Lyciah sat on the couch, wrapped entirely in a thick blanket. Outside, the cold of the night pressed against the windows, but she wasn’t shivering from the temperature. Every time she closed her eyes, Ekchron’s smile resurfaced in her mind.

  Momoru sat beside her, absently flipping through a cookbook. Caelan stood next to the couch, perfectly still, like an ancient statue. Straight-backed. Arms crossed. Watchful even in stillness, as though danger might return the moment he let his guard down.

  On the floor, Seliane and Elric occupied the centre of the living room. The glow of the television lit their faces as they played a racing game. Seliane celebrated every overtake with exaggerated cheers; Elric, meanwhile, seemed to be going through a slow and painful process of accepting defeat while rummaging through a bag of crisps.

  “Still…” Seliane said suddenly, without taking her eyes off the screen. “I still can’t believe Ekchron showed up. Aren’t the Ancestrals supposed to have that… sacred rule about not invading each other’s territory?”

  The sounds of the game continued in the background. Caelan turned his head slightly to look at her, then lowered his gaze. His expression was that of someone who had been stumbling over the same obstacle for centuries. And that obstacle had a name.

  “Rules have never mattered to Ekchron,” Elric replied, his mouth full. “Honestly, I’m more surprised he sent that succubus first instead of invading directly.”

  Momoru closed the book gently and set it aside. The usual calm on his face had vanished, replaced by genuine concern.

  “If someone like him has set his sights on Lyciah…” he began, glancing at her. “What are we going to do? The rumours say that not only is he the most unstable, he’s also the most powerful of the Seven.”

  “He’s insane and unpredictable,” Seliane added, shoving another crisp into her mouth. “Why does someone like that get control over time? Who thought that was a good idea?”

  “That was an accident,” Caelan said suddenly.

  Silence fell for a moment. Even the videogame seemed to lose its importance.

  “An accident…?” Momoru echoed quietly.

  “Each Ancestral possesses a unique power,” Caelan explained, his voice steady and calm. “Ekchron’s is fire. Though no one has ever seen him use it.”

  He fell silent for a few seconds, as if revisiting old memories he rarely shared.

  “Be that as it may, he is the only Ancestral who acquired a second power: control over time. That makes him nearly untouchable…” He paused briefly. “And it has significantly reinforced his ego.”

  Seliane finally looked away from the screen.

  “‘Significantly’?”

  Caelan frowned, thoughtful.

  “It’s difficult to measure with precision,” he added, perfectly serious. “But I would say his ego occupies most of the available space in any given room.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  Then Seliane burst out laughing. Elric let the controller fall onto the carpet, and Momoru covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Even Lyciah smiled shyly beneath her blanket.

  Caelan blinked, genuinely confused.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, with the same earnest bewilderment as always.

  They all laughed together.

  The night went on peacefully, as though the world had decided to grant them a brief reprieve. It almost felt absurd to think that, just a few streets away, the most feared demon in the world was walking freely through the city.

  Seliane and Elric eventually fell asleep on the floor, surrounded by pillows and stuffed animals, the television still on and the game’s volume reduced to a constant murmur. Seliane snored without the slightest shame; Elric still clutched the controller in his hand.

  Momoru retired to his room. Before disappearing down the hallway, he bid them good night with a gentle warning, spoken in a paternal tone.

  “Don’t stay up too late, Lyciah.”

  She nodded with a smile.

  When Caelan announced that he would be returning to his apartment, Lyciah walked him to the door, still wrapped in her blanket.

  “Thank you… for today,” Lyciah murmured, not quite lifting her gaze. “We barely know each other, and you had no obligation to…” She trailed off, nervously fiddling with her blue ribbon. “To risk yourself for me. And yet you stood up to the Seventh. For me.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “So… thank you, Caelan.”

  He watched her closely. His expression remained serene, but there was a different softness to it now—less distant.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied. “I did what I believed was right. And besides…” He paused briefly. “I promised you that as long as you remained within my territory, you would be safe.”

  His words didn’t sound empty. They carried weight. As though an invisible pact had just been sealed in that moment.

  Caelan took a couple of steps forward… then stopped. He hesitated for a second before turning back.

