she’s just shy?”

Risha shook his head, words tumbling fast. “She was shy. But she’s not anymore. Not that shy, at least.” He took some air and continued, “But I asked her! And again, she only said it’s dangerous. I told her it wasn’t, but then I remembered—” He stopped, frown tugging at his mouth. His fingers clenched tight around the edge of the table. “I remembered it is. It can hurt people. It’s…” His voice dropped. “It is dangerous.” Memories of his village being whipped by his own doing pressed in his chest. 

Elon’s hand came from across the table to rest gently on the boy’s hand. Not a word, just the weight of it.

Jeda pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his tone softer now. “Then maybe that’s her story, too. Maybe magic hurt her. Maybe there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about yet.” He crouched a little, so he was eye-level with the boy. “You, of all people, should know what that feels like.”

Risha’s throat worked, and his eyes dropped to the table. “So… what do I do?”

“Nothing,” Jeda said simply. “You wait. You be her friend. One day, she’ll tell you. Or she won’t. Either way, you’ll know you were there for her.”

“You are right, uncle Jeda. I’ll be his best friend, and I’ll show her that magic is not ba,d but also it will be okay if she does not want to use it.” Risha nodded slowly, but with determination, chewing on the idea. 

‘Uncle’. My heart melts every fucking time. 

Elon’s gaze flicked up at Jeda, unreadable but not dismissive, almost soft.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sunshine,” Jeda said with a crooked smile. “I’m not always an asshole.” He ruffled Risha’s hair, earning a groan and a half-laugh from the boy, then turned on his heel.

“Keep your library nice and quiet. I’ve got more hell to raise.”

His boots echoed down the corridor as he left, the boy’s chatter already spilling back into the silence behind him.

♥︎

The Medical Wing always smelled faintly of alcohol and herbs, sharp enough to sting the back of Jeda’s throat. Lately, it also smelled like jasmine, the distinctive fragrance of Eloria, Elaris’ capital, and the hometown of Eloise. 

He found Eloise at the far end of the main hall, bent over a table stacked with glowing crystals, wards etched in chalk around them. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up, hair tied messily back, her focus sharp enough that she didn’t notice him until his shadow crossed the light.

“Oi, Commander Healer,” Jeda drawled, flicking ash into an empty tray. “You’re supposed to be resting those pretty eyes, not burning holes in rocks.”

Eloise startled, straightened, then frowned at him. “You can’t smoke here.”

He smirked. “You’ll fix my lungs anyway, right?”

She rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on a cloth. “What do you want, Jeda?”

“Oh-oh. Cupcake’s cultivating more attitude lately, or is it just my imagination?” Jeda joked. “I totally support it.”

Eloise blushed a bit but didn't say anything. 

“Axis says there’s a fracture in the east wards. Dead-living wolves gnawing at it.” His tone dropped a little, serious under the smoke. “Sukira and Ryn are already dealing with the beasts. You’re supposed to patch the fragile spot before it tears open.”

Her lips pressed thin. “I know. I was just preparing.” She gestured at the chalked crystals. “The breach is unstable. I’ll need a steady hand to anchor it.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got two of those.” He offered his arm with exaggerated gallantry. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

She hesitated, then gathered her kit and fell into step beside him.

The corridors stretched quiet as they left the Medical Wing, boots echoing against the concrete floors. Outside, the sun was high, the desert heat already pressing, but Jeda kept his grin easy.

“So…” he started, far too casually, “how’s our Lady Velaric treating you?”

Eloise nearly tripped on her own feet. “W-what?”

“Dominique, you might know her.” He waggled his brows. “Pink hair. Big red eyes, big voice, big heart. You two are glued together more than a cigarette to my lips.”

Her face flushed crimson. “We’re not— It’s not—”

“I just asked how she’s treating you. Don’t get this nervous, please, it's adorable. I can’t take it”. He mockingly grabbed his heart.

