Chapter 9 #2
“Do it,” Kylix said. “And scrub our trail the moment you’re out.”
“Always.” Yure’s mouth twitched. “I like existing.”
Blue and green light washed across their faces as data fell like rain. Mirel’s eyes ached, every flicker reflected in Kylix’s pupils, fire caught in glass. His breath slowed to match the rhythm of the pulses, the same hum that had bound him to Kylix since the frost first touched him.
Kylix leaned in close, his nose brushing Mirel’s temple. “Find me a perimeter,” he said low. “I want a district, not a riddle.”
“On it, sir.”
“Vandor, pick up two guards from the west wing. Check every location Yure pulls from those coordinates. Quiet and fast. Anything suspicious near the warehouses, report.”
“Sir.” Vandor was already moving, vanishing down the corridor.
“I thought most of those were empty?” Moargan asked.
“They are. That’s what makes them useful.”
“It’s like each address leads to another dead node, abandoned servers, ghost systems, factories marked for demolition.” Yure’s fingers blurred. “I’d start patrols there.”
“You think so?” Kylix’s voice stayed dry. Mirel’s chest fluttered when he felt another squeeze of that broad hand on his.
Someone passed bottles of beer down the line.
“Good Light, look at this.” Yure froze. “It’s… moving on its own.”
The holo expanded. A black steel door filled the frame, handleless, a sigil scorched into its face, three crossed lines inside a circle. The screen flickered blue, then green, then an ugly pulse of red as the system developed a heartbeat of its own.
The room dimmed. Shadows stretched. The glow shifted.
Yure cursed under his breath, fingers flying faster. “Hold on. I’ve never seen a signal behave like this. It’s rewriting itself.”
Everyone crowded closer. Moargan leaning over Yure’s shoulder, Aviel bracing both palms on the counter, Kylix gripping the back of a chair. The colors pulsed.
“It’s trying to hide,” Yure muttered. “Every time I trace the root, it spawns a mirror. But there’s something behind it.”
The code rippled, glitched, then coalesced into a shape, doors, black and wet with static, metal hinges bleeding light until they filled the frame. The air thinned. No one spoke.
“Good Light,” Helianth whispered. “It looks alive.”
“It’s not alive,” Yure said, voice tight. “But it’s responding. It knows we’re watching.”
On the screen, the doors shifted and then opened. A blast of light cut through the image, white fire framed by a circle of moving code. Lines crossed inside it, forming a spiral that flared once and collapsed.
The screen trembled. The doors slammed shut. The image dissolved back into code. Static echoed once, a heartbeat fading to silence.
Kylix’s multi-slate chimed. Vandor’s voice came through the comm. “Perimeter guards deployed, sir. Sweeps in progress.”
“Good,” Kylix said. “Whatever hides in those factories, we’ll smoke it out before nightfall. Keep this quiet. No press. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kylix cut the line. Mirel felt him rise to his full height behind him. A strong hand found his nape and pressed lightly. It was enough to feel like claim.
“We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? With my brother?” Cyprian started, but Moargan waved him off.
“Go. Mirel’s safe with my cousin, lover.”
“In good hands? I can’t believe you’re even saying that.” Cyprian caught one of Mirel’s hands. “Do you want to go home with him?”
Kylix’s grip at his nape tightened. Or maybe Mirel had leaned into the touch without thinking. Either way it felt good. Warm. Grounded. As if Kylix truly cared. Which was impossible, but his pulse quickened anyway.
“Y-yes,” he said.
“Named after the light and silent as the stars,” Cyprian murmured. “Does your throat hurt?”
“I already had something made for him. It should arrive soon.” Kylix pulled on the chain. “Now, let’s go. I need sleep before the next reports come in.”
“Might be a restless night,” Yure called from behind his screens.
“It might be.”
They turned to leave.
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, or where you left my stoic cousin, but I like this version,” Helianth said. He clasped Kylix’s shoulder, quick and rough, whispering something Mirel couldn’t catch.
“Ice and fire work well together,” Aviel murmured from the stove. Mirel felt those dark, unsettling eyes follow him.
Cyprian walked them to the door. “Promise me I’ll see you soon. Oh, do you go to the Academy?”
“Not yet,” Kylix barked.
“Will you stop talking for him for once?”
Mirel glanced up. Kylix’s mouth twitched. “Perhaps. When I feel like it.”
They left.
The car ride back was swift, the darkness a quiet comfort. Kylix’s hand stayed over his, resting on the chain. This time Mirel didn’t pull away. He had met his brother. After all the years of silence, he had finally spoken to Cyprian.
He had imagined this meeting a thousand ways, scenes shifting with hunger and hope, but none matched the calm that filled him now. Not even the prison outbreak, not the strange images on screen, not the danger beside him could dim it.
Outside, the city blurred to pale streaks, towers dissolving into glass. Mirel leaned back, eyes half-closed, letting motion carry him. The hum of the engine blended with the quieter hum beneath his skin, the bond alive and steady. For once, he let it stay.
Because with his brother in the world, he could face it.