Sweat cools on my skin as I watch Caleif—my impossible, returned-from-oblivion Caleif—slip back into her clothes. Her movements flow with a predatory grace that still carries echoes of Mira's influence, yet the tender smile she flashes me is pure Caleif.
"We should probably get back to Kira," I say, reluctantly pulling my shirt over my head. "She's going to think you've eaten me alive."
Caleif's laugh bubbles up, rich and warm with just a hint of danger around the edges. "Not far from the truth, is it?" She crosses the room, her fingertips tracing the bite marks on my neck. "Though I think these will heal soon enough."
I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I still can't believe you're here. That we found each other again."
"Fate has a strange way of reuniting souls," she says, eyes shifting momentarily to that deeper crimson before settling back into their familiar bluish-red. "Even when they're scattered across existence."
We finish dressing in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other like teenagers. Every time our eyes meet, I feel that same jolt of recognition—the impossible miracle of her return still fresh and raw in my chest.
"Ready?" she asks, adjusting her clothes one final time.
I nod, taking her hand as we step out into the hallway. The building seems different now, less ominous and more just... ordinary. The shadows no longer feel like they're watching us, and the air itself seems lighter. Maybe it's just my perspective that's changed—having Caleif back has a way of making everything else seem less threatening.
We find Kira waiting at a small café two blocks away, her expression shifting from worry to relief when she spots us approaching. Her eyes immediately zero in on our joined hands, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips.
"Well, well," she says as we slide into the booth across from her. "I see you two had a productive... conversation."
I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but Caleif just laughs, the sound carrying both Mira's confidence and her own warmth. "I'd say it was extremely productive," she replies, squeezing my hand under the table.
Kira shakes her head, pushing a menu toward us. "I ordered coffee already. Food here's supposed to be decent—at least that's what the waitress claimed."
I glance at the menu, suddenly aware of how hungry I am. "I could eat a horse right now."
"Worked up an appetite, did you?" Kira teases, and I roll my eyes at her, though I can't help the smile that breaks through.
"So," Kira continues, her tone shifting to something more serious as she studies Caleif's face, "should I call you Mira or Caleif now?"
Caleif's expression softens. "Caleif, please. Though Mira is still part of me." She pauses, considering her words carefully. "It's complicated. We're... integrated now."
"Integrated," Kira repeats, turning the word over like she's testing its weight. "That's one way to put it."
The waitress appears before the conversation can continue, taking our orders with brisk efficiency. I opt for the biggest breakfast platter they offer, while Caleif chooses something lighter. Kira already has a half-eaten sandwich in front of her.
When we're alone again, Kira leans forward, lowering her voice. "So what happened exactly? One minute you're this mysterious vampire woman stalking us, and the next you're... who, exactly?"
Caleif takes a sip of water, gathering her thoughts. "When I first arrived in this city, I had no memory of who I really was. I was just Mira—a powerful vampire with instincts and desires I didn't fully understand." Her eyes meet mine briefly. "But something about Kamen triggered memories, fragments of who I used to be."
"So you're what, possessed?" Kira asks, her tone carefully neutral.
"No," Caleif shakes her head. "More like... merged. Mira was never just a vampire—she was a piece of me that survived when everything else was torn apart. The rest of me was scattered, lost. Until I found Kamen again."
I squeeze her hand, remembering the moment of recognition that passed between us. "It was like a key turning in a lock," I say quietly. "Everything just... clicked."
"That's romantic and all," Kira says, "but it doesn't explain how you ended up as a vampire in Tokyo."
Caleif's lips curl into a wry smile. "I woke up here six months ago with no memories beyond being Mira. I knew I was powerful, that I had abilities others didn't, but I had no context for why or how." She absently traces patterns on the tablecloth. "I adapted. Built a life. Learned the rules of this place. But I always felt like something was missing."
"And then we showed up," I add.
"And then you showed up," she confirms, her eyes warming as they meet mine. "Something in me recognized you immediately, even before I consciously remembered. That's why I followed you, why I was drawn to you."
Our food arrives, steaming plates piled high with eggs, bacon, and pancakes for me, and a more modest fruit and yogurt bowl for Caleif. The conversation pauses as we dig in, the simple pleasure of eating together feeling strangely normal despite the surreal circumstances.
"So what now?" Kira asks between bites of her sandwich. "We're still stuck in this city with no idea how we got here or how to get back."
