Chapter 17
Lucien
Morning breaks, soft light spilling through the windows of Cece’s apartment, diffused by thin curtains and drifting dust. For the first time in hours, the world feels almost normal. Quiet.
But I know the calm is an illusion.
Today has to be about her. About sharpening what’s awakening inside her. That same intuitive thread I stirred when I pulled her from death might save her next time.
Or cost her everything.
We sit at her kitchen table. Humble. Wooden. Uneven. She makes breakfast. Eggs, toast, bacon. I find the bacon strangely satisfying. The eggs, less so. Still, I say nothing. Mortal food is inconsistent, but the effort behind it means more than the flavor.
Cece sits across from me, pushing food around on her plate more than eating it. She looks rested on the surface, but her eyes tell the truth. Tired and distant.
She breaks the silence first.
“Typically, I spend Sundays cleaning and getting ready for the week. But honestly, I have little motivation for any of that today.” Her voice softens. “Not after everything we learned yesterday.”
I nod slowly. “Understandable.”
“Is there anything you want to do today, Luc?” she asks, her gaze rising to mine, unsure. “Because I don’t. I’d prefer not to wander the city knowing . . . what we know now.”
I study her. The fatigue in her expression. The way her fingers curl around the coffee mug, like she needs to anchor herself. She’s holding it together, but barely.
“I’m fine doing whatever you’d like,” I say carefully. “Or I can give you space. Some time alone, if that’s what you need.” I hesitate, forcing myself to be honest. “As alone as I can allow while still keeping you under watch.”
The words feel clinical. Cold. I regret them the moment they leave my mouth.
Her lips press into a tight line, but she doesn’t respond.
“I’d like to work on something with you, though,” I continue, shifting gears gently. “Something important.”
She looks up at me, wary. “What?”
“A sensitivity test. The way your intuition’s been reacting lately, it’s not random.” I meet her eyes. “I think you’re starting to feel energy in ways that aren’t natural for humans. Let’s see how far that connection goes, and how we can strengthen it.”
Her stare lingers. She pauses for a long beat, then says, “But Luc . . . what good is sensing danger if I can’t do anything about it?”
There it is. The crack in her voice. The fear she hadn’t said out loud until now.
I let out a slow breath. There’s no simple answer. Not one that will make her feel safer.
“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “The kinds of forces we’re dealing with, you’re not equipped to fight them. Not yet. And I won’t pretend otherwise. But that’s where I come in. My job is to protect you. Yours is to be prepared. To know when danger is near.”
“If you’re alone, say, at work, being able to feel that shift in energy could buy you the time you need to get away.”
“It’s not a perfect solution,” I add, “but it’s better than walking blind.”
She nods faintly, but her eyes drop to her plate again. That confidence I hope to instill doesn’t take root. Her next words come quieter than the rest.
“You can’t follow me around forever, Luc. Not everywhere. Not always.” She swallows, her voice nearly breaking. “What do I do then?”
“You take things one breath at a time,” I say.
I watch her process my words as she clears the dishes from breakfast. Something is changing in her body.
In her energy. I feel it every time I step near her.
It stirs like a chord being plucked, something that hadn’t been awake until the night I pulled her from the tracks and brought her into my world.
That choice rewrote something in both of us.
“Sit,” I say gently, motioning to the center of the room.
She hesitates a moment before sinking down onto the rug, folding her legs beneath her. I crouch in front of her, close enough to sense her breath but far enough not to overwhelm her. Not yet.
“We’ll keep it simple,” I say. “I’d like to see how sensitive your perception has become.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Meaning . . . ?”
“I’ll release a controlled pulse of energy. Nothing invasive. You tell me the moment you feel it. And how.”
Cece looks at me, guarded. “And what exactly should I be feeling?”
“It’s different for everyone,” I say. “It might feel like pressure. Heat. A drop in temperature. Gravity bending. Sound, even. You’ll know because your body will react before your mind does. Instinct always moves first.”
She exhales. “Alright. Go for it.”
I take a slow breath and open my palm toward her. Focused. Controlled. I let a pulse slip through. A thread of warped space-time energy, faint and subtle, curling around the room like vapor.
And then I see it hit her.
Her pupils dilate. Her breath catches.
“There,” she whispers. “Now.”
Interesting.
She really feels that.
I dial it up and shift the direction of the pulse without moving, wrapping it behind her like a loop.
Another twitch. A shiver.
“Now,” she says again. “It’s behind me.”
I stare at her, surprised.
That level of spatial awareness from a human after only a few days? No. That isn’t just residual tethering to my realm. Something deeper is surfacing.
“You’re adapting faster than I expected,” I say, letting the awe creep in.
She blinks at me. “Is that good or terrifying?”
My thought is halfway to becoming a sentence when everything inside me goes still.
I sense him before he even touches the door.
No shadow-walking. No subtle breach. Just the blunt, arrogant press of power sliding through my wards like they’re suggestions instead of laws.
He’s never one for subtlety.
