"…easier."
Lucien did not finish the sentence.
But it didn't matter.
The word still hung there between us like something unfinished that refused to disappear.
I stayed still.
Waiting.
Hoping he would correct it.
He didn't.
My grandmother broke first.
"I will not allow it."
Her voice was sharp, but it carried fear underneath it now. The kind of fear that no longer argues properly. Only resists because it has nothing else left.
Lucien finally looked at her.
Not with anger.
With something quieter.
"I am not asking permission," he said.
The calm in his voice made the room feel smaller.
Not threatening.
Certain.
My chest tightened slightly.
There was something wrong with how easily he spoke now. Like the decision had already been made somewhere I wasn't included in.
I stepped back half a pace before I realized I had moved.
Lucien noticed.
Of course he did.
His gaze shifted to me immediately.
And just like that, the room stopped existing again.
Only him.
Only me.
"Don't," I said softly, though I wasn't sure what I meant by it.
Don't what?
Decide things around me?
Speak like I already agreed?
Look at me like I had already crossed a line I didn't remember stepping over?
Lucien's voice lowered.
"I am not forcing you."
But the space between his words and the truth felt thin.
Dangerously thin.
My grandmother let out a strained breath. "Then stop speaking as though she has already left with you."
A pause.
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was quieter.
"I am speaking as though she will survive."
That silenced her.
Not because she agreed.
Because she couldn't answer that.
Neither could I.
A strange heaviness settled in my stomach.
Survive.
Not live.
Not continue as before.
Just… survive.
I hated that my mind didn't reject it completely.
"Why does it want me?" I asked again.
My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Lucien's expression shifted slightly.
Not into something new.
More like something he had been holding together loosened for a second.
"It doesn't want you," he said.
A pause.
Then softer—
"It recognizes you."
That word did something I didn't expect.
Recognizes.
Like I was not new to it.
Like I had always been part of something I never learned the shape of.
My throat tightened.
"That makes it worse," I said.
Lucien didn't deny it.
And somehow that silence answered more than words could.
Outside, the wind pressed against the house again.
Not loud.
Just present.
Like something waiting without patience.
Lucien turned slightly toward it.
His jaw tightened once.
Only once.
But I saw it.
Something in him was not as still as he made it look.
"Time is thinning," he said.
My grandmother frowned. "Thinning?"
Lucien didn't look at her.
"The boundary is weakening," he replied.
The way he said it made it sound like something natural.
Like weather changing.
Not like reality breaking.
My skin felt suddenly too aware of itself.
I didn't like that feeling.
I didn't like how much I understood it without understanding it at all.
Lucien turned back to me.
And for the first time since this started, his voice softened slightly.
Not emotionally.
But carefully.
"You will come with me," he said.
Not a question.
Not even a command.
A statement that felt like it had already survived the future.
My breath caught.
I should have refused immediately.
I should have felt anger.
Fear.
Something sharp enough to cut through him.
Instead—
I found myself thinking about his silence.
About the way he never spoke like someone who expected comfort.
About how loneliness sat in him like it had always belonged there.
"What happens if I don't?" I asked quietly.
Lucien didn't hesitate.
"Then it finds you here."
Simple.
Clean.
Worse than any threat.
Because it didn't sound like persuasion.
It sounded like knowledge.
My grandmother grabbed my arm again.
Harder this time.
"You are not listening to him," she said urgently.
But I was.
That was the problem.
I was listening too well.
Lucien's gaze stayed on me.
Unmoving.
Waiting.
Not pushing.
Just… certain.
And I hated how my chest reacted to that certainty.
Like part of me wanted to step toward it just to understand why it existed at all.
"You don't even know what you're asking," I whispered.
Lucien's voice dropped lower.
"I know enough."
A pause.
Then quieter—
"And what I don't know… is why it chose you in the first place."
That sentence stayed in the air longer than the others.
Because it wasn't just about danger.
It was about me.
Something in me that even I didn't understand.
My fingers curled slightly.
"Your home," I said slowly. "You said it's north of Noctair."
Lucien nodded once.
"Yes."
I hesitated.
The word home felt strange on him.
Like it didn't belong in the same sentence as him at all.
"Why there?" I asked.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Just for a second.
Then it was gone.
"Because it does not look for me there," he said.
A pause.
Then—
"Only for what comes with me."
My breath slowed.
Not fear this time.
Understanding I didn't want.
My grandmother's voice broke through again.
"She is not going anywhere."
But even she sounded like she was losing ground.
Lucien finally looked at her again.
And this time, his voice carried something final.
"Then she will remain until it arrives."
Silence.
Heavy enough that even breathing felt like noise.
I closed my eyes for a brief second.
Just a brief second.
When I opened them again, Lucien was still watching me.
Still waiting.
Still not moving.
And I realized something I didn't want to admit.
The danger outside was real.
But so was the way he was looking at me.
Like I was already part of a path I hadn't agreed to walk—
but was somehow already on.