Chapter 14 / R14-RD

December 22nd, 15.003

Velmore Alps — Unknown Coordinates, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The shift was near-silent.

One moment, Elon stood at the edge of La Paz’s final perimeter ward — the sand flat and hot at his feet. The next, he was gone. No flash. No wind. Just a ripple in the fabric of air, and then nothing.

He emerged in white. Not snow — stone. Pale, ice-dusted cliffs loomed like giants’ bones around him, curling toward the sky in tight spirals of rock and frost. The cold bit instantly at his skin, but he didn’t shiver.

Invisibility. Anti-trace. Heart-slowing. Breath-muted. Aura-dead. 

Layer by layer, he folded himself into nothingness. Even the snow ignored his footsteps.

You’re here for her. Nothing else.

The mouth of the cave yawned ahead — tall, narrow, black as pitch. Elon stepped inside.

The cave twisted downward like a throat. Walls pulsed with low, mechanical thrum. Magic detectors — old tech, but dangerous. Elon traced their pattern easily. Not for him. Not today.

The first room came suddenly. And it was wrong.

Metal tables. Blood grooves. Glass cages. Needles. Chains.

One wall was covered in slow-beating hearts suspended in fluid. Another had three small — foxes? wolves? — strapped to hooks, eyes dull from sedatives and decay.

Further in, the cages stacked. Human children, maybe 7 or 8, pale and filthy, but unharmed, wide-eyed, silent. Next to them: a massive lizard-like clearly cursed, showing black traces dripping from its mouth, one arm twisted backwards in unnatural angles, sobbing in low growls.

A small Blessing??? He saw what everyone else would see as a little girl. Blonde. Eyes missing. But the aura was wrong. He saw that once, back in the Elunthar Woods. How do you catch a Blessing?? And why??

He had to pause.

What type of hell is this place?

His fingers twitched — instinct. Fire bloomed in his wrist before he suppressed it.

Not yet. You light a fire now and she dies before you reach her. You’re not here to end this. You can’t save them all. You’re here to find her.

But it grew worse.

Room after room. Lab after lab. Some designed like hospitals. Others like slaughterhouses. Some sterile. Others wet with rot. All human-run. No trace of other races, not even halves.

Maybe Jeda’s paranoia was right, maybe this is connected to the Prowar party. 

And still — no sign of her.

Why can’t I sense her? Is she…? No, don’t think of that. 

He reached the lower levels. The energy thickened. He started to lose focus. Everything was too loud. Not in sound — in essence. Elon was very skilled at sensing the traces of energy and magic in other living beings, but right now, it was working against him. So many tortured bodies. So much damage. It blurred the map of magic in his mind. 

He’d trained to sense energy like strings on a harp. Now, they were all torn, plucked at once, a chaos of chords.

He tried to close it off — everything except her. Sukira. Sukira. Sukira. Where are you?

He turned a corner. And stopped.

At first he didn’t register the blood. There was just so much of it. Spilling from cracks in the wall, seeping from chains, dripping in long threads from iron rings above. A white light blinked every three seconds — medical.

And in the center: her.

Sukira hung from a reinforced rig in the wall, a few steps above the floor, arms on top of her head, knees barely locked to keep from collapsing entirely. Her legs were shaking — almost absent-mindedly. A muscle memory trying to survive.

Her skin was pale. Paler than usual. Blood matted her hair to her face, even longer now, jaw slack.

There were five people around her. Assistants in dark robes and white masks. Notes being taken. Fluids measured. A needle inside her arm, emptying her drop by drop.

And in the middle, a figure, old. Hunched but tall. Long hair, but shaved in parts. Wrinkled hands covered in rings, but no clear gender. Sharp eyes behind a jeweled monocle that tickled with odd technology.

“…it really is her,” they murmured, staring at Sukira like she was a living legend.

“It's only been more than a week but I’m still so glad we have you back, my precious.” Their voice was smooth, nearly amused. “The last time we had you, you were what… ten? Eleven, maybe? Such a fast healer. You almost made it too boring. We learned so much from you, what beautiful years we passed together.”

Elon didn’t move. Not yet.

The figure leaned closer, brushing a finger down her cheek.

“You were so much more compliant then. Now look at you. Full of fire. Repeating boys' names like a broken record. And still with that look in your eyes…”

They chuckled. “She doesn't recognize me, of course. It makes me sad. Someone did a nasty job with her brain. Fascinating. I’m almost jealous. Truly fascinating. You know… we paid quite a bit for her back in the day.”

One assistant tilted their head. “She’s rejecting the sedatives. Do we double it?”

Oh, yes, putting her to sleep is a big trouble. Good luck with that.

“No. Not yet. I want her conscious. She was made for this.”

The air was getting harder to breathe.

Elon stood frozen just inside the chamber’s shadow, invisible to all, but shaking. Not from fear. From restraint.

Sukira was there — his Sukira — suspended by her wrists, ankles half-folded beneath her, blood-soaked from shoulder to calf. She wasn’t moving much. But she was alive.

He watched a bead of blood trace the line of her jaw, drop into the metal basin below. There were too many red trails to count.

Elon’s heart pounded like thunder in his ears. He’d trained to resist impulses, to measure outcomes. But right now, he didn't care. These people didn’t deserve analysis. They didn’t deserve to breathe.

The main scientist leaned forward, gently cupping Sukira’s chin. “Such pretty eyes. I wonder how far down they carved the memory blocks. What if we tried to reverse them?”

The moment that boony hand touched her face, Elon dropped the spell.

In a breath, he was seen. In the next, they burned.

The fire didn’t roar. It cracked, slow and creeping — white at the center, like frostbitten sun. It licked up the assistant nearest the table before they could scream. Their clipboard hit the ground still smoldering. Another reached for a panic button — Elon’s hand lifted — fire erupted from their mouth as they collapsed backward in silence.

The smell of burned flesh clung to the walls, but Elon barely noticed. He crossed the room in long strides, reaching Sukira before her body could even fall.

“Suki—”

Her arms gave out the second he touched her. She collapsed into him like a threadbare puppet. His fire spell still hovered, holding the heat off her skin. But her weight was dead-heavy.

He caught her. Lowered her gently. Let her rest against his chest as he knelt.

Blood covered her right eye. Her face was a mess of bruises and gashes. Her hair was crusted with dried blood. But her heartbeat — slow, weak, steady — it was still there.

Not this scene again. Elon bit back a sob.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke, tears started crawling from his face as he couldn’t manage. “I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.”

He brushed her hair back, careful not to touch the ruined eye socket. They’d tried — whatever they’d done to her there, it was irreversible. The swelling was bad. The scar would remain.

He took her hand. Her fingers twitched.

“You held on,” he whispered. 

Behind him, a low groan. One of the assistants — still half-alive — dragged themselves against the wall, smears of blackening blood in their wake.

Their eyes were ruined. Skin half-melted. Voice a husk.

“…Elon?”

He turned slowly, concerned. “...Yes.”

The assistant coughed blood. But they smiled. A disgusting, burnt smile.

“She said you’d come. She repeated ‘Elon will find me,’ like a mantra. We thought she was going insane.” A shuddering breath. “She was right.”

Elon didn’t speak. He raised his hand before the human could trigger an alarm he was trying to reach.

The assistant burned to nothing.

When it was done, the room went silent again.

Elon pulled off his coat and wrapped it gently around Sukira’s body. He found her weapons in a locked drawer nearby — both guns and the knife that once reached his own heart — and strapped them to himself.