The knock comes immediately. Three sharp raps, loud enough to echo. He wants me to know it’s him. And he wants her to hear it, too.
I step toward the door, every instinct locking into place. She watches from the other side of the room, her body tense, unsure.
“Stay back,” I say.
My voice is calm.
But I feel the anger rising like heat under my skin.
Another knock.
I don’t answer.
“I know you’re in there, Lucien,” comes the voice through the door. “We need to talk. Or would you rather I begin breaking things?”
I open the door before he gets the chance.
Logus stands on the threshold, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Same smirk. Same self-importance stitched into every inch of him. His dark coat sweeps back like a war banner, and his eyes, still glowing with that sharp violet light, immediately move past me.
To her.
“Well, well,” he says, his voice heavy with implication. “So it’s true.”
“Say what you came to say,” I reply coldly, stepping fully between him and Cece. “And then leave.”
“Still so warm and welcoming,” Logus muses as he crosses the threshold uninvited. My wards snap in protest around him, but he doesn’t care.
He’s sanctioned by the Order.
For now.
Cece stays silent, but I can feel the questions rising off her like static.
Logus circles the room with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes cataloging everything, including her. “She’s the one, then?” he asks, stopping just a few feet away. “The girl you pulled out of death. The one you broke the High Laws for?”
I don’t respond. He already knows the answer.
“I always thought you’d snap one day, Lucien,” he continues, his voice casual, almost bored. “But I didn’t expect you to fall for a human and drag her through the realm like some myth made flesh.”
“Get to the fucking point.”
He turns sharply, the smirk gone. “The High Order knows.”
My jaw tightens. “How much?”
“Enough,” he says. “Enough to question where your loyalties lie.”
He steps forward, his energy brushing against mine like a threat. “And Aris? He’s not simply watching anymore. He’s waiting.”
I feel Cece’s presence behind me. Her breath held. I don’t need to look to know she’s listening to every word.
Logus leans in. “He fears you, Lucien. Always has. And now you’ve given him the perfect reason to act.”
His gaze burns. “You didn’t just cross a boundary. You shattered the oldest laws written into the foundation of our realms.”
He pauses, letting the weight of it settle.
“You tore open a forbidden path between worlds without sanction. You breached the barrier between life and death.” His voice darkens. “And then you dragged her back through it.”
She doesn’t move behind me. But I know she hears it. All of it.
“I know exactly what it looks like,” I say, my voice low. “But I also know what it was. And why I did it.”
He scoffs. “A rescue? Please. You could’ve let fate take its course. But no.”
Logus steps closer, his jaw tight. “You didn’t just bring her across a border, Lucien. You stole her from death. That’s not bravery. That’s not love.” He shakes his head, disgusted. “That’s sacrilege.”
I don’t flinch. He’s right.
“Aris isn’t the only one whispering,” Logus continues. “There are others on the council questioning whether you’re becoming something more than a Warper. Something they might have to . . . contain.”
“And you?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. “Are you here as their mouthpiece?”
He lets out a short, bitter chuckle. “I’m here because I wanted to see it with my own eyes. You. Her. All of it. I needed to know what kind of fool you’ve become.”
Cece steps forward then, and her voice, when it comes, is calm but clear. “If you’re done insulting him, maybe you can get to the part where you say why you’re really here and then get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Logus blinks, clearly surprised. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s not completely fragile.”
I tense, energy rippling toward violence, but she reaches out and brushes her fingers along my wrist. Just enough to calm me. Enough to stop me from shoving him through the wall.
Logus’s expression sobers.
“There’s something else,” he says. “Something worse.”
That gets my attention.
He glances between us. “The boundary’s thinning. And not because of you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“There have been tears. Breaches. Places in the realm where the energy feels off. Ancient. Feral.”
My stomach drops. “Surgers?”
He shrugs. “The High Order hasn’t confirmed it publicly. But yes. The signs match. It’s likely they’ve started pushing back in. After centuries.”
“Impossible,” I say.
But the word doesn’t land with confidence. Not after what I’ve felt recently. Not after the energy that trailed Cece just nights ago.
Logus stares at her now, his eyes narrowing. “She’s the variable, Lucien. And they know it. Whatever’s waking up inside her, it’s not entirely mortal.”
“That’s why you’re on every watchlist. Because no one knows what she is now. Not even you.”
“I don’t care what they think,” I snap.
“You should,” he replies. “Because the Order wants her under lock and key. And the Surgers? If they get through fully, they’ll come for whatever she’s becoming. And they’ll destroy everything in the process.”
He turns and walks toward the door again.
“Consider this your only courtesy warning,” he says, pausing just before he leaves. “Next time, I won’t be the one they send.”
He’s gone. The veil seals behind him with a hiss of energy.
Cece stands there, eyes wide but resolute.
I exhale slowly, the gravity of what Logus said settling like lead in my chest.
As much as I hate to admit it, it’s true.
I’ve broken every rule for her.
And now all three worlds, the human, Imperium, and the ancient, are converging.
Because of her.
Because of us.