“I’m human,” she replies, her tone defensive but steady.
“Yes,” I acknowledge, “and that is precisely the problem.”
Her expression hardens. “Then explain it.”
“It means,” I say carefully, “that this arrangement is no longer simple.”
“It was never simple. My brother is dying.”
The statement lands with force, cutting through analysis and grounding the situation in its original context. The contract may have changed, but her objective has not.
“That remains unchanged,” I concede.
The sigils dim around us as their function concludes, and the warehouse settles into a tense stillness. Outside, the muted sounds of the docks continue as though nothing significant has occurred, which only reinforces the magnitude of the shift that has taken place within this space.
I take a step back, creating distance to allow for proper assessment.
“This contract requires review,” I state.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re leaving?”
“For a moment.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one you will receive at this stage.”
Her hands clench at her sides as frustration builds beneath her composure. “You said you could help him.”
“I said I could broker access to someone who can,” I correct.
“And now?”
“Now I need to understand what you have become within this agreement before I proceed.”
“I haven’t become anything,” she insists.
“That is where you are incorrect,” I reply.
I withdraw from the mortal plane, allowing my form to dissolve back into the infernal strata.
The connection remains.
That detail is the most significant of all.
Even as I return to my domain, I can still feel her pulse, steady and insistent, threaded through the bond as a constant stabilizing force.
The word forms within my awareness with unsettling clarity.
Anchor.
For the first time in centuries, I find myself confronting a variable that does not conform to expectation, and the uncertainty it introduces is not unwelcome.
It is… compelling.
3
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