Chapter 18
Cece
The veil seals, and though the air is still, my apartment feels smaller, as if the walls have inched closer.
Luc doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the door, as if he’s trying to burn through it with his mind. I give him a moment, and then I speak.
“You weren’t going to tell me.”
His shoulders lift slightly. “Not yet.”
His short response infuriates me, even if he meant no harm.
I’m so tired of being kept in the dark. Finding out he chose not to tell me these things feels like a betrayal.
“You didn’t think I should know that I actually died that day, and now I might be some sort of . . . what? Anchor? Catalyst? Weapon?”
I step forward. My voice doesn’t rise, but it doesn’t need to. “You were going to let me go to sleep tonight pretending I’m still just a girl who got lucky, got saved by Prince Charming, and lived.”
After a moment, he turns to face me. His expression is unreadable. But his eyes . . . they say too much.
“I wasn’t keeping you from the truth,” he says, his shoulders tightening. “I was waiting for the truth to unfold to you. Because once you knew it, there would be no going back.”
I laugh, sharp and bitter. “We already passed ‘no going back’ the night you pulled me out of death’s embrace.”
He flinches this time. Just a little. But I see it.
“Why didn’t you tell me I was changing?” I press, stepping closer. “You knew. You’ve always known.”
“I suspected,” he quickly corrects.
“You felt it. I know you did. The energy. The way I can feel you when you’re near. The way I know things I shouldn’t know. That’s not nothing. So why keep me in the dark about what I’m becoming?”
His jaw tightens. The words drag out of him like iron from the earth. “Because if you knew, then the Order wouldn’t just watch you. They’d come for you.”
I blink. “Then you should’ve let them,” I snap.
“No!” Heat flashes through his voice. He lifts a hand to his head, raking it through his hair in frustration before facing me again. “Because they don’t understand you. They wouldn’t even try. They’d dissect what’s waking up inside you. Weaponize it. Or erase it.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
He hesitates. That silence says everything.
“You do know,” I say, my breath catching. Frustration flickers across my face, but underneath it is hurt. “You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
He gives a slow shake of his head. “No. I haven’t. That’s the problem.”
Frustration pours off him, his voice rising higher than I’ve ever heard it. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Not to a human. Not to someone like you.”
I step closer, crossing the space between us. “Then tell me, Luc. What am I?”
He looks at me then, eyes storm-dark and haunted.
“I don’t know,” he admits, confusion written plainly across his face.
“But whatever it is, it happened when I pulled you from death. When I reached into the seam between this world and Pomerium, into the raw fabric of life and unlife, and dragged you back.”
“You changed me,” I say, my voice shaky.
He nods.
“No,” I correct myself, taking another step, my eyes burning. “You chose to change me. You made that choice without me.”
“I made it to save you,” he counters.
“No, you made it so you wouldn’t lose me.”
The words hang there between us, bare and true. He doesn’t deny them.
And that silence speaks louder than anything he’s said.
I swallow hard, my pulse loud in my ears as I move toward the kitchen just to have somewhere to go.
“So what now? I wait for Aris to send his enforcers to drag me back through a portal? I wait for Surgers to hunt me down like I’m a signal flare?
I just keep pretending I’m normal while this power grows stronger inside me? ”
Luc follows me into the kitchen, his hand lifting as if to touch me before he stops himself. His voice, when it comes, is rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “No. From now on . . . we face it together.”
“Even if that puts you in danger with your own kind?”
He steps closer, his presence like heat after cold. “I defied the High Order once,” he murmurs. “I’ll do it again. As many times as it takes.”
Even through my frustration, I believe him. But there’s something he doesn’t realize. He’s not the only one changing. And soon, he won’t be the only one doing the protecting. We’re going to have to protect each other.
The air between us is humming with the grief of an illusion that’s just cracked apart. Luc’s eyes stay on mine, the turmoil behind them fading.
Ever since Logus left, I’ve been trying to get my mind to quiet down.
That’s nearly impossible with Luc so close; his presence is impossible to ignore.
We’ve spent the last few hours giving each other space.
Maybe he’s the one giving it to me. Hard to tell.
But no matter how loudly today’s frustrations gnaw at me, avoiding him isn’t helping.
I grab a snack from the fridge, consider sitting on the couch, and choose to stand instead. I still feel too restless.
“So . . .” I start, trying and failing to break the awkward silence.
He looks up at me again, fully focused.
“I can feel you,” I whisper.
His gaze tightens. “I know.”
“Not just physically. Not only when you’re close. It’s like I can sense you . . . through things. Walls. Distance. Emotion.”
Luc doesn’t flinch, but his voice is soft. “That’s new.”
I move closer to the couch, something fierce rising in my chest. “No. It’s not. I think it’s been there since the subway. Since you touched me.”
His mouth opens, but there’s no denial this time.
“I think I’m connected to you,” I say. “Whatever you did that night, it tied something from your realm to mine. Maybe to me.”
Luc exhales slowly. “That’s why the Order will never let this go.”
A sudden chill runs across my skin.
“You said they’d come for me.”
“They will,” he says. “But not yet. Right now, they’re watching. Waiting. They need more proof before they move openly. Aris . . . doesn’t like uncertainty.”
“Who is he?” I ask. “What is he?”
Luc’s expression hardens, his jaw clenched like the name itself carries risk.