On the metal table near the wall, he found a thin file folder. Her name was typed at the top. 

VARN, S. — PROJECT R14-RD 1

His hands trembled as he slipped it into the inner coat pocket.

He stood.

Sukira rested against his chest, her face turned inward, breath barely there.

Elon looked once more at the room. The chains. The table. The branded walls.

He whispered, low and cruel: “Try it again. I dare you.”

Then, with one arm tight around her, he moved his hand. A white glyph flickered from his wrist.

And they vanished. Gone in a blaze of heat and gold.

♥︎

He kicked the infirmary doors open with his magic. Sukira was a limp weight in his arms — bloodied, bruised, draped in a coat several sizes too big, her weapons clinking softly against Elon’s body with every step.

“I need help,” he said, voice low and cracking. “Now.”

Eloise appeared in seconds, flanked by two of her assistants, Kael and Zira. She took one look at Sukira and her breath hitched.

“Stretcher,” Eloise snapped. “Now. I need a full scan, full detox, and charge the regenerative tanks.”

Elon laid her down on the gurney himself. The moment his arms let go, they shook — the adrenaline crashing out of him like a broken tide.

Eloise leaned over Sukira, scanning her vitals, her bruised face. Then she paused.

“She’s going to lose the eye,” she said quietly. “We’ll try to salvage it. But it’s not a priority. Her blood pressure’s dropping fast. Her nervous system is fried. Elon—”

“She’s alive,” he said hollowly. “Keep her alive.”

Eloise didn’t argue. She nodded once and disappeared into the emergency bay with her team, doors hissing closed behind them.

♥︎ Twenty minutes later / Outside the operating room ♥︎

Elon sat hunched on the bench in the whitewashed hallway, coat draped around his shoulders, her blood drying on his clothes.

The folder sat on a chair next to him.

VARN, S. — PROJECT R14-RD

He hadn’t opened it. Didn’t want to. Didn’t dare to. 

Footsteps echoed.

“Sunshine. You fucking idiot.”

Jeda’s voice came first; his tone was softer than usual, full of relief. He rounded the corner with Sami right behind him, both still dressed in their work uniforms — Jeda tucked the sleeves of his shirt, Sami with a bun stuck with a pencil. 

Sami reached him first, crouching low enough to check his face. Her expression softened just a little. “You did it,” she said, not quite a smile. “You really did it.” She brushed a strand of hair away from his face as Sami’s gaze swept over her blood-soaked clothes. You stank of her.

He nodded once.

Jeda flopped onto the bench beside him and stared through the wall, cigarette dangling loosely from his mouth — unlit, he was in a hospital’s facility, after all. 

After a long beat, he muttered: “Third time she’s almost died in your arms, huh?”

Elon didn’t answer.

Jeda exhaled slowly. “It’s not that I’m counting. But statistically? That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Sami grabbed the folder next to Elon and turned it over in her hands. “You read it?”

“No.”

“You want us to?”

“No.”

Jeda reached for the file, flipped it once in his fingers — then handed it back to Elon without opening it. “When she wakes up, it’ll be her decision.”

Elon’s voice was rough. “It always is.”

Silence stretched.

Sami leaned against the wall, arms crossed now.

“I should’ve known,” Elon muttered. “The first yellow alarm, no traces behind the leak. The book. He left it—Vlad. He put it there for me. He was testing the waters. I didn’t put it together before it was too late.”

“None of us did,” Sami said.

“But I should have.”

Jeda snorted, bitter. “Yeah? Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve. You wanna keep going? I’ve got a list.”

Elon didn’t snap back. He just ran a hand over his face, exhaustion crushing him now

Jeda sighed. “Look. She’s not dead. That’s the miracle. The rest — the torture, the memory wipe, the bet, the bounty — we’ll deal with that later.”

“You didn’t say what I saw back there,” Elon said quietly. “They tried to take her eye, and I don’t think it was the worst they did to her.”

“They’ve been trying to take everything from her since she was a child.” Sami’s tone sharpened. “It is what it is, Elon. You can’t erase her past. Someone tried, and look at what it did to her.”

Another silence. This one heavier.

Then Jeda said, “She’ll be pissed, by the way.”

Elon frowned.

“She hates being rescued,” he said, grinning faintly despite the bags under his eyes. “And if she finds out you broke into a secret underground lab and set people and everything on fire? Blessings save us all.”

That earned a breath — not quite laughter — from Elon. A hitch in his throat, something almost soft. “You know… she said I’d come for her.” His voice cracked, just a little. “One of the assistants told me before he died. Told me she knew. That she was sure I’d come.”

Jeda tilted his head back, one arm flung over the backrest like the weight of everything had finally dropped on him. “Umh. Took you enough time. Luckily, she’s way too stubborn for death.”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Elon added, quieter now. “She has to be.”

Sami still hadn’t moved from the wall. Her arms were crossed, but her fingers tapped lightly against her elbow, the way they always did when she was thinking harder than she wanted anyone to know.

No one said anything for a long moment. Hours passed. The hallway hummed with faint machinery. Voices echoed from far-off wards, too distant to interrupt. Behind the medical doors, Eloise worked in silence.

Elon exhaled like he was breaking. “Next time…” he whispered, more to himself than them. “Next time I won’t be late.”

Jeda snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

Elon glanced sideways. “Uh?”

“You always show up at the last second. Dramatic entrance. Wind in your hair. Magic blazing. It’s your thing.”

“…Is it too late to join the Elite?” Elon asked, half-grinning, half-broken.

Jeda raised a brow, smirk stretching. “Mmh. We’ve had a lot of applicants nowadays. What do you bring to the table?”

Elon rolled his eyes. “I set things on fire when I’m emotional.”

Sami finally turned toward them. “He’d fit right in.”

Finally. Jeda nodded. “Request approved.”

But Elon’s smile faded, mind flickering back. He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, voice low and steady.

“I believe that whatever was happening in that lab… it’s tied to the Prowar party.”

Sami’s expression darkened instantly. The name alone was enough.

Jeda stiffened.

“You’re sure?” Sami asked.

“No,” Elon said. “But it felt organized. Clean. Resourced. And the way that lab operated — it wasn’t rogue. It was funded. The things they were doing… it all reached one clear purpose. And no other than humans were working there.”

“They knew who she was,” he added. “And they wanted her back. That’s not random.”

Jeda lit a cigarette this time, no longer needing permission. He was at the edge. “Well then,” he said, smoke curling up, “I guess we’re all in it now.”

Eloise stepped into the hall, already pulling the cigarette from Jeda’s lips without breaking stride.

“Seriously?” she muttered, snapping it in half with a practiced flick. “In the hallway of the medical facilities, Jeda? Grow up.”

Jeda grumbled something about tyranny under his breath, but didn’t protest.

She turned to the rest of them, expression tired but calm. “She’s stable.”

Elon exhaled sharply. His hands finally unclenched.

“She didn’t lose the eye,” Eloise continued, stepping closer. “Whoever cut her wanted to make her feel it, not take it. The tissue’s swollen and the nerves are bruised, but it’s repairable. She’ll need rest. And eventually…”

She trailed off — and then looked pointedly at Jeda.

“I know,” he said, lifting a hand. “I’m her personal blood bank. Still got all the paperwork. I’ll make the deposit later.”