I glance at Caleif, who seems thoughtful as she spears a piece of melon with her fork. "I've made connections here," she says. "Learned things about how this place works. It's not just a city—it's a nexus of sorts."
"A nexus?" I echo, pausing with a forkful of pancake halfway to my mouth.
"A meeting point," she clarifies. "Different types of beings, different rules of reality all converging in one space. That's why there are vampires and other creatures here alongside humans who seem completely unaware."
"That would explain the weird vibe," Kira muses. "But it doesn't tell us how to navigate it all."
Caleif takes a small bite of yogurt before continuing. "I've been living as Mira for months, establishing territory, building alliances. We can use that to our advantage."
"You make it sound like we're in the middle of some supernatural politics," I say, raising an eyebrow.
"That's exactly what it is," she replies, her expression serious. "Everything here operates on a system of power and influence. As Mira, I carved out a place for myself. That gives us protection, resources."
"And enemies?" Kira asks shrewdly.
Caleif's smile turns sharp, a flash of Mira's predatory nature bleeding through. "A few. Nothing we can't handle."
I finish the last of my bacon, considering the implications. "So we use your position to figure out our next steps. Learn more about this place, why we're here."
"Precisely," Caleif nods. "My apartment—well, Mira's apartment—is well-warded. We'll be safe there while we plan."
"And what about your... vampire side?" Kira asks, gesturing vaguely toward Caleif. "Do you need to, you know, feed on people regularly?"
Caleif laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "Not as often as the stories suggest. And there are alternatives to hunting humans." She gives me a sidelong glance that makes my cheeks heat. "Though some connections make sharing blood a more... pleasurable experience."
Kira rolls her eyes. "TMI, folks. Seriously."
I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. "So what's our first move? Where do we start looking for answers?"
"There's a gathering tonight," Caleif says, her expression turning thoughtful. "A sort of neutral ground where various factions meet to discuss territory and settle disputes. As Mira, I have an invitation. It could be useful to see who's who in this city."
"Sounds dangerous," Kira observes.
"It is," Caleif agrees. "But we'll be under my protection. And it's the best place to gather information quickly."
I nod, a familiar surge of determination rising in my chest. Having Caleif back has changed everything—what once seemed like an impossible situation now feels like just another challenge to overcome together.
"Then that's our plan," I say, meeting both their gazes. "We go to this gathering, learn what we can, and figure out our next steps from there."
Caleif smiles, and in that moment I see both aspects of her—the fierce, dangerous Mira and the warm, brilliant Caleif—perfectly balanced in one extraordinary being. "Together," she says, taking my hand again.
"Together," I agree, feeling for the first time since arriving in this strange city that we might actually have a chance.
Kira raises her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To not getting eaten alive at a vampire party. May the odds be ever in our favor."
I laugh, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.
After we finish our meal, Caleif leads us through the winding streets back to her place. The neon lights of the city flash and pulse around us, but they seem less threatening now, less alien. Maybe it's because I have her hand in mine, warm and solid and real. Maybe it's because for the first time since arriving in this strange place, I feel like I have an anchor.
"Home sweet home," Caleif says as she unlocks the door to her apartment. It's the same place I visited earlier, but it feels different now—warmer somehow, less like a vampire's lair and more like a sanctuary.
Kira whistles as she steps inside, taking in the sleek furniture and the panoramic view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. "Nice digs. Being a vampire must pay well."
Caleif smiles, that perfect blend of Mira's confidence and her own warmth. "I've been... resourceful." She gestures toward the plush sectional sofa. "Make yourselves comfortable. Drinks?"
"God, yes," Kira says, sinking into the cushions. "Preferably something strong."
I wander to the windows while Caleif busies herself at a well-stocked bar in the corner. The city spreads out below us, a sea of lights that pulse and shimmer like a living organism. From up here, it almost looks beautiful rather than menacing.
"Here," Caleif says, appearing at my side with two glasses. She hands me one filled with amber liquid that catches the light. "Whiskey. Still your favorite, I hope?"
The fact that she remembers makes my chest tighten. "Always," I murmur, taking the glass. Our fingers brush, and even that small contact sends electricity racing up my arm.
We join Kira on the sofa, Caleif settling beside me close enough that our thighs touch. The contact is reassuring, a constant reminder that she's really here.
