Cars continued to rush past, horns cutting through the evening air. People walked with their heads down, eyes glued to glowing screens, unaware that a boy from another world was bleeding light onto their pavement.
Aeron staggered as Iris pulled him away from the street, guiding him through a narrow alley that smelled of rain and old stone.
"You can walk, right?" she asked, not slowing.
"I… think so," Aeron said, though every step felt like his bones were rearranging themselves.
"Good. Because stopping is not an option."
She didn't look back. Yet somehow, she knew exactly when he faltered, her grip tightening instantly around his arm.
That bothered him.
"You move like you've done this before," Aeron said between breaths.
Iris didn't answer right away.
The alley opened into a quieter side street. Old buildings. Fewer people. The hum of the city softened.
Only then did she slow.
"Yes," she said finally. "I have."
She guided him into a small, abandoned-looking building wedged between two apartment blocks. The door opened without a key. The lock clicked back as if recognizing her.
Inside, the air was different.
Still.
Shielded.
Aeron felt it immediately—the pressure against his magic easing, like a hand released from his chest.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"A blind spot," Iris replied. "Technology glitches here. Magic doesn't scream."
She gently lowered him onto an old couch, then crouched in front of him, her eyes scanning his injuries with practiced focus.
"You fell through an unstable portal," she muttered. "Your Soul Light is fractured."
Aeron froze.
"You know about Soul Light," he said.
Iris's hands paused.
Slowly, she looked up at him.
"Yes."
The single word landed heavily between them.
Silence stretched.
"You're not human," Aeron said quietly.
She smiled faintly. "That obvious?"
"You see magic the way we do," he said. "Not like something strange—but like something familiar."
Her expression softened.
"And you," she said, "look at this world like it's… fragile."
He swallowed.
"Because it is," he said. "Compared to Elyndra."
The name left his lips without thought.
Iris inhaled sharply.
So she did know.
"I was sent here when I was thirteen," she said, standing and moving toward a shelf lined with old books. "Before Earth knew your world existed. Before Kael decided silence was a mistake."
Her fingers brushed the spine of a book. A faint rune glowed, then vanished.
"I was trained to observe," she continued. "To protect. To never interfere unless absolutely necessary."
She turned to face him.
"And then you fell out of the sky."
Aeron laughed weakly. "Sorry about that."
To his surprise, she laughed too—soft, brief, real.
"Don't apologize," she said. "I've been waiting."
"For what?" he asked.
"For proof that Elyndra was still alive."
The words carried weight. Hope. Pain.
Aeron looked down at his hands, where the light pulsed faintly under his skin.
"It's not," he said quietly. "Not the way it was."
Her jaw tightened.
"Kael," she said.
He looked up sharply. "You know him."
"Everyone trained as a Sentinel does," she replied. "He was once one of us."
That sent a chill through Aeron.
"He believes worlds should collide," Iris continued. "That love, separation, identity—they're flaws."
"That's not correction," Aeron said bitterly. "That's erasure."
"Yes," Iris agreed. "And that's why he'll come for you."
As if summoned by her words, the lights in the room flickered.
Aeron stiffened.
"I feel it," he said. "His shadow."
Iris moved instantly, drawing a symbol in the air. The room hummed as a translucent shield settled around them.
"He can't pinpoint you yet," she said. "But your presence shook the veil."
She studied him for a long moment.
"You're younger than I expected."
"So are you," Aeron replied.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Sentinels age differently," she said. "And we don't get to live normal lives."
Her gaze lingered on him—too long to be purely professional.
Aeron felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
Not fear.
Curiosity.
"Why did you help me?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"Because I know what it's like," she said softly, "to belong to two worlds… and feel at home in neither."
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the chaos outside faded.
Aeron felt seen.
"I don't even know how this world works," he admitted. "Your machines, your rules…"
Iris smiled slightly. "You'll learn. I'll teach you."
"You don't have to," he said.
"I do," she replied. "Because if you don't survive here—Kael wins."
She handed him a glass of water. He stared at it suspiciously.
"It's just water," she said. "I promise. No magic."
He took a cautious sip, then blinked. "That's… boring."
She laughed again. "You'll miss glowing rivers soon enough."
The room fell quiet.
Outside, thunder rolled.
"Iris," Aeron said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"When this is over… what happens to you?"
She looked away.
"That depends," she said. "On whether your world still has a future."
He watched her profile—the strength in her posture, the exhaustion she tried to hide.
"Then we protect it," he said. "Together."
She looked back at him.
Something changed in her eyes.
"Careful," she said quietly. "Hope is dangerous."
"So is giving up," he replied.
The lights flickered again—stronger this time.
Iris stood abruptly. "We don't have much time."
Aeron pushed himself to his feet. He swayed, but stayed upright.
"What's the plan?" he asked.
She met his gaze.
"We disappear," she said.
"And we prepare for war."
Far above the city, unseen by human eyes, a tear opened briefly in the sky.
Kael Morvane smiled.
End of Chapter 2