Eloise gave him a firm nod, then glanced at Elon. Her tone softened. “She’s sleeping now. Might be out for a while. You can come see her in the morning.”

Elon’s shoulders eased just a little. Relief tangled with something heavier. The guilt hadn’t left him. The jealousy of not being needed, either. 

Jeda stood, brushing dust from his shirt like the moment needed a reset. “Alright, Sunshine. Go.”

Elon blinked. “Go?”

“Yeah. Bath. Dinner. Homework with your kid. Axis has been holding down your apartment longer than I thought he had patience for — you owe him.”

 “You definitely owe him,” Sami smirked. “Your kid asks too many questions.”

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Jeda added while patting Elon's back, soft but firm. “She’s not going anywhere. Except maybe the next round of hellfire if she finds out what you did.”

That finally earned a twitch of a smile from Elon.

He nodded, readying himself to leave — then Jeda’s voice caught him again.

“Oh, and Sunshine?”

Elon turned.

“When you’re done with whatever it is you need to do tomorrow… stop by my office.” Jeda grinned, sharp and certain. “I’ll have your uniform and nano-tattoo waiting.” He winked an eye at him. 

♥︎ 

The room was quiet. The kind of quiet only found in the dead center of the night — when even the desert winds outside La Paz seemed to hold their breath.

A soft beep pulsed from the corner, the monitor slow and steady. Moonlight slanted in from the high window, casting silver bars across the white walls.

Sukira blinked awake.

Her throat ached, her chest burned, her eye — fuck, her eye was swollen shut. But still. She was breathing.

“…What?” she rasped, the taste of metal thick in her mouth. “I’m still alive?”

A groan came from the chair beside her.

Jeda shifted, one shoe very clearly resting on the edge of her bed, his head leaning back in a way that said he’d been half-asleep for hours.

She blinked again. “They really can’t kill me, huh?”

He cracked one eye open. “More like… you can’t die.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Her voice was dry, but her smirk was sharp. “Also, Eloise is going to slit your throat for that boot on her medical-grade sheets.”

Jeda slowly swung his leg off, wincing dramatically. “Please forgive me, O Mighty Healer.”

“You’re forgiven. I don’t have the strength to kick you in the face right now.”

They shared a second of dry laughter.

Then silence. Heavy, loaded.

“I’m so sorry…”, he murmured, almost imperceptible. 

She turned her head — slow, stiff — to look at him. His usual lazy grin was gone. He was staring at the floor, jaw tight.

“Hey,” she said, softer now. “I know there wasn’t a way.”

He didn’t answer.

“I mean it,” she pushed. “You couldn’t send anyone. The protocol, the risks… We both know the rules.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I know.” His hand rose, pressing to his forehead. “I just—”

He stopped, shaking his head once, like the words wouldn’t land.

“…I really thought I lost you.”

Her heart pinched.

She shifted slightly to the side and patted the blanket beside her. “There’s room if you fold in half.”

He didn’t hesitate. Jeda kicked off the shoes, climbed up with all the subtlety of a full-grown man trying to squeeze into a med-bed, and flopped beside her, half-curled, one hand resting lightly on her ribs to avoid the worst of the bandages.

They lay there for a moment, nothing but breath and heartbeat between them.

“How are you, really?” he finally asked.

She was quiet for a beat.

“Horrible. I’m not even talking about the physical damage; that will heal”. She stopped for a beat. “My memories are a fucking mess. Being there… It brought things back. Things I didn’t know I had. Half of them feel like dreams. Some feel like they weren’t mine.” Her voice dropped. “I want to kill them all. I mean it. Every single one of them. I want to burn that place to the ground.”

I’m not going to be the one who tells her that an angry sorcerer already did that. 

Jeda nodded slowly. “Did you see any logos? Insignias? Anything that might link them to Prowar?”

She scoffed lightly. “You never stop.”

“I’m cuddling you in a hospital bed, Suki. Let me pretend I’m doing recon.”

She hesitated, then exhaled. “They had no logos. I remember a few names, but I don’t think they mean shit. But their supplies — I’ve seen them before, on one of my missions for Aaron. During the Eloria infiltration, during that border crisis in Concordia. Same crates. Same materials. Medical brands that were supposedly shut down years ago. Also, the tests they were running… It’s all connected, I’m sure of it.”

Jeda hummed under his breath. “So they’re ghost-funded. Makes sense. If the Prowar party’s involved, it’d be through layers of dirty hands.”

“Give me a week to get back on my feet,” she said, voice like gravel but steady. “And I’ll go back and I’ll find what you need.”

He lifted his head slightly. “You serious?”

“I’m dead serious.” Her gaze didn’t flinch. “But in exchange… I want one night, off the record. I leave the perimeters. No questions asked.”

Jeda studied her.

“You’re not gonna tell me why?”

“Do you really want to know the details?”

“I don’t.” He sighed — but nodded once. “It's a deal.”

She reached for his arm, dragging his wrist to her mouth.

“No flirting before a bite?” he smirked while caressing her hair, which was getting longer and longer, almost reaching to be a bob-cut. 

“I’m half-dead, Jeda. You’re lucky I’m still hot.”

Then she bit — slow, deep, practiced.

He hissed through his teeth, breath catching. But he didn’t pull away.

Her fingers dug into his shirt as warmth flushed back into her system. Color returned to her cheeks. Her eye still throbbed, her bones ached, but the edge of death began to lift.

When she let go, she leaned her forehead lightly into his neck, breathing hard.

Jeda exhaled and hugged her tight. “Can we stop doing this? Dying, I mean.”

“I’ll put in a request,” she murmured. “See if I get approved.”

♥︎ 

Morning was stretching over La Paz, warm and dry, the desert sun sneaking in through the tall medical windows like it hadn’t missed anything.

Jeda was gone, probably he waited until she fell asleep and sneaked out. 

Sukira blinked up at the pale ceiling, the world slightly clearer than it had been hours before. The ache in her limbs was less cruel now — still present, but manageable. She shifted slightly, just enough to feel the tug of new bandages along her ribs.

“Vitals look stable,” Eloise muttered, fingers flying over the glass console beside the bed. “Heart rate normal. Cell regeneration… accelerating. That’s fast. Must’ve been a direct fang transfer.”

One of her assistants nodded. “Confirmed. Not transfused blood — delivered by bite.”

“Jeda did his job,” Eloise murmured, adjusting the display again. “You do look significantly better. I’d say your white count tripled since last night. I could run a few small panels—”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sukira asked, voice rough but steady, a faint grin tugging at her lips.

Eloise looked up, caught. “I mean… just a few tests. Out of curiosity.”

Sukira arched a brow. “Out of curiosity?”

“You’re a pure blood vampire with accelerated healing and hyper-responsive tissue repair,” Eloise said, gesturing wildly to the screen. “You’d be salivating if you were the doctor.”

“She’s right,” said a voice from the door.

Sami leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, her expression neutral and unreadable — but her tone, as always, dry as sand. “It’s hilarious, though, considering she just escaped a place where they literally ran tests on her for being ‘too impressive’ a vampire. Not judging, I implanted her nano-cells myself to understand her void.”

Eloise blinked, color flooding her face instantly. “Oh, Spirits, Suki. I’m so sorry—”

“Hey.” Sukira held up a hand, palm open. “You’re not them.”

Eloise’s mouth opened again, but the apology still trembled on her lips.

Sukira gave her a lazy smile. “You can run tests on me whenever you want, cupcake. I like your hands.”

