Amira hummed to herself in the kitchen, the smell of stew filling the air as the last rays of sunshine peaked over the window seal. The melody was light and aimless, one her mother used to hum while cooking. She leaned over the bubbling pot, carefully flipping through the little cookbook she and her mom made when she was a child.
Her cheeks warmed at the thought of Lucian walking through the door, sitting at the table, and eating her food after a long day. Her mind raced with the compliments and praise she might receive.
"Alright, Ami," she whispered to herself. "You can do this. Just don't burn anything this time."
Smoke curled from the oven.
She opened it quickly "don't tell me…". The bread was black on top. "Oh, come on! You did that on purpose you stupid oven!" she hissed, fanning the smoke. Then she laughed, shaking her head. "Fine. Stew will just have to be enough."
Her humming picked back up, though her mind wandered. What would it mean now that Lucian was actually going to stay here with her? The thought made her heart flutter. Outwardly, she'd tease him to no end. But inside… she wanted nothing more than for him to stay as long as possible.
⸻
The door creaked.
Amira peeked around the corner with a gleaming expression.
But it wasn't Lucian. Layla stepped in first, pale and worn, her movements heavy.
Amira's expression shifted slightly when she saw who it was.
"Oh, you're back!" she said cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sit, sit! I made stew." She practically danced around the room and pulled out a chair.
Layla gave a tired smile, but her crimson eyes scanned the room. "He's not here?"
"Lucian? He'll be back," Amira said confidently, setting a bowl down for her. "There's no point in worrying."
Layla sat, silent for a moment before blurting, "Ami… what I saw, what Lucian is capable of…" Her voice faltered slightly. "That cave… it was a massacre. The entire Flesh gang was wiped out. It looked like your father had done it himself." She shivered slightly as the memory played back in her head.
Amira just smiled back at her. "And?" she said bluntly.
Layla's eyes widened. "Are you not even a little surprised?"
Amira sighed. "I saw his Soulflame once when we first met. Even in his weakened state, I knew you don't get a Soulflame like that from just training. So I kinda figured what I was getting myself into when I patched him up that night."
"What about the brutality of it all?" Layla asked, concern in her voice.
Amira shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "So what if he kills bad people? I once burned down an entire village because they were selling and abusing little girls. Did you forget already?"
Layla's jaw tightened. "That's not the same and you know it!"
"Are you sure? I asked around today about some of the things the Flesh gang has done, and it's not too far off. If he wasn't going to do it, I would have." Her voice carried no remorse, only a hint of malice. "Besides… he gave them a warning."
Layla searched for another reason. "Aren't you afraid that once he learns who you are, he might turn on you?"
Amira's expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing as she traced the curve of her elbow with her finger.
"No," she said gently. "I can feel it."
Layla raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
Amira's gaze drifted slightly, unfocused, not distant, just… inward.
"I know he cares about me."
A small pause.
"And if one day he did decide to kill me…" Her voice thinned, almost disappearing as the thought settled in her chest. "…I don't think I'd try to stop him."
The room went still.
Layla stared at her.
Then let out a short, incredulous laugh as she dropped back into her chair, the wood creaking under the shift.
"I genuinely can't tell," she said, dragging a hand down her face, "if that's love talking… or if you've completely lost your mind."
Amira smiled faintly, unfazed.
Layla studied her for another moment, then huffed, shaking her head.
"One thing's certain, though," she muttered. "If there's anyone in the world built to match whatever that is…" She gestured vaguely at Amira. "…it's him."
Amira didn't argue.
She just lowered her gaze to her feet, the faintest hint of amusement lingering at the corners of her lips.
"Fine," Layla said with a long sigh, leaning forward again. "At the very least, let me look into him. Quietly."
She picked up her spoon, stirring the stew without eating it.
"Do you know anything? Where he's from, who he might be, anything I can actually use?"
Amira tilted her head, thinking.
"Normally," she said slowly, "I'd just wait until he decides to tell me himself."
A beat.
"But…"
Her fingers lifted unconsciously, brushing lightly against her own wrist.
"There's a mark he tries to hide. On his wrist." A small, fond smile slipped through. "It's kind of cute, actually… the way he always pulls his sleeve down when he notices me looking."
Layla's eyes flicked up immediately.
"Yeah," she said, pointing her spoon slightly. "I've seen that. He's not subtle about it, he just thinks he is."
She took a bite this time, chewing thoughtfully.
"What else?"
Amira snapped her fingers softly, the sound light but certain.
"Oh, right."
She leaned forward just a little.
"Once, while he was asleep… he said something."
Layla stilled.
"What kind of something?"
