I didn't go back to sleep after he left.
The room stayed still, almost too still, like it was waiting for something to happen again. I sat there for a long time, staring at nothing, replaying everything in my head. None of it made sense, and somehow that made it worse.
After a while, I shifted and sat properly on the edge of the bed.
My hands rested in front of me.
I stared at them.
That glow—
it had come from here.
I turned my palm slightly, watching it in the dim light, half-expecting something to happen again.
Nothing did.
I tried to remember how it felt.
That pressure. That sudden surge.
I focused for a few seconds.
Still nothing.
Maybe those things wouldn't return either.
Maybe this would just… stop.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling, convincing myself of something I didn't fully believe.
They won't come again.
That thought stayed with me longer than it should have.
When he returned, he didn't say anything unnecessary.
"Get up."
I followed him outside.
Not because I wanted to—but because I needed answers, and right now, he was the only one who seemed to have any.
The place opened up as we walked further. It wasn't just a building. It was something larger. Structured. Controlled. The sky above didn't feel real—neither day nor night, just a dim, endless stretch.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"A place where you won't break anything important."
"That's not reassuring."
"It isn't meant to be."
We stopped when the ground widened into an open space.
Stone pillars stood at a distance, forming a rough boundary. The ground looked worn, like it had been used for this purpose again and again.
"Stand there," he said.
I stayed where I was. "And then?"
"Use it."
I exhaled slowly. "I don't even know what 'it' is."
"You do."
"No, I don't."
"You felt it."
That made me pause.
Because I had.
"Try," he said.
I raised my hand, focusing on that same feeling from before.
Nothing.
"This is pointless."
"You're thinking too much."
"And you're explaining too little."
"Good," he said. "You'll learn faster."
That didn't help.
But I tried again.
This time, I closed my eyes.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
something shifted.
A quiet pressure built beneath the surface, subtle but there.
My fingers tightened.
And then—
a faint glow flickered around my hand.
I opened my eyes.
It was weak. Barely visible.
"That's it?" I said.
"For now."
The glow disappeared.
"That lasted two seconds."
"Then make it three."
Time passed.
Every attempt felt the same—almost holding it, then losing it. Sometimes it stayed a second longer. Sometimes it didn't come at all.
By the end, my head felt heavy.
"I'm done," I said.
"You're tired."
"Yes. That usually means I'm done."
"No," he said. "It means you've started."
I looked at him. "Do you ever say anything useful?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"When you stop asking."
I turned away. "I'm going home."
"You won't be followed."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
When I got home, everything felt normal.
Too normal.
My sisters were in the living room.
"Where were you?" one of them asked.
"Out."
"Out where?"
"Just out."
They watched me for a second, but didn't push.
"Nothing happened?" she asked.
"No."
That night—
I sat on my bed again.
The room was dark this time, quieter than before.
I didn't lie down.
I just sat there.
My hands rested in front of me again.
I stared at them.
This is where it started.
I flexed my fingers slightly, waiting.
Nothing.
No glow.
No pressure.
No sign of anything.
I let out a slow breath.
"Good," I whispered.
If nothing came back—
then maybe it was over.
Maybe those things wouldn't return.
Maybe this would just disappear like it never happened.
I leaned back slightly, still watching my hands.
They won't come again.
The next day, I went back.
He was already there.
"You came back," he said.
"You said they'd return."
"Yes."
"When?"
"Now."
They appeared instantly.
The same shadows.
Not fully solid. Not fully real.
But there.
Watching.
Waiting.
My body tensed. "Do something."
"I am."
"You're standing."
"I'm watching."
They started moving.
Slow.
Then faster.
"Handle it," he said.
I raised my hand, forcing myself to focus.
Find it.
Hold it.
Use it.
For a second—
it worked.
A stronger glow formed, sharper this time, pushing one of them back when it got too close.
"Yes," I muttered.
Again.
But the next time—
nothing.
The glow flickered.
Then vanished.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
"They're getting closer."
"I can see that."
"Then do something!"
"Not yet."
My breathing turned uneven.
I pushed harder—but there was nothing left. The power didn't respond. It felt empty.
Because I had already used too much.
One of them moved closer.
I stepped back.
Then again.
My legs gave out.
I dropped to the ground.
I tried again.
Nothing.
They were close now.
Closer than before.
Closer than ever.
And this time—
I had nothing left.
I looked up at him.
He hadn't moved.
"Are you seriously just going to watch?" I said.
A pause.
Then—
he started walking.
Slow.
Controlled.
Unbothered.
And everything changed.
The shadows stopped.
They had reacted to me before.
When the light came out, they stepped back—not fear, just resistance.
This wasn't that.
When he moved—
they retreated.
Not because they were forced to.
Because they didn't want to be near him.
Their forms flickered violently, breaking apart at the edges.
Whatever they had felt from me—
was nothing compared to this.
He kept walking.
One step.
Then another.
And with each step—
they moved further back.
The air felt heavier.
And then—
for the first time—
they spoke.
"…him…"
"…he's here…"
"…no…"
"…Lucien…"
The name came out broken.
Afraid.
And then—
they vanished.
Silence.
I stayed where I was, breathing unevenly, staring at the space where they had been.
Slowly, I looked up at him.
"You could've done that earlier."
He stopped.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you?"
A brief pause.
"Because you needed to understand the difference."
I didn't respond.
Because I did.
The difference between pushing something back—
and something that made it afraid to exist.
And for the first time—
I understood.
This wasn't just training.
This was survival.
And him—
He wasn't just watching.
He was deciding—
whether I was worth saving.