“Go inside.”
He starts to argue, but the look she gives him has ended stronger men than he currently is. He rises with a sigh and heads for the door.
“Fine. But if I wake up with more weird strength, I’m blaming both of you.”
“Reasonable,” I say.
He points at me. “That was not an invitation to agree.”
Sable follows him inside after one final glance at the road. I remain outside.
The guard position forms naturally.
I stand beneath the porch roof, within range of the tether, with the reinforced wards at my back and the corpse-warning visible beyond the gate. Sable moves upstairs, and I track the shift in her heartbeat as she checks on Corin, then crosses to her own room. Corin’s aura pulses unevenly before settling, his body still adjusting to the accelerated restoration.
Beyond the ward line, the mist moves.
No lesser creature approaches.
The deeper presence does not return in full, but the memory of Maltherion’s signature remains at the edge of my awareness. His attention has touched this place, and that alone changes the nature of the threat.
I do not inform Sable.
Not yet.
Her pulse finally slows above me, though it does not become peaceful. Even in rest, she carries tension like a hidden blade. The tether holds steady between us, warming faintly whenever her breathing shifts in sleep.
I position myself facing the road.
The posture is practical, but it is no longer only practical. The house behind me contains the anchor who stabilizes my manifestation and the brother whose restoration has drawn infernal attention. It contains a woman who studies contracts like weapons and a man who drags demon corpses into roads to make a point.
I remain outside through the night.
By dawn, I understand that the guard position is no longer temporary.
7
SABLE
Dawn comes in gray and salt-stained, pressing its thin light against the windows as if the day itself is reluctant to enter.
The house smells of cold ashes, iron, and damp wood, but there’s something else threaded through it now—something warmer, sharper, like heat caught beneath skin. I feel it before I see him, the tether humming low and steady as I move across the room.
I don’t bother knocking.
“Rhazek.”
He’s in front of me before the word finishes leaving my mouth.
Too close.
Always too close now.
“You called,” he says, voice low, controlled, but not untouched.
“I said your name,” I snap, though the edge in my voice feels thinner than it did a moment ago. “And you appeared. Again.”
“Your pulse spiked.”
