Something was different.

  It was still the usual Kestrel family breakfast. Coffee, freshly toasted bread, juice, fruit cut with surgical precision. Me with my coffee. Elisabeth checking something on her phone while sipping hers.

  Lorcan hadn’t come down yet. Or maybe he’d gone somewhere else. Right now, I didn’t care.

  Maybe I was the problem, because for the first time in days, nothing tasted right.

  I stirred my coffee with disdain, drinking it only with my eyes. Elisabeth notices. I know she does because she sighs after every failed attempt at conversation.

  “Did you sleep poorly?” she asks.

  “Enough,” I reply, almost curt.

  I can feel Elisabeth’s sharp gaze fixed on my forehead.

  “It’s nothing serious, Mrs. Elisabeth,” I add. “Just… things. In my head.”

  “Mm-hm…”

  I know that tone.

  I steel myself to make my request—the one I’d been rehearsing all night, the one I’m trying very hard not to make sound stupid.

  I want to be a witch. No. Discarded.

  Please teach me how to turn off this beacon. Too solemn. Too old-school.

  That’s when I see Elisabeth tense.

  It takes me a second longer, but I feel it too—the change in the air. The mansion’s inherent cold recedes, replaced by something… warm. And a scent, almost intoxicating.

  Incense.

  “I don’t remember us having visitors this early today…” Elisabeth says, trying to hide a trace of nervousness.

  A familiar sensation wraps around me. I stand and move toward the living room.

  “Elena, wait—” Elisabeth says.

  I don’t hear her. I keep walking, pulled forward by my curiosity.

  That’s when I see him.

  A figure seated in one of the mansion’s armchairs, as if he’d always been there. Hands folded. Back straight.

  “Lucian?” I ask.

  My voice comes out lower than expected. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me.

  “Good morning, sister,” he says.

  I don’t move closer. I don’t step back either.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you get in?”

  Lucian tilts his head slightly, as if the question were irrelevant.

  “The door was open.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “It was when I arrived.”

  Silence.

  Footsteps behind me. Elisabeth comes to my side.

  “Paladin Voss,” Elisabeth says.

  “Matriarch Kestrel,” Lucian replies. “It’s an honor.”

  Paladin? What are they talking about? Is my brother important?

  “Would you like something to drink?” Elisabeth asks. “I don’t have sacramental wine, but I can offer a malbec.”

  “Coffee is fine. No sugar.”

  They exchange shallow bows, almost mocking. Elisabeth returns to the kitchen.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I take the opportunity to look at him more closely.

  He’s taller. Broader shoulders. Shorter hair, neat. Simple clothes. Nothing eye-catching.

  But there’s something else.

  Rigid.

  Like his body is always tense.

  “We haven’t seen each other since the funeral,” I say.

  “Yes. I know.”

  “And you just come back like nothing happened?”

  “Didn’t my baskets reach you?”

  That’s when I start getting angry.

  “Sending me fruit once a year doesn’t make up for six years of distance.”

  “I had to do it. I had to stay away. It wasn’t safe.”

  “Safe?” I repeat.

  Elisabeth returns with the coffee and sets it in front of him. Lucian takes a few sips and nods approvingly. Then his attention returns to me, while Elisabeth positions herself carefully at my side.

  “My work is… complicated,” he says. “Our parents were gone. You were still in high school. Someone had to take responsibility.”

  Seriously? You’re playing that card?

  “Our parents’ money ran out a long time ago, Elena,” he continues. “Who do you think made sure you never lacked anything?”

  I know what he’s trying to do. It doesn’t make me like him any more.

  “Fine. Thank you for that,” I say. “That still doesn’t justify your absence—or why you decided to come back now.”

  “I came back because I felt it was necessary.”

  He looks out the window.

  “Ever since I stepped inside this place, I haven’t been able to stop feeling you,” he says. “You shine, Elena.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not a metaphor. I feel a light… strange. Coming from you.”

  I shiver despite myself.

  Lucian stands.

  “And from what I can see, you’re being contained—but no one is actually helping you,” he says, looking at Elisabeth. “Classic Council behavior. You’re probably just another number. Or maybe…” He pauses. “Maybe you don’t even officially exist.”

  Elisabeth looks away slightly, surprised by the remark.

