Chapter 23
Cece
Ilet his words settle, but it feels like stepping onto unstable ground.
Limited.
He says it like it’s a flaw. Like he’s already failed me. But I don’t feel fear. Not from him, at least. Not even disappointment. Just the slow, dawning realization of what we’re actually up against.
I nod, more to myself than to him, trying to process the gravity of this new reality. Their gods. The veil. Power that only half functions beyond its intended borders. It’s a lot, and yet, weirdly, it doesn’t scare me the way it should.
“Okay,” I say quietly, lifting my gaze to his. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Luc looks at me like he wasn’t expecting that. Maybe he thought I’d question his strength. His usefulness. But I see what it takes to admit the limits of what he can do—and what he still does anyway.
“I don’t need you to be all-powerful,” I continue. “I just need to know what’s real. So I can stand in the right place when the time comes.”
I glance at Xan, then back to Luc. “You’re still the one I trust to lead us through this. Even if we’re fighting half-blind.”
There’s a pause.
“I’m not scared of your limits,” I say. “I’m more scared of what happens if we freeze and do nothing.”
I take a slow breath, letting it settle in my chest. The weight of it all is still there, pressing in—but it’s not drowning me anymore. It’s heavy, yeah, but manageable. Something I can hold onto, even if I didn’t ask for it.
And somewhere under the fear and the noise, a familiar part of me steps forward. The version that’s always figured things out on her own. The one who doesn’t back away just because the ground’s unstable. She’s not fearless. She’s scared shitless and has no idea what she’s doing.
But she’s willing to step in anyway.
“We don’t have much to go on,” I say. “No actual information. No clear picture of what they’re doing. But we’re not starting from nothing.” I look to Luc. “You can feel the realm shifts. You and Xan can hit hard if it comes to that, and I’m good at . . . putting pieces together, I suppose.”
I meet his gaze. “It’s not much. But it’s something.”
I glance at Xan. He gives a single nod—sharp-eyed, unreadable—like he’s already thought this through. Of course he has. He’s a freaking warrior.
“If they were watching us like you say,” I continue, letting the quiet of the living room stretch, “then they weren’t just scouting.
They were seeing how close they could get.
What we’d notice. How fast we’d react.” I frown, working it out as I speak.
“That feels . . . intentional. Like they wanted us to notice.”
Luc shifts on the edge of the couch, tension pulling tight across his brow.
“They’re trying to get a rise out of us,” he says.
“Yeah.” I nod slowly. “They want us to do something.”
“Which means we shouldn’t,” he says.
“Not yet.” I pace a few steps, heels thudding softly against the floor as the thought clicks into place. “If they’re watching for patterns, maybe we give them the wrong one.” I say it lightly, but when no one laughs, I keep going. “Let them think we’re leaning a certain way. See what follows.”
Xan exhales, almost a laugh. “Careful,” he says. “That’s starting to sound like strategy.”
I shrug, almost smiling. “I’m making it up as I go.” I give him a flat look. “Adrenaline helps. So do years of being a researcher.”
Then I turn back to Luc, the humor fading. “But if we’re really going to try this, I need to know what you can still do. Like . . . how far it reaches. How long you can hold it. Where it starts to fall apart.”
I hesitate, catching myself before my voice hardens.
“I’m not trying to put this all on you,” I add more quietly. “I just don’t want us guessing anymore. If we know what you’re working with, we can plan around it.”
Luc doesn’t stall. He steps into the middle of the room, shoulders squaring as the air around him tightens. A faint hum builds—barely there at first—then light flickers at his fingertips, thin threads of lightning coiling between his fingers, alive but restrained. Like it’s waiting for permission.
“I can still conjure current,” he says calmly. “But it’s pulled from me now. Not the braqui. Which means every surge has a cost.”
Braqui?
He catches the look on my face. “It’s a stone of divine origin back in my realm. It helps magnify our abilities. Turns the volume up. Most Warpers require it.” He pauses. “I don’t. I don’t need anything external. But doing it myself costs me. More than I like.”
“But it’s still powerful,” he continues. “Sharp. Quick. It slips in where it shouldn’t and can do real damage. And it’s fast.” The current disappears with a flick of his hand, and I swear the air smells burnt. He starts to pace, like he’s cataloging his capabilities out loud for both of us.
“I can sense disruptions in the veil within about two miles. If a being breaches or an anchor drops, I’ll feel it. It’s not perfect, but it gives us direction.” I glance at Xan, who seems to be listening with the same intense focus.
“And the warping?” Xan asks smoothly.
Luc nods. “I can still warp—to Imperium or any other realm we’ve established pathways to. But bringing someone with me?” He exhales. “That’s much more complicated.”
He looks at me then, meaningfully. “It takes a different level of energy. Like what you felt in the subway, Cece. It’s not stable.”
