Chapter 17.1 / The end of a dynasty

January 4th, 15.004La Paz, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

They left Axis’s office without a word, which, for the Velaric twins, was very, very strange. 

Dominique moved first, as usual. She pushed the door open with a little more force than necessary, boots already in motion before it slid shut behind her. Her shoulders were squared, chin high, the posture of someone who refused to look back. The corridor swallowed her quickly, lights stretching long and pale ahead of her.

Tech stayed behind for half a second longer, just long enough to watch her go.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t slow. Didn’t turn. Of course she didn’t. Dominique never lingered at thresholds — she burned through them like they were made of paper.

That’s how she survived all of this time, he thought. By never stopping long enough to feel it.

The door closed between them with a soft, final sound.

♥︎

Dominique was already pulling her phone from her pocket as she walked, thumb moving on instinct more than intent.

“Hey,” she said, casually and fast. “So—small update. I’m leaving in a few hours.”

No pause was needed. Eloise was a professional when dealing with Dominique’s intensity. “Uh? Leaving where??”

Dominique rolled her eyes even though no one could see her. “Bloodspire. Long story. Not fun. Don’t ask.”

“You wish!! I’m coming to your room,” Eloise said. No hesitation. No question. “You shouldn’t pack alone.”

“I can pack alone—”

“I’m already on my way.”

Dominique exhaled sharply through her nose, something between a scoff and a laugh. 

“Don’t try to push me away,” Eloise replied gently. “See you in five.”

Dominique stopped walking for half a heartbeat, phone still pressed to her ear. The corridor hummed softly around her — ventilation, distant voices, life continuing like nothing had cracked open.

She swallowed. “Fuck,” she muttered with a big smile, and started moving again.

♥︎

Tech waited until her footsteps faded before he moved. Not because he needed privacy — because stillness had finally caught him.

He leaned back against the wall outside Axis’s office, staring at nothing, watching Dominique run to her room, to Eloise, to whatever. He also looked at the faint reflection of himself in the polished surface across the hall. Pink hair slightly out of place. Eyes filled with jealousy.

How nice to have someone to be able to run to. A deep breath, a sight that could be heard from the other side of La Paz. Well… I could go to her. A voice in his head urged. Just go to her, idiot.

He could already picture it — her body occupying all of his personal space, warm and solid, the smell of oil mixed with perfume invading him, the way she would scold him, her words giving clear instructions of what he needed to do next. The way she would swear softly and pull him closer instead of letting him spiral.

He wanted that so badly it made his chest hurt.

Instead, he straightened, adjusted his white coat, and walked away.

Coward, he told himself out loud. 

♥︎

Dominique’s room smelled like her — freshly washed clothes and roses. Evidence of a life lived sideways and fully. Shoes kicked under a chair. Jackets thrown over its back. A half-finished mug on the desk. Dominique’s chaos, softened by Eloise’s warmth.

Eloise was already kneeling by the bed when Dominique arrived, pulling a bag from underneath it.

“If you tell me even once that you can do this alone, I’ll get really really mad,” Eloise said without looking up.

Dominique kicked off her boots in a dramatic entrance and flopped onto the bed, bouncing once before sitting cross-legged, arms wrapped loosely around herself. For a while, they packed in silence. Clothes folded. Unfolded. Reconsidered.

Finally, Eloise spoke. “...Why are you packing formal clothes?” Panic crept into her voice, sudden and unguarded.

“I’m getting married……” 

“WHAT—”

Dominique burst into laughter when she saw Eloise’s wide, puppy-like eyes, already on the verge of tears. She laughed harder and pulled her into a hug, holding her close as she quickly summarized the mission Axis had given her and Tech.

“You don’t have to be brave about this,” Eloise said softly, fingers undoing the threads in Dominique’s hair.

Dominique’s laugh came out brittle and immediate. “Oh, come on. That’s literally my whole thing.”

Eloise paused, hands resting on a folded shirt. “Dominique…”

The name landed heavier than any reprimand.

But she looked away. Toward the window. Toward the city she had helped build piece by piece — with her own stubborn hands and her brother’s brilliant mind.

“I don’t care about them,” she said quickly. “About the house. Or the title. Or any of it.”

“I know,” Eloise replied gently. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Dominique frowned. “Then what? This is just a political move. That’s all.”

Eloise hesitated — just enough to matter. “I’m worried you’re carrying all of this alone. Again. And I’m worried you’re pretending your brother isn’t hurting too.”

Dominique’s jaw tightened. “He’s not.”

“Domi—”

“He’s fine,” she snapped. “He always is. He disappears into his work, pretends feelings are inefficiencies, and comes out smarter than everyone else. That’s his thing.”

Eloise met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “That’s not strength, Dom. That’s avoidance.”

Dominique’s hands curled into her loose hair. “I don’t know how to reach him,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “Every time I try, it turns into a fight. Or a joke. Or… nothing. With him, it’s always been a race. First, we were both trying to impress our parents — trying to be seen, to be loved, to get any kind of recognition. And when they made it clear that was never going to happen…” She swallowed. “It turned into a competition. Who could rebel harder. Faster. Louder. Who could be better — not at earning their love anymore, but their hate.” She let out a shaky breath. “Does that even make sense?”

Eloise didn’t answer. She just pulled Dominique into a tight embrace.

Dominique closed her eyes. I’m terrified, she thought. And I hate that he’ll see it.

♥︎

Tech reached his room and stopped in the doorway.

The lights were off. The space was too neat. Untouched. He frowned and stepped inside, realization creeping in slowly. He hadn’t slept here in days.

Maybe a week?

The bed was perfectly made. The surface was stiff, unyielding, like it had never learned the shape of a body. He sat down carefully, then lay back, staring at the ceiling.

It felt wrong. Like occupying someone else’s space.

“Good job,” he muttered to himself. “Really healthy coping mechanisms.”

The silence pressed in. His thoughts, uncontained at last.

She won. Again. She built something. A family. People who would choose her.

Pride swelled in his chest, sharp and unexpected. Dominique — loud, impossible Dominique — had done what he never could. She had made herself visible and loved anyway.

“I’m proud of you,” he said aloud, voice barely audible. 

The words echoed uselessly in the room.

I just don’t know how to stand next to you without feeling like I keep falling behind.

He turned his head, eyes stinging, and didn’t let himself finish the thought.

♥︎

The departure lounge was quiet when they arrived. The moon hung low beyond the glass walls, pale and watchful, washing the platform in silver light. The helicopter waited for them, outside the departure hall. 

Axis stood near the console, posture straight, tablet in hand. Ailin was beside him, arms folded, expression composed and unreadable. Both in full uniform — immaculate, deliberate. Command, made visible.

Dominique burst in like a disruption.

“Oh, wow,” she said loudly. “This is it? No banners? No tragic music? I feel robbed. You are sending us to the wolf’s mouth and not even a tear??”

Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she spun once, arms out, purple two-piece suit perfectly tailored, high-heeled boots gleaming under the lights. Dressed like she was attending a gala instead of a funeral.

Tech followed a few steps behind.

He was… in uniform, but the white medical coat was gone, replaced by a long black velvet trench that swallowed his frame. His hair was tied back hastily, fingers already moving over his tablet, scrolling through data he didn’t need to read — not now, at least.

A small tote bag hung from his shoulder. Toothbrush. Underwear. Bare minimum. Like he was planning to stay overnight somewhere inconvenient, not walk back into the place that had shaped him.

Axis ran through the checklist, voice steady, professional. IDs. Clearance. Timing. 

He looked at them once.

Then again.

