Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
GRAVEN
I t was subtle, at first. A ripple in the tether.
The tether wasn't physical. Not really. But it thrummed in a way that made the hairs at the back of my neck rise — old instinct paired with older technology.
Biofield resonance had its quirks, especially when paired with shared myth-coded lineage.
I'd studied them. I’d designed instruments to measure them.
But nothing had prepared me for when her signal finally spiked.
Irina Bloom. Persephone’s spiritual-signal in a modern skin. And now, awakening .
I closed the interface and stood. The air in the Thanatek monitoring suite had gone suddenly stale. Too clean. Recycled too many times. I hated this building. Its precision. Its lies. I had built its foundations, but I had never made a home here.
The screen still glowed behind me, faint afterimages of a waveform spike that looked almost like?—
No. Not almost . It was a pattern match . One I’d seen centuries ago.
My coat was already in my hand before I realized I was moving.
By the time I reached the Annex, the sky had bruised into that unpleasant mid-morning gray. I didn’t use the front entrance. I moved through service corridors, not because I needed to be secretive, but because being seen— truly seen—could trigger memories she wasn’t ready for. Not yet.
But something had changed.
Her tether had flared hard enough to make my vision swim. That wasn’t just fear. That was identity realignment. Recognition at the soul level. Something— someone —had told her too much too fast.
I reached Heinritz’s office just in time to catch the last trailing edge of Hermes’s departure.
Of course it was him.
Oscar West. The god of transitions, of messages between the worlds, always showing up where doors began to crack. His fingerprints were everywhere —just like always. Subtle. Playful. Dangerous. His aura still lingered like ozone after a lightning strike.
I didn’t knock. I opened the door.
Irina and Heinritz both turned at once. The envelope lay between them like a ritual object waiting for the final act.
Irina’s eyes locked with mine—and my chest tightened.
She remembered something. I saw it in the way she tensed. Not everything. But a shadow of what we had been. Her eyes were the same. They always were.
“Graven,” Heinritz said, guarded.
But I was already speaking. “She’s not ready for him.”
Irina’s jaw clenched. “For who ?”
I stepped forward, ignoring Heinritz’s silent warning. My voice was quieter now. Focused. “Hermes plays both sides. He always has. But he doesn’t show up unless something is in motion. You triggered it, Irina. You did something.”
“I found a paper with my name on it,” she snapped, passionate anger swirling in her posture, her voice, her eyes . “Found out I was being tracked like a goddamn experiment.”
“You are more than that,” I promised her. So much more.
“Don’t,” she warned, power crackling under the words. “Don’t speak to me like I’m a riddle to be solved.”
I did not want to have this argument with her. “I’m not trying to solve you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“Oh, well that makes it better,” she shot back, voice sharp. “Thanatek tags me, Mara writes about me like a footnote, and now gods in business suits are showing up with glowing envelopes, and you —you just walk in like you own the story.”
I hesitated. She was hurt. No— betrayed . And I had no defense that wouldn’t sound like control. With that in mind, I revealed the only truth I had.
“You’re waking up,” I said. “And that’s dangerous. Because if you remember everything, the beings who’ve kept you scattered for centuries… won’t let you stay.”
Silence fell again. Not empty. Not peaceful. It was the hush before a fault line breaks. Irina stared at me, eyes dark and wet and burning.
“I don’t know who I’m more afraid of,” she whispered. “Them. Or you.”
Heinritz shifted. “Graven?—”
But I held up a hand. Not to her. To Irina . My gaze didn’t leave hers.
“You should be afraid of me,” I said, voice low. Because this was another truth she’d never embraced, yet had always existed. “But not because I’d hurt you. Because I won’t . Even when I should. Even when the world burns.”
She blinked. The room pulsed with something deeper than fear.
Recognition.
Again.
“I knew you,” she murmured, softer now. “Didn’t I? Before.”
“You’ve always known me,” I replied, choking off the desperation that wanted to give her everything. “You just didn’t always choose me.”
The air went very still. Something other seemed to study me through her eyes. I had no name for it nor the feeling it evoked, but there was a deep knowing that rang through me. The rules were changing .
Then Irina stood. Slowly. Purposefully. She looked at Heinritz, then at me.
