Kage’s POV

  The walk back to Zara’s house was quiet, the city settled into the stillness of the night. The streets were empty, save for the occasional shadow shifting in an alleyway or the distant clip-clop of a carriage horse. Malrick walked a step behind us, his arms wrapped around himself like he was bracing for a blow that hadn’t come yet.

  I understood that feeling.

  He flinched at every sudden noise, every flickering light, every stray glance from a passerby. He kept his head down, his steps hesitant, like he was still trying to decide whether to run.

  I had seen that kind of fear before. Hell, I had that kind of fear before.

  When we reached Zara’s house, she pushed open the door and stepped inside first, lighting a lantern. The warm glow cast soft shadows along the walls, flickering against the books stacked in untidy piles and the half-burnt logs in the fireplace. It smelled like old parchment and dried herbs. Like something familiar.

  Malrick hesitated in the doorway, his fingers tightening around the edges of his tattered sleeves.

  I turned, watching him. “You coming in, or are you planning on sleeping in the street?”

  His breath hitched. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his movements stiff and uncertain, like he expected the walls to cave in the moment he crossed the threshold.

  Zara set the lantern down and looked him over. “Take off your coat.”

  Malrick hesitated, then shrugged out of the worn fabric, revealing just how thin he was. The dim light only made the bruised shadows under his eyes more obvious—but what caught my attention were the veins crawling over his arms and neck, pulsing bright crimson, like rivers of molten blood beneath his skin. They glowed faintly, unnatural and eerie, a constant reminder of the magic that lived inside him.

  I gestured toward the chair near the fireplace. “Sit.”

  He obeyed, perching on the edge like he was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. His hands curled into his lap, his fingers twitching slightly—probably fighting the urge to dig into his arms, to remind himself he was still here.

  I crossed my arms, leveling Malrick with a steady gaze. “You’re in trouble. We both know that. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but that doesn’t mean it can just be ignored. Actions have consequences.”

  Malrick flinched slightly, his fingers tightening in his lap. I kept my voice firm but steady. “My boss wants me to arrest you. Frankly, I don’t blame him. But I made him a deal—I told him I’d help you learn to control your magic. If you can prove you’re not a threat, you won’t end up in a cell.”

  He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven. I leaned forward slightly. “That means we start training tomorrow. First thing. You need to learn control, Malrick. Before someone else decides you’re beyond saving.”

  His eyes flickered with something—fear, maybe, or just exhaustion. He gave a small, uncertain nod.

  Good enough for now.

  I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “This is your home now,” I said, my voice even but firm. “But until we get your magic under control, you don’t leave this house without me or Zara. Understood?”

  Malrick hesitated, his fingers twitching, but he nodded. I could see the battle in his eyes—fear, uncertainty, maybe even relief. He had nowhere else to go, and he knew it.

  Zara stepped in, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe here, Malrick. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to take you away. But we need to do this right.”

  He swallowed hard, nodding again.

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  Zara turned toward the small kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. “Now, let’s get some food in you. You look like you haven’t eaten a proper meal in weeks.”

  Malrick’s stomach growled on cue, and for the first time since we found him, something almost like embarrassment flickered across his face.

  The three of us sat around the worn wooden table, the faint clink of dishes filling the quiet space. Zara had managed to pull together a meal—simple, but warm, and Malrick hesitantly picked at his plate, like he wasn’t sure if he was really allowed to eat.

  Zara and I took turns sharing bits of our past, nothing too deep, just enough to let him know we understood what it was like to be outcasts. It took time, but eventually, Malrick began to talk. His voice was quiet, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t used to anyone listening.

  As Zara spoke to him, gentle and patient, I felt something shift inside me. It wasn’t just admiration—it was something deeper. Watching her reassure Malrick, seeing how much she cared, how effortlessly she made space for him, I realized just how much she meant to me. The way she looked at him, the way she spoke with such quiet conviction—it was the same way she had looked at me once. Like I wasn’t something to be feared.

  “I had a normal childhood,” he admitted, staring down at his plate. “No one thought I was magical because… I didn’t have any signs. My veins—they didn’t glow, not until I was nine.”

  His hands trembled slightly, and I saw his fingers twitch, as if remembering something painful.

  “My little brother—he cut himself one day. Just a small scrape. I—I didn’t even know what I was doing, but suddenly, his blood… it started pulling toward me. Like I was calling it. I couldn’t stop it. He screamed. My parents—” His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. “They were terrified.”

  His grip tightened around his fork. “They kicked me out that night. Told me I was unnatural. A monster. I’ve been on my own since. Five years. Five years of trying not to touch anyone. Trying not to hurt anyone.”

  Zara reached across the table, placing a gentle hand over his. “You’re not a monster, Malrick. You just need guidance.”

  He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either. He just stared at her hand, like he was waiting for something bad to happen.

  I leaned back, crossing my arms. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why you’re here. You don’t have to run anymore.”

  Malrick took a shaky breath and nodded. It wasn’t trust, not yet. But it was something.

  Kage and Zara exchange a look after dinner, a silent understanding passing between them—this poor boy. After clearing the table, Zara gently leads Malrick up the narrow stairs to the spare bedroom. He steps inside hesitantly, his eyes scanning the modest space like it’s something foreign.

  He runs a hand over the blanket on the bed, his fingers tracing the fabric with something like disbelief. “I haven’t had a real bed in five years,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Zara steps closer, warmth in her expression as she pulls him into a gentle hug. He stiffens at first but doesn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry about your parents, Malrick,” she murmurs. “And I need you to understand something—you have a home here. Not just for now, not just until you learn control. Always. This is your home.”

  Malrick doesn’t say anything, but when he finally exhales, the tension in his shoulders eases, just a little.

  Zara and I climbed into bed, the warmth of her body a quiet comfort against the storm of thoughts in my head. I pulled her close, my arms wrapped around her as she pressed her face into my chest. We listened as Malrick shifted in his room, the bed creaking softly under his weight. It was the first real bed he’d had in years, and for the first time, he wasn’t sleeping alone in the streets.

  I couldn’t sleep. My mind wouldn’t stop turning over everything that had happened. The way Malrick had hesitated before stepping inside. The way his eyes darted around, searching for an escape even when there was none. I had been him once. I had lived that fear, that uncertainty, the constant edge of waiting for someone to hurt me.

  Zara let out a quiet, shaky breath, her fingers curling against my shirt. Then, almost soundlessly, I felt her shoulders tremble. She was crying.

  I held her tighter, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Zara…”

  She sniffled, her voice muffled against me. “He’s just a kid, Kage. A scared kid who never got a chance. How many more are out there? How many like him have been abandoned, just because of something they never asked for?”

  I didn’t have an answer. I just ran my hand slowly up and down her back, letting her release what she had been holding in all night. But as I held her, something settled deep inside me—a realization, a certainty I hadn’t let myself face before. This whole situation, the weight of it, the way she cared, the way we faced it together—it had deepened something in me, something I wasn’t sure I had the strength to admit yet. But I knew, without a doubt, that I felt more for her than I ever had for anyone before.

  After a moment, she pulled back slightly, looking up at me. Her green eyes were still glassy with tears. “Do you see yourself in him?”

  I swallowed, my throat tight. “Yeah. I do.”

  She reached up, brushing a hand along my jaw. “Then maybe you’re exactly what he needs.”

  I exhaled, letting my forehead rest against hers. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

  Zara nodded, settling back against me. And as I held her, listening to the steady sound of Malrick breathing in the next room, I made a silent promise—he wasn’t going to face this alone anymore. Neither was I.