  “There is something else,” he said, his voice lower than usual.

  He paused, choosing his words carefully.

  “Earlier, you only introduced yourself as the Dawnbringer. But your name…”

  He looked at her.

  “It’s Lyciah, isn’t it?”

  Lyciah’s heart began to race.

  For several seconds, she didn’t know how to answer. Ever since she had inherited her mother’s power, her name had slowly begun to fade away. To the world, she was the Dawnbringer. Nothing more. Not a person. Not Lyciah.

  Even Sorian had eventually started calling her that, as though her real name no longer mattered. Only Seliane and Momoru still used it.

  She pressed the blanket against her chest. The ache she felt was sharp… but not unpleasant.

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  “Yes,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Lyciah.”

  For an instant, Caelan’s lips curved almost imperceptibly. Whether it was a smile or not, Lyciah would never have been able to say for certain.

  “May you rest well, Lyciah,” he said.

  Then he turned and left, disappearing into the darkness and the cold night air.

  Lyciah remained there for a few seconds longer. Then, unable to contain herself, she smiled like an idiot. She pulled the blanket up over her face and wrapped it around her head, trying to hide the emotion pounding far too loudly in her chest.

  The house was silent when Ekchron returned. He left no mirrors in the house, nor any surface in which a reflection might appear. It had once belonged to some wealthy man in the city. A man who, of course, no longer existed.

  Ekchron shut the door behind him without care. The sound echoed down the hallway. Then the smell hit him—thick, immediate—and he froze.

  Nikandros sat at the table, calmly focused on his meal. A hot plate. Steam rising shamelessly. Cutlery clinking with obscene normality.

  Ekchron took a couple of steps forward and stopped there, staring at him with open hostility.

  “Get that out of my sight.”

  Nikandros didn’t respond. He didn’t even lift his head. He kept eating.

  “I’m talking to you, Nik,” Ekchron added, irritation plain in his voice.

  “I know,” he replied calmly, chewing. “I’ve decided to ignore you.”

  Ekchron scoffed. He dropped into a nearby chair, spinning it around to sit backwards, resting his arms over the back as though he were about to interrogate the entire world.

  “It’s unnecessary,” he said. “And offensive.”

  “It’s bread with meat.”

  Ekchron looked away, visibly uncomfortable. The silence stretched for a few seconds.

  “You took your time,” Nikandros remarked at last, after swallowing. “I thought you’d be back within the hour. You just had to capture the Dawnbringer and get us out of this ridiculous territory.”

  Ekchron clicked his tongue.

  “Don’t tell me that—” Nikandros began.

  “Caelan,” Ekchron cut in, disdain dripping from the word. “The eternal martyr decided to get in the way.”

  His expression was that of someone perpetually annoyed, as if even the air itself offended him.

  “Ah. The knight.”

  Nikandros didn’t look surprised. He set his cutlery down carefully.

  “The weakest of the Seven,” he added. “He shouldn’t have been able to stop you with nothing but his little… barriers.”

  Ekchron clenched his jaw.

  “He didn’t stop me,” he corrected. “He wasted my time.”

  “Mm.”

  Nikandros fell silent for a moment. Then his gaze slid to the bag of bread Ekchron was still holding.

  “And that?” he asked, gesturing with his chin.

  Ekchron looked down.

  Bread. Still warm.

  He frowned, as though the object had betrayed him. For a few seconds, he didn’t know how to respond.

  “I was going to kill a thing,” he said at last.

  Nikandros nodded, as though hearing something perfectly mundane.

  “Of course.”

  “But it started talking,” Ekchron continued, clearly annoyed. “And then it argued with me.”

  Nikandros blinked.

  “You argued with a human?”

  Ekchron looked away, irritated.

  “I don’t know how I ended up getting dragged into such a ridiculous discussion that I forgot my objective,” he muttered, more to himself than to Nikandros.

  The silence thickened.

  Nikandros watched him now with a different, more cautious attention. Ekchron tilted his head and twisted his lips into a crooked smile—one that never reached his eyes.

  “I think I’ve found a new toy.”

  The word hung in the air.

  “A human,” he went on. “A baker. She thinks I’m some lost kid.”