"So," Kira says after taking a healthy swig of her drink, "what's the deal with this place? I mean, not just your apartment—this whole city. What are we really dealing with here?"
Caleif swirls her drink thoughtfully. "This city exists in a kind of bubble reality. It has its own rules, its own hierarchy. Vampires like me are near the top, but there are other players—werewolves, fae, even some demons."
"Demons?" I ask, tensing slightly. After my time in Hell, the word carries weight.
"Not like what you're thinking," Caleif assures me, her hand finding mine. "More like... powerful entities that have carved out territory here. They mostly keep to themselves."
"And the humans?" Kira asks. "Most of them seem completely oblivious to all this supernatural stuff happening around them."
"They are, for the most part," Caleif nods. "There's a kind of veil—not physical, more like a psychological blind spot. They see what they expect to see. A vampire feeding might look like a passionate embrace to most humans. A werewolf transformation might register as a strange trick of the light."
I take a sip of my whiskey, letting the burn ground me. "And where do we fit into all this? Why are we here?"
Caleif's expression turns troubled. "That's what I haven't figured out yet. I woke up here six months ago with no memory beyond being Mira. I've been building a life, establishing connections, but I never understood why I was here until you showed up." She squeezes my hand. "Finding you brought everything back."
"It's like we're caught in some kind of cosmic game," Kira muses, finishing her drink. "Pieces moved around by forces we can't see."
"Maybe," I agree, "but I'm done being someone else's pawn. We need to figure out why we're here and how to get back to... wherever we're supposed to be."
Caleif rises, moving to refill Kira's glass. "The city has its own internal logic. There are rules, boundaries. Breaking them can have consequences."
"Like what?" I ask.
"Territorial disputes can turn violent," she explains, returning to her seat. "Different factions control different areas. Crossing boundaries without permission can be seen as an act of aggression."
"Great," Kira mutters. "So we're stuck in supernatural gang territory."
"Pretty much," Caleif admits with a wry smile. "But as Mira, I have status. Protection. My territory includes this building and the surrounding blocks. We're safe here."
I drain my glass, the alcohol warming my insides. "What about this gathering tonight? You said it's neutral ground?"
"Yes, a kind of supernatural summit. Representatives from all the major factions will be there to discuss business, settle disputes peacefully." She leans forward, her expression serious. "It's also a place where information is traded. If there are answers about why we're here, someone at that gathering might have them."
"So we go, we listen, we learn," I summarize. "Sounds simple enough."
Caleif's laugh is soft but carries a hint of warning. "Nothing in this city is simple, Kamen. The gathering has its own protocols, its own dangers. One wrong move could make us targets."
"Then we'll be careful," I insist, setting my empty glass on the coffee table. "We have to start somewhere."
Kira yawns suddenly, the events of the day clearly catching up with her. "Sorry," she mumbles. "It's been a hell of a day."
"You should rest," Caleif says, rising from the sofa. "I have a spare bedroom you can use. The gathering isn't until midnight—we have time."
Kira nods gratefully, allowing Caleif to lead her down a hallway. I stay put, trying to process everything that's happened. Finding Caleif again feels like a miracle, but we're still lost in a strange city with rules we barely understand. And there's the question that keeps nagging at me: why are we here? What force brought us to this place, and for what purpose?
Caleif returns a few minutes later, settling beside me on the sofa. "Kira's asleep already," she says softly. "I think the stress and confusion finally caught up with her."
"Can't blame her," I reply, wrapping an arm around Caleif's shoulders and drawing her close. "This is a lot to take in."
She nestles against me, her head finding that perfect spot between my shoulder and chest. "I still can't believe you're here," she murmurs. "That I found you again."
"Or that I found you," I counter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "When I was in Hell, I thought about you constantly. The memory of you kept me going, even when everything else was trying to break me."
She shifts to look up at me, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Tell me about it. About what happened after... after everything fell apart."
I take a deep breath, sorting through memories I've tried to suppress. "When the academy collapsed, I was thrown into Hell. Not metaphorically—literally. I became... something else there. Something with power, but at a cost."
"The hellfire," she says, not a question but a statement. "I can sense echoes of it in you, even now."
I nod, surprised but not shocked that she can perceive it. "It changed me. Burned away parts of my humanity. I fought my way through the ranks, became a force to be reckoned with." I pause, remembering the battles, the pain, the transformation. "But I never forgot you. Even when the hellfire was at its strongest, your memory was the one thing it couldn't burn away."
