"Evander?"
My throat burns like I've swallowed glass, and my legs threaten to give out when I try to stand.
"Evie, you had me worried."
Evander's expression is perfect. Concern etched into every line of his stupidly handsome face, playing the doting partner like he was born for the role. Which is weird because we're not together. We've never been together.
I yank my hand from his grip and rub my eyes hard enough to see stars. This is too much. Way too much. We need to be moving, not standing around having a moment.
"I… I have to go."
I turn back toward the car, but Evander catches my arm. His fingers are gentle but firm, and when I glance back, he's positioned himself between me and the door like a human barricade.
"Evie, this is dangerous. Let me take you home."
There's something in his voice that tells me he's not talking about the sketchy neighborhood we're currently standing in. My stomach does another threatening flip. I swallow against the nausea crawling up my throat.
"We need to leave," I say, shouldering past him with more force than necessary.
Inside the car, I collapse into my seat, fumbling with the seatbelt before finally getting it clicked. I let my eyes fall shut and lean my head back, willing my body to just calm down already.
Doors open.
Doors close.
When I crack one eye open, Riven is gone from beside me.
Evander has taken his place.
I might be flattered if this were a normal situation and I wasn't trying to keep tabs on the thousand questions that have built up over the last 24 hours. But it's not, and I'm not.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, determined not to throw up all over the expensive leather interior. The car starts moving, thank god, and that's all that matters right now.
"It was a vision," Riven's voice drifts from the front seat, quieter than usual. "She needs..."
"I know what she needs, sprig." Evander's reply carries an edge I've never heard before. Sharp and territorial.
Sprig? What the hell is a sprig?
"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so careless."
Before I can process that loaded statement, something warm slides between my fingers. My eyes snap open. Evander has threaded his hand through mine, and he's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
I open my mouth to say something and pull away but then the warmth spreading from our joined hands suddenly amplifies. It goes from pleasant to impossibly warm, like heat radiating from a bonfire on a winter night.
And just like that, my mind clears.
The fog lifts. The clamminess of my skin evaporates. The trembling stops. Evander feels solid and real beside me, an anchor in the chaos, and I find myself leaning into him without thinking.
Another minute passes, maybe two, and I realize something stunning: I feel good. Better than good. Better than I've felt in weeks.
The constant stress that's been eating away at me, leaving me more exhausted and strung-out with each passing day, it's just... gone. I'm wide awake. Alert. Energized.
"What was that?" The words come out breathless, almost awed.
I don't think I realized how worn down I'd been until it stopped.
Not just tired. Worn thin. Like I'd been running a low-level fever for weeks and only noticed once it broke. The confusion drains away first, then the heaviness. My thoughts settle into clean lines instead of overlapping spirals. Everything clicks into place with a precision I usually only get after hours of work or the rare moments when my brain decides to cooperate.
My shoulders loosen. The ache in my back, the one that never quite lets go no matter how long I stand under hot water, fades like it was never there. Even my senses feel sharper. I can hear the road under the tires. Feel the air shift as we move. There's a low hum beneath it all, subtle but steady, like the city itself has a pulse.
I pull my hand away and stare at Evander, waiting.
For an explanation. For a lie. For something that makes this make sense.
His expression flickers. Not guilt exactly. Calculation, maybe. Like he's weighing which version of the truth I can handle.
"You were burning through yourself," he says finally. "Your abilities are coming online faster than your body knows how to manage."
He reaches for my hand again, slower this time, giving me the chance to refuse. I don't. His fingers close around mine, warm but controlled. The overwhelming heat from before is gone. Now it's steady, grounding. Like holding a mug between your palms on a cold morning.
"A Witness manifesting with this much force needs support," he continues. "A conduit. Someone trusted. Or something designed to carry the load."
"So," I say, "I'm basically running on empty and you jump-started me."
From the front seat, I hear Riven huff out a quiet laugh.
"That's not inaccurate," Evander says. "You can draw from me when you need to. Small amounts. Enough to keep you functional."
I glance down at our joined hands. "Wow. My own personal hand warmer."
The words leave my mouth before my brain catches up.
Then my brain does catch up.
I pull my hand back again, sharper this time. "You have magic."
Evander doesn't deny it.
"And Monica thinks you're using a glamour," I add. "Which means you've been lying to me. Or at least editing yourself."
The car slows. Headlights sweep across brick and concrete as we roll to a stop that feels deliberate.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and check Monica's location. Her blue dot is still moving, still a few streets away.
"Why are we stopping?" The edge in my voice surprises even me.
"We're meeting backup," Riven says, already opening his door.
I follow him out without thinking, the night air snapping cold against my skin. I barely register Evander's hand catching my wrist.
"Evie, wait."
I turn on him, the words already stacked behind my teeth.
"Thank you," I say. "For earlier. For lately. For whatever you've been doing to keep me upright." I take a breath, steadying myself. "But I need to get to Monica before my brain completely unravels. And you're a stranger to me. I don't have the bandwidth to untangle whatever you've been hiding or why. So please. Just don't."
I don't wait for an answer.
I head toward the cluster of people gathered around the hood of another car, their voices overlapping in sharp, focused bursts. Evander catches up to me in a few long strides, close enough that I can feel him there without looking.