“She’s the best. But please… don’t say anything. We haven’t… talked about it.” She twisted the strap of her bag in her hands. “It just feels… better, keeping it ours. For now.”

Jeda chuckled, low and knowing. “You realize everyone already knows, right? You could kiss her in the middle of the dining hall, and it wouldn’t be more obvious.”

Eloise groaned, covering her face with one hand. “You’re insufferable.”

“I get that a lot,” he agreed cheerfully. “But I’m also right.” He nudged her shoulder gently. “Don’t overthink it, Eloise. Some things are allowed to be yours. Just don’t hide so deep you forget to enjoy it.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, a small smile breaking through her embarrassment.

By then, the east perimeter rose ahead, the shimmering line of the protective wards flickering faintly in the heat. And beyond, movement in the sand — shadows crawling low, too many legs, jaws gnashing.

Jeda dropped his cigarette, ground it under his heel, and exhaled. His grin sharpened. “Showtime.”

♥︎

The ward shimmered weakly, its protective sigils flickering like a candle about to snuff out. The spider-web is broken, Risha would say. Beyond the barrier, the sand writhed with shadows. The smell hit first: rot, clotted fur, iron-thick breath. Then the shapes lunged into view.

A pack of wolves, but wrong. Skin half-hanging, ribs exposed, eyes milk-white and glowing. They moved too fast for corpses, their limbs jerking at odd angles, pulled by black threads of desert necromancy. Natural-born revenants — the ruins had spat them back into life. A clear and practical demonstration of how the Ashveil Desert held more dark magic in its soil than any other region of Umbra.

Sukira blurred through the sand haze first. Guns barking in both hands, void swallowing her figure and spitting her out in a new angle every heartbeat. Bullets cracked through skulls and bone, black ichor spraying across the sand. She ducked low, spun, heel catching one wolf’s jaw and snapping it sideways, then reappeared ten paces away in a blink. 

Axis was the opposite — grounded, unshakable. His customized gun clicked as he spun the chamber. The ammunition he chose whistled through the air, exploding on impact and coating a pack of frost wolves in icy shards. The corpses froze mid-leap, then shattered as he struck the first one that reached him with the butt of his gun, sending rotten teeth flying.

“I need to ask Tech if the incendiary batch is ready for testing,” he muttered, spinning the chamber again. 

Ryn carved a path straight through the middle. Her greatsword rose high, then fell with crushing weight, splitting a wolf clean in two. No flourishes. No hesitation. Just raw, brutal swings that sent bodies slamming into the sand. She fought like someone digging a grave — every movement heavy, inevitable.

Jeda and Eloise reached the scene just as a wolf slammed against the failing breach of the barrier, leaving a crackle of fractured light. Eloise didn’t even flinch. She dropped to her knees, kit open, a special white and golden stone scraping against the trembling ground as she began re-inscribing the ward. Her hands didn’t shake, not this time.

Jeda let out a low whistle. “Well, well. You’re really growing up.”

Eloise didn’t look up. “Are you going to help, or just stand there?”

He leaned against the barrier, as the ward was made for no one to enter, and no one to leave. Cigarette between his teeth. “I’ve said this many, many times — I love watching strong women fight evil creatures.”

From the other side of the barrier, Sukira’s voice cut sharp between gunfire. “You’re just lazy.”

Jeda smirked, raising his lighter. “Actually… I forgot my sword.” Flame-kissed tobacco as the fight raged, his grin widening.

Sukira voided across the sand, reloading in a heartbeat, slamming the butt of her gun into a wolf’s skull before planting a round into its chest. Ryn swung down with a roar, blade biting deep into the frozen remnants of Axis’s last volley. Axis rotated his chamber again, losing a poisonous round that hissed green smoke across the pack, slowing their movements into jerky spasms.

“Wrap it up!” Axis barked.

Sukira flicked her dagger free, drove it into the last wolf’s throat as it lunged, voided behind it before the body even hit the ground. Ryn’s sword came down once more, cleaving it in two. The sand hissed, black ichor seeping back into the earth, until only stillness remained.