Eloise flushed so hard she nearly dropped her tablet. “Suki—”

“Stop it,” Sukira said, stretching just enough to tease. “Give me a few more hours of sleep, and I’m all yours.”

Sami rolled her eyes, grinning. “You flirt with her like you’re not full of stab wounds.”

“I flirt with her because I’m full of stab wounds.”

From the hallway, a familiar, chaotic voice echoed like a thunderclap.

“—I KNOW where the room is! I can FEEL HER—”

Footsteps sprinted.

Sami straightened and stepped aside with a sigh. “Here he comes.”

Eloise tensed but giggled.

Sukira closed her eyes. “Prepare your ears.”

Risha’s voice grew louder, followed by a loud crash against the wall — probably a half-tripped, full-speed slide.

“SUUUKIIIIIRA!!”

“Here we go,” Sami muttered.

Risha flew into the room like a storm in sneakers, nearly knocking over Eloise’s rolling tray. Behind him, Cloud trotted in calmly, nails ticking against the tiles, tail flicking like nothing about this was urgent. And finally—Elon.

He didn’t run.

He stepped in slowly, breath shallow, face pale beneath the desert tan. The kind of guilt that settled not just in the eyes but in the way someone moved — like they didn’t quite deserve to walk into the room she was in.

Risha didn’t notice.

He was already launching onto the bed, half-tackling Sukira before she could brace herself. “YOU’RE AWAKE! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T DIE!”

“Watch the— ow— yeah, okay, that’s my rib, thanks,” Sukira grunted, catching him before he crushed her entirely. “Did you grow again while I was gone?”

“Maybe!” Risha beamed, pulling back just enough to look her over, his hands not staying still for a second. “Are you okay? What’s this tube thing? Can I help you? Wait, your face—” His fingers reached carefully for the swollen skin near her eye.

Cloud hopped up with a low huff, resting his massive head on the edge of the bed beside her knee.

Elon remained at the door.

Risha scooped Sukira’s face and closed his eyes. A blueish light came out of his hands, but nothing happened.  

“That one,” Eloise said gently, stepping forward, “you can’t fix.”

Risha blinked up at her.

“The cut,” Eloise clarified, nodding toward Sukira’s eye. “Some wounds can be fully healed if treated right away. But this one was deep. Too much time passed. The scar’s going to stay.”

Risha looked back at the mark like it was an enemy. “But I can heal stuff. You taught me how.”

“But not everything. That’s part of being powerful, too. Knowing where the line is.” Eloise said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She remembered how stubborn she was when Dominique lost her eye. She felt bitter but proud at the same time; she learned a lesson and she was passing it on to Risha. 

He looked crushed.

Sukira flicked his forehead with a finger. “Hey. It’s just a scar. One more to match the rest.”

“That’s not the point!” The kid pouted, tears starting to run from his eyes. 

“I know.” She softened, brushing his hair back. “But I’m here. And I’m yours. All in one piece… almost”. She smiled with all of her strength. 

That quieted him. For about three seconds.

Then the floodgates opened.

“Did you fight someone? Did they try to cut your head off? Was it Vlad? How did you just disappear? Did you shoot him? Did he explode?? Were you scared? Did you cry? Did he cry?” He pointed at Elon, finally acknowledging the man standing ghostlike near the door. 

“Was it because of me?” The tone of the last question was way different. 

And it turned everything cold.

Sami exhaled slowly from her chair, looking directly at her old friend. Elon didn’t move.

Sukira stilled. Her hand curled tighter in the blankets. “Rish… no. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But it’s always him, right? Always looking for me?”

“Yes,” she admitted, plain as ever. “He wants you. But I’m not letting that happen.”

Risha's lip trembled. “But what if he comes again?”

“Then I’ll stop him again.”

“But… you almost died.”

She hesitated. Then nodded. “They won’t take me down that easily.” Smirked appearing. 

Sami shook her head slowly. 

Risha sat back slowly. “So it was because of me.”

“Hey.” Elon’s voice finally cracked the space. He stepped forward, crouching by the bed. “Listen to me, Risha. She made a choice. A brave one. You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t cause it. The ones who did this were monsters long before you were even born.”

Sami added from behind, crossing her arms. “Vlad’s a piece of shit who lost a bet. That’s not on you. That’s on whatever twisted mess of Calamities decided to play games with people’s lives.”

“But he keeps coming back,” Risha whispered.

“Okay, kid. You asked your questions. We answered them. Like we always do.” Elon stepped in, flat and final. He held Risha’s gaze, firm but not unkind. “That’s it. End of the conversation.”

Risha frowned, wanting to push further—but something in Elon’s tone told him the wall had gone up. The boundary was back. Cloud huffed beside him, like he agreed.

Sukira reached over and gave Risha’s sleeve a tug. “You’re not the reason. Never were. You hear me? You are my kid, I’ll die for you as many times as necessary." 

Elon had to hold his breath after hearing those words.

Risha gave a small nod, chest full of love, he was learning how to handle. Joy tears running through his face. That scrunched, determined expression was still there—but quieter now.

Sami stood, stretching her arms with a sigh. “Come on, Captain. Time to give the Commander her beauty sleep.” She looked at Elon pointedly. Elon returned the look and then scooped Risha up with a grunt.

Risha protested. “I’m too big for that—” 

“You’re not,” Elon said.

“I’m literally thirteen—”

“Then stop acting five.”

As Elon walked toward the door, Risha twisted in his arms to wave. “Don’t die again, okay?”

Sukira snorted. “I’ll try not to.”

They disappeared down the hallway. Cloud stayed in the room; Sukira gave him a slight signal, and the wolf climbed onto the bed and lay down pressed against his owner.

The door clicked shut.

Sami stepped closer, already checking readings on the wall panel. “Pulse’s fine. Pressure’s weird, but you’re weird, so that checks out.”

“Don’t say you missed me.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Sami said dryly. “Just the smell of blood and idiocy in the morning.”

Sukira let her head rest back against the pillow. The ceiling was dim. Cold white tiles. Her voice came out low, without taking her eyes off the ceiling:

“I’m going to the Velaric’s mansion, soon.”

Sami didn’t pause. “That a threat or a confession?”

“A revenge.”

“You’re going to murder the high family of Umbra?” Her eyes wide shut. 

“Just the rotten ones.”

Sami turned, folding her arms. “That’s... all of them.”

“Even better, I’m not good at leaving loose ends.”

The silence that followed wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t even tense. It was the kind that only came between old friends, the kind that carried too much history to judge quickly.

“You’re serious.”

“I can’t sleep thinking about what they did to me,” Sukira said. “I forgave them many times. I can’t anymore. And I’m not letting them stay untouchable just because they wear fucking rings and carry a fancy name.”

“Do you even know how to get inside the Umbra stronghold?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll die.”

Sukira shrugged, wincing at the movement. She finally stopped staring into nothing and met Sami’s eyes. “Maybe. I believe I can die one or two more times before it's final.”

Sami stared at her for a long second. Then sighed, again.

“…Alright. Let’s say I help. Let’s say we’re doing this. You need an inside-out entry. You won’t survive a direct front. You need a point of passage—someone who has clearance.”

“Dominique?”

“Not directly. Also, are you planning to tell her you are about to kill their parents?”

“I haven’t thought about it”.

