The doorway suddenly flickers, and I swear I catch a glimpse of something that makes my blood run cold—a massive figure wreathed in shadow, standing in what looks like a war-torn landscape.
"Did you see that?" I ask, stepping back instinctively as the portal cycles back to its normal rotation through the realms.
Valen frowns, his burning eyes fixed on the doorway. "See what? The transition appeared normal to me."
I shake my head, trying to clear the image from my mind. Maybe it's just residual cosmic fatigue, my brain creating phantoms from exhaustion. But something about that shadow figure felt familiar—and terrifying.
"Nothing," I mutter, though I make a mental note to keep an eye on the doorway's cycling patterns. "Just thought I saw something."
Caleif's hand finds mine, her touch grounding me in the present moment. "The doorways are still stabilizing," she says gently. "Occasionally they show glimpses of... other places. Places that exist between realms."
"Other places?"
"Pocket dimensions, abandoned territories, realms that were sealed away during the original separation," Valen explains, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "Most are empty, but some..." He trails off, his expression troubled.
"Some what?" I press, though I'm not sure I want to know.
"Some contain things that were meant to stay separated," he admits. "Beings too dangerous for any single realm, phenomena that exist only in the spaces between realities. The doorways aren't supposed to connect to these places, but during the stabilization period, there may be... glitches."
Perfect. As if we didn't have enough to worry about with inter-realm politics and cosmic chess players, now we have to deal with interdimensional prison breaks.
"How long until the stabilization is complete?" I ask, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice.
"Weeks, possibly months," Valen says. "The process is unprecedented. We're essentially writing the rules as we go."
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders again. Every choice I made while reshaping the barriers has consequences I couldn't have anticipated. The doorways are working as intended—mostly—but they're also creating new vulnerabilities, new opportunities for things to go wrong.
"The delegations," I say, changing the subject before I can spiral into cosmic anxiety. "You said they want to meet me?"
"They're waiting in the conference hall," Valen confirms. "Representatives from the Celestial Council, the Demonic Courts, and the Human Supernatural Authority. They've been remarkably patient, considering the circumstances."
"Human Supernatural Authority?" I raise an eyebrow. "That's new."
"Formed three days ago," Caleif explains. "Apparently, human governments decided they needed an official body to handle inter-realm relations. The Authority is made up of representatives from various supernatural communities—mages, hunters, scholars, even a few former skeptics who've had to rapidly adjust their worldviews."
I look around the courtyard, watching beings from three different realms navigate this new reality with varying degrees of success. A group of academy students is demonstrating some kind of energy manipulation technique to a fascinated human in a business suit. Nearby, an angel with pristine white wings is examining a demon-crafted artifact with scientific interest rather than disgust.
It's working. Slowly, carefully, with plenty of growing pains, but it's actually working.
"Alright," I decide, squaring my shoulders. "Let's go meet these delegations. Time to find out what the universe expects from its accidental cosmic architect."
As we head toward the conference hall, I catch another flicker in my peripheral vision—not from the doorway this time, but from the shadows at the edge of the courtyard. A figure that shouldn't be there, watching us with eyes that gleam with ancient malice.
But when I turn to look directly, there's nothing there except empty stone and morning sunlight.
I'm definitely going to need more coffee for this.
I shake my head, trying to push away the paranoid thoughts. Between cosmic transformations, interdimensional politics, and the Devil himself making casual appearances, I'm probably seeing threats in every shadow. But the feeling of being watched doesn't go away as we walk toward the conference hall.
"You're tense," Caleif observes, her fingers intertwining with mine. "More than usual, I mean."
"Just processing everything," I lie, not wanting to add to her worries with vague impressions of lurking malevolence. "It's a lot to take in."
The conference hall has been transformed since I last saw it. The long wooden table that once served for academy meetings has been replaced by a circular arrangement of chairs, each one clearly designed for different physiologies. Some are standard human proportions, others are larger and reinforced—presumably for demons—and a few have high backs with spaces for wings.
Three distinct groups occupy different sections of the circle, and the tension between them is palpable even from the doorway. The human delegation sits stiffly in their business attire, briefcases and tablets arranged with military precision. The demonic representatives lounge with deceptive casualness, their eyes constantly scanning for threats or opportunities. And the angels... the angels sit perfectly still, their posture so flawless it looks almost painful.
"Kamen Driscol," one of the humans says, rising as we enter. She's middle-aged, with steel-gray hair and the kind of sharp eyes that suggest she's used to being the smartest person in the room. "I'm Director Sarah Chen of the Human Supernatural Authority. We've been eager to meet you."
