Helios ate, nodded, smiled where he should. The warmth of the room did its work on the edges of him. It was wholesome; he allowed it to be. He asked Thalen the right questions—what else Zack had him working on; whether he preferred the dagger grip high or low; if the cloak itched in the heat. Thalen answered in starts and stops, and Skuld filled in the gaps gently, like water smoothing the gaps between stones. Sephiroth ate without comment. Kurai's gaze flicked between speakers with judgment.
Helios' thoughts, meanwhile, counted. They had been counting since the first time he noticed the way Thalen's eyes took on that faint salt-sheen of the not-quite-here. The cloak—Maleficent's craft, bought with a favor—kept the boy's existence from being consumed by the darkness, but it was a tourniquet, not a cure.
He did not mind this in the abstract. Things fade. Worlds fall. Hearts are taken. He had watched it, helped it, survived it. He minded only insofar as Thalen's fading intersected with his goals.
The cloak helped, but only delays the inevitable.
He remembered the bargaining session with Maleficent—one of the few times he had willingly played into her smug games—just to secure this cloak that slowed Thalen's fading. It worked. For now. But the threads were temporary. Eventually, Thalen would unravel back into darkness, like all Nobodies were fated to.
'If he wasn't useful, I wouldn't have bothered.'
Helios sipped from his cup, his gaze still resting lightly on Thalen. The boy's potential wasn't power—it was as a potential future vessel. A Nobody who hadn't yet developed a heart who lingered stubbornly in half-light and half-darkness. That kind of being could be useful. If Helios could think of how best to utilize the boy.
But sentiment? Compassion? No. Those weren't the reasons Helios kept him around.
If he fades, he fades. But until then, I'll wring everything I can from him.
The thought was merciless, sharp. And yet Helios's expression was serene, even faintly amused, as if he were simply enjoying the company. None of them could read the calculations playing out behind his blue eyes.
He speared a grape with the knife tip and chewed it. The hard drive from Ansem's lab was safe in his inventory; Hephaestus's letter of introduction from Hades would be ready when he returned to Maleficent next time. He could ask the smith for a device capable of harnessing the powers of light and darkness.
He took a drink of water and let the cold sting his teeth. Useful, if it worked. Messy if it didn't. Hecate would need to be consulted; she was a demigoddess of witchcraft, so her expertise in magic would be useful for this project. Helios needed to know a way to combine science and magic if he was to succeed. The Heart of Atlantis, the research that they did when still in Atlantis, along with the unique energy collected from Rourke, opened a different path entirely.
Skuld nudged his elbow and he realized his attention had slid too far inward.
"Hmm?" he asked, mild.
"We were saying," she said, smiling, "Thalen wants to try the spear drills later. Out in the courtyard. If you're awake enough."
"I'm awake," he said, and made it sound rueful so she'd laugh again. She did.
Thalen looked guilty. "Only if… if you… have time."
"I have time," Helios said. It cost him nothing to give it; it bought him more than it spent. "Short bursts, right? You'll make Zack proud."
Thalen's smile returned, small, grateful, precarious. He looked younger when he wore one. Or older. It was hard to tell with him. "Yes… I—tried. The blade… still too heavy. But—better than… last time."
Skuld tried to keep the mood gentle. She leaned toward Helios at one point, whispering, "On a side note, you should've seen Zack this morning—he tried to duel Sephiroth again. Got flattened in three moves." Her small laugh carried like a bell.
Helios smirked. "That's an improvement. Last time it was two."
Across the table, Kurai's lips twitched faintly, though she said nothing. Sephiroth's gaze flickered in faint amusement before returning to his meal. Even Thalen gave a quiet chuckle, halting though it was.
For a moment, the group felt whole. The morning light poured in, the smell of bread and fruit filled the hall, and the world outside felt far away.
But behind Helios's relaxed posture, his mind was anything but gentle.
As the meal wound down, Helios leaned back, resting his elbow against the table's edge. Skuld was chatting softly with Thalen, encouraging him to keep training, while Kurai toyed with her cup and Sephiroth rose to leave.
Helios let his gaze linger on Thalen one last time.
'I'll have to find a way to stop it,' he mused, his smile faint and unreadable. 'Not because he deserves saving. But because I might need him. And if I need him, then he doesn't get to fade. Simple as that.'
Helios rose smoothly from his chair, his tone light. "Come on. Let's not waste the day. Kurai, do you want to go for a walk?"
Kurai stood without a word and followed him out of the hall. The others stayed behind, the sound of Skuld's laughter and Thalen's halting words fading as they crossed into the mansion's shadowed corridors. Soon enough, the pair stepped into the forest that ringed the estate.
The place was thick with old trees, their roots twisted into the earth like coiled serpents. The air was damp and heavy with the musk of moss and loam. Strange cries echoed from deeper within—low growls, sharp clicks, the wingbeats of creatures that preferred the cover of darkness. Beasts prowled here, dangerous and territorial, but they kept their distance. They had learned. After all, they had seen what happened to one reckless predator who had strayed too close: killed swiftly and mercilessly by the mansion's residents. Word—or instinct—had spread among the forest dwellers. Now they watched from a distance but did not approach.
Helios walked without hurry, Kurai at his side, the undergrowth crunching softly beneath their boots. Only when the mansion was far behind them and the forest swallowed all trace of voices did Kurai finally speak.
"So," she said, her tone quiet but sharp, "how did it go?"
Helios didn't slow, didn't look at her. His eyes tracked the shifting light through the trees. "I went to the Underworld," he said calmly. "Made a deal with Hecate to remove Hades from her realm. In exchange, I gave her terms she found… favorable."
Kurai raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting.
"I also fulfilled my earlier bargain with Hades," Helios went on. "The lightning bolt. I returned it to him—enough to keep him bound to his side of the contract. Then I pressed him into another arrangement." His smile curved, cold and deliberate. "This time, I had him collared and sent to Maleficent."
Kurai gave a short, surprised laugh. "You turned him over to her? Clever."
"Practical," Helios corrected. "And while I was there, I secured something else. Maleficent is now searching for two worlds I require."
They reached a break in the trees where the ground dipped into a hollow, and Helios finally paused, the faint light outlining the sharp angles of his face. Kurai studied him for a long moment. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in her eyes—rare, but genuine.
"You managed all that," she said at last, "in a single night?"
Helios's gaze slid toward her, cool and steady. "Yes."
For a moment, silence reigned again—broken only by the distant cries of the forest creatures and the rustle of the wind through the canopy. Then Kurai let out a breath that sounded almost like admiration.
"You're relentless," she murmured.
Helios only smiled, the expression small and sharp. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me."