The silence didn't feel the same anymore.
It wasn't calm.
It was… listening.
I stood there for a moment longer, staring at my hand even after the light had disappeared. The feeling from before hadn't gone away.
That slight pull.
Like something far away had noticed me—
and didn't like what it saw.
"…You felt that too, right?" I asked.
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
That was never a good sign.
When he stayed quiet, it meant one thing.
Something was wrong.
He was looking around—not randomly, but carefully. Like he was trying to catch something that had already slipped away.
"What was it?" I asked again.
Still nothing.
I exhaled sharply. "You do realize silence doesn't make things less suspicious, right?"
"It wasn't nothing," he said finally.
That alone made my chest tighten.
"Okay… that's not comforting."
A brief pause.
Then he looked at me.
Not the usual calm, distant look.
Something sharper.
More focused.
"You're stabilizing faster than you should."
I blinked. "Is that… a problem now?"
"Yes."
Of course it was.
I let out a quiet, disbelieving breath. "Wow. I improve and somehow that's still wrong."
"You don't understand what that means."
"Then explain it."
Silence.
Again.
I crossed my arms. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"That thing where you clearly know something and just decide not to tell me."
"I'm not deciding."
"Then what is it?"
A pause.
Then—
"Timing."
I stared at him. "That's not better."
The air felt heavier now.
Not like before.
Not from my power.
From him.
"What happened just now," he said, "wasn't just you losing control."
"I didn't lose control."
He didn't argue that.
Which somehow made it worse.
"Then what was it?" I asked.
Another pause.
Then—
"Something noticed."
My stomach dropped slightly.
"That's… not a normal sentence," I said.
"No," he replied. "It's not."
I forced out a small laugh, even though I didn't feel like it. "Great. So now not only am I dealing with shadows, I've got… what? Observers?"
"You don't joke about things like that."
"I joke about everything. It helps."
"It won't help here."
That shut me up.
A moment passed.
Then I asked, quieter this time, "Is it dangerous?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
That single word settled heavily in my chest.
I looked away, trying to process it. "And I'm guessing you're not going to tell me what exactly 'it' is."
"Not yet."
"Of course."
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing once before stopping again. "You know, it would be really nice if for once I wasn't the last person to understand what's happening to me."
"You're not the last."
I glanced at him. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No."
At least he was honest.
Silence stretched again.
But this time—
it felt different.
More serious.
Then he spoke.
"From now on," he said, his voice quieter but firmer, "you don't use your power unless I'm with you."
I frowned slightly.
I studied him for a second. "You think something's going to happen."
"I know it will."
That wasn't reassuring.
At all.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my thoughts. "And if I do use it alone?"
His gaze didn't leave mine.
"Don't."
No explanation.
No elaboration.
Just that.
I let out a quiet breath, looking away again. "You're really good at making things sound worse than they already are."
"I'm telling you what matters."
"You're telling me half of it."
"That's enough."
I didn't argue.
Not this time.
Because something about the way he said it—
made me feel like he wasn't holding back just to be difficult.
He was holding back because it was worse than I thought.
And for the first time—
I didn't push for answers.
Because a part of me wasn't sure I wanted them.