In the guest quarters, the foreign visitors lay sprawled in uneasy slumber. Rourke's arm dangled over the edge of his cot, fingers twitching faintly as if grasping for a weapon even in his dreams. The rest of his crew shifted occasionally, the soft sound of their breathing the only noise while Audrey muttered something incomprehensible in her dreams.
Helios, however, was awake.
He sat upright on the edge of his bed, boots resting lightly on the stone floor. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the dark. One hand extended lazily, fingers curling as green energy shimmered across his palm like a tiny, coiled serpent.
"This should work. They shouldn't be able to sense this."
A faint breeze stirred around him, though the air in the room remained still. Slowly, delicately, Helios murmured the incantation for his refined Aero Link—the evolved version of the spell he once used in the Spirit Woods. The breeze drifted outward, invisible and noiseless, curling through the corridors like a living thing. It slipped beneath doors and over thresholds until it found its mark.
Helga Sinclair.
The spell latched on with a soundless pulse. Helios allowed himself a small smile.
She lay on her cot, one arm resting lazily near the holstered pistol on her nightstand.
A deep, sonorous voice cut through her mind.
"Wake up."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It vibrated directly in Helga's skull like a drumbeat.
Her eyes snapped open instantly.
In one smooth motion, her hand darted to her pistol. The cold metal felt reassuring beneath her fingertips.
"What—who's there?!" she hissed into the darkness, eyes darting across the room.
No reply. Only silence.
Rourke didn't stir. Neither did Sweet.
"Rourke! Wake up!" she barked in a sharp whisper.
Nothing.
Then the voice returned, smooth and low, this time carrying a faint laugh.
"Don't bother, Miss Sinclair. They can't hear you. My magic dampens sound."
Helga froze. "What the hell…?"
"Go on—try yelling if you want. Or better yet—fire your gun. No one will wake. Not unless you shake them. Right now it's just you and me."
Her lips tightened. Slowly, carefully, she rose from her cot, pistol in hand, barrel aimed at the shadows.
Helga rose carefully, keeping her pistol aimed low but ready. "You've got guts, I'll give you that," she muttered. "But I'm not the damsel type. So, who are you and what do you want?"
"Relax. This isn't an ambush, and I'm not here to kill you." The voice was calm, almost playful. "If that were my goal, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Then start talkingYou're making a mistake." Her thumb flicked the pistol's safety off. "Or I'll wake the others. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"You're bold, but you're smarter than Rourke. That's why I chose you, not him. You think before you act. A trait I value."
Helga's brow furrowed. "Be clear, choose me for what? What the hell do you want from me?" she hissed, keeping her voice low out of instinct.
"Don't bother whispering, Helga." Helios' tone was soft, almost amused. "This connection only carries sound between us. No one else can hear us—not your voice, not my words. We're in our own little world now. Quite a romantic little trick, don't you think?"
"Stop, don't make me sick. You've got five seconds to tell me what's going on, or—"
"Or what? You'll shoot me? Impressive, considering I'm nowhere near your gun's sights right now."
Helga's teeth clenched. Slowly, she turned her eyes toward Rourke's cot. He lay on his side, still and undisturbed. She leaned down, about to shake his shoulder, when the voice cut in.
"Someone is offering you an opportunity." Helios' voice dropped lower, losing its playful edge. "You're smart enough to know when you're outmatched, Miss Sinclair. So let's skip the tough act. I didn't wake you to fight—I woke you to talk."
Helga lowered her pistol slightly but didn't release it.
"What kind of talk?"
"A deal."
She barked a sharp laugh. "A deal? You wake me in the middle of the night, lock my voice inside my own head, and now you want to play diplomat? You've got some nerve, kid."
"You're not wrong about the nerve," Helios admitted. "I meant what I said before that I'm not your enemy—not unless you make me one."
Helga hesitated. The calmness in his voice wasn't cocky—it was dangerous. There was no tremor, no hesitation. Whoever this boy was, he wasn't bluffing.
"Alright." She holstered her pistol but kept her hand near it. "You've got my attention. What's the deal?"
"Simple." Helios' tone was smooth now, almost conversational. "I know your group isn't here to take photos and collect stories. Whatever you're planning—it's none of my business. I won't interfere, and I won't expose your group. In exchange for this, I want to give you something, and I want you to hold onto it wherever you go."
Helga's eyes narrowed. "So, in exchange for keeping our secret, you wish to give me something? That doesn't seem quite reciprocal."
"Yup, that's it. Oh, and I promise it's nothing dangerous, not that you'd believe me."
"And why would I trust you?"
"Because you don't have a choice. Well, more like I'm not giving you a choice in the first place."
For a moment, there was silence.
"You see," Helios continued softly, "if I wanted to, I could make sure Rourke never wakes up. Or I could walk into Kida's chambers and tell her everything I know. But I don't want to do either of those things, because they're messy—and I dislike messy solutions."
Helga's stomach knotted. "And you expect me to believe this is just… what? A courtesy?"
"A mutual convenience."
She let out a slow breath. "You're one hell of a smooth talker, I'll give you that. But you're forgetting something, kid."
"Am I?"
"You're human. You bleed like the rest of us. If you cross us, Rourke won't hesitate to put you in the ground."
There was a soft chuckle in her head.
"Try to, and you'll see why I'm not afraid of old men or ladies with guns."
Helga's knuckles whitened against her holster.
Then Helios' tone softened.
"Relax. I meant what I said. I'm not your enemy, Helga. You do what you came here to do, and I'll do what I came here to do. Our paths don't have to cross."
Helga stared at the floor, her mind racing. This boy was a problem—an unknown variable she couldn't calculate. But something in her gut told her he wasn't bluffing.
"Fine," she said at last. "I'll play nice—for now. But if you cross us…"
"I won't. We're not enemies, Helga. Unless you want us to be. Sleep well, Miss Sinclair."
The air shifted slightly, and she felt the strange pressure around her mind dissipate. Sound returned to the room in an instant—the faint breathing of her companions, the soft drip of water in the distance.
Helga exhaled shakily.
The voice was gone.