Clearly searching for something that wasn’t there. He took a deep breath and talked again, with a completely different tone this time: “I believe this is a good opportunity for you to talk about what happened,” he said carefully.

Dominique laughed, sharp and immediate. “Talk about what?” she snapped. “The part where they’re dead, or the part where he vanished years ago and left me there alone?”

Tech didn’t look up. “There’s nothing to discuss.” He pronounced those words at the same time Dominique was speaking. 

Axis frowned at both of them and shocked his head. “That’s not true...”

Dominique turned on Tech in an instant. “Oh, please. Nothing to discuss? You looove discussions. You just don’t like feelings.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Because they’re inefficient.”

“There it is,” she snapped again. “Spirits forbid anything in your life isn’t optimized.”

Axis opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was being completely ignored and nothing that he could say right now would have been taken. 

“Don’t start,” Tech added, finally looking at her. “You’re the one treating this like a costume party.”

Dominique’s smile didn’t falter, but something hard flickered behind her eyes. “At least I’m here. At least I didn’t hide in a lab for a week pretending this didn’t happen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he shot back. “Was I supposed to rehearse my grief schedule with you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then say what you mean? C’mon. Try harder, or is it too complicated for your little brain, Dummy?”

Axis tried to step forward. “Okay, enough—”

“No,” Dominique cut in. “He always does this. Acts like not caring is some kind of moral high ground.”

Axis retrieved. 

“Don’t pretend, Tech,” Dominique continued. “You left. You didn’t even finish school. One day you were just—gone. Packed your genius little ass and ran off to Concordia like the house wasn’t already eating me alive.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Tech’s voice dropped. Flat. “I was smart. I got accepted early. I look my way out of there. I earned it.”

“And I got stuck because of it,” she yelled. “Never thought about that? We were supposed to deal with them together and you fucking left me.”

“Dominique, I had to leave that house. They never even called me by my name. The name they gave me. They gifted me sand, for the demons’ sake. ‘You have brains but not real value in this house’, Mom’s words. You were the only one worth shaping.”

Dominique’s mouth opened. Closed.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Of course you didn’t,” Tech shot back. “You were allowed to have fun. To rebel. To be loud. To have a girlfriend. I was supposed to disappear quietly and be grateful for it.”

She shook her head hard. “That’s not how it felt.”

“Well, that’s how it was. Tech’s jaw tightened. “This is a waste of time. You always act like turning everything into a performance somehow makes it real.”

“Well, at least it's better than pretending I don’t feel anything at all.”

Axis felt it then — the exact moment this had gone too far.

The twins stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other like strangers who happened to share the same face.

Axis looked from one to the other, and then, finally, met Ailin’s eyes. Say something, he thought. Anything that reaches them.

The air shifted immediately.

“This is not a personal errand,” she said calmly. Ailin’s voice didn’t rise, didn’t need to. “This is a political act. You represent more than yourselves, whether you like it or not.”

Neither twin spoke.

“You are not children anymore so stop acting like you were,” Ailin continued. “You don’t get to collapse in public or tear each other apart because it’s uncomfortable. Whatever feelings you have — deal with them later. Right now, you do your job.”

That’s not what I meant, Ailin. Axis shocked his head again, unimpressed and tired. 

Dominique straightened. Tech nodded once.

The flight lifted into the night without ceremony.

♥︎

Inside the cabin, the lights dimmed.

Dominique lasted halfway through the flight before exhaustion pulled her under, head tipping against the seat, defenses finally down.

Tech stayed awake the entire time.

The tablet glowed faintly in the dark, numbers blurring together as he pretended they were easier to hold than memory.

Neither of them spoke. Bloodspire waited.

♥︎

When the boarding gate sealed behind them, Axis exhaled for the first time in minutes that felt like an eternity.

Ailin remained beside him. He tried to light a cigarette but Ailin stopped him with her deadly gaze. 

Her eyes shifted to the dark horizon. “They were never good at this,” she said quietly.

“No,” Axis replied. “But they were way worse when we met. Now, at least, they look at each other when shouting.”

She huffed softly. “We were all so young. Thought we could outthink the world.”

Axis nodded. “We did. Sort of.” He rolled a finger showing the city’s lights. 

Ailin folded her arms tighter. “They shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“They aren’t,” Axis said — then hesitated. “They have each other, they need to learn that.”

Ailin’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “I hope they find a way back from this.”

“So do I,” he said. “I’m just not sure which version of them will return.”

♥︎

January 5th, 15.004Velaric’s Mansion, Bloodspire, Umbra [Vampire Continent]

The Bloodspire ruler’s estate looked exactly as it always had: Tall. Immaculate. Unconcerned by time or consequence.

The transport touched down just after dawn, engines humming low as the platform lights flickered on in sequence. Pale gray concrete reflected the morning light with a sterile brilliance, as if the city had already washed itself clean of the night.

Dominique stepped out first, loud and exaggerated. 

She paused at the top of the ramp, hands on her hips, surveying the skyline like she was arriving at a venue rather than her childhood home. Her suit was still flawless, heels clicking against the metal as she descended with deliberate confidence.

“Well,” she said lightly, voice echoing in the open space. “Still no one to receive us. It’s like they are still around.”

Tech followed a few steps behind, already annoyed by the theatrical display. She was doing it on purpose and he was aware. 

His loafers touched the platform soundlessly, trench coat pulled closer around his frame, tablet tucked under his arm now instead of glowing in his hands. The air here felt heavier although the morning was fresh. 

A familiar, yet not friendly face was there. A broad shouldered man stood at the base of the ramp.

Straight-backed. Hands clasped behind him. Dark suit, perfectly tailored. Beautiful face factions ruined by a big scar that ran diagonally from one point to another. A soft but distant gaze and a pale pink hair, slicked back with gel. Not a guard, not a servant, not family — something in between. Something administrative. And something permanent.

“Duchess, welcome.” He looked away, not meeting Tech’s gaze. “Mister.”

The voice was calm, measured. Inaccessible.

Dominique’s smile sharpened. “Mr. Vale. Wow. You’re still alive.”

Mr. Vale inclined his head by exactly the same fraction he always had. “I am.”

No welcome. No condolences. No acknowledgment of absence.

Tech stopped beside his sister, eyes flicking briefly to the man’s face before running away again.

“Your father instructed me to oversee the estate,” Mr. Vale continued smoothly. “That arrangement remains unchanged, even in his absence."

Dominique snorted. “You can call him brother, you know? He’s dead now, he can’t get mad.”

“Don’t be stupid, Dominique. We, their own children, were barely acknowledged, do you think he would have admitted he had a bastard brother? Even in his grave, he would have come back to eat him alive. He kept him close to oversee him, to dominate him. Not out of feelings, duty or blood”. Tech spoke to his uncle the way his uncle spoke to him: with disgust.  

Mr. Vale did not react.

“If you’ll follow me,” he said, turning without waiting for confirmation, “we have a full itinerary ahead of us.”

The mansion gates opened silently at his approach.

♥︎

The Velaric mansion rose ahead of them, the black and gray fortress catching the sun in sharp angles. Every window pristine. As if nothing inside had ever come out.

Dominique felt it immediately — the tightening behind her ribs, the instinctive urge to perform. To be bigger than the space trying to swallow her whole.

Tech felt something else. Absence. The need to avoid entering, completely. 

They crossed the threshold together, footsteps echoing in perfect symmetry.

Mr. Vale did not slow.

“First,” he said, walking briskly through the main hall, “you will be escorted to your respective rooms to leave your belongings and freshen up.”

Dominique glanced down at Tech’s tote bag, then at her own carefully packed case being wheeled behind her.

