Chapter 3

Morning came slowly. The light leaking through the blinds painted pale gold lines across the floor, lighting up the dim apartment. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Somewhere between the aching stiffness in my spine from sleeping upright in the hallway and the constant hum of awareness that radiated from the couch across the room, I’d drifted in and out of a shallow, haunted kind of rest. The kind that made you more tired when you woke.

Kael hadn’t moved much. Not until the sun rose. I watched him stretch slowly, his shoulders rolling with a strength that looked practiced and instinctual. His armor was half off now, lying in pieces across the floor, dented and still caked in dried blood and dirt. He looked more human without it—still intimidating, but less like a walking threat. His undershirt clung to him, darkened by sweat, torn in places that revealed scars and muscle in equal measure. He sat upright and stared at the ceiling like it had betrayed him. I didn’t blame him.

“Careful,” I said from the hallway, sarcastically. “That’s a rental.”

He looked over slowly, brows drawing down in confusion. “Rental?”

“The ceiling. The apartment. Pretty much everything except the clothes I’m wearing—which, if you plan on sticking around, I hope you realize you’ll eventually need.”

He glanced down at his torn shirt, then at the pieces of armor he’d left scattered on the floor. “You sleep in your hallway,” he observed, voice flat.

“I do a lot of things I didn’t plan on. Thanks to you.”

He grunted—an acknowledgment, maybe. Or just his way of deciding that I wasn’t worth arguing with yet.

I moved toward the kitchen, wincing as my feet pressed against the cold tile. The coffee pot had already started on its automatic timer. For a moment, I was grateful for something normal. Something grounded in a world that made sense.

Behind me, Kael followed. Not cautiously. Not warily. Just… watching, always watching.

The scent of coffee filled the space between us. “This,” I said, pointing toward the machine, “is sacred. Don’t touch it, don’t threaten it, and don’t ask questions about it.”

Kael stared at the machine like it might bite him. The little red light blinked. Steam hissed from the spout. “You’re joking.”

“No,” I said, reaching for the nearest mug—a chipped one with a cartoon penguin. “I’m not.”

He looked over every appliance as if it were an artifact from a ruined temple. When the fridge rumbled to life, he stepped back fast, shoulders tight. I tried not to laugh, but the sound broke through anyway—dry and cracked but real. He turned slowly toward me, jaw clenched.

“It’s not going to attack you,” I said, barely holding back a second laugh. “It’s just a fridge. It hums. You’ll survive.”

“This place is unnatural.”

“Says the man who fell through my ceiling,” I grumbled under my breath.

His eyes narrowed. “Where I come from, walls don’t shake and objects don’t hum.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, taking a sip of coffee, “you’re in my world now.” I leaned against the counter, feeling the ceramic warm in my hands. The weight of the mug was comforting. The caffeine wouldn’t fix anything, but it might keep me from unraveling.

Kael moved closer to the toaster, eyeing it with open suspicion. His fingers twitched again. For his sword? For something he couldn’t reach? He didn’t say anything.

“That's called a toaster; it heats bread," I told him.

He shook his head once. Slowly. “It glows.”

“You glow,” I muttered. A beat passed. I looked up from my coffee, expecting a glare. Instead, his gaze was locked on mine, unnervingly so. The air changed again, like it was thicker. He stepped toward me, not fast, but not slow either.

“I don’t belong here,” he said, voice quiet now.

“I know,” I said.

“And yet, I can’t leave.”

There was something in his voice I hadn’t heard before. Not frustration, not anger, and something beneath it—fear? I didn’t realize how close we were until I felt the heat from his body again. My fingers started to buzz. My pulse skipped. The space between us crackled. I backed away instinctively, but it didn’t help. His hand moved—just slightly. Not touching, but hovering near mine.

And then everything shattered. The lamp across the room cracked with a sound like a bone breaking. Books launched off the shelf, slamming to the floor. The candle on the kitchen counter exploded, spraying wax across the cabinets. I gasped. Stumbled. My knees nearly buckled, but Kael’s hand shot out and caught me. His grip was firm, grounding, but not rough.

“It’s happening again,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” His voice was calm—too calm. He guided me backward, out of reach of the broken glass, and leaned me gently against the kitchen wall. His hands were still warm and steady. I hated how much I noticed that.

“You don’t know how to contain it,” he said.

“No. I didn’t even know it existed.” He looked down, gaze falling to the space where our hands had hovered, where something unseen had snapped.

“The bond is real,” he said.

I nodded. Slowly. “And it’s getting worse.” He didn’t argue.

He stepped back, surveying the damage like familiar war debris in a new world. “We need answers,” he said.

“I need my life back,” I muttered in the silence. We both knew neither of us was getting what we wanted.