Liora didn't sleep much anymore.
She closed her eyes.
Her body rested.
Her mind didn't.
Strength used to be easy.
Strength had been doing the right thing.
Standing up when others wouldn't.
Punching through fear with sheer stubbornness.
Now strength came with consequences.
And choices.
And cost.
And the quiet awareness that she'd stood in front of a myth and told him to stop—
and he had.
Power changes you.
The trick was not letting it change you into something you'd hate.
She wasn't sure she was succeeding.
Inkaris found her leaning against a railing overlooking a yawning black drop into endless pipes — a view that should've scared her.
It didn't.
"It is impolite to lean that far forward," he said calmly. "Gravity is extremely reliable."
Liora snorted.
"You're worried."
"No," he replied. "I am acknowledging high probability event chains."
She smiled faintly.
Same thing.
He took his usual place beside her.
Hands behind his back.
Posture perfect.
Presence steady.
Not comforting.
Reliable.
She needed reliable.
"So," she said at last, "I've been thinking."
"That is frequently where problems begin."
She rolled her eyes.
"About you. And Ardent."
He didn't respond.
Which meant he was responding.
"I want to understand you two," she continued. "You're opposites. Yet he trusted you to take over. Which means he trusted you to care."
She didn't miss the barely perceptible shift in his shoulders.
"Ardent and I," Inkaris said slowly, "are… aligned."
"That sounds like something someone says right before denying they're friends."
"We are not friends."
She lifted a brow.
He continued anyway.
"He is chaos wearing etiquette. I am structure wearing patience. He believes emotion refines choices. I believe emotion contaminates them. He reaches for humanity. I respect it from a distance."
"And yet," Liora said softly, "he sent us to you."
He stared straight ahead.
"He trusts me to do what I say I will do. He trusts me not to break. He trusts that while I may not be kind… I will be precise. Precision, to him, is… kindness."
The admission was startling.
Gentle.
A little sad.
"He once told me," Inkaris added quietly, "'If I break something too hard, you will teach it how to breathe again without shattering the rest of the room.'"
Liora swallowed.
That sounded like Ardent.
It also sounded heartbreakingly lonely.
"You respect him," she realized.
"Yes."
"You care about him."
He didn't answer.
Which was an answer.
She leaned back from the railing.
Fingers gripping metal.
"What about me?"
He turned his head slightly.
"I do not like repeating myself. You are still here. The conclusion is obvious."
"That's not enough," she said.
"Then clarify your question."
She met his gaze.
"I want to become stronger. I want to stand in front of horrors and not break. But I don't want to become… cold. Or cruel. Or so used to power that I stop seeing people. How do I avoid becoming like the worst of your kind?"
He regarded her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
At last, a proper lesson.
"Very well," he said.
"Here is how you do not become a demon."
"First," he said,
"You must never believe that understanding people obligates them to you. We study souls with terrifying clarity. We see patterns. Weaknesses. Fears. Most demons stop seeing individuals. They see leverage."
His voice remained level.
But sharper now.
"If you ever look at someone and your first thought is what they can become useful for… stop. You are already losing yourself."
Liora nodded.
That one hurt to hear.
So it mattered.
"Second," Inkaris continued,
"do not internalize pain as identity. Demons who care learn very quickly that attachment is agony. Many respond by making suffering a personality. By deciding they are tragedy with legs."
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Power is easier than vulnerability. If you ever start believing you can only matter while bleeding… stop. You are becoming something I would have to destroy."
Liora inhaled sharply.
That one…
That one landed in a place she didn't like to look at.
He softened.
Barely.
"Strength is not proven by how much you break. It is proven by how much of yourself remains afterward."
"And third," he said quietly,
"never confuse love with sacrifice."
She blinked.
"…what?"
"A very old and very tired mistake," he said. "Demons who love decide that the only valid expression of care is suffering for another. That is not love. That is ego wearing devotion."
He looked almost apologetic.
Almost.
"If you love someone, do not bleed to prove it. Stay. Grow. Return. Exist."
He held her gaze.
"I say this as someone who has seen universes burn because someone believed dying beautifully was the height of loyalty."
The undercity hummed.
Pipes whispered.
Somewhere far off,
something clanked.
Liora swallowed hard.
Then exhaled.
"…thank you."
He nodded.
"Acceptable."
She hesitated.
One last question.
"Will Ardent be okay…?" she asked softly.
Inkaris didn't answer right away.
When he did,
his voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.
"He survives everything," he said. "That is not always the same as being alright."
He straightened.
"But he chose his path. As you choose yours. As Aiden must choose his."
He glanced at her again.
"And if it comforts you: Ardent does not invest lightly. If he placed interest in you… it is because he believes your existence improves the world. He is rarely wrong."
Her chest tightened.
Warm.
Painful.
Real.
"…that helps," she whispered.
"It was intended to."
He started to leave.
Liora watched him go.
Then… softly:
"Inkaris."
He paused.
She smiled.
"You're doing a good job."
He blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
"…noted."
Then he walked away.
And Liora,
still scared,
still stubborn,
still her,
felt just a little steadier.