Amira's voice dropped, mimicking the quiet, half-formed murmur.
"'The four families…'"
Layla's spoon paused halfway to her mouth.
Slowly, she lowered it back into the bowl.
"…Well," she said flatly, "that narrows it down to absolutely nothing."
Amira let out a quiet laugh.
Layla nudged her stew around again, her appetite clearly gone now.
"I don't know anything about the human kingdom," she muttered. "Not enough to connect something like that. 'Four families' could mean anything, nobles, clans, factions…"
She exhaled sharply through her nose.
"…Great."
A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the faint clink of the spoon against the bowl.
Then Layla straightened slightly, her expression shifting, annoyance giving way to reluctant resolve.
"I guess," she said, "I'm going to have to reach out to someone I was hoping to avoid."
Amira glanced up.
"Oh?"
Layla gave a small, humorless smile.
"An old friend."
The door creaked again.
Lucian stood in the doorway.
His hands were clean and scrubbed raw, the skin was faintly reddened, but everything else betrayed him. His clothes hung in torn layers, stiff with dried blood, darkened in uneven patches. The faint scent of iron still clung to him, buried beneath the effort to wash it away.
His eyes were worse.
Dim. Shadowed. Hollow in a way that didn't come from exhaustion.
Behind him, half-hidden by his frame, the boy lingered.
He didn't step inside.
Didn't speak.
He just stood there, trembling, like something waiting to be struck.
Amira turned at the sound of the door.
Her face lit up instantly.
"Welcome back! Dinner's ready!"
The warmth in her voice filled the room before anything else could.
Then her eyes moved and took in the state of him.
The torn fabric.
The stains.
The silence that followed him in.
Her smile faltered, not gone, just dimmed, as she exhaled and pressed one hand to her forehead, the other settling on her hip.
"Go clean up," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "Don't bring that mess to the table."
Lucian didn't answer.
For a moment, he didn't move at all.
He just looked at her.
The brightness of the room pressed against him, the soft glow of the lamps, the faint curl of steam rising from the pot, the quiet clatter of utensils already laid out.
And her.
Silver hair pulled into a loose, messy bun, strands falling free around her face. The apron tied snugly around her waist, creased and dusted with flour, clinging just enough to accentuate her curves. There was something unguarded about her, something alive in a way the world outside no longer was.
It felt…
Wrong.
Or maybe just distant.
Like stepping into a place that had nothing to do with him or the corpses he carried in his shadow.
Slowly, he nodded.
Then stepped inside.
The boy hesitated only a second before following.
By the time Lucian returned, the smell of food had deepened, rich and steady, filling the space completely.
He wore a clean set of clothes now, simple, well-fitted. New. Amira's doing from her shopping earlier in the day.
The difference was jarring.
Only his eyes hadn't changed.
He pulled out a chair and sat.
A small motion of his hand, barely noticeable, gestured for the boy to sit as well.
The boy obeyed immediately, dropping into the seat like his legs might give out beneath him. His shoulders stayed tight, trembling never quite stopping, his gaze flicking between Lucian, Amira, and Layla as if trying to predict which one might move first.
Layla didn't look away from Lucian.
Her eyes were sharp, observant, tracking every detail, every shift, every absence.
Lucian didn't seem to notice.
Or didn't care.
Amira moved between them, setting bowls down one by one, the soft thud of wood grounding the moment. She paused for a moment and her eyes lingered on Lucian. Her eyes drifted to his tunic that wasn't buttoned fully. It was as if she was looking at a painting. Before continuing she bite her lip unconsciously.
Steam curled upward in thin ribbons.
Warm and steady.
Then she stopped in front of Lucian.
"Here," she said, placing the bowl down with a small, satisfied nod. "Eat. I made it just for you."
Lucian looked at it.
For a brief second, his hand hovered above the spoon.
Then he picked it up and,
Paused.
Just long enough to feel unfamiliar.
When he took a bite,
The warmth hit first.
Not just heat, something deeper. Flavor that settled, spread, lingered. It wasn't sharp or overwhelming. It didn't demand anything.
It just… stayed.
It reminded him of something his mom would prepare after a cold night, nothing close to what a practiced chef would make but something about it put his mind at ease.
For the first time since he had met her,
Something shifted.
A small light flickered behind his eyes.
Amira saw it immediately.
Of course she did.
Her smile widened, not bright and loud, but soft, quiet, something that settled into place like it had been waiting.
Lucian swallowed after letting the taste spread over his tongue like melting butter.
"It's good," he said.
His voice was low.
But it was real. "Really good."
Amira pinched her apron and said softly, "Thanks." Her attention drew to his clothes. "Those look good on you! I was worried I bought the wrong size." She sat down at the table with them.