“Okay, that’s your problem.” She brushed the air, trying not to get involved in that part of the plan. “Give me a few days to trace you a route," Sami corrected. “And then you’ll lie here another week and let Eloise poke at you like a lab rat, because you just escaped being one, and irony is a bitch.”

“You always get so bossy when I almost die.” Sukira managed the smallest grin. “Don’t you forget I was the one in charge in our little assassin-hacker duo”. 

“Yeah, sure. Those old days seemed so light now.” She let out a tiny laugh, filled with nostalgia. “And I’m always bossy.”, Sami corrected her. “You just listen more when you’re missing half your blood.”

They fell quiet again.

This time, Sami sat down at the edge of the bed, her voice lower. “You’re not alone in this. We have to be smart. I know you just care about revenge, but what you are about to do… It will carry big consequences. We’re talking revolution.”

Sukira closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. 

“Idiot”. Sami stood up and left. 

♥︎

Elon climbed the concrete steps of the Command Tower, his pale blond hair loose in the wind and his shirt half buttoned from the morning rush. Sunlight crashed harshly against the white sandstone walls, casting long shadows over the courtyard. He headed for one of the small offices on the first floor. He didn’t knock.

Inside, Jeda was seated at his desk, his usual slip-on black shoes on the table, scanning a report on a translucent panel. He didn’t look up. The smell of coffee mixed with the smell of tobacco. The only decoration in the —ridiculously spotless— room was a drawing of Jeda fighting a dragon.

“Well, well,” he muttered, “the desert’s most elusive citizen finally pays a visit.”

Elon leaned against the doorframe. “I’m ready.”

Jeda lowered the panel slowly, expression unreadable. “For the tattoo? Or for everything that comes with it?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t,” Elon replied. “Let’s go.”

Jeda stood, stretched like a cat, and clapped him once on the shoulder. “Follow me, Sunshine. Try to keep up.”

They exited the room fast, heading toward the lab wing. Jeda didn’t bother explaining anything. He moved fast, like always — cut corners through the service corridor, dodged cadets in training uniforms, dipped briefly into the mess hall to steal an apple.

“Is that your breakfast?” Elon asked.

“Compliments of the system,” Jeda grinned, biting into it. “Come on. Tech’s expecting us.”

They crossed into the Research Wing, the labs buzzing quietly with motion. Screens flickered, assistants moved like shadows between consoles. The air smelled like sterilized metal and ozone.

Inside the lab, Tech was already there — hair tied up, goggles half-on, a messy mug of something dark in one hand. He barely looked up.

“Oh. Great. The clown and the prince,” he muttered. “What do you want?”

“I’m not a prince,” Elon replied, stepping forward.

“C’mon, Tech. I sent you a memo. I know I can’t step in here just because”.

Tech set down the mug and motioned toward the chair. “Stay still.”

Jeda leaned against the far wall. “Don’t flinch, Sunshine. It’s just a tattoo.”

“Why does that sound like a lie?”

Tech didn’t wait. The implant gun hissed against the side of Elon’s neck, behind the ear — cold, fast, nearly painless.

“The first of the fourth-generation nano-tattoos,” Tech said. “You’re patched into the general comms. You don’t have access to any other channel for now; you’ll be added if needed.”

“Understood.”

“Good. And no, you can’t turn it off when you’re annoyed.” Jeda added. 

Elon stood, testing the channel. A faint buzzing at the back of his neck. He tapped it twice. Nothing happened, of course. He tried to access her channel, the security one; he’d seen her do it countless times; he knew the code. But his access was limited. Still, it felt like joining something real.

Jeda led him out, grinning again. “Now comes the fun part. Your new workspace.”

“Uh?”

They exited the lab and turned toward the Academy Wing. The wide corridor curved past the gym rooms and the climbing wall. Jeda took a detour through a shortcut, dragging Elon by the wrist through a door that definitely said AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“You’re breaking rules.”

“Don’t get it wrong, handsome. I made the rules.” Jeda’s smirk was wider than usual.

They came out near the library. And now, a new door was carved directly beside it — fresh iron handle, thin light seeping from beneath.

“I talked to Axis. Convinced him you’d be more useful close to the source. This it’s yours.” Jeda pulled the door open. Inside: a clean, modern classroom, already stocked with blank spell-activated boards, two practice stations, scattered tiny desks and a long teaching desk with Elon’s name etched discreetly in one corner.

Elon blinked, genuinely surprised. “You did all this?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m gonna blush.” Jeda brushed Elon’s hair. 

Elon stepped in, fingertips brushing the edge of the desk.

“And, before I forget—” Jeda reached into his jacket and pulled out a white tie. “You are part of the Elite now. Welcome to the family, it was about damn time. I told you I was to recruit you, sooner or later.”

Elon looked down at the uniform, then up at Jeda.

They stood in silence for a moment. A rare, unspoken warmth passed between them.

Then Jeda cleared his throat, tone shifting just slightly — still casual, but edged with something more official.

“Okay, professor,” he said. “You’ll start receiving new cadets soon — official ones. Not just the kid squad you’re tutoring for fun. What you do with Risha and the rest? That’s extra-official. You can keep it up, but only outside regulated hours. Cadets start training officially after they turn fifteen. Those sessions are rotated with combat instruction, so yes—” he paused with a dramatic eye roll, “—you’ll be sharing agenda slots with the Commander herself.”

Elon raised an eyebrow; he knew. “Sukira runs this wing.”

“Commander of the Academy,” Jeda confirmed, grinning now. “Which means you technically report to her. She reports to Axis. That’s your chain of command.”

Elon gave a slow nod, trying not to let that detail settle too loudly in his chest. “So you gave me a job… just to make her my boss?”

“Oh no, no,” Jeda said, expression faux-innocent. “I gave her the job two years ago. You just came late to the party.”

Elon exhaled, already imagining the tension. “Great.”

“Good luck with that, Sunshine,” Jeda added, more sincerely now. “I’m off.”

“Jeda. Wait.” Elon said almost with a sad tone.

“Now we kiss?” Jeda joked while hanging on the door frame playfully. 

Elon let out a small sigh with a smile. He took a moment to pronounce the words. “I’m sorry. I really am”. He tightened the grip on the tie in his hand. 

“Mhh. Not taken”, he said with a mocking tone, but being quite serious. “I need more than that, you know. You broke my heart when you left. I thought I lost both of you in a second, but at least she did it with a purpose. You were just an asshole.” 

Jeda left the room as soon as he pronounced the words, leaving Elon behind with the weight of deserved guilt.  

♥︎ 

December 26th, 15.003 La Paz, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The lab buzzed low with the sound of filtered air and monitors. It had grown quieter since the alarm days. Fewer people came in after dinner, fewer requests pinged the system.

Sami leaned against the long console table, arms crossed, eyes fixed on a glowing map of Umbra’s capital. Her fingers drummed once, then stopped.

“She’s already back at the training fields,” Sami said, not looking up. “Eloise cleared her two days ago. She didn’t say a word. Just showed up, bandaged and hiding the limp, like nothing had happened… Ryn told me like a gossip”.

Tech didn’t move his gaze from his screen. “Is she doing well?”

“She’s doing too well,” Sami muttered. “Which means she’ll be off sooner rather than later.”

Silence.

He clicked open a new file without responding.

Sami was trying to read Tech's reactions, but he wasn't as transparent as he usually was.

“So,” he said eventually, voice flat as glass, “you’re here to talk plans.”

Sami moved closer to Tech’s work area. “I’m here to ask you for something you shouldn’t give me.”

