Samuel thrashed in his sleep as the nightmare took hold—Joe's broken body at the foot of the stairs, blood smearing his shattered phone screen. "Take it," Joe gasped, pressing the envelope into his hands. "Before he does." Then the uncle's shadow loomed, cold steel pressed to Samuel's temple—
I watched, curious, as Samuel clenched his jaw. "No."
The gunshot cracked.
Pathetic. Brave. Human.
"Is this really the chosen one?" I murmured into the dark as the dream shattered.
Samuel woke gasping, fingers clutching empty air where the testament had been. Tsuki stirred against his chest, her purr vibrating through him like a second heartbeat. Moonlight caught her eyes—just for a moment—making them glow like polished silver.
Three years, he reminded himself, swallowing hard. The uncle's locked up. Joe's money stays untouched.
The fridge light buzzed as he scavenged for leftovers, shoveling cold pizza into his mouth like it could fill the hollow space the nightmare left behind. Crumbs dusted his shirt, forgotten by dawn.
Hayze's elbow nearly knocked over their sodas the next day. "To stubborn assholes!" he cheered, arcade lights flashing across his grin. Samuel forced a laugh, clinking his can. "Not a damn cent of Joe's money," he swore.
Four years, I thought, watching Tsuki blink slowly from her perch on the windowsill. Four years until the testament opens. Until the world cracks.