“I’m done waiting for answers,” she said. “I’m going to find them myself. No more riddles. No more ghosts.” She turned to leave. At the door, she paused and added, almost as an afterthought: “You might want to start being honest. Because whatever happens next? I won’t be the only one waking up.”
That warning came from the other too. Before I could latch onto it, she was gone. The only sound left in the room was the soft, rhythmic tap of the silver-sealed envelope trembling slightly on the table.
It hadn’t done that before. Apparently, it also knew what was coming too.
I watched the door close behind her, the resonance of her departure still echoing faintly through the field. Even now, she carried her energy like a storm just beginning to gather — wild at the edges, but centered by something ancient. Something hers .
Across the table, the envelope pulsed once — faint, but undeniable.
I stepped forward and picked it up.
The wax was cool and dry beneath my fingers, but the weight of it wasn’t measured in grams. It felt like memory. Like obligation. Like warning. Hermes never left things behind lightly.
I slid the envelope into the inside pocket of my coat. But not all warnings were worth being listened to. Sometimes, the wind just blustered, and if you kept the door closed, it couldn’t bother you.
When I looked up, Heinritz met my gaze.
Her composure never cracked — not entirely — but the faint crease at the corners of her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
“She’s not ready,” I said, tone quiet but resolute.
“She’s stronger than you think,” Heinritz replied. “Stronger than any of us thought.”
“That’s not the problem,” I said. “It’s everyone else I’m worried about.”
I let the words hang for a beat too long — then added, softly but with steel:
“Don’t let her be alone with West.”
Heinritz’s mouth tightened. A silent agreement.
I didn’t wait for more. I turned and followed.
The corridors were cooler than they should’ve been.
The Annex had its own climate control, and yet the air felt like early winter.
Charged. Irina had already left the admin wing by the time I reached the main hallway, but the trail was fresh.
I could feel it, a shimmer in the air, faint electromagnetic signature from her presence — and from the creature at her heel.
The dog.
He wasn’t ordinary. Not even close. But then again, nothing near her ever was.
I found her just past the internal atrium, in the open passage near the herbarium rotunda. She wasn’t walking quickly — more like pacing on instinct. Trying to outstep a thought. The dog was pressed close to her left side, head up, ever watchful.
I didn’t rush her.
I simply matched her pace and spoke from just enough distance that she had to choose to hear me.
“Irina.”
She stopped, but didn’t turn.
“I’m not here to make you decide anything,” I said, voice steady. “But I am asking you to come with me.”
Now she turned. Her eyes glittered, sharp with a thousand unspoken thoughts. “Come with you where ?”
“For a walk,” I said simply. “We can get coffee. Talk. Nothing else.”
She stared at me, her expression unreadable at first, then cracking, ever so slightly, with disbelief. “That’s it?” she asked. “Coffee? A walk ? After all that?”
I shrugged once. “Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to offer.”
“And why would I accept?” she demanded. The edge in her voice had softened, slightly, but it was there. “Why now? Why you?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Why not?” It was far lighter-hearted a response than any I could truly experience, but I needed to carry this burden for her.
“You don’t owe me trust. Or answers. But I won’t lie to you, Irina.
I never have. And I won’t let anyone take advantage of where you are right now.
Not gods. Not ghosts. Not even those beings who think they mean well. ”
Her jaw clenched again, but her posture shifted. She wasn’t closing off, not entirely.
“You expect me to believe you’re one of the good guys?”
“No,” I said quietly. Never would I seek to control her impressions. Never. “I expect you to believe I’m trying.”
The dog—the not-dog—pressed his body gently against her leg. Not forcing her. Just present. Grounded.
Her fingers curled once at her side, then relaxed. Some of the heat left her eyes. For a moment, she looked tired. Then tempted. Then human again.
It was that woman who looked at me, really looked, as if peeling back all my layers. From the warrior to the executive, the researcher, and all the way down to the shadow I’d let myself become.
Something in her gaze flickered with memory . Not full recognition. But the beginning of it. Her shoulders dropped by an inch. “Fine,” she said. “But I pick the place.”
A faint, unexpected smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. This was so much more than I could have expected. I would not spoil the moment. “Deal.”
She turned, and the dog followed. I stepped into place beside her. One heartbeat behind. Exactly where I always had been.