Lucian looked at her. "So does your apron."
She smiled softly at his comment and leaned close, wiping a bit of stew from the corner of his mouth. "Messy," she teased, though her cheeks reddened.
They locked eyes for a moment before looking away, both embarrassed.
Layla caught it all, her expression filled with disbelief and cringe.
⸻
The meal settled into a rhythm.
Spoons against wood. Steam dancing to the lullaby of the breeze. The quiet, steady sound of eating.
Broken, inevitably, by Amira.
"I spent the whole morning running around," she said brightly, barely pausing between bites. "Buying ingredients, talking to people, well, trying to, anyway."
She scooped up another mouthful, already continuing as she chewed.
"Half of them were still shaken from earlier. Just.." she waved her spoon vaguely, mimicking panic, "..'we have to leave, we can't stay here, it's not safe anymore,' over and over again."
She swallowed, then giggled.
"And the other half kept asking me if the Flesh Gang was coming back." She lifted a shoulder in a loose shrug and her face mimicked a confused damsel. "Like I'd know."
A soft laugh slipped out of her as she waved it off.
"I told them not to worry. That you and Layla would handle it somehow."
Layla's spoon paused mid-air for just a fraction of a second.
Amira, oblivious, kept going.
She tilted her bowl back, finishing the last of her soup in one long sip before setting it down with a satisfied clack. Then she leaned back slightly, rubbing her stomach.
"That was good."
A content smile spread across her face before her expression turned thoughtful, just for a moment.
"You know," she added, tapping her temple lightly, "something I'm starting to like about this place…"
Her eyes flicked between them.
"Even though we just got here, no one gave you up."
There was a brief silence.
Layla nudged a piece of meat around her bowl with her spoon, watching it more than eating it.
"Or," she said quietly, "no one knows him well enough to."
Amira blinked, then gave a small, dismissive hum, unconcerned.
Lucian finished his last bite.
He set the spoon down with care.
"Well," he said evenly, "at least they don't run into someone's home screaming that the ENTIRE Flesh Gang is outside…"
A faint pause.
"…when it's just a handful."
Layla's head snapped up.
Her expression twisted, irritation flashing sharp and immediate.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she shot back, leaning forward slightly. "Next time I'll make sure to stop and count them before rushing to warn a fellow friend."
Her spoon tapped lightly against the bowl as she spoke, each word edged.
"Maybe ask if more are on the way. Set up a nice little waiting area for them while I'm at it."
Lucian didn't respond.
Didn't even look at her.
The dismissal was clean. Absolute.
Layla's grip tightened just slightly around her spoon.
Lucian's gaze shifted instead, to the boy.
"Eat," he said flatly.
The boy flinched like the word had struck him.
He stared down at the bowl in front of him, hands trembling as he picked up the spoon. His throat bobbed as he forced himself to take a bite, chewing too quickly, like he might be punished if he didn't.
Amira watched the exchange. "I believe he was joking with you, Layla." She whispered to Layla.
She clasped her hands together suddenly, the sound soft but bright enough to cut through the tension.
"See?"
Her smile returned, warm and unshaken.
"This is nice."
Her eyes moved between them, Lucian, Layla, the boy.
"Just like a family."
Layla stared down at her bowl, the images of gore still fresh in her mind, her throat tightened as she thought about trying to take a bite. The boy leaned over to her and whispered, "What the fuck is going on? How is he just sitting here like nothing happened? Why is everyone just acting like it was a normal Wednesday?"
Layla muttered back, "You'll get used to it… probably. Just be glad he left you alive kid."
Amira, oblivious, kept talking, her voice warm.
"So what's your name?" She asked casually.
The boy looked at Lucian for approval to speak. However, Lucian was too busy admiring the craftsmanship of the spoon he was eating from to notice or care.
"Jack." He mumbled, turning back to face her.
"Jack!" Amira said excitedly. "What a strong name! I'm sure you'll grow up to be a strong and dependable man." She said with a smile.
Jack stared at her for a moment. It seemed as if joy and whimsy was radiating off her. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing steadied as he took in her smile. "Thanks." He said softly.
After the meal, Lucian stood and gestured for Jack to follow him. Outside, he built a fire and sat across from him.
"I spared you because I can tell you're not like the others," Lucian said quietly. "You're just trying to survive." He paused for a moment as memories flooded in. "My younger brother was like you. Unfortunately..." Lucian's voice cracked slightly. "Unfortunately he wasn't strong enough to survive the ways of this world."
He studied Jack's face. "What'd you say your name was?"
"Jack," the boy whispered.