“Well,” she said brightly, “this is awkward.”

Tech didn’t look at her. “I packed efficiently.”

“Yes,” she replied sweetly. “For a sleepover.”

Mr. Vale continued as if neither had spoken.

“After that, breakfast will be served in the east dining room. The family lawyer will join you to discuss the disposition of properties and assets.”

Assets. Not memories. Not lives.

Dominique rolled her shoulders back. “Can’t wait.”

“Following that,” Mr. Vale said, “you have a scheduled meeting with the press. A single journalist, pre-approved.”

Tech’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

“And in the evening,” Mr. Vale concluded, stopping at the base of the grand staircase, “dinner will be served. Attendance is expected.”

Silence stretched. Servants moved in silence. Guards held their positions. The house breathed around them — controlled, measured, utterly indifferent as the 75 lives that were taken in that same mansion a few weeks ago never existed. 

Mr. Vale gestured to the stairs. “Your rooms remain unchanged.”

Well, that’s a surprise. Tech thought to himself. Were they expecting us to come back or they simply didn’t care enough to clean them?

Dominique laughed softly, humorless. “I’ll take that as a threat.”

“I have a lot of things to take care of, but feel free to call me if you need something. Servants and guards are at your disposal”. Mr. Vale turned and walked away, shoes echoing sharply against the marble floor.

The twins stood alone in the entrance hall, the weight of the mansion settling over them like a closing door. Each one of them head directly to their own, old bedrooms. 

♥︎

The east dining room hadn’t changed either. Breakfast was waiting for them, as Mr. Vale had told them an hour ago.

Same long table. Same stone. Same chairs placed with surgical precision, as if no one had ever sat too long in any of them. Morning light filtered through the tall windows, illuminating silverware already arranged, intact.

Dominique arrived first, she had changed clothes — traded the purple suit for something simpler.

Mr. Vale stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back. “Duchess,” he said evenly. “Please sit.”

She chose a chair at random and dropped into it with deliberate carelessness. “I see the house is still allergic to warmth.”

Mr. Vale did not respond.

A man rose from the far end of the table.

“Dominique Velaric,” he said, offering a hand she did not take. “I’m Mr. Crowe. Your family’s legal counsel.”

“Congratulations. You survived them.” She nodded once. “Actually… congratulations to you both. Someone swept away the Velaric dynasty, and for some reason… all of us in this room are still alive. Should I assume one of us is the murderer?”

“Please, do not pick up on that. The Duchess has an immaculate sense of humor. She is very similar to her beautiful mother, may she rest in peace” Mr. Vale added quickly while offering Mr. Crowe a seat.

His smile faltered, then reset into something professional. He sat.

Moments later, Tech entered.

He paused at the threshold, eyes flicking over the room before settling on the lawyer. Then Dominique. He took the seat opposite her without a word.

Breakfast was served immediately. Plates placed. Cups filled. No small talk.

Mr. Crowe cleared his throat.

“As you know, your parents’ estates include multiple properties, liquid assets, and long-term holdings—”

“Spare us the poetry,” Tech interrupted without taking his eyes off the coffee. “What needs deciding?”

Mr. Crowe hesitated, then nodded. “Ownership transfer, liquidation, or preservation. Some properties may be… politically sensitive.”

Tech finally looked up. “We’re not keeping the house.”

Mr. Crowe blinked. “Which one?”

“None of them.” Tech replied immediately. 

“Duchess?” Mr. Crowe blinked again, waiting to be saved by Dominique’s desires. 

Dominique tilted her head. “I’m open to arson, personally.”

“Dominique,” Mr. Vale said carefully, “some of these estates have historic—”

“—bloodstains,” she finished. “We know.”

Silence fell again.

“Okay… I’ll put them all on sale and divide the money transfers equally between you both, as the family statement declared: fifty-fifty.” Mr. Crowe adjusted the papers in front of him. “There is… one additional matter.”

He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a single envelope.

Pink-colored. Heavy paper. Sealed.

He placed it gently on the table — closer to Dominique.

“This was left with explicit instructions,” he said. “To be delivered to you.”

Dominique stared at it.

Slowly, she reached out and picked it up, fingers brushing the edge like it might burn.

Tech watched. Completely still.

“And?” Dominique asked lightly. “Is there one for my brother too, or is this a solo performance?”

Mr. Crowe’s eyes flicked to Tech, then away. “No… Your father only left that one. For you.”

The words landed harder than expected.

Tech’s jaw tightened. He didn’t speak. Then he smiled in silence while sipping his drink.

She slid it into her pocket without opening it.

Mr. Crowe cleared his throat again. “If you’ll sign these preliminary documents and leave them with Mr. Vale, I’ll be sure to take care of everything from now on. You probably know this, but this is Umbra’s ruler’s house. It’s been part of the Velarics for many years now, but… if neither of you intends to run for government, you’ll need to empty this place and leave it ready for whoever might come next.”

“Whatever,” Dominique said.

“Sure,” Tech added. “Later.”

Mr. Crowe nodded, relieved to retreat into legality.

Breakfast continued in silence. The letter waited. And whatever it held — duty, expectation, or nothing at all — was already doing its work.

♥︎

The lawyer gathered his papers with visible relief.

“Here are the preliminary documents,” Mr. Crowe said, standing, handing the stack of papers to Mr. Vale.

“Thrilling.” Dominique blew a kiss his way in a theatrical way. “Bye.”

“This could have been an email, Mr. Crowe,” Tech added, waving him goodbye, no looking at him at all.

Mr. Crowe didn’t linger. His footsteps faded quickly, like a man grateful to escape a house that remembered too much. “They are a childish version of their parents… less cruel, at least”. He murmured that to himself on his way out. 

Dominique waited until the door closed before turning to Tech.

“So,” she said, forcing lightness into her voice. “About the letter—”

“I don’t care,” Tech cut in immediately.

She blinked. “You don’t even know what it says.”

“Yes, and I would like to keep it that way.”

Dominique leaned forward, palms pressing into the table. “Tech, listen to me. It’s probably just—”

“Just what?” he snapped, finally looking at her. “Instructions? Another list of things you’re good for?”

Her voice rose. “You think I wanted this?”

“Here we go again…” he replied flatly. “You got it. You got something. That’s what matters.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it!”

“I don’t care.”

Dominique stood so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. “You’re being an ass.”

Tech’s mouth curved into something sharp. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you think you understand me… You’re starting to sound like Mom. Loud and hysterical whenever you don’t get exactly what you want. How amusing — the power of genes, I mean.”

The air thickened.

“You rat… And… you— you sound just like him.”

“Look at that! Almost a comeback… I guess you’re right, though. The blood’s thick? How was the proverb?”

“Enough.”

Mr. Vale’s voice cut cleanly through the room.

He had left them for a moment to walk Mr. Crowe to the door and returned without announcement, standing near the doorway, expression unchanged.

“This conversation ends here,” he said calmly. “Appearances must be maintained.”

Dominique turned on him. “Excuse me?”

“You will not argue in shared spaces,” Mr. Vale continued.

“There’s nothing to argue about, so that’s perfect,” Tech said, looking away.

Mr. Vale adjusted his cuffs. “You will return to your rooms. Separately. I will bring the documents to be signed when they are ready and notify you of the next scheduled engagement.”

Dominique laughed, brittle. “Afraid we’ll kill each other?”

Mr. Vale met her gaze evenly. “I don’t trust anyone in this house. The staff has been… replaced,” he added. “Some remain. Many are new. This is no longer a private residence.” A pause. “Given recent events, caution is advised.”

