They chose a quiet place.
Not holy.
Not official.
Just… safe.
An abandoned storage shed behind a forgotten courtyard. Light filtered through fractured stone in tired stripes. The dust sat politely. The city, for once, stayed somewhere else.
Liora sat first, comfortably folding herself cross-legged onto the floor like someone used to finding peace in broken places. Aiden took a crate that immediately voiced its disapproval by creaking. Senior remained standing — partially out of dignity, partially because the space itself seemed unwilling to make him sit.
Silence existed.
Not awkward.
Earnest.
Liora was the first to move.
"If we're going to do this together," she said quietly, "we should start properly."
She extended her hand.
"To the rest of the world, I'm trouble. To this district, I'm persistent. But to you… I'd like to just be honest."
She smiled softly.
"I'm Liora."
Aiden looked at her hand for a breath.
Then he took it.
"Aiden," he replied. "Cosmically underqualified. Accidentally responsible. Trying very hard not to ruin anybody's life."
Their handshake wasn't magical.
It mattered anyway.
Senior clapped once.
"Lovely. Names exchanged. Humanity established. Very proud of both of you for resisting the urge to cloak yourselves in vague mysticism."
They ignored him.
Mostly.
Aiden inhaled.
"Then I guess I'll start. I didn't choose this. I got thrown into it. I don't think I should be deciding fate, but I also don't think I get to look away anymore. I want to help… I just don't always know how without breaking something."
Liora listened like that mattered.
Like he mattered.
"That's a good answer," she said softly.
Senior nodded.
"Clear. Honest. Introspective. And delightfully lacking in delusions of grandeur. We keep him."
Aiden groaned.
"We?"
"Yes," Senior replied.
Liora exhaled.
"My turn."
No dramatics.
No burdened speech.
Just truth.
"I've been doing this for a while. Not because I was wise. Because nobody else would. I've seen what happens when desperation gets twisted. When systems decide suffering is efficient. I'm not trying to change the world. I'm trying to keep this part of it… alive."
Her voice didn't shake.
That made it hurt more.
"I won't let anyone turn these people into resources. I won't let anyone own hope. If staying small keeps them safe, I stay small. But I won't stand still."
Aiden nodded slowly.
"Then I don't want to interfere with what you've built. I want to help. Or… at least not break it."
"You won't," she answered gently. "If you do, I'll tell you. And then we fix it together."
Senior smiled faintly.
"And my declaration: I will watch. I will guide. I will complain. I will interfere when necessary and resist interfering when it would amuse me too much. I am very fond of you inconvenient creatures."
Aiden blinked.
"…That's the nicest thing you've said to us."
"It is," Senior replied. "Do not expect it to happen often."
They laughed.
No oath swore them together.
No mystical binding sealed fate.
They simply trusted.
And sometimes that was stronger.
They spoke longer.
About limits.
About cost.
About the line between kindness and disaster.
At one point Aiden and Liora shared that same strange mutual recognition again — that feeling of the world quietly approving that they existed at the same time.
Senior noticed.
He did not joke this time.
He simply nodded, satisfied, like someone watching a dangerous equation balance without collapsing.
Across the City
Seris Valen walked out of the Council with fury contained beneath perfect posture.
Dismissed.
Again.
Formally "heard," informally ignored.
Observe only.
No escalation.
Maintain order.
Meaning:
Do nothing.
She wasn't going to.
She reached the stairs.
A clerk nearly collided into her.
"Investigator! I— you— you should know—"
Her voice sharpened.
"What happened."
"They… did believe you," he whispered.
Her pulse stopped.
"How."
"Off record. Private contract security. Someone influential. They moved a retrieval unit to the slums. Orders were not… humane."
Her jaw tightened.
"How long ago?"
"Minutes."
She moved.
No sanction.
No backup.
Just duty.
Back in the Slums
Conversation slowed.
Instinct didn't.
Liora stiffened first.
Intent entered the air.
Not magical.
Not divine.
Predatory.
Aiden didn't have words for it—only the wrongness in his chest. Senior's smile vanished. His eyes sharpened in a way that hinted at older storms.
"Well," he said softly.
"How exquisitely discourteous of them."
And the fragile peace they'd built…
was about to be tested.