Back at the mansion, I lingered in my room, the door left slightly ajar. From across the space, I noticed Xander standing by the window—still, silent, and distant, as though lost in some memory only he could see.
I walked over.
"Xander."
He turned his head, his eyes cool and unreadable.
"I'm going to the mall today. With Oregon," I said casually.
He paused for a moment, then said, "Vlad told me about the mystery man at the festival."
"Oh. I figured I was just overthinking it. He was attractive—captivating, even. My heart fluttered—nothing more," I said with a shrug.
Xander raised an eyebrow.
"You had time to think about that?"
I smirked.
"I was just joking, okay? So... are you coming with us or not?"
"No, thanks."
His voice was calm but distant.
"Just make sure Oregon stays close. If anything happens, he'll protect you."
"Alright then," I said quietly, brushing past him.
"Wait," Xander said, his voice lower now—gentler.
I turned.
He pulled a sleek black card from his wallet and stepped closer, offering it to me.
"For emergencies," he murmured, eyes holding mine for a second too long.
My heart fluttered.
"Oh my God, Xander… thank you."
Without thinking, I hugged him—quick, instinctive, but real.
He was taken aback, of course, but then he turned and went to his room.
A black card. The kind only the ultra-wealthy carry.
Then I went on looking for Oregon.
Through the tall windows, I spotted Oregon pacing in the garden.
At one point, it even looked like he was talking to a tree—but that no longer surprised me.
We went to the nearest mall.
Oregon stood at the entrance of the shopping mall like a knight before a castle gate, staring at the sliding glass doors as if they might challenge him to a duel.
"They open without touch. I can't believe there's magic in your world too," he whispered, awestruck.
"It's a sensor," I said, chuckling.
"Come on—you've wielded greater magic, faced shadow beasts and rogue lycans. I think you can handle escalators and food courts."
With Xander's incredibly useful black card, I led Oregon through the chaos of Earth's modern wonders.
First stop: clothes.
Oregon stared at the mannequins.
"Why are there frozen people in the windows?"
"They're not people—just mannequins. They model the clothes."
He squinted at them.
"They're not very expressive."
I laughed.
We spent an hour trying on everything from fitted jeans to hoodies.
He ended up picking an earth-toned jacket.
Next: food court.
Oregon looked genuinely concerned when I handed him a cheeseburger.
"This… is meat… in a circle?"
"Yes. It's delicious. Just don't ask what part of the cow it came from."
His first bite was slow and skeptical. Then his eyes widened.
"This is ambrosia."
"No, this is fast food."
He insisted on trying everything—fries, pizza, bubble tea.
Then, the cinema.
When the lights dimmed and the surround sound kicked in, Oregon looked around, startled.
"Are we under attack?"
"It's just a movie. You're fine," I whispered, amused.
He leaned in during the previews, his voice low and curious.
"So these are stories captured in a box? Made of light and shadows?"
"Exactly," I said with a soft smile.
"Just… try not to yell at the screen."
He didn't yell—but he gasped at every twist, eyes wide with wonder.
He clutched my hand when things got intense, his emotions worn plainly on his face.
At one point, he rested his head on my shoulder, and I didn't move.
When the credits rolled, he clapped—completely, unapologetically delighted.
And somewhere between the laughter, the shared popcorn, and his hand in mine, I stopped feeling embarrassed.
I just felt...warm and happy for him.
"That was a tale worthy of the Elders!"
"You've officially become a movie critic."
And finally: ice cream. Vanilla and Chocolate, of course.
Oregon studied the cone like it was a sacred artifact. He took one careful lick, then closed his eyes.
"It's like… snow kissed by fire."
I burst out laughing.
"You're such a poet."
He smiled at me. A soft, real one.
"Only around you, I guess."
It was already dark when we got home.
That night, I found Xander alone in the lounge, half-shadowed, a glass of aged, blood-rich wine in his hand. He didn't look up when I entered.
Oregon went straight to his room, he looks tired but still smiling.
"You're back," Xander murmured.
I sat beside him.
"Yeah. We hit all the spots—malls, fries, capitalism. Even the cinema. Oregon had fun. And... nothing went wrong. Thanks for your black card."
He was quiet for a moment, swirling the dark liquid in his glass.
"He's adapting fast," he said, almost to himself. "Faster than I expected."
Then, more softly, "And...seemed like you were enjoying it too."
There was something in his voice.
I looked at him then, really looked. The sharp lines of his jaw, the pale angles of his cheekbones, the shadow behind his eyes—sadness he never named.
"You okay?" I asked gently.
He didn't answer right away—just took a slow sip from his glass.
Finally, he said, "I'm fine. I don't have the right not to be. You're the Prime Apex. You belong to the world. To them. To everyone."
I smiled faintly.
"Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe I belong to no one… and everyone belongs to me."
He blinked. "What?"
"Never mind," I said quietly.
Before he could say anything else, I stood up and left the room. I couldn't say more. It was all too complicated.
The next morning, we gathered once again—our strange little circle, bound by prophecy, secrets, and bloodlines older than memory.
"We've narrowed it down," Dylan said, tossing a folder onto the table.
"The Georgio Medical Group has a silent founder—never named, no photos, zero public records. Just encrypted archives and layered aliases."
Right on cue, Vlad emerged from the shadows.
"I know where to find him."
All eyes turned to him.
"There's a private island. Hidden in plain sight. It's where Georgio keeps his estate—shielded from satellites, government access… even magic."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"I have my sources," Vlad said smoothly. "Remember, I was the one who found out about you, Leighton."
He leaned closer, voice low.
"And next week, the founder is leaving the island. He has to show up at the corporate headquarters for biometric recertification. It only happens once every five years."
Xander leaned forward.
"We can't go after him there. It's too public. Too many eyes."
I nodded.
"He'll be heavily guarded. Security will be tight."
"Then we follow him home," Dylan said. "Back to the island."
Vlad's eyes gleamed with quiet menace.
"Once we're there… I can take out the guards."
"No," I said sharply.
"No unnecessary bloodshed."
Vlad raised an eyebrow.
"You'd rather negotiate?"
"I have a better idea."
They all turned to me, waiting.