“I already know what you’re going to say.” His fingers paused, hovering. “You want a way through my family’s estate.”

That was fast. She blinked. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t look smug. Just went still in a way that told her he’d seen the shape of the problem long before she walked in.

“I want a way in,” she said softly. “No noise, no suspicion. The staff routes, sensor dead zones, blind corridors. I want everything. Even the places that don’t officially exist.”

Tech leaned back slowly. His eyes flicked once toward her, calculating. But his voice remained even.

“It’s not just a house,” he said. “It’s a fortress disguised as a dynasty. Every inch of it is controlled. Every move is monitored. The air is filtered for sedatives in the private wings. The wine’s coded. I wasn’t raised there — I was contained.”

“I know, I tried to infiltrate the place once or twice…” Sami said gently. “That’s why I came to you.”

His hand twitched over the interface. With a silent motion, a wireframe map projected between them — silver lines rotating slowly. It was beautiful, and sickening.

“She’s going alone, right?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once, slowly. “Of course she is.”

A beat passed.

“I hated that place,” he added. “The food was perfect. The clothes tailored. Three rooms, all mine — and cameras in every corner. I don’t remember being hugged, not even once. Not that I needed it, but Dominique...” He leaned forward, eyes sharp now, isolating a section of the building. “It wasn’t a home. It was an investment.”

Oh, you needed a hug. Sami stepped closer, voice lower now. “Tech…”

“You don’t need to explain.” His hands didn’t stop moving across the screen. “They’re the ones who killed her parents. Then tried to kill her. When that didn’t work, they adopted her and grew up with Dominique and me, made her believe she was allowed to be happy with us, for once — but they were keeping her hidden from the rest of Umbra. And when that didn’t work either, they sold her off to a blacksite facility.” He shifted the map with his fingers, making notes, voice still flat. “Then the bounty. That was them, too. And the blood contract she signed, the one that erased her from every system — it was all them. Disgusting rats”.

Sami’s mouth opened, then closed.

“I knew all this. I’ve always known,” he added. “The worst part is that I didn’t do a single thing to stop it. I played smart. I played silent. I got out.”

“You were a kid,” Sami said.

“I was a Velaric,” he corrected.

She stared at him, searching for something in the glassy distance of his voice. “You’re not them.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I remember how they spoke about her. Like she was just a line on a receipt.”

He clicked again. The screen zoomed in. A private corridor with a dead-end note. He marked it, then another, and another.

“Dominique saved her once; this time it's my turn to help her,” he said. “I’ll give you the cleanest route I can design. You’ll have schematics, guards' rotations, off-grid sensors, and their cloaking patterns. She’ll have to move fast. I’ll make sure she has the time.”

Sami exhaled — a breath that held more weight than she’d realized. “You’re not going to try to stop her?”

“The opposite. I want her to succeed.”

A silence hung between them. Not cold — just tired.

“Sami,” he added, voice softer now. “Does this mean you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” She allowed the faintest smile. “I grow fond of you, genius.”

Something flickered inside his chest. His hands stilled.

My pulse elevated by three bpm. My heart is reacting to… something. Odd. Curious. 

His eyes lingered on her — two seconds too long. Just enough for her to notice. Then he looked away.

“I’ll send the map by morning.”

She turned to go.

“Wait,” he said, quiet.

She glanced back.

He still wasn’t looking at her. “If she does it — if she kills them all —”

Sami's smile returned, sharper now. “She’s right there, ask her yourself. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Sukira stepped fully into the light once Sami closed the door behind her. She leaned against the edge of the worktable, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“You talking about me like I’m not around,” she said casually. “Very rude, kid.”

Tech’s fingers froze mid-command. He blinked once, then resumed typing. “Don’t call me that. I'm not a kid anymore. And I thought you were in the training fields.”

“You are very bad as a vampire,” she said. “How could you not sense me?”

He didn’t react. Silence stretched. Only the faint hum of the monitors and the soft tap of Tech’s fingers filled the space.

Sukira tilted her head, watching him. “So. You’re helping me break into your childhood home. To kill your parents. That’s… not your usual Wednesday.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s not my home. Just a building where I was fed for a while.”

Sukira let that settle, then added, “Still. It’s not nothing.”

Tech finally looked at her. His gaze was flat, but his throat worked once if he wanted to swallow something down. “You’re doing me a favor. I should be the one thanking you.”

She blinked. “That might be the most messed-up ‘thank you’ I’ve ever received.”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Well. They’re not dead yet.”

“Not yet,” she agreed, eyes sharp.

She hesitated. Then said, very quietly, “I remember some things from when we were kids, you know. You weren’t this distant. I mean, you were always weird but… not this much.” She pointed out the mess of projects around him. 

“Didn’t have the trauma yet.” Tech shot back, small smirk in sight. 

He almost laughed — but didn’t. “Dominique tracked you down after the bounty came back. I didn’t think we’d find you.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “She did.”

That landed harder than she intended, but Tech only nodded. “You’re right.”

A pause.

“I told her the same thing I’m about to tell you,” she said at last, voice low. “You’re not responsible for what they did to my family, nor to me; you are not your parents, Tech.”

His hands curled slightly on the desk. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

“The genius mastermind feels things. Good to know”, her smile was soft, like she was glad to hear him say those words. 

They stood like that for a long beat — two people tethered by the same past, but in different rooms of it.

Then she straightened. “Anyway. I’m coming back in a beat. So don’t go making any fancy tributes.”

He glanced at her. “Wouldn’t waste the materials.”

That earned a faint grin from her. “Good boy.”

She started walking toward the door, and just before she left, she added over her shoulder, “You grew up into someone decent, Tech. Don’t let it ruin your reputation.”

The door clicked behind her. For a few seconds, Tech didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, he returned to the screen, pulling up the map with precision. Every layer of the estate, every hidden door, every weak point.

If she was going in, she was getting out. No matter what it took.

♥︎

Sukira walked slowly, the air cooling as the day thinned toward evening. The path from the South Wing bent through narrow streets, lined with hanging lights that never quite reached the desert’s brightness. She passed vendors closing stalls, children weaving around each other in games, and guards nodding quietly as she moved past.

Her body still hurt, not physically but deeper — every step a reminder of where the chains touched her and all the blood she lost — but she forced herself to look up. South to West, until the road widened into the Civil Quarter’s main square.

Dominique was there, as expected, sleeves rolled up, laughing as she helped unload crates from a Triad supply truck. A pale rose streak of hair had escaped one of the many braids she styled, glowing under the light. She caught sight of Sukira, raised a hand, and jogged over.

“Caught me in the middle of honest work,” she said, tossing a box onto a bench. “What’s up?”

“Craving sugar,” Sukira replied, nodding toward the kiosk by the newly built fountain.

Minutes later, they were in the hammocks strung between shade-posts, the square buzzing gently around them. Dominique had a mango lollipop, Sukira a lemon one. They swayed lightly in silence at first, letting the cool stickiness dissolve on their tongues.

It was almost like being kids again.

“You remember when we used to play in the internal yard in the Bloodpire house?” Dominique said after a while. “One time, when you were learning to use your void, you stole six of those crystal fruits and made me pretend they fell from a tree.”

“You took the fruits anyway,” Sukira smirked. She had to guess; she didn’t remember. 

“You bit me,” Dominique countered. “Hard.”

“I was a child.”

“You were feral.”