“Recent events? You mean the massacre?” Tech joked.

Mr. Vale gestured toward the hall. “Please.”

“We are not kids. We do not need to follow your commands. Quite the opposite — you work for us,” Tech said, looking at him while standing from the table and walking away anyway.

Dominique hesitated, then turned sharply and left, heels striking the floor like punctuation.

Mr. Vale sighed and watched them disappear down opposite corridors.

Then he turned and began issuing orders. 

♥︎

The hours passed. They signed papers and were called to get ready for the interview with the journalist Axis mentioned. 

They both arrived at the same time. The tea room. 

This is where they died, Tech thought and kept it for himself. 

Dominique had changed again — softer fabrics this time, dark red silk layered with black, jewelry minimal but deliberate. Armor disguised as elegance. She opened the door and glanced around once, then took a seat without comment.

Tech entered moments later, stopping just inside the threshold.

His gaze lingered on the table longer than necessary before he moved to the opposite side and sat. 

They didn’t speak.

Footsteps approached.

A woman entered the room alone.

She was tall, composed, dressed in neutral tones that somehow still felt expensive. Silver hair pulled back neatly, expression polite without warmth. Her skin was dark as chocolate and her eyes, bloody-red, lingered just a fraction too long on each of them — not curiosity, but assessment.

“The Velaric twins,” she said smoothly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”

Dominique smiled, all surface. “We didn’t!”

The woman inclined her head. “Fair.”

She took the remaining seat and set a small recorder on the table — deliberately switched off.

“I’m Mina Aisawa,” she said. “Independent correspondent.”

Tech raised an eyebrow. “Uhm.”

“Yes?”

“That’s not a thing anymore.”

Mina smiled faintly. “Not officially.”

M1-N4. Tech’s brain connected the dots automatically. 

“I don't know what you are talking about…” Dominique said lightly, crossing one leg over the other. “What exactly are we doing here? Can we get it done fast?”

Mina folded her hands. “You’re declining power.”

Dominique laughed. “That’s a bold headline. I like it!”

“I already wrote the article with the statements you shared,” Mina replied. “I just need you to confirm it.”

Tech finally looked at her. “We’re not devastated.”

Mina met his gaze evenly. “You don’t need to be. The public only needs to believe you are.”

Dominique’s smile sharpened. “We’re also not interested in ruling Umbra.”

“I know…”  Mina said calmly.

“How could you possibly know?” Dominique barked, a bit infuriated with the journalist's air of superiority. 

“I just know. So… You grew up,” Mina continued, unbothered. “You saw what power did to your family. You’re choosing distance over repetition. Very respectable. Very believable.”

Tech tilted his head. “You’re putting a lot of words in our mouths.”

“Yes,” Mina agreed. “And I’ll make them sound better than anything you’d come up with yourselves.”

Dominique leaned forward. “And what do we get?”

Mina’s eyes flicked briefly to the door, then back to them. “Time. Cover. And silence where you need it.”

A beat.

Then, softer: “La Paz prefers it that way.”

Tech’s posture shifted subtly. Dominique’s gaze sharpened, the playfulness draining from it.

“La Paz?” Dominique repeated. “I don’t know what is.”

And then, Tech decided to tell it out loud. “M1-N4”. 

“Reporting to duty.” The vampire smiled wide. 

Jeda’s intel structure demanded that none of their assets could ever introduce themselves, at least that someone called their code-name. Of course, they had layers and layers of different security measures, but here, Mina knew exactly who she was dealing with and extra carefulness wasn’t needed. 

Mina smiled at the twins — this time real. “Send Axis a kiss for me, please.”

Dominique exhaled slowly, finally understanding what Tech and Mina had been mumbling about. She felt a bit stupid but she tried to hide it. “Sure. On the mouth?”

Mina laughed and reached into her coat and slid two slim datapads across the table.

“Two stories,” she said. “Choose one. Or neither. I’ll publish them regardless.”

Dominique picked hers up first.

She scanned the text, brows knitting — then lifting in surprise.

“This is…” She paused. “Good.”

“It's better than good,” Mina said. 

Tech read his own in silence.

“They think I’m grieving privately,” he said finally.

“Well, for the narrative… you are,” Mina replied simply.

He didn’t argue.

Mina tapped the recorder once, then stood. “I’ll file this within the hour. Will be published tomorrow, probably. No follow-ups. No images. You’ll be left alone.”

She hesitated, then placed a folded slip of paper on the table.

“This isn’t for publication,” she added. “It’s for Jeda.”

Dominique didn’t touch it. Tech did.

His eyes skimmed the note, jaw tightening.

“Three major families,” he read quietly. “Positioning. Quiet funding. No public declarations yet.”

“Everything is slow,” Mina said. “And very dangerous.” 

She turned toward the door.

“Umbra doesn’t rush its wars,” she added over her shoulder. “It lets them rot first. Please, tell J1 to avoid contact for the following weeks. All I got is in that letter and I’ll place some other hints in today’s publication. That 's all.”

Then she was gone. The tea room fell silent again.

Dominique leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Well.”

Tech folded the note carefully. “We’re officially Umbra’s orphans.” He repeated one of the lines he read in Mina’s draft. 

She laughed softly. “I hate how good she is.”

He stood. “That was easier and faster than I thought.”

They left the room together. 

♥︎

Dinner was served at exactly eight. No one announced it. No bell rang. The staff simply appeared, set the table, and withdrew with the same efficient silence that had followed the Velarics for generations.

Dominique had changed again, her hair loosely tied back. Not armor this time. Something closer to fatigue. She took her seat without comment, eyes lingering on the empty place across from her.

Tech arrived a minute later.

He didn’t look at her. He sat, unfolded his napkin, and stared at the plate as if it were an equation he didn’t feel like solving.

Plates were placed. Wine poured. No one spoke. The food was excellent. It always had been.

“So…” she said lightly—too lightly.

“What is it with your need to always be talking?” Tech said, cutting into his food.

Her jaw tightened. She ignored him completely. “You read the article.”

“Yes, Dominique. Of course I read the fucking article. I was there with you. Same place. Less than two hours ago.” He didn’t look up from his plate. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something? You can’t get more stupid than this.”

Her fork stopped midair. Slowly, she set it down.

“Wow,” she said, smiling. “That was fast. New record, or did you warm up on someone else before arriving at dinner?”

Tech took a sip of wine, unbothered. “I’m just wondering how you function when you insist on narrating everything out loud.”

She leaned back in her chair. “How does Sami even work with you without falling asleep?”

I don’t know. I don’t know how she stands me at all. “You always do this,” he said. “Turn everything into noise so you don’t have to use your little brain.”

Her laugh snapped through the room. “And you always do this. Act like you’re above it all. Like nothing touches you.”

“It doesn’t,” he replied calmly. “Also, try to say something original for once. You can’t keep repeating what I say and expect it to hurt me. Come on. You can do it. I’ll give you more time so you don’t feel rushed.”

She leaned forward, palms flat on the table. “You’re really pissed about the letter, uh?”

“What letter?” he asked lightly.

“The one you didn’t,” she said, sweetness sharpened to a blade. “The one you didn’t get and I did.”

“Oh,” he said. “That letter. I completely forgot about it.”

“Pfff. You’re the one bleeding all over the table,” she shot back.

“I really hate blood metaphors,” he muttered. “They’re not original at all.”

“It must have hurt, though,” she said lightly, tearing a piece of bread.

“Enlighten me,” he said, finally looking at her. “What must have hurt me so much?”

She tilted her head. “Even when dead, they still picked me.”

