Nova followed Talia into the café, holding the box of kittens carefully against his chest. The place was warmer than he had expected, though it wasn't simply the temperature that caught his attention. It was the energy surrounding him. Tired people occupied most of the tables, holding lukewarm conversations over their drinks. Office workers sat hunched over laptops, their expressions strained, while the occasional burst of laughter broke through the steady murmur of voices.
Talia led him to a small table near the back of the café, where there was enough space to place the box beside his chair. She pulled a soft scarf from her bag and wrapped it around the kittens to keep them comfortable. One of them lifted its head, let out a weak meow, and immediately curled up against the others.
"There you go," she murmured. "A little better, right?"
Nova watched her adjust the scarf before taking his seat. "You seem familiar with caring for animals."
"I've spent enough time around strays to know a few things," Talia replied. "They're hungry, though. We should get them something proper before they decide to eat your clothes."
She picked up a menu and handed him another, though she already knew most of the café's offerings. Nova scanned the pages, his eyes moving from one unfamiliar name to another. Of all the things listed, water was the only one he recognized with any confidence. He had tasted Talia's muffin earlier, but the food before him seemed to have an endless variety of names and ingredients.
There was another problem. He didn't have a single coin to pay for any of it.
"Anything look good?" Talia asked.
Nova studied the menu a moment longer. "I have no particular preference. I know very little about these dishes."
"You haven't eaten much café food, huh?"
"Not until today."
Talia looked at him over the edge of her menu. "All right. I'll order something simple. You don't have any allergies I should know about?"
He considered the question. He had never needed to concern himself with such limitations, but he wasn't sure what his mortal body was capable of enduring. "None that I'm aware of."
"Good enough for now." She set the menu down, then glanced at his torn garment. "Actually, there are two things we need to sort out. Food for the cats and clothes for you."
Nova lowered his gaze to his appearance. "I suppose this attire does attract unnecessary attention."
"A little," Talia said, smiling. "You look like you walked out of a historical drama and got into a fight with a garbage truck."
"That is an unusual comparison."
"You'll get used to those too." She stood and picked up her bag. "Stay here. I'll grab something for the cats. And maybe something that doesn't look like it was woven by an ancient wizard."
"You have already given me food," Nova said. "I have nothing with which to repay you."
Talia paused beside the table. "I know. You made that pretty clear when you stared at the menu like it was asking for your bank details. Don't worry about it for now."
Nova turned toward the window. Outside, the city continued moving. Vehicles passed one another in the street, pedestrians hurried along the pavement, and a man stopped beneath a shop awning to finish a phone call. Everyone seemed occupied with something. No one outside knew or cared that the Supreme God of Destruction was sitting in a café with no money, no home, and a box of abandoned animals.
He rested his fingertips against the glass. Some small part of him had expected it to react, as though reality would still acknowledge his presence the way it once had. But the glass remained cold and solid beneath his touch.
Nothing changed.
He lowered his eyes to the ordinary table and whispered, "So this is life without eternity."
A kitten shifted in the box, and Nova drew the scarf a little higher to keep it warm. For the moment, it needed nothing more than food, warmth, and safety.
When she returned, she carried a small bag of supplies for the kittens and another with folded clothing. She placed them on an empty chair beside him.
"All right," she said, sounding pleased with herself. "Nothing fancy. A black hoodie, some jeans, and boots. I guessed your size, so hopefully I wasn't completely wrong."
Nova stared at the clothes. "You purchased these for me?"
"Unless you'd rather keep walking around in that shredded robe."
"It was once a garment of considerable importance."
"I'm sure it was," Talia said, trying not to laugh. "Here. The restroom's down the hall. You can change there. Not ideal, but better than what you've got on."
He accepted the clothes, still unsure how he should respond to a stranger spending so much on him. "Thank you, Talia. I will remember your generosity."
"You can thank me by not making me regret guessing your shoe size. Go on."
Nova headed toward the restroom, stopping beside a narrow mirror in the hall. He stared at his reflection.
There was no divine glow around his body, no faint aura of destruction radiating beneath his skin. His hair was slightly tangled, his shoulders were slouched, and exhaustion had settled around his eyes. He looked like an ordinary young man who had been wandering the streets for far too long.
Inside the restroom, he changed into the clothes Talia had bought. The fabric felt rougher than he was accustomed to, and the jeans clung to his legs in unfamiliar places. He spent an embarrassing amount of time examining the zipper before figuring out how it worked.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, fastening it at last.
After changing, Nova closed his eyes and reached inward, toward his soul. For countless eons, the vast reservoir of divine energy within him had responded to even the smallest intention. It had always been there, waiting for his command.
Nothing answered.
He concentrated harder, searching for something familiar beneath his mortal flesh, but the silence remained. There was no overwhelming power and not even the faintest flicker of the energy that once defined his existence.
