On the way back
The van humd along the highway, grey afternoon light filtering through the tinted windows. The sky had cleared over Greyhollow, but the clouds followed them east, thick and heavy, as if the curse wanted to tag along just to see how it all ended.
Derek was passed out in the back, his head against a supply crate, his staff clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. Dr. Blackwood hovered nearby, watching over him with sothing that looked almost like paternal concern. Sera sat across from them, her phone abandoned, her eyes closed—not sleeping, just resting. Mason was by the side door, staring out the window at the passing trees.
Cora sat up front, next to the silent driver. Lucian was in the middle row, alone.
The van hit a bump. Derek mumbled sothing about ghosts and went back to sleep.
Cora turned in her seat, looking back at Lucian. Her eyes were sharp, the way they got when she was thinking too hard about sothing. She stood carefully, balancing against the van’s movent, and walked to the middle row. She sat down across from Lucian, not next to him, but close.
He looked at her. She looked at him.
The driver kept his eyes on the road.
"So," Cora said.
"So."
"You’ve been quiet."
"I’m always quiet."
"More than usual."
Lucian leaned his head against the window. The glass was cold. The trees blurred past. "It was a long mission."
"It was. But that’s not why you’re quiet."
He didn’t answer.
Cora pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. It made her look younger, smaller. Less like the sharp-edged reincarnator and more like the nineteen-year-old girl she was.
"You rember what you said to ? Before we went into the ravine?"
Lucian’s jaw tightened. "I rember."
"You said you have high perception. That you can grasp things easily. That’s why you learn so fast."
"Yes."
"That’s not the whole truth, is it?"
He turned his head to look at her. The light from the window cut across his face, half in shadow, half in pale grey. "What do you want to say, Cora?"
"The truth."
"I’ve told you the truth. I have a high perception ability. It’s more than I let on. That’s why I learn quickly. That’s why I can do things most rookies can’t."
She held his gaze. "That’s not what I asked."
He knew what she was really asking. Are you human? What are you? Why do your stats look like a glitch in reality? He’d seen the question in her eyes a hundred tis since the day they’d t.
"What you asked," Lucian said carefully, "was whether I’m human."
"And?"
He was silent for a long mont. The van humd. Derek snored. Sowhere ahead, the driver changed gears.
"Half," Lucian said.
Cora didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. "Half?"
"My mother is human. My father... isn’t."
"Your father?"
"Don’t know who he is. Don’t know what he is. My mother won’t talk about him. The only thing I know is that I’m half of sothing I don’t understand."
Cora was quiet. Processing. "And your abilities? The perception, the learning, the way you fight?"
"Part of it. Maybe all of it. I don’t know." He looked out the window again. "There’s nothing else to tell. I wish there was, but there isn’t. I’m as much in the dark as you."
She studied his face, looking for the lie. There was none. He believed what he was saying—that was the truth of it. He didn’t know. He was a mystery to himself.
"Then we find out together."
Lucian turned back to her. "What?"
"Your father. Your other half. Whatever it is. We find out together." She said it like it was simple. Like it was already decided.
"You don’t have to—"
"I know I don’t have to. I want to."
The van hit another bump. Derek groaned. Sera shifted in her sleep.
Cora reached across the space between them and took his hand. Her fingers were warm. Her grip was firm. She didn’t ask permission. She just did it.
Lucian looked down at their hands. Then at her face.
She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t trying to be reassuring or brave. She was just... there. Present. Solid.
"You’re not alone in this," she said. "You keep trying to be, but you’re not. So stop."
He didn’t pull away.
His hand stayed in hers. His thumb moved, almost without permission, brushing across her knuckles. It was the smallest gesture, barely anything, but it felt like more than anything he’d done in weeks.
Cora’s cheeks flushed. Just a little. Just enough.
"Don’t get used to this," she said.
"Used to what?"
" being nice. It’s exhausting."
Lucian almost smiled. "Noted."
They sat like that for a while, hands together, watching the trees blur past. The van humd. Derek snored. Sera’s phone buzzed with a ssage she didn’t wake up to read.
Mason, from the back, cleared his throat. "You know I can see you, right?"
Cora didn’t let go. "Eyes on the road, Mason."
"I’m not driving."
"Eyes on sothing else, then."
He snorted and looked out the window.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. His expression didn’t change. He’d seen stranger things in this job.
Lucian leaned his head back against the seat. His hand was still in Cora’s. He didn’t know what this was—trust, affection, the beginning of sothing more. He didn’t need to na it.
For the first ti in a long ti, he felt sothing other than the cold weight of his own mystery.
He felt warm.
The van drove on.
Ahead, the city waited. Ashford. Training. The tournant. Whatever ca next.
But for now, there was just the hum of the engine, the grey light through the window, and the quiet certainty that when he finally found the answers he was looking for, he wouldn’t be alone.
Cora squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back.
Neither of them said another word.
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