Silence stretched.

Eloise stood, dusted sand from her knees, the ward glowing whole again behind her. She exhaled, sweat running down her temple, but her work was precise, intact.

Jeda clapped slowly, cigarette still smoldering. “Beautiful. Dead wolves, fixed wards, and I didn’t even break a sweat. I love this team.”

The three warriors entered back in the Citadel grounds thanks to a device that Axis was carrying. 

Sukira twirled her dagger before sheathing it. “One day I’m going to shoot you just for standing there.”

“Make sure it’s the heart,” Jeda replied with a wink. “Otherwise I’ll just keep talking.”

The fight left the air thick with dark magic smell and dust. Sukira, Ryn, and Axis lingered only long enough to make sure the ward held, then split off toward their duties. Jeda lit another cigarette, blowing smoke into the desert sky.

“I’d love to stay,” he said, flashing a grin, “but I left the best for last. Time to piss off Tech.”

♥︎

The Research Wing was a maze of steel and glass; the same construction materials were used to build the whole city, but on the contrary from the other wings, this one never slept. It was the first building to be completed in the whole Citadel; some might say it was because there was a need to keep Tech occupied.

Jeda made his way through the corridors, ignoring the looks from apprentices who clearly knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. He brushed a hand across a console as he passed — deliberately careless — and sparks snapped, a blue current dancing up his wrist.

“Ah, shit.” He shook his hand out, grinning despite the sting.

From the next room, Tech’s voice rang sharp: “You touched the one thing I literally designed for you to touch. Congratulations.”

Jeda leaned on the doorway, smug. “At least I’m consistent.”

Tech stood surrounded by glowing schematics, pink hair tied back, protective goggles slipping down his nose. Beside him, Sami flipped through notes, her brow furrowed, expression sharper than Jeda was used to seeing on her.

“I’ve got news from Aaron,” Jeda said, flicking the folder against his palm. “He found the components you wanted. He said it wasn’t easy and that you owe him one.”

Tech barely looked up. “Give me that.” He snatched the folder out of Jeda’s hand like a starving man stealing bread, eyes darting over the diagrams inside. His face lit up — and he immediately turned to Sami.

“Look. With these alloys, the conduction limits disappear. Do you realize what that means?” His words tumbled out fast, tripping over themselves.

Sami didn’t miss a beat. “It means we can stabilize the nano-ink matrix without burning through skin. Layer it under the dermis, right here—” She tapped just under his ear. “Neck placement. Accessible but discreet.”

“Exactly.” Tech’s grin was sudden, bright, almost boyish, a bit blushed after Sami touched him, but too excited to let him get distracted by it. He shoved the folder open wider between them. “Patterns can be keyed to touch-sequences. One tap: direct link to a Commander. Two: full squad channel. Three: emergency broadcast. Encrypted, closed system, undetectable unless someone literally peels your skin off.”

Sami smirked, rolling the idea on her tongue like a candy. “So they’d talk without radios. No signals to trace. Just—touch.”

Jeda opened his mouth. “Uh—”

Neither of them looked at him.

Tech’s hands moved quickly now, sketching on the page, muttering. “We’ll need calibration. Ink that responds to nerve impulses. But it’s possible. It’s—perfect. Demons, why didn’t I—”

“Because you’re too busy living in your own head,” Sami said dryly, but her eyes were gleaming. “Street people have been passing coded signs for centuries. You just never thought to put it under the skin.”

Tech stared at her, almost stunned — then laughed, a sharp, genuine sound. “Don’t lecture me. But you are not wrong. I'm a lab-rat.”

Did he admit she was right?? 

“Oh, I’ll keep lecturing you,” she said, leaning closer over the page, spinning on her chair. 

Jeda snapped his fingers. “Hello? Still here. Noticed you’re both ignoring me.”

“Then leave,” Tech muttered without looking up.