His jaw tightened. “You didn’t even open it.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You don’t know what it says.”

“I know it exists,” she snapped. “Which is more than you got.”

He leaned back, fingers steepled, voice perfectly even. “Congratulations. You were acknowledged.”

Her smile widened. “Acknowledged. Loved. Chosen.”

“You really believe that,” he said. “That they loved you.”

“They needed me,” she shot back. “They wanted me.”

He laughed softly and raised his glass. “Cheers to you! The beloved child.”

She stood abruptly, chair scraping. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m honest. You’re just not used to it.”

Her voice rose, sharp and ugly. “You’re jealous.”

“Of what?” he asked mildly. “Of being groomed by ghosts?”

“Of mattering!”, she screamed.

“That’s rich,” he said. “Coming from the only child they ever bothered shaping. Of course you mattered, that’s very clear.”

She laughed, loud and brittle. “You mean the only child they didn’t discard.”

“They didn’t discard me,” he said coolly. “They never picked me up in the first place.”

She leaned across the table. “And yet here you are. Crying over a piece of paper.”

“I’m not crying. You started this, Dominique. I’m just replying to you because we are sitting on the same table.”

“You’re furious,” she snapped. “Because even in death, they remembered my name.”

“Oh, here we go with the name thing. I know they never called me by my name, you remember that, too? Good, I thought I was exaggerating that memory.” He paused for a second. “But they remembered your function, that’s all”, he corrected. “And you’re stupid enough to confuse the two.”

Her hand trembled.

“I’m not stupid, don’t call me stupid,” she said, barely containing her tears. “You sound just like him. Same voice. Same tone. Same way of making everyone feel small so you don’t have to admit you’re hurt.”

“And you sound just like her,” he replied without hesitation. “Loud. Mean. Flailing. Always grabbing for the weakest point and digging your nails in.”

Her breath hitched, and the tears finally fell. “I’m not like her. Do not say that ever again. Do not compare me to her ever again.”

“How dramatic,” he said coolly. “This conversation doesn’t even make sense anymore. You —the precious child, are fighting me —the one who received nothing. Not in life, not post-mortem. Why are you doing this? You won. Cut it.”

Dominique went very still.

“So that’s it,” he said softly. “You win. Again. I can picture it, you know? The memory of us dining here. You being the chosen one.” His voice remained calm, almost bored. “They never—not once— acknowledged me. Giving me a piece of desert, not naming myself outloud, letting me drop school and move away while I was still a child. They didn’t care about me at all.” A pause. “Anyway. This is what you wanted, right? To be the only Velaric that mattered. Even now.”

She stared at him, chest heaving.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he replied. “I’m the smart one, remember? I can put the pieces together.”

Dominique laughed once—broken—and turned away.

“Enjoy the quiet,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m sure it feels just like home.”

Her footsteps echoed down the corridor, fast and uneven.

Tech stayed seated. He didn’t touch his food again.

And the house, faithful as ever, kept every word.

♥︎

Dominique didn’t stop running until she reached her room.

She closed the door behind her and leaned her forehead against it, breath shallow, chest tight, the echo of Tech’s words still scraping inside her ribs. 

She crossed the room.

The letter waited on the desk where she had left it. Still sealed. Still heavier than it had any right to be.

She stared at it longer than she wanted to admit.

Then she opened it.

No flourish. No scent. No handwriting she recognized as affectionate.

Just clean lines. Formal language. Titles. Instructions.

Acknowledgment of succession. Clarification of responsibility. A reminder of appearances. A final directive to uphold the dignity of the Velaric name. A list of names: guards, staff, political connections, a list of suitors.

No apology.

No regret.

No Dominique — just Duchess.

She read it once.

Then again.

Her hands began to shake.

“So that’s it,” she whispered to the empty room. “That’s all you had for me.”

The shame came next — sharp and sudden.

Shame for having expected something more.Shame for having used it against Tech.Shame for the relief that at least there had been something.

Her throat tightened.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not knowing who she meant it for.

She folded the letter carefully, as if that could undo its contents, and stood. Tears couldn’t stop running. But there, she understood. I’m sorry. And she could only think about one person who deserved the words. 

She started walking and opened the door abruptly. 

And Tech stood outside her door, fist raised, frozen mid-knock.

He hadn’t meant to come here. Not at first. He’d sat alone in the dining room until the house had felt too big, too quiet, until the silence had started to sound like agreement.

He told himself he just needed to say one thing.

One sentence. Something sharp. Something final.

Instead, he stood there, pulse loud in his ears, suddenly unsure what words were for.

They stared at each other.

Dominique’s eyes were red. Not theatrical. Not loud. Just tired and wet. 

Tech’s mouth opened.

“Dom, I—”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

It knocked the air out of his lungs.

For a second, he stood stiff and startled, hands hovering uselessly at his sides. Then his shoulders sagged, and he held her back — tightly, desperately, like he never hugged no one before.

“I read it,” she said into his shoulder. Her voice broke on the last word. “It’s awful.”

He didn’t ask how.

“I’m sorry,” she added. “For earlier. For everything I said.”

“Me too.” He swallowed. “I mean, I’m sorry too… for earlier and for leaving you in this horrible house alone.”

They stayed like that, unmoving, the world reduced to shared breath and the faint hum of the house around them.

Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him.

“It wasn’t love,” she said quietly. “It was just… duty. Even at the end.”

He nodded once. “That tracks.”

A silence followed — softer than the others had been.

“Come in,” she said finally. And he did.

They sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders touching. No grand reconciliation. No explanations. Just the quiet relief of not being alone in it anymore. The room smelled faintly of bubblegum — a softness that didn’t exist anywhere else in the mansion.

Dominique placed the letter on the bedside table, face down. They didn’t look at it again.

For a while, they just sat there, listening to the quiet hum of the house settling around them.

“This room always felt safer,” Tech said eventually, voice low. “I don’t know why.”

Dominique blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “It was louder. Messier. Less… controlled.”

She smiled faintly. “They hated that.”

“You bet.”

She shifted, pulling her legs up onto the bedframe, sitting cross-legged like she used to as a kid. After a second, Tech did the same, mirroring her without comment.

“I helped her kill them.” Tech said, plainly. “And I don’t regret it one bit. Does that make me a monster?”

Dominique didn’t look at him. “I don’t know… But I knew she was going to do it. I gave her my blessing to do it. So, that makes me a monster, too, I guess”. 

“We turned out pretty okay despite it all”, Tech joked and the silence that followed felt heavy, like they were finally understanding what had happened. 

“Not everything was horrible. Do you remember the crystal fruits?” she asked suddenly, breaking the seriousness that pressed upon them. “The ones wrapped in sugar glass?”

He tilted his head. “Of course.”

“I loved those,” she said. “They only showed up once in a while. The servants snuck them in when Mom wasn’t looking. That was a good memory.”

Tech hesitated.

“…It wasn’t the servants.”

She turned to him. “Uh?”

“I did it,” he said simply. “They weren’t allowed. She was very clear about sugar.”

Dominique stared.

“I used to wake up earlier,” he continued, eyes on his hands. “Took a few from the inner yard trees. Put them in your lunch bag before anyone else came in. I couldn't do it often, otherwise they would’ve noticed.”

Her throat tightened. “You joking.”

“Why would I joke about this? It's not even a fun joke.”

She laughed softly, disbelieving. “Now that I think about it… I always heard footsteps. Really early. I thought it was just you pacing again.”

“I was,” he said. “Just… with a purpose.”

She leaned into him without thinking, her shoulder pressing fully against his arm.