Lucian nodded. "Jack, I could use some help around here. If you stay, it'll be better for both of us, I could help you get stronger, guide you down the right path. But the decision's yours. If you want to leave, I won't stop you."
Jack frowned. "Why? Why did you kill them all?"
Lucian stared into the fire. His voice was low, heavy.
"I once carried a dream… a dream I thought was righteous."
His voice was quiet, but it did not waver.
"To tear rot from the heart of the human kingdom. To fix a broken world. To break the back of a throne that fed on its own people. I believed… if I reached the king and all his pawns, if I cut him down, something new might grow in his place."
A faint breath left him, something close to a laugh, but without warmth.
"And they believed in me."
His gaze lowered slightly, unfocused on the fire, as if looking at something long buried.
"They came from fields, from broken streets, from homes already half-starved. The other half was from soldiers that already followed me for many years before. They took up arms not because they wanted to… but because I told them it would matter."
A pause.
"We marched. We bled. We buried our dead in soil that never remembered their names."
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
"And at the end, when the gates stood open, when victory was close enough to taste—"
His voice thinned, just slightly.
"He didn't raise an army."
A small shake of his head.
"He laughed."
Lucian's eyes darkened.
"He asked me a question. What do you fight for? Yet he didn't wait for an answer."
Lucian's jaw tightened.
"He just pointed… not at soldiers. Not at nobles."
A breath of sadness and disappointment escaped him.
"At them."
The word landed softly.
"The people I thought I was saving."
His voice dropped.
"They didn't look at me like a savior."
…
"They looked at me like a burden."
His eyes glazed over.
"We don't need you, they said."
"You've only made it worse."
"Because of you, the king punishes us more."
His fingers loosened slowly.
"Because of you, my children go hungry."
"I still tried to listen, but they were all singing a different tune, one my ears refused to listen to anymore."
"I asked them what they wanted from me."
A faint, bitter curve touched his lips.
"They answered together in perfect unison."
"Leave! They chanted."
The word lingered.
"The king offered me mercy after that."
Lucian's eyes lifted slightly, but there was no light in them.
"Said I could return. Take my place as his head general again. Stand beneath his banner as if none of it had happened."
"I foolishly believed him. Turned my back on the promise I made to my mother as she died in my arms as a child."
There was no anger in his voice, no remorse, just cold hard fact.
"So I turned away. I told my men we were done."
A slow inhale.
"That it was over. So we left the palace and started to make our way back to the border where the military base was located."
He threw a stick in the fire and his voice returned to normal as the flames flickered.
"We didn't even make it past the valley before we were ambushed."
A flicker, something darker.
"Not soldiers."
"Demons."
The word came out flat.
"Mercenaries bought with a king's coin, soldiers from the demon kingdom even though we were currently under a truce."
His hand tightened.
"We were out numbered 50 - 1. They fell screaming. Tens of thousands died within minutes."
"I led them there. To their deaths."
"And in the end… The king still sits his throne."
"The people still bow."
"And the world…"
A long silence.
"…remained exactly as it was."
"It was only then I realized that no matter what I did or didn't do the world would never change. As I stared at the battlefield where we got ambushed and the piles of corpses that surrounded me, demons and humans, I didn't see soldiers. No, instead I saw people throwing their lives away for a cause that wouldn't matter in a hundred years. Following corrupt leaders and their ideals."
Lucian took a long breath in.
"No matter what point in history you look at you can always find people in governments that would throw away half the population if it meant they could rule over the other half with absolute control."
He glanced at Jack, his grey eyes reflecting the flames. "So I swore I'd never take another innocent life. I tossed aside my sword. From now on, if I fight, it's for those I care about, those I love. I warned your brother not to come after us. He didn't listen. And the only way to get rid of a weed in a garden… is to pull it out at the roots."
Jack's expression twisted, torn between grief and recognition. He knew firsthand how cruel the Flesh gang was.
Finally, he said, "I'll stay. I want to become strong, like you. So I too, can protect what I care about. I know what the flesh gang was doing was wrong and as much as I told my brother there was another way he just ignored me and called me pitifully weak. Help me get strong enough to defend what I believe is right!"
Lucian gave a small nod.
⸻
Inside, Amira and Layla sat in silence.
"It's been a long time since I've shared a meal like that," Amira said softly, a smile on her face.
"Yeah, same," Layla responded. After all that had happened today, this was the most normal moment.
"Not once has anyone here mocked my silver hair. I hope these peaceful days continue," Amira said, resting her head on her hand as she stared out the window.
Layla scoffed. "Peaceful? After today?"
Amira giggled. "Considering what we've been through in the past, I'd say it was."