Caleif's hand comes up to cup my cheek, her touch impossibly gentle. "And now we're both changed. Both carrying pieces of what we were and what we became."
"Does it scare you?" I ask, voicing the fear that's been lurking beneath the surface. "What I was, what I might still be?"
"No," she says without hesitation. "You're still you, Kamen. Just as I'm still me, even with Mira's influence. We've both evolved, adapted to survive impossible circumstances."
I lean down to kiss her, a soft brush of lips that deepens as she responds. When we part, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in the scent that is uniquely hers. "What happens now?"
"We figure it out together," she replies, her voice steady with conviction. "We learn the rules of this place, find out why we're here, and decide what to do next."
"And if we can't get back to where we came from?"
She pulls back slightly, meeting my gaze with a look of fierce determination. "Then we make a life here. Together. I lost you once, Kamen. I'm not losing you again."
The certainty in her voice washes over me like a balm, soothing fears I didn't even realize I was harboring. "Together," I agree, pulling her close again.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights twinkling beyond the windows. Despite the strangeness of our situation, despite the unknown dangers lurking in this city, I feel a sense of peace I haven't experienced in a very long time.
"We should probably rest too," Caleif eventually says, though she makes no move to disentangle herself from my embrace. "The gathering tonight will require all our focus."
"Mm," I agree, but I'm reluctant to let go of this moment. "Five more minutes."
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. "Five more minutes," she concedes, snuggling closer.
Outside, the city continues its ceaseless pulse, lights flickering like stars brought down to earth. Whatever waits for us in this strange urban landscape, whatever forces brought us here, I know one thing with absolute certainty: with Caleif by my side, I can face anything.
The five minutes stretch into ten, then twenty, as we hold each other in the quiet apartment, both of us unwilling to break the spell of reunion. Eventually, though, practicality wins out.
"Come on," Caleif says, rising and pulling me to my feet. "You need to rest, and I need to prepare for tonight."
I follow her down the hallway, past the room where Kira sleeps, to a master bedroom decorated in shades of deep red and charcoal gray. The large bed dominates the space, its black sheets looking impossibly inviting after the day we've had.
"Sleep," Caleif says, pressing a kiss to my lips. "I'll wake you when it's time to get ready."
I catch her hand as she turns to leave. "Stay," I say simply.
Her smile is soft, tender in a way that makes my heart ache. "Always," she replies, and I know she means much more than just right now.
As we settle into bed together, her body fitting perfectly against mine, I allow myself to hope—truly hope—for the first time in a long time.
As I lay there nightmares invade my mind. The nightmares crash over me like waves against a blood-stained shore. In my dreams, I'm back in Hell, surrounded by the screams of the damned and the acrid stench of sulfur.
But it's not my own torment that haunts me—it's the faces of everyone who died because of me, because of choices I made or failed to make.
I see Marcus, torn apart by demons while trying to protect other students. I see Professor Hendricks, consumed by hellfire as the academy collapsed around us. And worst of all, I see Caleif—her eyes wide with shock as the dimensional rift tore her apart, her hand reaching for mine across an impossible distance.
"No," I whisper, thrashing against the sheets. "Not again."
But the dream doesn't care about my protests. It forces me to watch, over and over, as everyone I cared about pays the price for my existence. The hellfire inside me roars to life in response to my anguish, and I feel it clawing at the edges of my consciousness like a caged beast desperate for release.
"Kamen." A soft voice cuts through the chaos. "Kamen, wake up."
I bolt upright, gasping, sweat coating my skin despite the cool air of the apartment. Caleif sits beside me on the bed, her face etched with concern, her hand gentle on my shoulder.
"You were having a nightmare," she says softly. "A bad one, by the look of it."
I run a shaking hand through my hair, trying to banish the lingering images from my mind. "They always are," I admit. "The faces... everyone who died because of me."
"Hey." Her voice is firm now, demanding my attention. "Look at me."
I meet her gaze, those beautiful eyes that shift between crimson and bluish-red depending on her mood. Right now, they're warm with compassion and something fiercer—determination.
"Those deaths weren't your fault," she says, her hand moving to cup my cheek. "The academy's collapse, the dimensional rift—none of that was because of you."