“I used to save the pink ones,” she murmured. “Those were my favorite.”

“Yep. I know.”

She went still. Then smiled — small, real.

“I could always hear you at night, too,” she said. “When you were inventing things. The tiny clicks. The humming. I knew if you were awake, I wasn’t alone. I felt horrible when you left, but at the same time I was so jealous and so happy you got the chance to leave. Thank the spirits you left, otherwise none of what happened next would have actually happened.”

Dominique shifted again, this time curling slightly toward him, her arm sliding around his waist like it had always belonged there. He stiffened for a heartbeat — then relaxed, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

“You Dummy…” His grip tightened just a little.

They talked like that for a while — half-memories, unfinished thoughts, small moments that suddenly made sense when placed side by side. No apologies. No accusations. Just presence.

At some point, Dominique lay back against the pillows, tugging him down with her. They ended up tangled awkwardly, limbs overlapping, familiar in a way they hadn’t allowed themselves to be in years. Many years. 

She tucked her face into his shoulder. He rested his chin lightly against her hair. Their voices softened, then faded altogether.

They fell asleep like that — holding on without realizing when it had happened.

For the first time since arriving, it didn’t feel like a tomb.

Just a room. And two kids who had never really been alone.

♥︎

Morning arrived without ceremony.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin, patient lines, landing first on the floor, then climbing slowly up the walls. This house did not announce the day. It never did. It simply allowed it.

Dominique woke up tangled in blankets that were not hers alone. She shifted, felt a familiar weight beside her, and laughed. Quietly at first, then louder, burying her face into the pillow to keep the sound from bouncing off the walls.

Tech stirred, groggy and confused, eyes squinting against the light.

“What,” he muttered, “is wrong with you.”

She rolled onto her back, still smiling. “A lot!! You should know that already.”

He frowned, then followed her gaze — the morning light, the open room, the fact that neither of them had run away in the middle of the night and how they finally started healing from a lifetime of accumulated traumas.

A corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.

They stayed there longer than necessary, trading small, pointless comments. Complaints about the bed. About how stiff their necks were. About how impossible it was to sleep properly in that house. The kind of conversation that didn’t need memory or courage. 

Eventually, they got up.

The rest of the day unfolded like an assignment disguised as mercy. There were no meetings. No schedules pinned to doors. No formal summons.

Instead, Mr. Vale appeared mid-morning with a list: Short. Precise. Relentless.

Rooms to be emptied. Personal belongings to be sorted. Items to be discarded, archived, or donated. Nothing sentimental was labeled as such. Everything was an object. A task.

Axis’s hand was all over it, even from afar.

Dominique took charge of the closets. Tech tackled the storage rooms. They worked separately, then together, then apart again — falling into a rhythm that felt strangely familiar. Not efficient, exactly. But cooperative.

Some things were thrown away without a second glance.

Others slowed them down.

A broken watch. A book with notes scribbled in the margins. An old scarf that still smelled faintly of expensive smoke and something bitter underneath.

They didn’t talk much while they worked.

By early afternoon, the mansion looked… hollow. Not empty, on the contrary, it felt lighter. As if it had finally exhaled.

Late lunch was served in the smaller dining room, the service one. 

The old staff members gathered around the table with them — the ones who had stayed, the ones who remembered their childhood voices echoing down the halls. It wasn’t formal at all. 

Someone laughed when Dominique spilled water. Someone else passed Tech a dish without asking.

Mr. Vale stood apart, as always.

He observed. Took notes. Gave instructions when necessary. When the meal ended, he approached them with the same measured composure he always wore.

“The transport is ready,” he said. “Departure is scheduled in an hour.”

Dominique nodded. “Yes, sir!”. She did it with a mocking tone. 

Tech adjusted his jacket. “Anything else?”

Mr. Vale hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.

“The rest will be handled,” he said finally. “You won’t need to concern yourselves with it any further.”

Dominique studied him. “You’ve already started erasing us.”

“It was your choice to begin with. And following your decisions, that is my duty,” he replied.

She smiled — for a second. “Puaj.”

They didn’t hug him. Family of some sort that never felt right.

By nightfall, the twins returned home. The real one.

La Paz greeted them with warm air, even in winter, open space, and the unmistakable sensation of being watched by people who actually cared whether they arrived or not.

Warm light spilled from the city below, scattered and alive, nothing symmetrical about it. Movement everywhere. Voices. Purpose.

Two big figures waited at the edge of the platform.

Jeda stood with his hands on his hips, posture loose but alert, eyes tracking the transport doors like he expected trouble to crawl out first. An unlit cigarette hung at the edge of his mouth. Beside him, Axis stood still, arms crossed, expression unreadable — the kind of stillness that meant he’d already run every scenario twice.

The doors opened.

Dominique stepped out first.

Tech followed — coat slung over one shoulder, tablet absent, posture tired but… lighter. Different.

Jeda straightened. Axis’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Welcome back,” Jeda said, smile already forming. “You both look—”

Dominique didn’t let him finish. She turned, grabbed Tech by the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a hard, full-body hug.

No warning. No theatrics. Just arms locked tight, forehead pressing briefly against his.

“Brief them for me,” she said quickly, voice low but clear. “Pretty pleeeease?”

Then she pulled back, squeezed his arm once — once — and smiled.

“Thanks!!! Bye-byeee.” 

Jeda blinked.

Axis blinked.

They both froze like someone had just changed the laws of physics.

“—Wait, what?” Jeda said.

Dominique was already moving, hopping down the steps two at a time.

“I need to run!” she called over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow. Don’t let him scare you! He’s nicer now!!”

She was gone before anyone could respond, already pulling her phone from her pocket.

Jeda slowly turned his head toward Tech.

“…Did she just hug you?”

Axis didn’t look away from Tech. “And ask politely?”

Tech exhaled — then laughed.

Not a sharp breath. Not a scoff.

A real laugh.

“Did you just… laugh?” Jeda opened his eyes even more. 

“I need a cig, now”, Axis relaxed his whole body from duty in a second while placing an open hand to Jeda. 

“Yes and yes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And she left me to do all the work by myself. Brat.”

Jeda stared. “She asked you for a favor.”

“And you agreed,” Axis added lightly. “That alone tells me this trip went very well,” he said.

Tech shrugged. “Depends on your definition of well.”

He stepped forward, gesturing toward the city.

“Come on. Let’s debrief before she does something stupid like adopt another Fenroth.”

Jeda snorted despite himself and shocked his head. “I can’t with this version of you, Tech. I refuse. Go back to the labs and ignore us all.”

“Shut up. We need to take advantage of this. We don’t know how much it will last”, Axis fell into step beside Tech, who was already moving, while pulling Jeda by the arm. 

Axis took the lead without announcing it, cutting through corridors and stairwells that were already half-asleep at this hour. A couple guards saluted. Someone called Jeda’s name from across a balcony. Jeda waved without slowing down, eyes still occasionally flicking at Tech like he expected to change his mind and disappear at any moment.

Tech walked like he already belonged there again.

Jeda’s office sat tucked into the Command Tower’s inner ring, first floor — not grand, not decorative, just functional. Maps on the wall. A drawing by Risha next to them. A desk that had never once been dirty. Two chairs that had witnessed too many arguments. The air smelled faintly of ink and the kind of coffee you drank when you’d given up on joy. And cigarettes, of course. 

Axis pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting Tech enter first.

Jeda closed it behind them and immediately leaned back against it, arms folding. “Alright,” he said. “Talk.”

Tech didn’t sit. He tossed his coat over the back of a chair like he was throwing away the last twentyfour hours, then looked at the desk.

