Chapter 22
Lucien
Istep into the hallway where Xan stands waiting—lean and alert, braced against the wall outside the bedroom.
Seeing his silhouette feels like being back home, the familiarity of years spent in war, guarding realms, learning trust the hard way.
As I step out, his eyes flick to mine for just a second.
Then comes the smirk—wide, shameless, and entirely too pleased with himself.
The kind that says took you long enough without a single word.
I meet his gaze with a flat look meant to say enough, let’s move. But there’s a twitch at the corner of my mouth I can’t quite suppress. He’s earned that smirk. Damn him.
We move together toward the living room, side by side. Each step measured, the walls echoing our shared resolve.
“You know what we’re facing?” Xan asks, voice low, eyes fixed on the street beyond the windows.
I nod, the pulse of danger sharpening.
“Probes,” I say, letting the word hang. Cold. Clinical. Too precise to be meaningless.
He shakes his head. “The signatures aren’t right. It’s frozen. Disciplined. Like they’re charting us.”
He’s right. Mapping us means deciding where to strike.
We reach the window. I draw the curtain back just enough to see movement. Shadows shift. Two forms linger against the backdrop. No rip in the realm. No unnatural glow. Just predators, calculating.
My heart lodges in my throat. “They know where Cece is,” I murmur, more to myself than to Xan.
He meets my gaze, jaw tight. “They don’t,” he says. “Not yet.”
The truth of that—her fragile safety—pins me in place. I want to run back, grab her, promise her everything will be fine. Instead, we crouch behind furniture, reading the darkness. A slow exhale slips from me.
Then, deep in my gut, the familiar surge coils tight. Power crackles awake, born from my very being.
In an instant, my staff bursts into existence.
Pure electrical current arcs along its sleek form, humming with raw potential. Ancient carvings glow faintly as warm pulses ripple through it. The staff isn’t just a weapon—it’s a living conduit of warping power, ready to bend reality itself to my command.
“If they mark this place, if they open a breach here, it becomes their anchor,” I say, voice firm but tight.
“We can’t let that happen.”
Xan nods, his aura flickering smoke-thin and steel-hard.
“I’ll hold them off,” he says. “You get her out.”
Simple. Brutal. Necessary.
I take a step back, preparing to split the fragile reality beneath us—but Cece’s face flashes through my mind. Her quiet strength. The trust in her touch.
I exhale and slide back toward the bedroom door.
“Stay with her,” I whisper.
Xan gives a nod that means more than a promise.
Shadow swallows the living room. I grip my staff like a lifeline, its carved surface humming beneath my palm. Xan crouches by the window, eyes locked on the night.
I move beside him, every sense razor-sharp. Adrenaline spikes. The rest of the world falls away. Two figures press against the brick outside—specters in the dark.
Measured. Silent. Probing.
This isn’t chaos. It’s calculation.
“They’re not here to kill,” I whisper. “They’re scouting.”
Xan nods. “Mapping weaknesses.”
A distant hum rises—like the breath of the realm bending. I lift my staff halfway, testing the current.
It pulses back. Ready.
I glance toward the bedroom—toward Cece.
Then the world fractures.
Every memory, every promise, fights to anchor me. I swallow and focus. A footstep scrapes beyond the window—glass dragging softly.
Xan stiffens.
I launch through the room before logic catches up, landing with a grace that belies the crack of splintering wood.
Two intruders emerge, tall forms with warped energy flickering around their shoulders.
They turn—their faces hidden and movements crisp. Their stance is poised. Well-trained. They shift in perfect sync, mirrored and precise.
No words. No hesitation.
I strike on instinct. My staff erupts, a pulse ripping free, carving through the first shadow like a lightning blade.
The first figure jolts, flickering violently, his form stuttering—nowhere near as controlled as he intended.
The second slams into me. I block. The force detonates between us, cracking the floor open.
The sound detonates inside my skull. Heat scorches my chest. Thought fractures. I’m reduced to raw motion.
Survive.
Strike.
Breathe.
Fear never gets a foothold. It burns away in the chaos.
Xan crashes in beside me. A surge tears through him, white energy blooming outward before collapsing in a violent pulse. Shockwaves hurl the intruders back, their forms warping, glitching.
But they recover fast.
Too fast.
I lunge. The first intruder meets me head-on, slamming my staff from my grip. Panic flares—sharp, bright—but the feedback steadies my hands. I snatch it back, spinning into a strike that blasts the second intruder off his feet.
We’re messy. Raw. Off-balance.
But it works.
They surge again, relentless. Xan roars, energy flaring hard enough to rattle the air.
I lock in, forcing my power into shape. A tether of light snaps out, coiling around the nearest intruder’s wrist.
Another crack—his form glitches, edges tearing.
He collapses.
The second hesitates, footing slipping. I press the advantage, breath burning.
“Leave. Now.”
He wavers—caught between instinct and orders. That split second is everything.
Xan snarls, twisting his power into a brutal surge.
The intruder is hurled backward, retreating through the shattered window and vanishing into the night.
Calm crashes down.
My chest heaves as I fight for air. The battle took more from me than I want to admit.
Xan lowers his arm, breathing hard.
We wait until the darkness settles, until nothing moves. I wipe sweat from my brow, my body vibrating with the aftermath.
A soft click.
The bedroom door opens. Cece stands framed in warm lamplight.
Her eyes meet mine with a fierce loyalty.
Slowly, I draw back the current that courses through me, the very force that summoned the staff—watching as it flashes and unravels, crackling strands of pure electricity dissolving into thin air until nothing remains but the faint scent of energy.
The weapon vanishes as if it were never there.
I step toward her, my voice cutting through the quiet.
“They were mapping us.”
She nods. “I don’t think I know what the really means, but I’m glad you stopped them.”
I glance at Xan, tension easing as my breath steadies. “Yes. For now.”
“So . . . what are our next steps?” Cece asks. Her voice is controlled, but beneath it sits uncertainty. “Do we plan? Take action? I mean, I don’t have much experience with being at war, so I’m a little rusty on the tactical side.”
I study her closely—the tremor in her voice, the way her fingers worry the hem of her sleeve, and how her gaze keeps flicking to the ground as if the floor might give out beneath her.
How she’s feeling is understandable. Everything around us is shifting, dangerous, unknowable. I move to speak, trying to ease the pressure.
“Cece, Xan and I can—”
“No.” She cuts in fast. Sharp, but not defensive. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be part of this. I’m trying to understand the plan so I can prepare myself.”
I nod, letting the tension settle. She isn’t retreating. She’s bracing.
“Can I ask you a question?” Her gaze flicks between us.
“Of course,” I say evenly.
She hesitates. “If you can banish beings . . . why not just do that now?”
Confusion threads her voice. She wants to trust me. But the rules of my power are still foreign.
“It doesn’t work like that outside Imperium,” I explain carefully. “Our abilities are given by the gods, yes. But they’re meant to be used in service of our beings—on our ground, or while warping. In protection of our kind.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine, searching for reassurance I don’t fully have.
“I can still summon current. I can sense distortions in the veil, and I can still warp. But my role as a protector doesn’t hold the same strength outside of my world. Not in full. Not in the way you’re probably hoping.” I pause, hating the truth of it.
“It doesn’t mean I won’t fight for you. But the things I can do—what I am—it’s . . . limited here.” I hate the words immediately after saying them, but they’re all I have. And I know they won’t bring her comfort, at least not the kind I want to offer.