"But if I hadn't been there—"
"Then even more people would have died," she interrupts. "You fought to save people, Kamen. You always have. The fact that you couldn't save everyone doesn't make you responsible for their deaths."
I want to believe her, but the guilt is like a physical weight in my chest. "I should have been stronger. Should have found another way."
"You were as strong as anyone could be in that situation." Her thumb traces across my cheekbone, wiping away moisture I didn't realize was there. "And you did find another way—you survived. You kept fighting. You found me again."
The simple truth of that statement hits me like a punch to the gut. Despite everything—Hell, the transformation, the impossible odds—we're here together. Maybe that has to count for something.
"I dreamed about losing you again," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "About watching you die and not being able to stop it."
"I'm here," she says simply, taking my hand and placing it over her heart. I can feel the steady rhythm beneath my palm, strong and real. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
I close my eyes, focusing on that heartbeat, using it to anchor myself in the present. The nightmares are just echoes of the past, shadows that lose their power in the light of what's real.
"What time is it?" I ask, finally feeling steady enough to think about practical matters.
"Just past ten," she replies. "We have a couple hours before we need to leave for the gathering."
I nod, sitting up fully and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "I should check on Kira. Make sure she's okay."
"She's fine," Caleif assures me. "I looked in on her an hour ago. Still sleeping peacefully."
"Good. She's been through enough chaos lately." I stretch, working out the kinks in my muscles. "What about you? Have you been able to rest at all?"
She shrugs, a gesture that's pure Caleif despite the supernatural grace that now accompanies all her movements. "Vampires don't need as much sleep as humans. I've been thinking, planning for tonight."
"Anything I should know?"
"The gathering will be held at the Meridian Club," Caleif explains, rising from the bed with fluid grace. "It's a neutral zone where the supernatural factions conduct business without bloodshed. There are rules there—ancient ones that even the most powerful creatures respect."
I follow her to the closet, watching as she slides open the door to reveal an impressive collection of clothing. "So we just walk in and start asking questions?"
Her laugh is soft but carries a note of warning. "Not exactly. As Mira, I have status, but we'll need to be careful. Information is currency in this world. No one gives it away freely."
I see something that makes my skin feel cold, "Is that a fragment of my armor?" I ask as I reach out and touch it as the armor
Thment my fingers touch the armor fragment, I'm consumed by fire.
It starts as a burning sensation in my fingertips, then rushes up my arm like molten lava seeking a path of least resistance. I gasp, staggering backward as the heat spreads through my chest, igniting something that's been dormant since I arrived in this city.
"Kamen!" Caleif's voice sounds distant, underwater, as the roaring in my ears drowns out everything else.
The fragment liquefies against my skin, sinking into my flesh like it's coming home. I fall to my knees, clutching my chest as the burning intensifies. It's not pain exactly—it's power, raw and familiar, flooding back into a vessel that's been empty for too long.
"It's happening," I manage to choke out. "The hellfire—it's coming back."
My vision blurs, then sharpens to an impossible clarity. Colors intensify, sounds sharpen, and I can suddenly feel the pulse of the city beyond these walls, the rhythm of countless lives beating in tandem. The air around me seems to shimmer with heat, and I look down to see my skin taking on a metallic sheen, the beginnings of my armor materializing from within.
"Kamen, breathe," Caleif kneels beside me, her hands hovering just above my shoulders, uncertain whether to touch me. "Let it happen. Don't fight it."
I don't want to fight it. This feels right, like a missing piece slotting back into place. The hellfire surges through my veins, and with it comes a rush of memories—battles fought in the depths of Hell, the weight of my full armor, the terrifying thrill of unleashing destruction on my enemies.
"I can feel it all," I whisper, watching as plates of armor begin to form across my chest, liquid metal solidifying into an intricate pattern that I know by heart. "My power. My armor. It's all coming back."
Caleif's eyes widen, shifting fully to crimson as she watches the transformation. "It's beautiful," she breathes, finally reaching out to touch the partially formed armor. Her fingers trace the edges where metal meets skin, and I shiver at the contact. "I can feel the power radiating from you."
The burning sensation peaks, then settles into a familiar warmth that spreads throughout my body. I flex my fingers, watching as gauntlets form around my hands, perfectly fitted as if they've always been there. The armor continues to spread, covering my arms, my chest, moving down toward my legs.
