anwhile, it was morning on this side of Jupiter.
The light was softer, filtered through layered canopies stretched between buildings to keep the storms and glare away. The streets were already alive. Vendors were setting up stalls, steam rising from grills and pots, voices overlapping in half a dozen languages that blended into a steady murmur. It slled like spices, oil, tal, and sothing sweet Lyra couldn’t place but kept pulling her toward it anyway.
Reva walked a step behind her, hood down, posture calm, face composed the way it always was in public. Anyone looking closely would notice the tension she never quite let go of, the way her eyes kept drifting ahead like she expected soone to appear out of thin air.
Lyra was back to her usual self on the surface, bouncing from stall to stall, stopping every few steps to stare at sothing new, but even she kept glancing over her shoulder more often than she realized.
Viola stayed close, eyes always moving, cataloging exits and faces out of habit. Requiem walked beside her, quieter than usual, hands clasped behind his back. His daughter, Iria, trailed a little behind them, half-awake and rubbing at her eyes.
Lyra stopped at a food stall piled high with skewers and flatbread. The vendor froze the mont he saw her.
His eyes widened. His posture changed instantly. He straightened, lowered his head slightly, and pushed the tray forward without waiting to be asked. "Please," he said, voice respectful. "Take whatever you want."
Lyra blinked. "Uh... I was just looking."
The vendor shook his head. "It’s nothing. We owe your kind more than this."
People nearby had noticed too. Conversations softened. A few heads bowed. Soone from the next stall over brought over wrapped fruit without saying a word. Another offered a drink, hands steady but reverent.
Reva watched it happen, expression unreadable.
Lyra hesitated, then accepted a skewer, murmuring thanks in a way that felt too small for the attention she was getting. She moved on, and it happened again. And again. Food. Trinkets. Small tools. Even a vendor selling fabric insisted she take a length of shimring cloth, and refused paynt.
Iria leaned toward Viola and whispered, "Does this always happen?"
Viola nodded faintly. "With Lykaios. Yes."
"They act like she’s—"
"A god," Viola finished quietly. "Because to many of them, she is."
Lyra finally slowed, arms full, laughter softer now. "This is awkward," she said under her breath. "I don’t even do anything."
"You exist," Requiem replied. "That’s enough."
Reva stopped near the edge of the market, watching Lyra laugh with a vendor who looked like he might cry from the honor of it. For a mont, the weight on her chest eased. They were safe and moving.
Still, her hand curled slowly at her side.
Xavier should have been here.
Lyra felt it too, even while smiling. Every stall, every sll, every mont felt like sothing she was supposed to be showing him. She kept imagining his comnts, his complaints, the way he’d pretend not to be impressed and then buy too much food anyway.
Lyra slowed near a stall stacked with steaming parcels and glanced back at Viola. "Did Angel call again?" she asked. "Or Xavier?"
Viola didn’t stop walking. "I already told you. The last thing Angel said was that he’s out of prison. After that, nothing. He can’t contact us directly, and he can’t say where he is."
Lyra frowned but nodded, chewing on that.
Reva said nothing. Inside, the answer felt obvious. ’Xavier isn’t silent because he can’t talk. He is silent because he is choosing to be. If he had no plan, he would have reached out, even for a second. The fact that he hadn’t ant he was doing sothing reckless, complicated, or both.’
Viola’s thoughts went in a different direction entirely. ’I am sick of this. Tired of watching everyone, tired of pretending this is fine, tired of being the one in the middle. Xavier talks to Angel. Angel talks to . And I talk to everyone else and absorb the frustration from all sides. Babysitting gods, vampires, warriors, and traumatized teenagers wasn’t what I signed up for. And on top of that, we are bored. We have nothing to do here.’
She was about to say sothing when the sound cut through the market.
The sound of hover engines.
The air shifted as several vans descended at once, pushing heat and dust outward. Ard figures poured out, fast and disciplined, spreading through the market and forcing people back without touching them. Stalls shut down mid-sale. Voices dropped. A wide corridor opened through the crowd as if the city itself knew to get out of the way.
Another vehicle followed.
Sleeker. Quieter. Black and silver, its surface reflecting the morning light in clean lines. It settled gently, doors opening upward.
Reva was imdiately alerted and so was Viola. Both of them straightened without looking at each other, attention snapping forward.
A man stepped out.
At first glance, he looked human. Sa proportions. Sa face structure. But his skin held a faint opalescent sheen, like light caught beneath ice. His pupils were ringed with thin silver halos that didn’t quite move the way human eyes did. He wore tailored clothing that didn’t display rank or insignia.
Guards flanked him as he walked forward, their presence careful rather than aggressive. He stopped a few steps in front of Lyra and looked at her directly, head tilting slightly as if confirming sothing he already knew.
The man studied Lyra for a mont longer, eyes catching the light as if he were looking at sothing layered beneath her skin.
"So it’s true," he said finally. "I was starting to think the trails were wrong. But here you are. I finally found you."
Lyra blinked. "Found ... what are you talking about?"
Her voice ca out steadier than she felt. Sowhere deep in her chest, sothing tugged, faint and uncomfortable, like a half-rembered dream. She had never t him. She was sure of that. And yet his face felt familiar in a way that made her stomach tighten.
Reva moved instantly.
She stepped forward, placing herself just slightly in front of Lyra without touching her, chin lifting. "You’re going to explain yourself," she said. "Right now."
The response was imdiate.
Weapons rose with clean precision. Barrels aligned with Reva’s chest and head, targeting systems activating softly.
"You dare!"
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