I remember it vividly—the disorientation, the pressure, the metallic-electric scent in the air. The sharp pull of reality tearing open, then slamming shut behind us. He’d made it look effortless.
It wasn’t.
“And I know you’ve asked about ‘beaming,’” he continues.
“Instant transport within a realm. But that’s not possible.
Not for me or any Warper. We can’t jump between points inside a single realm.
Warping is realm-to-realm only. If we travel, it means leaving this world entirely. And there’s always a loss of time.”
I nod. Okay. Boundaries. Limits.
Luc exhales. “I can also look into the veil. Briefly.” His voice lowers. “But it takes a great deal of power. Enough that if we needed to warp immediately afterward, I might have nothing left.”
I let it sink in, letting the pieces sit until they start to line up on their own.
This is usable. We can make something out of it.
I keep my face composed, even as my thoughts keep circling.
Distance. Timing. How much he can push before it takes more than he can give.
Short uses, not long ones. Essentially, Luc isn’t brute force.
He’s not meant to smash through things. His power is something narrower than that, something that works best when it’s aimed carefully.
Then his expression shifts, softening. A faint smile touches his lips. “Oh. And I can do this.”
Suddenly, he’s in my head.
Not just a voice—but his voice. Clear. Calm. Unmistakably Luc. Speaking directly into my thoughts.
Holy shit.
I blink at him. “You’ve had this ability the whole time, and you’re just now telling me?”
He shrugs. “Most beings don’t find it comforting to have someone inside their head uninvited. Telepathy’s useful. But it takes getting used to.”
Xan snickers. “Oh, it’s useful. And way too much fun.”
I narrow my eyes at both of them. “Great. Mind readers and Warpers. I’m officially outnumbered.”
Luc raises an eyebrow, that faint smile still there. “Only when necessary.”
I cross my arms, trying to look unimpressed. “You know, most people ask before casually strolling into someone’s mind.”
Luc gives a mock-thoughtful nod. “Would you have said yes?”
“No,” I deadpan.
“Exactly.”
Xan chuckles. “She’s adapting fast. That’s terrifying.”
I shoot him a look. “Terrifying is waking up in a new world and finding out your travel companion has God-given superpowers and a private mental group chat you’re not invited to.”
Luc lifts a hand. “To be fair, the group chat has exactly two members. And one of them rarely uses punctuation.”
“Hey,” Xan mutters. “I use punctuation when I’m threatening beings.”
“That’s not helping your case,” I say, shaking my head, smiling despite myself.
Luc meets my eyes again. “If you ever want me to teach you how to block it out, I can. You have the kind of mind that might learn fast.”
Something in his tone makes my smile falter, but I nod. “Good to know. But next time? A heads-up before the mental invasion.”
Xan smirks. “No promises. It’s more fun when you’re surprised.”
I glance at Luc, and memories of that run, the day the shadow appeared, flood back. I remember hearing thoughts, a voice in my head that wasn’t mine. The sensation is identical. So I can’t help but wonder if it was him?
“Hey,” I say slowly. “Have you ever talked to me before? Like . . . in my head?”
He frowns. “No. Why?”
“No reason,” I say lightly. “Just curious.”
But unease settles anyway. Because now I know—it had to be someone.
He doesn’t push it. Then Luc’s expression shifts again, serious.
“I can’t banish anything here,” he says, voice low. “Not without a tether to Imperium. But I can still fight them. I can still protect you.”
He meets my eyes when he says it, like he expects the truth to land wrong. As if he thinks I’ll question whether that’s enough. But I don’t. I see a risk in every word, and I trust the man who carries it.
“That’s enough,” I say immediately. “We’ll build around it.”
Xan chuckles. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day Luc gave a full field report without being cornered into it.”
I don’t look away from Luc. “You get used to my charm.”
A faint smile touches his lips, and for a moment, the three of us feel aligned. No one’s entirely invincible here. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t strong. We just have to be smart.
The next morning, after fifteen solid minutes of Luc insisting—gently but persistently—that I’m safe to go to work as long as he and Xan stay nearby, we head out.
We stop for coffee on the way, and to my surprise, Luc seems genuinely excited about it. And when I say excited, I mean practically gleaming over the idea of caffeine. For Luc, King of Broodiness, that’s a rare event.
I try not to laugh. I fail.
We walk into my favorite coffee shop, me sandwiched between two very tall, very serious-looking men who scream security detail more than morning coffee run.
The barista blinks, clearly processing the image. I order drinks for all three of us, and we step aside to wait. Luc studies the menu like it’s an artifact from another realm—which, honestly, it kind of is.
Then—
“Cece!”
Not from the counter.
The voice freezes me mid-step.
I turn slowly, and there she is.
Kate.
Standing a few feet away, eyes wide as they flick between me, Luc, and Xan. Her expression is a perfect mix of curiosity and suspicion as she raises an eyebrow.
“Are you going to introduce me, babe?”