Page 45

Forty-Five

E arth.

So this was the world that made her.

From the upper atmosphere, it looked unremarkable—blue oceans, clouds swirling in layered motion, cities etched into the land like fungal growths. But the moment they broke through the sky in the cloaked descent vessel, Karian realized it was anything but ordinary.

Noise. It struck him like a blow—sound in every pitch, every direction. Honking, shouting, rhythmic thuds, erratic buzzing. The city was a cacophony of creatures too used to chaos to care about it.

The air stung his lungs. Not from poison, though it smelled like low-grade combustion, rust, grease. No, it was the life in it that stung. Vibrant and unpredictable.

Shepherd’s Bush, she called it. The name meant nothing. Just a crude combination of sounds. But Leonie had whispered it with reverence.

Buildings rose too close together. Electric signs flickered in garish colors. The roads shimmered with water and oil, smeared by moving boxes with light eyes—vehicles. Small humans hurried along the paths, bundled in thick coats, emitting vapor from their mouths in the chill. Nothing seemed structured. It was a miracle they didn’t collapse under the weight of their disorganization.

Karian narrowed his eyes as they walked, both cloaked in simulated human skins. He bore the guise of a tall man with close-cropped hair and severe features, wrapped in dark fabric shaped like what his analysts called a “coat.” Leonie had insisted it looked fashionable. He felt like he was wrapped in the pelt of a prey animal.

She, on the other hand… looked radiant in her long woven black dress and chestnut coat, hair pulled back, cheeks flushed from the cold.

This was her habitat. And she had adapted to it like water to its bowl.

The streets led to a narrow building with rusted railings. Concrete stairs, choked with soggy leaves, led up to a dull green door.

She stopped in front of it, hesitating. Her breath hitched.

“No key,” she murmured. “I didn’t think to bring it…”

He watched her fumble at the handle, her fingers trembling. The lock held fast.

Her face twisted with frustration—an expression he was growing too used to seeing on her, and one he wanted to erase. He stepped forward, raising one hand to the lock.

A slight flick of his fingers. A nudge of power.

The mechanism within clicked and yielded.

She gasped. “Wait, did you just…?”

He gave a slight tilt of his head. “A minor application of will. A lock like this poses no challenge.”

She blinked. “That’s cheating.”

“Efficiency,” he corrected her. “Primitive security does not deserve reverence.”

They entered the dwelling.

The air inside was close and stale, still heavy with the ghost of her scent—faint floral traces, skin-warmed fabrics, something sweet he could never name. Her home. Or what had once been.

It was so small. Cramped.

There were objects everywhere—random shapes and mismatched forms. Nothing uniform. Nothing streamlined. A squat table sat beneath a window. Shelves overflowed with bent spines of what he knew were “books,” the primitive storage form for information. Colorful glass objects sat uselessly on ledges. There were pillows on the floor. A dish on the ground.

The floor creaked beneath his steps. He scanned the apartment, noting everything. The dust. The scent of time. The… personality of it.

This was not a dwelling built for survival.

It was built for memory.

He paused near a round glass orb resting on a cluttered shelf. Inside it, tiny artificial structures sat in a landscape of pale grains—white flakes frozen mid-suspension. He turned it in his hand. The grains fluttered like miniature snowstorms. Pointless. Beautiful.

He tilted his head.

A city, he realized slowly. A tiny one, under crystal. Perhaps a totem?

He did not know why it made him feel something he could not name.

“Gone,” Leonie muttered from another room. Her voice sounded strained. “My computer’s gone. The police must’ve taken it. Or someone broke in…”

He crossed the room in two strides. “What does this mean? Is your search impeded?”

“I need to get online,” she said, voice tight. “If I can log into my socials, I might find a lead on Alfie. Maybe someone posted about him.”

“Use one of your strange glass panels to summon the information, then.”

“I can’t. Mine’s gone.”

She hesitated. “I’m going to try my neighbor. I think she’ll let me use her laptop.”

“No,” Karian said instantly, stepping in front of her. “You are not leaving my sight.”

“They’ll panic if they see you,” she said softly. “Please. It’s just across the hall. I’ll be quick.”

He stared down at her, his illusion hiding the storm of instinct roiling beneath. Her presence so close, her voice so soft—and yet the danger outside these walls unknown.

But she was resolute.

He stepped back, jaw clenched. “Ten minutes. No longer.”

She nodded and touched his chest in thanks. That gesture—such a small, human thing—made something flutter inside him.

She slipped out the door.

He waited until her footsteps faded, then turned back toward her living space.

The room was silent again, save the distant murmur of street noise. He moved slowly, examining more of her world.

A collection of square photographs was pinned to a board. Her, smiling. With other humans. Holding a small creature— the dog, likely—its tongue lolling from its mouth.

A cup still sat on a side table, half full of what he guessed had once been liquid. There was a tattered blanket over the couch. He sat, slowly, sinking into the old velvet cushions, and the scent of her enveloped him.

None of it made sense.

And yet it all did.

It was ugly. Imperfect. Cluttered and vulnerable.

And it was hers .

He picked up a tiny, molded ceramic figure shaped like an animal with large ears. It served no purpose. Yet it had a place of honor on the shelf.

All around him were artifacts of a life he could not have imagined. Memories in fabric. Attachments in glass and paint and wool.

And he had taken her from this.

He clenched his fists in his lap.

If anyone touched her out there…

If anyone made her afraid …

He would not intervene with mercy.

He would remind this strange, chaotic world that she was his.