Sami’s smile tilted, still focused on the paper. “Nobody invited you anyway.”

Jeda stared, affronted — then sighed dramatically, throwing up his hands. “Fine. Enjoy your little science romance. I’ll go die of neglect somewhere else.”

Neither of them answered. They were already deep in diagrams and sparks of theory, heads bent together in the glow of the machines.

Jeda left, muttering under his breath and still with an electrifying feeling in his hand, not in a good sense. 

♥︎

Okay, that’s it. A shower. Dinner. Maybe talk to her. 

The Civil Quarter’s main square had changed in the months since Jeda first walked through it. Where once there had been nothing but dust and scaffolding, now hammocks stretched between steel posts, chalk drawings sprawled across the concrete, and half-finished benches were already worn smooth by children’s games.

In the center, five of them tumbled through their own world.

Reno had climbed onto one of the hammocks, bouncing dangerously as it swung. “Look at this! Higher! Higher!”

“You’re going to fall,” Haru said, voice calm, but his hands already half-raised to catch him.

“Pff, I never fall.” Reno grinned—then slipped, flipping backwards. Haru caught him by the collar just before he hit the ground. Reno dangled like a cat, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“...I didn’t fall. You caught me.”

“That’s not how it works, silly,” Haru sighed, but the smile tugging his mouth gave him away.

On the other side of the square, Risha and Nima sat cross-legged on the ground, weaving a mess of string between their fingers. Nima’s hair gleamed pale-blue in the sunset light, her movements careful but steadier than before.

Zevran stood nearby, arms crossed, watching like a hawk. He passed by and left a flower on Risha’s lap. 

Risha, who slowly understood Zev’s personality, only grabbed the flower and added it to the final result; no words, no teasing.

“Like this, done,” Risha said, looping the thread. “My turn!”. He swiped places with Nima.

“You are funny, Riri,” Nima whispered, soft and small, touching the final thread with a yellow flower at the end.

Zevran was there. Just there. Static

“You’re boring,” Reno called, finally wriggling free of Haru’s grip. He jogged over, eyes gleaming. “Come play.”

“No,” Zevran shot back.

“Yes,” Reno pressed, already grabbing his arm.

“Get off me.”

“Scared I’ll beat you?” Reno teased, trying to wrestle him down.

“Try it,” Zevran snapped, shoving him back. The two locked into a mock fight, rolling across the ground while Haru sighed again and left them be, swinging slowly on the hammock.

Risha watched them, gently touching the small braid Nima had finished at the side of his bangs, eyes shining with excitement. “Now we’re like a team.”

Nima shook her head, but there was no hiding her smile. 

From the edge of the square, Jeda leaned against a post, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. His grin was crooked, but his chest ached in a way he didn’t show.

This is why, he thought. 

He watched Reno trip Zevran into the dirt, Risha clapping like he’d just witnessed a victory, Nima laughing openly for once, Haru trying and failing to keep order.

We saved them. Spirits help us; La Paz saved them. This has to be enough.

♥︎

Jeda stood in the doorway, hair damp and still carrying that faint mix of soap and cigarette smoke that never fully left his body. He had made it through the day —the meetings, the fights, the kids— but his chest still felt heavy.

Why am I scared? It’s just a door.

Sukira’s door. He’d never knocked before. He’d teased, flirted, pushed lines, but he’d never crossed this one. They slept once before, right after Sukira marked him under the Red Moon, but never again. This movement felt closer.

His knuckles hovered, unsure. Before he decided, the door swung open.

“…?” His hand was still raised when she looked at him.

“Your smell,” she said flatly, not surprised, not warm, just factual. Her black eyes glinted in the lamplight. “I could sense you before you even stopped walking.”

He forced a crooked grin. “Romantic as always.”

Her gaze narrowed, sharp as a blade, but her words cut softer than he expected. “Your heart’s beating slower than usual. Almost quiet. Are you okay?”