“You have anything to write with?” he asked.

Axis, already moving, slid a pen across the desk. Jeda raised an eyebrow. “He’s serious.”

Tech took the pen, flipped a blank page on a notepad, and wrote three numbers down.

1.2.3.

Then he looked up. His expression had settled into something clean and professional. The humor was still there—buried under a layer of steel.

“Okay,” he said. “First. The mansion is being shut down.”

Jeda’s face shifted. Axis’s eyes sharpened.

“Not ‘we’re leaving for now’ shut down,” Tech clarified. “I mean: emptied. Staff replaced. Old ones kept at a distance. Paperwork done. Properties are going on sale.”

Jeda straightened. “All of them?”

“All of them,” Tech confirmed. “Crowe, a plain lawyer, handled the legality. Fifty-fifty transfer. Fast. Efficient. Like they were trying to get us out of the story as quickly as possible.”

Axis’s mouth twitched. “Good.”

Tech tapped the 1 on the paper. “We left Bloodspire with the house lighter than it’s been in decades. It’s no longer a base for anything. No traces of her nor what she did.”

Jeda watched him carefully. “And that Mr. Vale? Did he demand something?”

Tech’s eyes flicked away for a fraction. “Ha. No. He’s still there. Still… himself. He’s the one making it happen. Like it’s been waiting for orders for years. Don’t know what's going to do next. We should keep an eye on him.”

Axis made a quiet sound through his nose that could’ve been agreement or disgust. 

Tech tapped the 2.

“Second,” he continued. “Mina.”

Jeda’s expression changed instantly — like the name flipped a switch in his brain. “M1-N4.”

“Yeah,” Tech said. “She was on-site. Alone. No recorder. No pictures. No follow-up.”

Axis leaned a hip against the wall, arms crossing again, but looser now. “She filed?”

“Within the hour,” Tech said. “She came with two versions. We didn’t need to improvise anything — she’d already written the narrative.”

Jeda snorted once, half admiration. “She’s good.”

“She published the one that makes us look like grieving orphans who want nothing to do with Umbra’s throne out of fear,” Tech went on, deadpan. “It’s convincing. It’ll buy us time.”

“Publised already?” Axis asked.

“About to; she worked fast,” Tech replied. “You should give her a raise.”

Jeda’s gaze sharpened. “Send it to me.”

“You’ll see it in a minute,” Tech said. “I’m guessing she timed it so it hits the morning cycle.”

Axis nodded, satisfied. “I’ll make sure to give her something more than a raise.”

“Do whatever”, Tech rolled his eyes. He did not care about personal affairs. Then he tapped the 3.

“Third,” he said. And the tone changed again — not heavier, just sharper.

“She left you a note.”

Tech reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. The fold was precise, like Mina had measured it with a ruler. He didn’t hand it immediately. He held it between two fingers, like it could cut.

“She said it’s not for publication,” Tech said. “It’s for you.”

Jeda’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And she wants no contact,” Tech replied. “For the next weeks. Her words.”

Jeda held his hand out. “Tech.”

Tech finally handed it over.

Jeda unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning. His jaw tightened almost immediately.

Axis watched his face instead of the paper, reading the reaction like a report.

“Three major families will run for government," Jeda murmured, voice low. “No names yet, tho. They are still positioning. Quiet funding. No declarations.” He looked up. “This is Umbra setting a table.”

“Luckily, Mina’s sitting close to it.” Axis exhaled. “She’s warning us for a reason.”

Jeda refolded the note and set it on the desk like it was evidence.

“She said to avoid contact,” Tech repeated, making sure it landed. “No check-ins. No ‘are you safe.’ No little romantic spy games.”

Axis raised his hand slightly, as if in surrender. “I’ll miss her.”

Jeda shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

Axis’s mouth curved. “It’s not fair. You can all have your jokes and lovers but I can’t check on an old friend. Bastards.”

Tech leaned forward slightly, palms on the desk now. “Anyway… She’ll place additional hints in the publication. That’s the only channel she’s offering right now.”

Jeda stared at the note again, then at Tech. “Did she say why?”

Tech’s expression went flat, he shocked his head.

A silence stretched —  and Axis broke it first. “So: mansion closed, public narrative set, asset in the field going dark.”

Jeda nodded once. “And Dominique?”

Tech’s mouth pulled into the faintest, reluctant curve. “Already sprinting toward trouble.”

Axis glanced at Jeda. “Which direction is trouble today?”

Jeda sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Medical wing.”

Tech hummed. “I’m out.”

♥︎

The call connected on the second ring.

“—Dom?”

“I’m back,” Dominique said, breathless. “Where are you?”

There was a pause — the soft rustle of fabric, a chair scraping back.

“My room,” Eloise said. “I was—”

“I’m coming,” Dominique cut in. “Don’t move.”

She hung up before Eloise could respond and broke into a run.

La Paz blurred around her — lights, voices, stairwells — none of it registering.

Eloise barely had time to set her phone down. The door flew open.

Dominique stood there, hair half-fallen loose, cheeks flushed, eyes bright in a way that made Eloise’s breath catch.

“Hi, you,” Dominique said and crossed the room in three steps and kissed her.

Not gentle. Not careful. Eloise’s hands fisted in Dominique’s coat, pulling her in like she was afraid she’d disappear again if she didn’t anchor her physically to the floor.

Eloise made a small, startled sound — then melted into it, kissing back just as fiercely. Dominique arms wrapping tight around Eloise’s waist.

They collided with the door as it shut behind them.

Eloise kissed her again. And again. Mouth warm, insistent, grounding. Like she was checking — you’re real, you’re here, you’re alive — with every press of her lips. The mission itself wasn’t dangerous at all, but there was something about not being able to be there with her that kept Eloise on edge since the moment Dominique left La Paz. 

Dominique laughed into the kiss, breath shaking. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Eloise murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the soft skin just under her ear. “I missed you too.”

Dominique’s hands slid up Eloise’s back, holding her like she needed the pressure to stay upright. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breathing in sync.

Eloise cupped Dominique’s face, thumbs brushing under her eyes. “You look… lighter.”

Dominique swallowed. “I feel different.”

“Good different?”

“Terrifying different,” she said honestly. Then smiled. “But good.”

Eloise kissed her again, slower this time — softer, but no less sure.

They drifted toward the bed without talking, sinking down side by side, knees touching, hands still tangled like letting go wasn’t an option yet.

Dominique leaned back on her palms, staring at the ceiling for a second. Then she turned her head toward Eloise.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she said quietly.

Eloise didn’t ask where there was.

“I closed it,” Dominique continued. “The house. The expectations. All of it. Bloodspire, the estates… everything that was supposed to define me.” A pause. “It doesn’t feel like running anymore.”

Eloise listened. She always did.

Dominique’s voice softened. “I don’t want to carry it alone anymore, either.”

Eloise’s fingers threaded through hers, grounding and warm. “You don’t have to.”

Dominique turned fully toward her now. Her red cherry eyes were vulnerable, sincere.

“Can I…,” she hesitated — rare, almost awkward. Then pushed through it. “Would you move in with me?”

The words landed between them — not desperate, not rushed. Just open.

Eloise’s breath caught. She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she leaned in and kissed Dominique again — long and steady, like a promise that didn’t need immediate wording.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against Dominique’s.

“Let’s talk about it,” Eloise said softly.

Dominique nodded, relief loosening something tight in her chest. “Okay…” she said. “You go and think about it. That’s enough for today.”

Eloise smiled, brushing her thumb along Dominique’s cheek. “You did a lot today.”

