The kitchen was finally clear of smoke, and Zaire had diplomatically convinced Niah not to attempt a second round of her infamous waffles. He cocked his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come with me," he said.
Niah blinked, caught off guard. "Where?"
"No questions. Just grab a sweater. And maybe shoes that won't burst into flames."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm never leaving this town, am I?"
Zaire grinned. "Absolutely not."
They slipped out the back door, letting the city's noise fade behind them. Zaire led the way, weaving through quiet backstreets until the concrete gave way to dirt paths and the hum of traffic melted into the gentle rustle of leaves.
The air felt different here—lighter, almost expectant as if the trees themselves were holding their breath, soaking in the lazy gold of early afternoon.
Eventually, they reached a ridge. Below, the city sprawled out, looking tiny and far away, like a memory you could almost touch but not quite hold. The sky above stretched on forever, painted in soft blue with just a hint of dusk creeping in at the edges.
Zaire stopped and looked out over the view. "This is my spot," he said, voice quieter now. "When everything gets to be too much, I come here to breathe."
Niah felt something pleasant inside her. There was a hush here, an old kind of peace, as if the wind carried secrets from people who'd stood in this very place long before them.
She wrapped her arms around herself, letting the moment sink in. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
Zaire shot her a sideways glance, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "So are you, when you're not threatening innocent spatulas."
She snorted. "Wow. That was smooth."
"Deadly charming, actually." Zaire countered back.
For a while, they just stood there, letting the silence say what words couldn't. Then Niah's hand drifted to the pendant at her neck, the one that had belonged to her mother. The moment her fingers brushed the cool metal, a gentle hum buzzed at the edge of her thoughts, like a song she almost remembered.
Her heart skipped.
"It's been doing that," she murmured, barely louder than the wind. "Every time I get close to… something. I think it's connected to Esme. And to me."
Zaire didn't answer right away. He just looked at her. Not as the girl who'd nearly set the kitchen on fire, or the one who always seemed a little lost in the archives, but as someone standing right on the edge of something huge and unknown.
"You're closer than you think," he said softly.
Niah stared down at the pendant, her reflection warped and strange in the silver. "But it doesn't feel like me. Not yet."
"It doesn't have to," Zaire replied. "You're still figuring it out. Still becoming."
She met his gaze, searching for answers. "Will you tell me… when it's time to remember everything?"
His voice was gentle, almost a promise. "When you're ready, I won't have to."
The wind shifted, carrying a chill that hinted at change. Somewhere in the distance, the sky darkened just a little, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for what came next.
Niah didn't know what the future held. But right then, standing beside Zaire, wrapped in wind and silence and the echoes of things half-remembered, she felt her fear loosen its grip. Maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
* * *