  “And you didn’t kill her?”

  “What for?” Ekchron replied with disdain. “This is far more interesting. I’ll stay. Pretend to be one of them. I’ll make myself necessary. Important. And when I get bored…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know.”

  Nikandros knew. Far too well.

  Weeks. Sometimes days. One human after another. Bonds manufactured with surgical patience. Then betrayal. Blood. Oblivion. Always the same.

  “As always,” he said.

  Then he looked at the bread again.

  “Are you going to eat that?” he asked, as though he hadn’t just listened to his friend plan another human’s death.

  Ekchron stared at him as though he had insulted several generations of his ancestors.

  “I can’t.”

  “Then throw it away.”

  “No.”

  Nikandros didn’t insist.

  Ekchron stood, irritated with himself, with the house, with the entire day. He set the bread down on the counter and walked to the room he had claimed as his own, closing the door behind him.

  The bread remained there. Untouched. Still warm.

  Lyciah closed the front door carefully, trying not to make any noise. She slipped off her shoes in the entryway and padded barefoot down the hall.

  Her thoughts were still caught on Caelan’s impossible calm. On his May you rest well, Lyciah.

  “Ly…?” murmured a sleepy voice from the adjacent room.

  Seliane appeared in the doorway, hair a mess, rubbing her eyes with both hands.

  “Oh. Sel. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Did Caelan leave?”

  “Yes.” At the sound of his name, Lyciah couldn’t stop the smile that escaped her. “I walked him to the door to say goodbye.”

  Seliane smiled too. But it was a dangerous smile. The kind only a friend who knows you far too well can manage.

  “You look very happy,” she said. “And not that long ago, you were still trembling just thinking about the Seventh.”

  Lyciah felt heat rush to her cheeks.

  “Is it because of Caelan?” Seliane added, tilting her head.

  Lyciah froze. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve.

  “What? No, I mean… it’s not that… I mean, of course I’m calmer, but that has nothing to do with him. Well, it does, but not like that. It’s just that he talks funny, and suddenly everything feels less terrible, and I—”

  She stopped abruptly, realising far too late what she was doing.

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Seliane burst out laughing.

  Then she stepped forward and hugged her without warning. Her laughter slowly faded, replaced by a lower, more serious tone.

  “You have no idea how worried I was when you told me Ekchron appeared,” she murmured. “I can’t believe that on top of Heliora, now a monster like him is after you too…”

  Lyciah’s expression darkened. She lowered her gaze and returned the hug, holding on a little tighter.

  “Sel…” she said with a faint smile. “I wanted to thank you too.”

  Seliane pulled back to look at her, confused.

  “For what?”

  “For doing this for me,” Lyciah went on. “Both you and Momo have been declared traitors by Queen Heliora. And you know that in Elyndra, that’s punished with blood.”

  She glanced towards the stairs, towards the room where Momoru slept.

  “For the last ten years, I’ve been locked inside that golden cage,” she continued. “I kept wondering why it had to happen to me. I thought I was the most unfortunate person in the world.”

  She looked back at Seliane.

  “But now I know that isn’t true. I’m incredibly lucky to have you and Momo. I’ve never truly been alone. You’ve always been there for me… and now you’re even risking your lives for me.”

  She smiled, a slight pink blush on her cheeks.

  ”So thank you, Sel.”

  Seliane stared at her in silence until she finished speaking. Her eyes began to glisten. Her cheeks puffed out, already red.

  And then she burst into loud, exaggerated sobs.

  “You don’t have to thank me for that, idiot!” she cried, hugging her tightly again. “Momo and I would do anything for you! You’re my best friend!”

  Lyciah laughed as Seliane tearfully repeated how much she loved her. She awkwardly patted her head, trying to calm her down.

  At that moment, Momoru appeared at the top of the stairs, still half asleep. He stopped when he saw the scene, then looked at Lyciah and gave her a gentle smile.

  Lyciah smiled back.

  A second later, Elric staggered out of the adjacent room, completely disoriented, hair sticking up everywhere, eyes half-closed.

  “…enemy attack?” he muttered, glancing around, still caught between dreams and reality.

  The night settled back into calm.