  I step forward.

  “You were gone for six years,” I say. “The Kestrels were there for me when I almost died. Three times.”

  Lucian looks straight at me. The pressure increases.

  “That’s exactly why I couldn’t keep watching from afar.”

  He takes another step toward me.

  “What surrounds you isn’t normal, Elena,” he continues. “That light doesn’t appear randomly. It’s not something you learn, it's something awakened by fooling around with the wrong people.”

  “The wrong people?”

  “People who don’t understand the origin of things,” he says. “Who call power what they can’t name. Who toy with forces that don’t belong to them.”

  He looks up at me.

  “In short, sister, you shouldn’t be staying among wealthy pagans with expensive toys.”

  The silence turns heavy. Painful.

  “I can help you,” he adds. “Truly. But not while you’re shining like this, unguided. That mage can protect you. Maybe. For a while. But what about your friends? Or better yet—what happens when that mage abandons you like a troublesome puppy?”

  I clench my jaw and fists. Instinctively, I step back, searching for support.

  Elisabeth takes my hand.

  It’s comforting. But what Lucian is saying is brutally reasonable.

  “So…” I say, my voice cracking slightly. “What exactly does my brother—the vanished paladin—have to offer that could help me?”

  Lucian relaxes a little.

  “Control,” he says. “Through the Faith, we can teach you how to turn off your beacon.”

  “I can learn that with the Kestrels too.”

  “But they haven’t taught you yet, have they?” he says, glancing at Elisabeth. “I wonder why…”

  “Leave Mrs. Kestrel out of this,” I snap.

  Lucian concedes, for now.

  “Come with me, Elena,” he continues. “We can teach you to dim your light. No one else will suffer the consequences. You’ll be able to live a normal life. No surveillance. No threats. Free.”

  I’m genuinely surprised.

  “It sounds promising,” I say. “But I assume it’s not free.”

  Lucian shrugs slightly.

  “Nothing in life is,” he says. “You’ll have to stay with us for a while. Until you can control it safely.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I reply, provoking him. “How long?”

  “Days. Months. Years. Whatever it takes.”

  I let out a soft laugh.

  “You’re just offering me a different cage.”

  “No, Elena. I’m offering you the chance to take control for once. I admit the Faith has its methods—and its discipline—but that’s a small price to pay for not attracting demons.”

  Lucian allows himself a faint smile.

  “And we can do even better. Once you control your light, I promise I’ll use all my influence to keep the Faith from interfering if you choose to return to the Kestrels. Inter-institutional marriages aren’t uncommon. Between two important families, I’m sure the elders would be more than pleased.”

  He steps closer again, extending a hand. The pressure returns in full force.

  “I’m not asking for faith,” he says. “I’m offering you an exit.”

  I can’t help but retreat as he approaches.

  “Trust me. You’d be in good hands.”

  Suddenly, the pressure shifts. It stops crushing me. It changes direction.

  “She already is,” a voice says from above.

  It’s Lorcan.

  Sharp gaze. Perfectly still, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He’d been watching us from the upper floor the whole time.

  “And even if she weren’t,” he adds, “it would still be her choice.”

  Lucian scoffs.

  “Choice isn’t always a virtue,” he says. “Sometimes it’s just ignorance with initiative.”

  Now it’s Lorcan’s turn to scoff.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” he says. “Lorcan Kestrel. Weapon of the Council.”

  “Lucian Voss. Paladin of the Left Hand. Representative of the Faith. Elena’s brother.”

  “Congratulations,” Lorcan replies. “You have two more titles than I do.”

  Lucian studies him for a moment.

  Then nods once. Sharp. Final.

  He turns his attention back to me.

  “There’s no real rush,” he says. “But I don’t have much time either. You have thirty-six hours to give me an answer. After that, I must return.”

  “I understand,” I reply.

  Lucian nods, satisfied. He casts one last glance at Lorcan and leaves the mansion.

  The moment the door closes, air rushes back into my lungs all at once, and I collapse to my knees, nearly pulling Elisabeth down with me—she was still holding my hand.

  I hear Lorcan descending the stairs.

  I can’t afford to cry.

  Not now.

  Thirty-six hours.

  To decide which part of myself I’m willing to lose in order to keep living.