Anyway," I said, continuing our earlier banter, "first time we met him, Mister Perfect here didn't trust us at all."
Kai blinked, face as polite and serene as ever — which only made him look more ethereal. His ivory skin caught the faint shimmer of the lights, and when he glanced away bashfully, the electric green of his eyes almost seemed to glow. A couple of nearby novices actually paused mid-bite just to look at him. Kai didn't notice.
Sasrir leaned his cheek against his fist. "Can you blame him? Look at that face. If I looked like that, I'd assume everyone wanted something from me too."
Kai flushed a little, lips pulling into the shy smile that always revealed the dimples in his cheeks. A few people at a nearby table visibly melted.
I tried not to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. He's pretty enough to make statues jealous."
Kai ducked his head, embarrassed. "I'm… really not—"
"Buddy," I cut in, "if you walked past a group of girls right now, we'd have to swim out of a sea of fainting bodies. Maybe a few guys too."
Sasrir nodded solemnly. "Definitely a few guys."
Kai covered his face with one hand. "Can we talk about something else?"
But despite the fluster, there was a warmth to him — that natural gentle charm, the kind that made even this bleak realm feel less sharp. He had no arrogance about him, none of the entitlement that could have come so easily with a face like his. Just that soft radiance, the quiet humor in his eyes, and the impression that he genuinely liked being here with us.
"Fine, fine," I said, leaning back. "We were talking about how it took a whole week before you stopped avoiding us."
Sasrir clicked his tongue. "Avoiding? More like monitoring from a dramatic distance."
I snapped my fingers. "Exactly! Every time I looked up, there he was — perched on a ledge with his hair blowing dramatically, looking like some tragic prince watching over us mortals. If a painter had been there, they would've retired on that image alone."
Kai groaned softly, but his smile was fighting its way back. "I wasn't trying to be dramatic."
"Oh, sure," I said. "You just happen to look like that by accident."
Sasrir nodded in agreement. "Some people roll out of bed and look like normal human beings. You roll out of bed already ready for a hero's movie."
Kai opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to argue.
The lighthearted chatter lasted another few seconds — until I, still laughing, added:
"Anyway, you didn't trust us until we killed Artus, and—"
My words cut short.
The moment the words slipped out, I felt it like a cold tap on the back of my neck. The air between us shifted — not heavy, but quieter. More fragile.
Kai lowered his gaze, lashes shadowing those shockingly green eyes. "You didn't have to do that," he murmured, voice softer now, missing the earlier humor.
Sasrir straightened slightly. I winced. The memory of that harrowing night lurked unspoken at the edge of the table.
"Yeah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Well. I wanted to show you I meant it."
"And," Sasrir added gently, "that we wouldn't leave you behind."
Kai's fingers tangled with the edge of his cup. The hall's distant chatter seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of the lanterns and the three of us holding the moment between us.
Then I nudged Kai's arm, voice light again. "Besides, if we hadn't done what we did, you wouldn't be here right now."
Kai smiled — small, genuine, radiant. "I'm glad I am."
And just like that, the softness returned. The warmth. The easy brightness of three people who had survived enough darkness to appreciate mornings like this.
As we finished eating, I stretched and stood up. We didn't have a shift today, so after making some plans later in the day, we went our separate ways-Sasrir went to the Memory Market to look for new weapons, Kai went to train his archery while I...went back to my room and lay down on my bed.
Yes, I was lazy. Shoot me.
Eventually, I exhaled, gave up, and let myself sink into the oldest of them — the moment we met him.
The flashback rose like a tide.
Fog. Rain. And the sound of Sasrir swearing under his breath.
The Coral Labyrinth was already one of the Dream Realm's less pleasant gifts, but add in a storm that made visibility drop to arm's length and you had the perfect recipe for misery.
"I'm telling you," I muttered as we trudged between twisting walls of pale coral and slick stone, "this place changes every time we turn around."
Sasrir grunted beside me. "No. You keep turning around. I'm navigating perfectly fine."
"You walked us into a dead end five minutes ago."
"That was a scouting maneuver."
"It was a wall."
"Some walls need to be scouted."