The laughter that followed was small but real.

Then Sukira’s voice turned lower. “Dom… I need to tell you something.”

Dominique turned her head.

Sukira told her. Piece by piece. The facility. The tests they run. The scientist who remembered her as a child. The file Elon had found — her name printed, her code number, the purchase orders. Everything they did to her back then, even the nasty parts, the parts that she wanted to bury forever, and everything they repeated this time, too. Every detail she hadn’t said out loud until now.

Dominique didn’t interrupt. She sucked the lollipop quietly, eyes darker than usual.

When Sukira finished, her hands tightened around the stick. “I need to ask you to forgive me. For what I’m about to do.”

Dominique didn’t blink. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I do.”

“You don’t,” Dominique repeated, firmer. She exhaled slowly. “If you gonna do what I’m thinking… Suki, I said goodbye to them a long time ago. They were never parents. No warmth. No kindness. Just expectations and silence. I’ve been waiting for the moment someone cuts that shadow off me.”

Her lollipop clicked softly against her teeth.

“So, if that someone’s you…” Dominique tilted her head back, watching the lanterns sway above them. “I’m fine with it.”

Sukira searched her face, the sharp angles softened by night.

Dominique went on, quieter now. “But it won’t stop with them. Killing my parents — it’ll shake the whole board. Umbra doesn’t forgive shifts in bloodlines that easily. We need to be prepared for the storm.”

Sukira nodded once. “I’ll leave that part to you.”

Dominique smirked faintly. “You are just doing the nasty work… as always”. 

They sat back in their hammocks, the sugar dissolving, the square spinning around them as if nothing had changed.

But everything had.

“Are you going… now?”

“Soon. I have one more stop to make”. 

♥︎ 

December 28th, 15.003 Academy Wing, Adjacent Room to the Library

The door to the new classroom creaked shut behind her. Sukira leaned on the frame, watching.

Elon was at the desk, sorting through papers with a precision that didn’t quite hide the nerves. The classroom was simple — the white board already lined with neat script, shelves of manuals, sunlight cutting across the polished concrete floor, a few plants he grew himself and some gifts from Eloise. His room. Official now.

He wore the Elite’s uniform blazer open, white tie knotted in a clumsy bow at his throat.

Sukira raised a brow. “That’s not how a tie works, prince.”

He glanced up, deadpan. “It’s my way.”

“It’s tragic,” she corrected, stepping closer. “Sit.”

He set the paper down deliberately. “Why?”

“Just obey. I’m your Commander now, at least do it because of hierarchy.”

“That does not mean anything to me.” He tilted his head. “Do you ever answer a question directly?”

“Yes. Stop contradicting me. Sit.”

His lips twitched, but he did as told, lowering himself into the chair. Sukira slid onto the edge of the table in front of him, boots tapping lightly against the wood he was sitting on. She leaned forward and tugged the bow loose.

“You know,” she murmured as she began threading the tie properly, fingers brushing his collarbone, his shirt half-opened, “I could kill you with this. I have many reasons to do it now.”

Her joke carried a shadow. They haven’t spoken directly since the day Elon left. They both felt it. He had abandoned her. She had been taken. He had killed for the first time in his long life — for her. None of it spoken, all of it there... waiting.

“Far from feeling intimidated,” he said evenly, “I’ve not only gotten used to your threats… I think I like them now.”

That earned him a smirk. She pulled the knot tight, a little too sharp against his throat.

“Dangerous habit,” she teased.

He leaned closer, voice lower. “Still, I’m not the one constantly at the edge of dying.”

For a moment she froze, because it was true. She laughed anyway, fragile at first, then lighter, and impulsively stroked his cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. The warmth lingered for half a second before panic flickered in her chest. She started to pull away—

But his hand caught her wrist. Firm. Certain.

“I’m here waiting for you,” he said quietly, “but only if you can give me your soul as well as your body.”

For a beat, she froze again. His words dug under her armor. The part of her that had walked back bleeding from the Alps, that had hung in chains, remembered all too well: he had come for her. And she still hadn’t thanked him.

Then her lips curved into a laugh that was sharper, steadier than before, reflecting on what he would think if he knew about her upcoming plans.

“What soul?”

The tie slipped free from his collar as she tugged it off entirely. She opened her palm, and a ripple of void shimmered into existence — a strand of white, soft fabric unfurling like smoke. She twisted it deftly into a tiny bow and pressed it against his chest.

“Now this,” she said, smiling faintly, “fits you better.”

She stretched back, planting both of her boots on the chair he sat on, claiming the space between them. Elon’s gaze flicked to the pile of papers beside her — just as she reached for one and hissed under her breath.

A paper-cut traced her finger, a thin bead of blood rolling bright against her pale skin.

Elon caught her hand before she could move. And wrapped his other arm around one of her legs.

His thumb pressed against hers. He was about to run his tongue around the wound when she stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Her voice was stronger now. A warning.

He looked up, puzzled.

“You don’t believe in that stuff,” Elon challenged.

In vampire culture, blood carried layers of meaning. Blood given by fang was considered an act of intimacy, but blood taken was something else entirely. It wasn’t casual, it wasn’t symbolic — it was a claim. Trust, ownership, a bond rooted deeper than family or vows. Once you take someone’s blood, it stays in you for weeks.

“Don’t do it, Elon.” She said again. “Why can’t you do as I tell you?”

He didn’t let go.

He leaned forward anyway and dragged his tongue across the wound.

The effect was instant. Sukira’s eyes flared red, her breath catching sharp, heat rushing into her cheeks. For the first time in her life — in either of their lives — she blushed.

Elon almost stopped breathing.

The storm of feelings tore through him: triumph, guilt, hunger, something far more dangerous than all three. He had slaughtered for her. And still she sat here, teasing him like nothing had happened.

“So you can make that face,” he said, not letting her go. His heart was about to leave his body.

Her hand trembled in his, but her voice came steady. “Nice to know my torment doubles as your entertainment.”

He didn’t let go. Not right away. His eyes lingered on hers, the red still burning faintly in them. “We need to talk,” he started, voice rougher than he meant. “About what happened—”

The sound of footsteps in the hall cut him off. Laughter, the rise and fall of young voices carrying toward the door.

Sukira was on her feet in an instant, slipping her hand from his and pushing him back, shoving the chair he was sitting on with a firm motion. The flush had already faded, but her smirk returned like a mask. Her eyes completely black now, like no emotion could be found there. 

“Duty calls, professor,” she said lightly, as though nothing at all had passed between them. 

He stood half out of the chair, caught between frustration and relief. “No, wait, Sukira—”

But the door creaked open, and the first cadets spilled in, chatting, bags thumping against desks. The room filled with the chaos of a dozen lives that weren’t theirs.

Sukira brushed past him on her way out, close enough that her shoulder grazed his. “Teach,” she murmured, low enough only he could hear. “That’s your job now. And that’s a command, obey. Please?”

And then she was gone, leaving him with the students, the books, and the words he hadn’t managed to say.

♥︎ 

December 30th, 15.003

Civil Wing, Apartment’s Area, La Paz. 

The room was dark, the kind of silence that only came in the Citadel after midnight. Elon stirred before he even opened his eyes. The air had shifted — colder, heavier, touched by something that was not the desert night.

When he sat up, she was already there. Sukira stood at the foot of his bed, void trailing from her shoulders like a cloak, folding back into nothing.