Dominique huffed a quiet laugh and leaned into her, head dropping against Eloise’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I think I did.”

They stayed like that — tangled, quiet, breathing each other in — while La Paz continued moving outside the room. Dominique didn’t feel like the past was waiting for her to turn around.

♥︎

Tech left Jeda’s office alone.

The corridor outside felt too open. Too warm even in January. Dinner time. Voices echoed from somewhere below — laughter, footsteps, life continuing at a pace that didn’t wait for internal recalibration.

He walked anyway. His room was exactly as he’d left. Untouched. Like him. 

Clean. Neutral. Efficient. No clutter. No personality. A space designed to be occupied, not lived in.

He stood there for a moment, door still open behind him, and felt the familiar irritation crawl up his spine.

Still wrong, he thought. Of course it is. You don’t get new results by refusing to alter the equation.  That was a basic principle. 

He shut the door harder than necessary and crossed the room in long strides, already undoing his shirt. The bathroom light flicked on. Cold tile. White walls. Steam began to rise as soon as the water hit.

He stepped under the spray and let it burn.

Water ran down his face, his shoulders, his back — washing off Bloodspire dust that wasn’t actually there. Washing off silence. Unwritten letters. A house that refused to die quietly even when it never said a word towards him.

He braced one hand against the tile and tilted his head forward, water pounding the back of his neck.

I did everything right, he thought, not for the first time. I got the best notes. I worked hard. I left. I built something better. I didn’t look back. 

And still — standing in this room, in this city that was supposed to be home — his skin felt too tight.

This space wasn’t wrong because it was bad.

It was wrong because it was empty. Because it expected him to rest. Because it didn’t demand anything from him.

He shut the water off abruptly, grabbed a towel, dried off without care. Dressed faster than necessary. Didn’t sit. Didn’t look at the bed.

Midnight ticked past unnoticed. He left the room. The decision wasn’t conscious; it was routine.

The lab lights were off when he arrived — low-power glow, machines humming softly like they’d been waiting for his return. The smell hit him immediately: metal, oil, ozone, familiarity.

His shoulders dropped a fraction.

There you are.

He powered up his station, screens blooming to life. Fingers moved on instinct, pulling logs, cross-checking diagnostics, scanning nothing urgent at all. Just… being here.

He didn’t hear the door. As usual, he was only focused on what he had in front of him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tech froze. Not because of the voice — because of the tone.

He turned slowly.

Sami stood in the doorway, arms crossed, hair loose, already in her pajamas. Eyes so sharp and blazing in a way that meant she hadn’t come here by accident.

“Hey,” he said mildly. 

Her stare could have cut him in half.

“Reply, genius. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? This is my lab, Velmore”. 

“You disappeared,” she said, voice tight, controlled. “You go completely dark. No message. No explanation. No ‘hey Sami, I’m about to go deal with a nightmare inheritance and unresolved trauma.’ Just — gone. And I find you here — past midnight — like nothing happened?”

He shrugged. “... It was less than two days.”

She stared at him like she might actually kill him.

“Unbelievable,” she snapped, striding in and slamming the door shut behind her. “You don’t get to do that. Not anymore. And definitely not again.”

Something in his chest twisted. And, infuriatingly — warmed.

Oh, demons. She’s angry, his brain supplied. She cares? I feel so good I can’t handle it.

“So?” she continued, jabbing a finger at his chest. 

“Sorry I didn’t—”

“No,” she cut him off. “We are way past that. Tell me how it went.”

He leaned back against the table, arms crossing, posture deliberately relaxed. “I came back alive.”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“It was okay. I’m okay”. 

His voice echoed in the lab. Machines hummed on, unbothered.

“You don’t get to decide on your own when people worry or not about you,” she said. “Especially not me.”

There it was. The heat. The pressure. The pull. Spirits, I love this.

Not the anger — the claim underneath it.

He smiled before he could stop himself and she noticed instantly.

“Oh no,” Sami said flatly. “Do not smile at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you’re enjoying this.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I might be,” he admitted. “A little.”

She stared. Then scoffed. “You’re really broken, uh?”

He laughed but didn’t say anything else. 

She took another step closer. “Tell me how you are, for real.” The words were quieter. Sharper.

“I was okay, then I was horrible and now… I’m better,” he said — it wasn’t deflection.

She studied his face, searching for the lie. Didn’t find it.

“What a vague, shitty response,” she said, voice low.

Tech almost smiled again — caught himself just in time. Don’t, he thought. If you smile again she’ll either leave or hit you. Both would be bad.

“You asked how I was,” he said instead. “Not for a report.”

Sami watched him. Not like before — not sharp, not angry. This was different. This was her deciding whether to push… or pivot.

He’s done talking, she realized. That wasn’t deflection. That was a boundary.

It irritated her. It also relieved her.

“Fine,” she said at last, turning away like she didn’t care. Like this was her choice. She moved deeper into the lab, fingers brushing the edge of a table, grounding herself in the familiar hum of machines. “I won’t pry.”

Liar, she thought immediately. You just won’t pry there.

Tech tracked her movement without meaning to. 

The lab knew how to hold silence. It had been built for it.

Sami leaned back against Tech’s desk, arms crossed again, eyes drifting over the screens he’d pulled up.

“You know,” she said casually, still not looking at him, “I’ve worked with you for years now.”

Tech exhaled through his nose. “Yes,” he said. Unfortunately for both of us.

“You trust me with things you don’t trust anyone else with,” she continued. “Infrastructure. Comms. Systems that would collapse the city if you screwed them up.”

She’s circling, he realized. This is not about the lab.

“I do,” he admitted.

She finally glanced sideways at him.

“I know how you think,” Sami said. “How you break problems apart. How you spiral. How you pretend you don’t.”

Stop, part of him warned. This is where you joke. This is where you deflect.

“And…?”

“But,” she added, quieter now, “I don’t know your name.”

Tech’s chest tightened. He opened his eyes wide, wide open. The level of surprise he didn’t manage to cover struck Sami’s instincts and surprised her, too. Why is he reacting so much to this stupid question?

Ah, he thought. The topic’s been around a lot these past few days; how did she know?

“That’s—” he started, instinct flaring. Irelevant. Old. Useless.

He stopped himself.

She waited as she always did — when it mattered.

“Well, you never asked,” he said instead. Coward, he added internally. True, but still a coward.

“I’m asking now.”

Sami finally turned fully toward him. If you don’t answer, she thought, I’ll let it go. And I will remember that you chose distance.

He saw the challenge and decided to avoid the impulse to hide inside the walls he deliberately built. 

“…Cedric”.

The name felt wrong in his mouth. Too exposed. Too young. 

Sami repeated it silently first.

Cedric, she tested. So that’s who you were before you built armor.

“Cedric,” she said aloud. “It suits you”. 

“Don’t use it.”

A beat passed.

“Why telling me then?” she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Because the truth was messy. Because it wasn’t logical.

Because you care? 

“Simply…” he said finally, “ because you asked.”

Sami’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

Idiot, she thought, annoyed — not at him. At herself. She smiled before she could stop it. Not sharp. Not teasing. Real.

“You want a midnight snack?", he asked. 

“Sure. I’ll stay a bit.”

Of course you will, she added internally. You were never leaving. Two days without you, we need to catch up. 

Something settled in Tech’s chest — not peace, not relief. Recognition. He realized. It was this. The scolding. The staying. The name spoken once and held carefully.

He turned back to the small bar they built inside the lab, hands moving — slower now, steadier.

Behind him, Sami uncrossed her arms and leaned back against the table, watching him pour water into two cups with tea bags.

♥︎