"Come on," he muttered.
Frustration rose before he had time to restrain it. Nova drove his fist into the wall, half out of anger and half out of desperation. The drywall cracked beneath the impact, and a sudden, sharp pain traveled through his hand.
Several of his knuckles had split open. Bright red blood gathered along the broken skin and ran slowly toward his fingers. Nova stared at it, breathing harder than he had moments earlier.
Blood. Not light. Not divine fluid.
Just blood.
"I bleed," he whispered.
He turned his hand, watching another drop collect and fall into the sink. Then a short laugh escaped him. It carried surprise, disbelief, and something close to satisfaction.
"I bleed."
The sting grew worse when he moved his fingers, and for an instant he regretted striking the wall. But beneath the discomfort was an excitement he had never experienced. This was pain without the assurance that his body would remain unharmed. He had to live with the injury because his own decision had caused it.
He held his injured hand beneath cold running water and gritted his teeth against the sting. He watched the pink water disappear down the drain.
A knock came from the restroom door.
"Nova?" Talia called. "Is everything okay in there? I heard something."
Nova glanced at the crack in the wall, suddenly wondering how much it would cost to repair.
"I'm all right," he answered.
"You sure?"
Nova considered everything that had happened in the last few minutes. "I'm learning."
"Okay," she replied slowly. "Well, take your time. Just let me know if you need help."
Back at the table, Talia looked him over and smiled. "You clean up nice. See? Much better."
He sat down, still flexing his sore fingers. "The fabric is itching me."
"That's how you know it's real," she said, lifting her coffee. Then her eyes moved to his knuckles. "What happened to your hand?"
"I struck the wall."
Talia lowered her cup. "You did what?"
"I was frustrated," Nova admitted. "It was an unwise decision."
"Yeah, punching a wall usually is." She looked at the injury, clearly concerned. "Did you at least clean it?"
"I washed it."
"Good. Try not to make a habit of it. Walls usually win those arguments." She hesitated, then added, "If it's deep or keeps bleeding, we should get it looked at."
The kittens had finally been fed. Talia had opened a packet of wet food and placed a little on a clean napkin, which the animals eagerly gathered around. Their tiny bodies pressed against one another as they ate, occasionally letting out pleased little sounds. Nova watched with an interest that made Talia smile.
"They're happy now," she said. "You'd be amazed how much better a little food makes everything."
"They don't know where they are," Nova replied softly. "They've been taken from the shadows into light, but they don't understand what the light means."
Talia tilted her head. "You're kind of poetic, you know that? Weird poetic, but not bad."
"I suppose they'll understand eventually," Nova said.
"Maybe. Right now they're mostly worried about lunch." She smiled. "Which, for the record, you should be worried about too. Eat before your food gets cold."
Nova ate the meal she had ordered. Its unfamiliar taste pleased him, and he found himself appreciating the simple satisfaction of eating because his body needed nourishment.
Perhaps he wasn't so different from them after all.
After the meal, Talia paid and gathered her things. Nova picked up the box of kittens and followed her into the streets of Boston.
Outside, the city seemed louder than before. Horns sounded, people hurried past, and the smell of fried food mixed with cigarette smoke. Nova flinched when a vehicle passed too close to the curb.
Everything was too much. Too loud. Too real.
He tightened his hold on the box without squeezing it. One of the kittens purred, and the gentle vibration drew his attention away from the noise. He focused on the small creatures until his discomfort began to settle, then continued walking beside Talia.
She noticed his expression and nudged him lightly with her elbow. "Hey, you good? You look like someone who's never seen a city before."
"I haven't," Nova answered, staring up at a blinking billboard. "Not like this."
"Not like this?" Talia repeated. "Where are you from, exactly?"
"Farther than you think," he finally said.
"Uh-huh." She gave him an unconvinced look. "Well, welcome to Earth. We've got overpriced apartments, weird politics, and a serious caffeine addiction. You'll fit right in eventually."
"You get used to it. The noise, I mean." Talia glanced at his injured hand and then at his face. "You aren't dangerous, are you?"
Nova considered the question. Not long ago, his slightest decision might have affected entire civilizations. Now, he couldn't summon even a trace of that power.
"Not anymore," he answered honestly.
Talia's expression changed. "You know, that's not nearly as reassuring as you think it is."
"I apologize. I didn't intend to frighten you."
"You haven't," she said, though her voice suggested otherwise. "You just say some pretty strange things."
She looked ahead again, uncertain whether to press him for an explanation. Then a quiet meow drew both their eyes toward the box. Nova had lowered his face toward the kittens and was speaking to them in a soft, affectionate voice, praising their tiny paws and the way they kept climbing over one another.
Talia watched him smile at the kittens and softened. He was strange, but he had rescued helpless animals and seemed genuinely grateful for her help. She decided not to press him further.