Riven is bent over a map, flanked by four others.
One of them looks so much like Hearth it makes my brain stutter. Same build. Same posture. Softer features, though. Less sharp around the edges. If someone told me they were siblings, I'd believe it without question.
Next to him stands a girl with a pixie cut and long, pointed ears, her red hair catching the streetlight. There's something restless about her, like she's vibrating just slightly out of phase. Tinkerbell flashes through my mind and I immediately decide to keep that thought to myself.
Across from them is a man who looks unmistakably human. A little awkward. A little too expressive. The kind of face that suggests every sentence is going to be followed by a joke, whether it's appropriate or not.
Beside him stands another man, tall and pale with dark hair that falls into his eyes. He has the air of someone who lives indoors by choice. Library stacks. Dust. Long nights. I feel an unexpected kinship.
"The door should be here," the pale man says, tapping the map. "If the veil has actually thinned the way you're suggesting."
"That's assuming it has," the red-haired girl adds. "I'm not sensing anything yet."
"Evie," Riven says, straightening. "Can I see your phone?"
I hand it over without hesitation. He places it against the map, lining it up with practiced ease.
The map isn't something you buy folded at a gas station. It's layered. Dense. I can make out sewer lines, power grids, old infrastructure overlapping the new. Even the subway tunnels are marked, ghosting through the city beneath us.
"You have a map of the entire city," I say.
Riven turns to face me fully, his hands settling on my shoulders as he meets my eyes. Behind me, something lets out a low, unmistakable growl.
I jump.
Riven drops his hands and shoots Evander an annoyed look. "I will explain everything," he says to me. "I swear. But right now we need a plan."
I wave him off and step closer to the hood. "I know how to read architectural maps, Riven. I'm not dead weight."
There's a beat. Then several pairs of eyes flick from me back to the map, like I've just violated an unspoken rule.
I ignore it.
Standing beside the red-haired girl, I study the layout, phone in one hand, map in the other. The added clarity from earlier hasn't faded. If anything, it's sharpening.
"They're underground," I say slowly. "Here. These access points line up with Monica's last trajectory."
Hearth's double nods. "They move through tunnels. Hearth counted thirteen. Kill three."
He sounds proud. I decide not to unpack the murder part of that sentence.
"Will the dragon be joining us?" the human asks, glancing at Riven.
Dragon? Were we going to run into a dragon down there?
"I believe so," Riven says.
The human grins and murmurs something to the pale man, who shakes his head like this is all deeply predictable.
"We cut them off before they reach the gate," the pale man says. "They won't stand a chance."
Riven exhales. "Let's hope Monica is slowing them down."
The group starts to break apart, moving with purpose. The red-haired girl and the human take off toward a nearby building. The pale man carefully rolls the map, sliding it into a poster tube and then into a custom leather case already packed with others.
I stand there for a moment, watching them scatter, the city humming beneath my feet.
Instinctively, I find myself walking toward Hearth and his doppelgänger.
"Hey Hearth." I say smiling up at him. He just feels safe to me for some reason. Whether that's instinct or the Witness power quietly sorting things in the background, I can't tell.
"Evie," he says as excited as ever. "My Isewyn."
He gestures to the golem next to him.
"Hello Evie," she says. "I'm Isewyn. It's nice to meet you."
"Isewyn," I repeat, then lift a hand in a half-wave before letting it fall. "Hi."
"Evie scared." Hearth says.
"Yeah," I admit. "I'm scared for my friend. And I'm scared about… everything, if I'm being honest." I pause, then shake my head. "Sorry. I'm rambling."
"You're in very good hands, my dear Evie." Isewyn says gently. There's something in her voice that settles into me. Like honey to my ears.
She takes my hand, and a soft calm rolls through my chest, easing the tightness I hadn't realized was there.
"Oh," I say before I can stop myself. "You have magic too?"
Isewyn chuckles. "I am magic. The inverse of a human, some would say. Humans live without any magic at all while Hearth and I are born from it. Truly remarkable."
I feel like I'm going to like Isewyn just as much as I like Hearth and I've only just met both of them.
"Evie," Evander's voice pulls my attention. He's already removing his coat and tie, pressing them into my arms. "I'm going to help rescue Monica. It should be quicker that way and we'll be able to get you somewhere safe."
I nod. Everything he's saying makes sense. Now that I can feel how this magic works, I know he's telling the truth.
Still, something nags at the back of my mind. A quiet reminder that knowing how something works doesn't mean you know everything it's doing. Lying by omission is still lying, after all.
I smooth my expression before anyone can comment on it.
Riven looks at me for half a beat too long then quickly controls his features.
Riven steps closer. "I know you want to help," he says, "but please stay here with Isewyn. She can protect you. We'll be back within the hour." He holds out his hand. "I'll need your phone."
"That's fine," I say, passing it over. The clarity makes it easier to accept what I already know. I'd be dead weight down there. "Please be careful. All of you."
"Evie is safe with Isewyn," Hearth says, moving toward Riven.
Riven gives me a nod, and then he, Hearth, and Evander jog off toward the buildings ahead.
I stand there holding Evander's clothes, watching them disappear into the night.
The city hums around me, steady and alive.
What the hell has my life become.