Chapter 8
Kai
NO STRANGERS
Finally, we made it to the shelter. As we reach the living room, I get Avilyna off my back by letting her fall like dead weight onto the couch. I mean, at least I had the decency to do it over something softer than wood.
“What a gentleman,” she mutters with a huff from the impact.
“Only the best for you, Princess,” I wink, a grin tugging at my lips. Moving toward the fireplace, I scan the mantel for dry herbs. Muttering, ‘Naar,’ before a whoosh flares to life, spilling warm light over the room.
“You can use the room on the right down the hall. The bathroom’s straight ahead. No electricity here, everything runs on Kvirr.”
She raises an eyebrow. “So, everyone here has magic?”
I give her a look before realizing, and then I smooth down my features, “Not everyone. A few mundanes with the sight stick around, but they don’t last long on their own.
Most can manage basic elemental spells to create light or heat.
But those with a stronger natural affinity, those who don’t need a source from the earth to cast? They’re witches.”
“Okay, that’s pretty straightforward. So, demons, witches... anything else I should know about?”
“Oh, there’s plenty,” I say, my voice thick with mock sincerity. I know she catches the flash of my fangs. Surprise flickers across her face, quickly giving way to certainty. Avilyna opens her mouth, interrogation painted all over her, but I cut her off.
“Nope, not tonight. It’s late, we’re both filthy, and my top priority right now is getting you to the Institute in one piece. So, unless you’re planning on sharing a bath with me to speed things up, I suggest we cut this little chat short.”
She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly not thrilled with the answer.
I flash her my most obnoxious grin, fully aware it’ll likely piss her off more, but damn if I don’t enjoy watching that fire flare up.
The alternative is to let the shadows creep back into her eyes, and I know that look all too well.
With that, I turn toward the stairs, ready to get a hot bath.
But just before I take the first step, I hear Avilyna.
“Wait...” I stop, already bracing for whatever’s next.
“What now?”
“Can I watch?” My eyebrows shoot up, caught off guard. Her cheeks flush as she rushes to clarify.
“The spell. I meant the spell, can I?” She bites her bottom lip, and my attention zeroes in on the gesture.
“Sure,” I say, distracted.
The rituals are mostly the same, but this time, I don’t need any herbs, since the water is from Kvirr.
“Cha.” Instantly, the air thickens, heavy with moisture.
“Do you think I can do that too?” Avilyna asks, staring at the hot water, the warm light dancing in the ripples.
“Try.”
“How?”
I shrug, “You just need to visualize the intention behind the spell. Then, find something that connects to it. Something natural, not man-made, that’s the key. After that, you speak the Gods’ words.”
“Um… okay,” she says softly, shifting her weight to her left knee as she kneels closer to the bath, glancing down hesitantly.
“Say fuar. It’ll make the water cold.” She lifts her tanned arm, slow and graceful, fingers spreading as her palm hovers just above the surface. Candlelight plays across her skin, turning it to liquid gold.
“Fuar,” she breathes, the word barely a whisper. A gust of cold air sweeps through the room like a phantom, snuffing out half the candles in a single exhale. Our breath curls in the sudden chill. When I dip my hand into the bath, the water is icy. I glance at her, suspicion creeping into my voice.
“Who are you?”
If her dad’s Theo Rey, there’s a good chance she’s a lycan.
But I’d have smelled that by now. It's anchored deep in us, part of our being to recognize our own. Maybe her mom’s a witch.
Could that be why she hasn’t awakened yet?
I haven't noticed any mark that shimmers when she speaks the Gods’ words.
Yet there’s something in the way she moves, so instinctual.
It’s not something you just learn. She’s either hiding something, which makes her dangerous… Or she hasn’t fully awakened yet.
And if that’s the case…
I can tell she’s gonna be a force to reckon with. My eyes narrow, sharper now. Avilyna blinks at me, looking confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever noticed any marks on your body?” I ask instead.
“Like birthmarks?”
"Kinda, it appears when you’re reborn...
" Avilyna either has no clue what I'm talking about, or she's a hell of an actress.
The annoyance on her face is unmistakable.
The barely-contained frustration is telling me I'm pushing the last bit of patience she’s got.
I need to figure out who she is, or more so, what she is.
One thing I’ve learned?
Danger’s always closer than you think.
"It's evident you possess an affinity with Kvirr… Not exactly something an average human can do. So, what, your mom’s a witch or something?" I watch her freeze, brow furrowing as my question takes her off guard. Her lips press together tightly before she speaks.
“I don’t know. She and my brother died in a fire when I was 8.” There’s something unreadable in her eyes, haunting. Buried deep inside her, that echoes with my own ghosts.
“Guess we’re both no strangers to tragedies,” I say softly.
For a second, I catch a glimpse of familiarity, but I can’t quite put my finger on it, and then it's gone. I break the silence, the urge to get out of there rising. “You know how to turn the water back to your liking? Great. I’ll let you clean up and update the Institute that we’ve arrived. I’ll also ask about your dad.”
"Thanks," she murmurs, halting me mid-step.
"No need for thanks, Princess," I reply, eyes still locked ahead as I start walking. "Just doing my job."
Getting to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of fire whiskey. Placing a feather in the center of the table, I drown my drink in one swift motion. Letting the burn devour everything in its wake, and for that, I don’t wince—I relish it.
Contacting the Institute, I say ‘Glao.’ The feather rises, crumbling into dust that swirls and shapes itself into Isolde’s face.
“Corporal Brackwell, I was starting to worry.”
“Apologies, Sergeant,” I say, standing at ease. “We encountered norous on route. The situation’s contained. No casualties.”
“Understood. And the girl?” she asks, her tone all business.
"I can confirm that she's a promising candidate,” I report. “Despite her limited knowledge of our protocols, there are no flagrant red flags. She shows a strong connection to Kvirr. Off the charts, actually.”
Isolde nods, her expression slightly brightening.“That’s good news. Good work, Corporal. Report to the Institute at 0600. Until then, stand down and get some rest, you’ve earned it.”
The call ends, leaving behind a low hum of silence. I sigh, long and heavy. Rubbing my temples like it’ll scrape off the weight pressing behind my eyes.
Tomorrow’s the full moon, always a damn delight. Means I’ve gotta stay sharp and keep my unit tighter than my grip on a dangerous turn riding my Panigale.
Comes with the stripes, I guess.
If there’s one thing Kallahan’s General loves more than killing enemies, it’s duty. With that cheery thought, I pour myself another glass. Too bad it doesn't last long, emptying it within a matter of seconds. I repeat the motion.