“You’re terrible at knocking,” he said, voice hoarse with sleep. He gave her a look. She was wearing a white tank top and black silk shorts, part of the pajama set of the Elite. Instead, he was shirtless, long pants of the same fabric as hers. 

“You’re cute when sleeping,” she answered, tucking a piece of his bed-hair onto his ear. “I like it because you can’t talk.”

For a long beat they simply looked at one another — stripped of uniforms, schedules, the roles everyone expected them to play. Just the two of them, and everything they hadn’t spoken.

“I should hate you,” Elon said finally, small and sharp. “For the things you put me through.”

“The nerve you have.” Sukira’s answer landed like a thrown coin. “You left me with your promise broken on my bare hands.”

His jaw tightened. The words hit where she meant them to.

Silence thickened, then Sukira stepped closer, boots silent on the floor. “I never asked you to come for me,” she murmured. 

“You think I could’ve stayed behind, knowing you were taken by that half-demon to who-knows-where?” he shot back, quicker than he meant to.

She didn’t fold. She kept her voice level, deliberately small and sharp as scalpel steel; Risha was sleeping in the other room. 

“I think you could have stayed. And maybe none of that would have happened. Maybe Vlad would be dead, and that people would’ve never got the chance to touch me again.”

He opened his mouth, started to argue.

He pointed, the accusation rising like a tide: “So you’re saying— you’d have been safer if I—”

“If you’d stayed,” she finished for him, voice quiet but iron-hard. “Yes. If you hadn’t walked away like an angry child, I wouldn’t have ended up there. You promised. You promised you’d stay.”

His face crumpled at the word, like pressure on a wound. “I thought–"

“You thought whatever it was was convenient for you,” Sukira said, and the calm snapped. Her hands balled into fists. 

“You left. You promised you wouldn’t. You walked away. You told me I was making you useful, that I was dragging you into this life — and then you vanished. You left me to wake up in flooring that smelled of other people. You left me with strangers ripping my skin off. I ended up back there because you left me. You left me.”

She didn’t throw the words — she poured them, surgical and cold. The hurt in her voice shifted into something hotter, incandescent.

“But I don’t mind the pain,” she said, pace quickening, fury rising. “I don’t mind the scars. I don’t mind that when I was a child, they tried to make me a machine — an experiment, call it whatever you want. I don’t mind that they carved around my eye.” Her hand flicked toward the scar crossing her face. “But I can't forgive you, not fully. I mind that you said I was using you and Risha, and then you left. You both are the only thing I have. You were the reminder I could be better. But you broke me in ways no blade did. You tore something out of me by leaving after saying those words.”

Elon’s breath hitched. For a moment, he was simply small in the dark, the thing she accused reflected back at him. Then the dam broke in him — not pride or defense, but a raw, ragged shame.

“Suki,” he whispered. “I— I was angry. I thought, well… I didn’t think so. I was a toy in Vlad’s plan. I did exactly as he wanted. And you gave yourself in for Risha… I think I would never be able to thank you enough–”

“Don’t you dare to thank me for saving my own child.” She interrupted him abruptly. It was the first time she was being this brutally honest about how she truly felt about Risha.

She continued: “I didn’t do it to prove anything. It was raw, pure love I have for him.” Her face didn’t soften. If anything, her anger sharpened at the cut of his words.

He was broken. Happy to hear all those words coming from her month but he knew he wasn’t worth of them. 

Silence slammed between them. Sukira’s expression flickered — not triumph, not placation — only an exhaustion so deep it made the room ache.

“You killed for me,” she said, flat. “You thought ripping them from the world would be the same as staying.”

“No.” He reached for her and stopped himself, the distance between them electric. “No. I know it’s not the same. I thought it might be enough, and I was wrong. I’ve been so wrong so much lately. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands shook now. Not from fear but because she’d been holding decades of it. “You can’t make up that easily, Elon.”

He nodded, the motion small. “I know. I don’t know how to fix what I broke. I only know I couldn’t leave you. Not again.”

“I’m thankful you came and went there to save me”, she said, voice fraying. “But I don’t need to be saved. You should be the person who holds me after the worst. Instead, you become the person who judges me and then disappears.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said — which was both too little and everything he had.

Sukira let out a long, unhappy breath, then — almost gentle — lifted her chin. “I think we should stop doing this.”

His hand hovered, uselessly reaching. “Please,” he begged then, the single raw plea of a man who had recognized the cost of absence. “Don’t push me away. Please don't.”

She studied him, the movement like watching an old map. For a long moment, she was still, testing the weight of the promise on her. Then she stepped close enough that the smell of her was sharp in his face. She sat down on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. 

“You don’t get to demand that,” she told him. “Not after everything.”

“I know.” He sounded broken and small and real in a way that hurt. “I’m not asking you to take my orders. I just— don’t go without letting me be someone who waits at the door.”

She searched his face like she was reading a name etched into stone, found the truth there, and for the first time in days, something like pity — or mercy — softened her eyes.

“You don’t get it,” she said finally, quietly. “I’m here in the middle of the night because I’m trying to keep you closer. I’m looking for a middle point for us to meet.”

His jaw tightened. “Is that why you are here?”

Sukira’s lips curved into a humorless half-smile. “I’m here because I’m learning. You told me once you needed honesty. So here it is: I’m leaving tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Is that it? What are you going to do? Where are you going?” He sounded like Risha. He stared at her, searching her face for any trace of doubt. There was none.

“That's it,” she went on, ignoring his questions, softer, “I’m not asking for help or permission. But I’m also not disappearing without a word. This is the best I can give you.”

Something twisted in his chest, because she was trying, in her own way. Because she thought this counted as a compromise.

“You think that makes it better?” his voice broke. “That telling me you’re about to throw yourself into Blessings-knows-what is supposed to make it easier?”

“It makes it fair,” she replied. “You asked me to stop shutting you out. I’m keeping my promise.” The choice of words wasn't a coincidence. 

He wanted to laugh. Or break something. Instead, he pressed his palms into his eyes, dragging down his face. “Sukira…”

She reached out, hesitated, then let her hand rest lightly on his arm. Not possession. Not demand. Just there. “I can’t stop being what I am,” she whispered. “You can’t stop needing me to survive it. That’s the balance we don’t have.”

He looked at her hand, pale against his skin, and let out a long, uneven breath. “So… we keep suffering until we find a middle ground?” 

“No”, she said plainly, “Tonight, we stop. We won’t find happiness in whatever this is, Elon.  Let’s raise Risha together. Let's train cadets. Let’s share books, and I’ll even come here to dinner with you and the kid a few times per week. But let’s stop this”.  

“This is all my fault. Right before Vlad played with me, we were… close; closer at least.”

“This time it was Vlad. But there will always be something that tears us apart. You won’t accept me for who I am, and I’m not going to change.” 

“And what happens when you come back in pieces?”

She leaned closer, her scar catching the faint moonlight from the window. “Somebody’s else’s problem, blondie. Probably Eloise’s.”

Elon’s throat burned. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to chain her to the bed to keep her from leaving. He wanted everything except this.

Instead, he only nodded. “Tomorrow morning,” he said. “You’d better be here.”

Sukira’s smirk returned, faint but real. “I always come back.”

Yes, but not to me. Not anymore. 

He hugged her as he knew that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She let him. They shared a moment that felt like an eternity, and with that, the void curled around her again, swallowing her shape into dust. Leaving him alone, staring at the empty space she’d left behind.

♥︎