“Aris is the First Warper. The original link between the physical and the sacred. He formed the High Order with the sanction of the ancient gods. He believes in balance. And power. And control.” He pauses.
“He also believes anything he can’t understand is a threat to the Order’s authority. ”
“Which means me,” I say on a slow exhale.
Luc nods. “And now . . . me too.”
A long moment stretches between us, and then it vibrates. A pressure. Not from Luc. Not from the room. From outside.
Luc’s head snaps toward the wall, brow furrowed. “You feel that too?”
I nod. “Yeah. It feels familiar.” My voice drops as I try to figure it out. “Sort of like Logus. But it’s not him.”
Luc moves swiftly toward the window but doesn’t draw the curtain. Instead, he closes his eyes. I watch as a faint shimmer ripples through the room, like he’s casting something. A search. A scan. When he opens his eyes again, they glow brighter than I’ve seen them yet.
“Someone’s breaching.”
My heart skips. “Here?”
He exhales sharply. “Not yet. But close. They’re testing.”
I reach for the edge of the counter, bracing myself. “You said before . . . the Surgers were trying to break through.”
He turns to me slowly. “This isn’t a test by the Order.”
I stare at him. “Then it’s them.”
Luc doesn’t speak for a moment. His jaw tightens, and his whole posture shifts, still controlled but suddenly alert. Like he’s gearing up for a fight he’s already tired of. “They’re early,” he mutters.
Then he moves.
He crosses the room in three strides, reaches into the air, and tears it open.
A burst of light rips through the air. A portal. But it isn’t for travel this time. It’s a mirror. A vision. Through it, I see shadows moving across a pale, broken horizon, like something savage clawing at the thinning boundary between that world and this one.
Luc curses under his breath. “Surgers don’t test. They probe. When they do, it means they’ve already cracked the outer wards.”
He closes the seam with a sharp motion, energy snapping out like static.
“Luc . . .” I ask slowly. “If they’re coming through . . . what happens to your world?”
“It falls.”
My stomach turns.
I jump at the sound. A knock. Not from a portal. Not some burst of energy. It’s from the front door.
Luc’s head tilts slightly as he listens.
Then a voice. “Luc. Cece. We need to talk. Now.”
Luc’s spine straightens.
“Is that Aris?” I ask, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.
“No,” he answers. “It’s someone I never expected to see here.”
The door swings open.
The man standing there is younger than I expected, late twenties.
His hair is windswept and midnight-black, his eyes crackling with silver energy like lightning.
He wears what I assume is Pomerian armor under a long, sand-colored coat, and on his back is a small blade humming with runes. But he smiles, and it feels genuine.
“Luc,” he says, his voice warm, if a little breathless. “You look like shit.”
Luc exhales sharply, a sound between a curse and a laugh. “Xan.”
“You gonna let me in, or just admire my profile all night?”
Luc steps aside without answering.
The man Luc met with before, Xanther, walks into the apartment with the ease of someone who’s traveled a thousand miles and still carries himself like he owns every room he enters. His eyes find mine, and he gives a polite nod.
“You must be Cece.”
There’s something in his tone. Not suspicion. Maybe sympathy.
“She is,” Luc confirms, closing the door. “And you’re not supposed to be here.”
“No, I’m not.” Xanther’s smile fades. “But I needed you to know something before it’s too late.”
Luc’s face tightens. “Talk.”
“I was pulled from my post,” Xanther says, turning toward Luc. “Ordered to monitor the Northern Gates of Pomerium after a minor breach.” He scoffs. “Or what they said was a breach.”
Luc’s expression sharpens. “They sent you away.”
“To keep me distracted.” Xanther nods. “I didn’t realize it at first. But the timing was too clean. While I was chasing shadows, Vael was sent here to track Cece.”
Luc’s entire body goes still. “They used you,” he growls.
“They used both of us,” Xanther corrects. “Vael tracked the surge from your crossing, the one when you saved her.” His eyes flick toward me again. “The Order doesn’t just want to know what you did, Luc. They want to know what she is now.”
I try to follow their conversation, to take in everything they’re saying, but the more I listen, the more questions I have. Luc said before that Xanther was the person he trusted most, but I want to understand his motives for myself. I’m tired of just trusting because I’m told to.
“Why come here? Why warn us?” I manage, despite the lump in my throat.
Xanther’s voice softens. “Because I’ve known Luc since we were younglings pulling flame from wind. And I’ve never seen him break our High Laws. Not once. Until he broke them for you.”
Luc’s mouth is tight and unreadable.
“The Order sees that as treason,” Xanther continues. “But I see something else. I see someone worth protecting.”
Luc cuts in. “Do they know you’re here?”
“No.” Xanther looks between the two of us. “But they will soon. I warped through unauthorized corridors. They’ll feel it.”
I turn to Luc, hoping he’ll give me some hint of what this means for us. He crosses his arms, his mind clearly racing.
“They sent Vael first. That was their warning shot,” Xanther adds grimly. “If they send Aris himself . . . it won’t be a conversation. It’ll be an execution.”
Silence falls over the room.
My voice slices through it. “So what now?”
Xanther looks at me, then Luc. “Now, you stop pretending this is just a delay of fate. You prepare.”
“For what?” Luc asks.
Xanther’s eyes darken. “For the Order. For the Surgers. And for whatever Cece is becoming.”