"How is this possible?" I ask, staring at my hands in wonder. "I thought I lost this part of myself when we came here."
"The city doesn't just take," Caleif says, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes it gives back what you need, when you need it most."
I stand slowly, testing the weight of the armor. It's lighter than I remember but no less strong. The hellfire pulses beneath the surface, responding to my emotions, ready to be unleashed at my command. I feel powerful, dangerous, and completely alive.
"This changes everything," I say, a smile spreading across my face as I flex my armored fingers. "We're not just survivors anymore. We're players in whatever game this city is running."
Caleif rises to stand beside me, her own power seeming to respond to mine, her eyes glowing brighter in the dim room. "The gathering tonight just got a lot more interesting," she agrees, a predatory smile curving her lips.
The door bursts open, and Kira stands there, eyes wide with alarm. "What the hell is happening? I felt—" She stops mid-sentence, taking in my transformed appearance. "Holy shit, Kamen. You're... glowing."
I look down at myself, realizing she's right. A faint red glow emanates from the seams of my armor, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. The hellfire within me burns bright, eager to be used after so long dormant.
"My power's back," I tell her, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "The hellfire, the armor—all of it."
Kira steps closer, circling me with an appraising look. "Convenient timing," she observes. "Right before we head into what could be a dangerous situation."
"The city gives what's needed," Caleif repeats, her expression thoughtful. "Which makes me wonder what we're about to face that requires such power."
The implications of her words send a chill through me despite the warmth of the hellfire. If my power has returned because I'll need it, what exactly are we walking into tonight?
"We should prepare," I say, focusing on the practical rather than the ominous possibilities. "If I have my power back, we need to use it to our advantage."
Caleif nods, moving back toward the closet. "I have clothes that should accommodate your... new accessories," she says, pulling out a long, dark coat. "This should fit over the armor without restricting movement."
As I shrug into the coat, I feel the hellfire adjusting, the armor shifting to allow for the garment. It's responsive in a way I don't remember from before, almost sentient in how it adapts to my needs.
"How does it feel?" Kira asks, still watching me with a mixture of awe and wariness.
"Powerful," I answer honestly. "Like I could tear this city apart if I wanted to." The thought should frighten me, but instead, it feels liberating. After feeling so vulnerable since arriving here, the return of my strength is intoxicating.
"Let's try not to do that," she says dryly. "At least not until we figure out why we're here."
I laugh, the sound resonating with an otherworldly quality that surprises even me. "No promises," I joke, though part of me wonders if it's really a joke at all.
Caleif approaches with a mirror, holding it up so I can see myself. The face that looks back at me is both familiar and strange—my features, but with eyes that glow like embers and skin that shimmers with metallic undertones. I look dangerous, powerful... inhuman.
"This is who I really am," I murmur, studying my reflection. "Not just Kamen the human, but Kamen forged in Hell, tempered by hellfire."
"You're both," Caleif says softly, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "Just as I am both Caleif and Mira. We contain multitudes, you and I."
Her words resonate with truth, settling something within me that I hadn't realized was unsettled. We've both been transformed by our experiences, becoming more than we were without losing who we are at our core.
"So," Kira says, breaking the moment with practical concerns, "does this mean you can shoot fireballs now? Because that might come in handy."
I flex my hand, feeling the hellfire respond, coalescing into a small flame that dances across my palm. "Something like that," I reply, watching the fire flicker and grow. "Though I'll try to be subtle about it at the gathering."
"Subtle," Kira repeats skeptically. "The guy glowing like a demonic nightlight is going to be subtle."
"I can control it," I assure her, willing the visible manifestations of the hellfire to recede. The glow diminishes, the armor seeming to sink deeper into my skin until it's barely visible—present but not obvious. "See? Practically normal."
"If by 'normal' you mean 'still looks like he could incinerate a city block with a thought,' then sure," she retorts, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Caleif checks a sleek watch on her wrist. "We should finish getting ready. The gathering starts at midnight, and we'll want to arrive precisely on time—not early, not late."
As they move to prepare, I take a moment to center myself, feeling the hellfire pulse within me. Its return feels significant, a turning point in our strange journey through this city. Whatever awaits us at the gathering tonight, I'm no longer facing it unarmed.
I flex my fingers, watching as small flames dance between them, responding to my will. "Ready or not," I murmur to whatever forces might be listening, "here we come."