"We all thought you died…"
Died.
The thought hit him like a freight train as he stood behind the transparent door of a mag-lev tube, a couple of Drenvar's soldiers stationed in front of him.
Though the transport was ultra-fast, it was limited to upper- and middle-class cities. Places like Neal City still relied on congested trains.
Inside the lev tube, he clutched his chest, eyes wide at an outside he couldn't quite see, feeling his loud, erratic heartbeat—or was it his?
"…The heart monitor stopped beeping, and the nurse who's currently having a panic attack was here to pull the plug."
[System Activation]
Eric gripped harder, his other hand clinging to the crutches supporting his left leg. It had taken a hell of a lot of convincing to assure Drenvar he was fit to go home—and another hour to talk him out of a tracking chip.
He just needed to get back to Kael. That would be impossible if he collapsed in front of these men. They'd haul him back to that bed in seconds.
And time…
Eric straightened, glaring ahead. Something told him time was too precious to waste in a hospital.
He'd go home, put Kael's mind at ease, and if that damn screen persisted—still burning bright at the back of his mind—then whatever they were would soon learn how far he'd go to survive.
But first, Kael.
Reaching Neal City, he noticed it wasn't on fire. Eric exhaled heavily, his grip on the crutch easing. He wondered how she was doing—not well, if she wasn't answering her phone.
He bit back a sad smile. He wished he could tell her how narrowly he'd escaped death, but he couldn't—not when he wasn't sure if the thing inside him was a blessing or a curse.
Minutes later, the pod stopped in front of that rickety house, more steel than brick, slowly falling apart. A small smile crept onto his lips, bittersweet. Somehow, he'd made it home. He didn't know how, but he had.
He hobbled out of the parted glass door, sensing them follow. He turned and shook his head. "I'll take it from here."
Drenvar's men exchanged a glance but didn't argue. Their orders likely didn't extend beyond escorting him, though Eric had no doubt they'd watch from afar. He ignored them, adjusting his grip on the crutch as he limped toward the front door.
It wasn't locked.
He pushed it open, and a gust of hot air slammed into his face.
Eric tightened his grip on the crutch and forced himself inside, his limp more pronounced now that adrenaline was fading. He reached the small hallway leading to the bedrooms and pushed open her door—
She wasn't there.
Except for her phone, lying idly on her purple bed, burnt and hard–melted into a grotesque form of what it had once been.
"Kael…" he whispered.
He turned toward the exit, reaching the door, when he heard it.
"He said he'll come. He promised, Nat."
The bathroom.
Even before he reached the door, he could see her in his mind's eye: surrounded by ice in the bathtub, hands curled around her knees, damp hair falling as she stared into nothing, seeing something others couldn't.
"He's going to come," she murmured again. "Eric… he's not… he's alive… Maybe… Maybe he got stuck… maybe if… if…we go out...we find him"
"Kael, take a deep breath," Natalie's voice cut in—soft, concerned, yet unapologetically authoritative. "This is the last of the ice. I can't get more without raising suspicions."
"But he's going to come… Eric will…"
Eric barely felt the pain in his leg when he moved.
His fingers found the door handle, exhaustionly. He'd have liked to change before going in, but—
He pushed the door open.
The bathroom was dim, the only light a flickering panel from the hallway dropping more shadows than light over the cracked tiles.
The air was atrociously heavy. Reeking of melted plastic andvsomething burning that didn't smell like anything he could place his finger on.
There, in the white bathtub, Kael sat curled into herself, in purple pajamas, knees drawn to her chest. The ice around her was melting, making bubbles pooling at the tub's edges.
Her lips were blue.
Natalie knelt beside her, brows furrowed, dark eyes flashing with exhausted worry. Sweat rolled down her (his) white singlet as she dropped more ice into the tub.
"I kept calling," Kael mumbled, her voice hoarse, as if she'd screamed herself raw. "But the phone… it burned. It just—" Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. "I tried to hold on. But it's so hot, Nat. It won't stop burning." She buried her face in her palms. "It's all my fault. It's my fault."
Eric exhaled. "No, it's not."
The room froze.
Her head jerked up. For a moment, she didn't breathe, only stared through him, as if uncertain he was real.
"Eric?"
"Hey glow stick."
Then she lurched forward, nearly slipping on the ice as she flung herself at him, arms wrapping so tight around his neck, he was knocked out of balance for just a second.
Eric swallowed the pain.
She was hotter than an open flame, ready to burn anything in her path.
"You're late," she choked out a sob. "I was so afraid… I thought you died." Her tears drenched his shoulders. "I felt… I felt you die…"
He couldn't tell her she was wrong, nor could he tell her she was right.
What was he supposed to say to her? Yes, Kael, I died. But I came back. No, I don't know how. No, I don't know what I am now.
Instead, he exhaled, pushed the thought out of his head and pressed his chin to the top of her head.
"It's alright," he breathed. "I'm here now…"
A lie? Faith? He wasn't sure.
Kael only clung harder.
He squeezed his eyes shut.