That landed deeper than she knew. He was indeed more down than usual. Jeda leaned on the doorframe, masking with a shrug. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d notice.”

“I did. So I’ll ask again: are you okay?”. Under the never-ending layers she held, she cared about him; more than both would dare to admit. 

She stepped back, leaving the door open. He slipped in.

Her room was spare — bed folded tight, a chair, dagger stacked neatly on the desk. Sukira herself leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, uniform traded for a simple pajama set: white tank top, low-waisted gray cotton trousers. Watching him. Waiting.

Jeda sat heavily on the edge of the bed, head tilted back, cigarette unlit between his fingers like he needed that to exist. He was in his own version of pajamas: a loose cotton shirt, low trousers, the fabric creased from use.

“Today got to me,” he admitted, surprising even himself. “Thinking maybe we judged Concordia too harshly. Thinking maybe we’re the monsters in someone else’s story. That’s not a fun thought.” 

His voice cracked, a bit of embarrassment slipping through. “I came here to be pampered.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight and held his breath like someone bracing for a mocking laugh, for rejection, even for a slap. But none of that came; something did hit him, but it was very different from what he’d expected.

Sukira moved, silent as smoke, until she stood between his knees. Her fingers brushed through his damp hair, down to his shoulders. Cold hands, careful. Jeda’s eyes flew open, wide as two lanterns in surprise. He was still holding his breath.

“You’re not a monster,” she said simply.

“You’d know,” he murmured, finally letting the air out as he rested his head against her chest. “You’re the expert.”

“You’re not a monster,” her lips curved faintly. “You’re just very annoying.”

He closed his eyes again, breathing in the steadiness she carried. For once, he didn’t joke. “Every time Risha calls me ‘uncle’, my damn heart bursts. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Her hand lingered at the back of his neck. “He has that power, yes.”

“What does it feel like… being his mom?” The word slipped out raw but soft.

She didn’t flinch, but her gaze slid away, her fingers pausing on his shoulder. “It feels like a trap I want to stay in. Even knowing I’ll fail him one day.”

He looked up then, vulnerability naked beneath the grin he couldn’t hold. “That’s the cruelest kindness I’ve ever heard.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that — her standing, him sitting, his arms circling her hips, her hands moving absently through his hair, through the mark she left on him, and over his back, grounding them both. Two people who never let themselves break, breaking just enough together.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was rough but lighter. “I got you something. Permission papers. Access to the restricted part of the Elunthar Woods.”

When she accepted the mission to bring Elon back to the Eloria castle, more than a year ago, it was only because of this payment — an official permission to enter a prohibited section inside the Elunthar forest, to hunt for traces of Elexi. She has spent years haunting old libraries, cursed ruins, fragments of forests, exchanging whispers of knowledge for blood or risk. Elexi had never been seen directly, save for two times, based on stories: the humans who bargained with the Calamity in secret during the old years, and the warrior who ended that war centuries ago.

Her brows lifted. “You forged me permission.”

“Not forged. Negotiated.” He smirked weakly. “I have my methods.” Her stare sharpened. He added quickly: “Aaron needs some help in another sector, so I… might’ve lied. But you’ll get there legally.”

Sukira exhaled, not quite a sigh, and rested her forehead briefly against his. “You’re a fool.”

His smile spread wide. “A recharged fool. I can leave now.” His words were muffled against her skin.

Neither moved to end the contact.

“Stay,” she said at last. “Only for tonight. And be quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am—” He didn’t even finish. Bowed clumsily in forgiveness, then tugged her with him onto the bed, abruptly, with the joy of a teenager in love. 

The words echoed like a chord struck twice. She had said them to Elon once — he couldn’t obey. He had fought her ‘quiet’ command with endless will. Jeda obeyed, almost, without a sound.

The parallel was clear even if unspoken: Elon would never let her die. Jeda would die with her, if that’s what the mission demanded. Somewhere between pact and love, their alliance was shifting.

♥︎