I shake her offered hand, noting the firm grip and the way she doesn't flinch at the dark veins visible on my skin. "Director Chen. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."
"Time well spent," she assures me, though her diplomatic smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We've been having... illuminating discussions with our counterparts from the other realms."
A demon with silver horns and an amused expression chuckles. "Illuminating. Such a delightfully euphemistic way to describe three hours of careful verbal sparring."
The angel delegation remains silent, but I can feel their disapproval radiating like heat from a furnace. One of them—a tall figure with six wings folded against their back—watches me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"Perhaps we should begin," Valen suggests, gesturing to an empty chair that's been placed at what I suppose is the head of the circular arrangement. "There is much to discuss."
I take the offered seat, acutely aware that every eye in the room is on me. The weight of expectation is almost physical, pressing down on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
"So," I say, going for casual despite the circumstances, "what's the agenda? Inter-realm trade agreements? Cultural exchange programs? Or are we jumping straight to the part where someone accuses someone else of secretly planning to conquer the universe?"
Director Chen's diplomatic smile becomes slightly more genuine. "Actually, we were hoping to start with something more fundamental. The nature of your transformation, and what it means for the future of inter-realm relations."
"Meaning?"
The six-winged angel finally speaks, their voice carrying the crystalline perfection I've come to associate with celestial beings. "Meaning we need to understand what you've become, and whether your continued existence poses a threat to cosmic stability."
I feel Caleif tense beside me, and I place a calming hand on her arm. "Direct. I appreciate that. And the answer is that I'm still figuring it out myself. The transformation is complete, but the implications..." I shrug. "Ask me in a few years."
"A few years may be too long," the demon with silver horns interjects. "The barriers between realms are more permeable than they've been in millennia. Every supernatural being on Earth is affected by the changes you've wrought. Some are adapting well. Others..." He lets the statement hang.
"Others are panicking," Director Chen finishes bluntly. "Human governments are scrambling to develop policies for dealing with beings they thought were myths. Supernatural communities are being forced into the open whether they want to be or not. And that's just the beginning."
I lean back in my chair, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. "What do you want from me? A public apology? A promise to fix everything? Because I hate to break it to you, but I'm not the cosmic solution to every problem."
"We want assurance," the angel says, their perfect features arranged in an expression of cold authority. "Assurance that you will not use your abilities to further destabilize the cosmic order. Assurance that you understand the magnitude of what you've done."
Something in their tone sets my teeth on edge. "And if I don't give you that assurance?"
The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. "Then we may need to consider... alternative solutions."
Estingoth's presence stirs in my mind, his ancient rage responding to the implied threat. "Careful, old friend," I think to him. "We're trying to build bridges here, not burn them."
"Some bridges," he rumbles back, "are not worth building with those who would threaten our existence."
I stand slowly, letting a hint of the power that still flows through me leak into my voice. "Let me be very clear about something. I didn't reshape reality to hand control over to any single faction. I did it to create a world where cooperation is possible, not mandatory. If you think you can threaten or intimidate me into compliance, you're going to be disappointed."
The angel's eyes narrow, and I can feel celestial power gathering around them like storm clouds. But before the situation can escalate further, the demon with silver horns laughs—a sound like breaking glass.
"Oh, this is delicious," he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "The cosmic architect has teeth. I approve."
"This isn't a game," Director Chen says sharply, though I notice she's positioned herself carefully between the angel and me. "We're talking about the future of three realms. The decisions made in this room will affect millions of lives."
"Exactly," I agree, settling back into my chair. "Which is why we need to work together instead of making threats. The barriers are changing whether we like it or not. The question is whether we guide that change constructively or let it happen chaotically."
The angel's wings rustle with agitation. "You speak of guidance as if you have the right to determine the fate of cosmic order."
"I speak of guidance because someone has to," I reply. "And right now, I'm the only one who understands how the new barriers work. You can either accept that reality and work with me, or you can waste time trying to restore a status quo that no longer exists."
Silence falls over the room, broken only by the soft whisper of the angel's wings folding more tightly against their back. I can feel the weight of their consideration, the calculations happening behind those perfect, inhuman eyes.
Finally, Director Chen speaks. "What do you propose?"
I look around the circle, meeting each delegate's gaze in turn. "A trial period. Six months of controlled cooperation. We establish protocols for inter-realm travel, create forums for dispute resolution, and see how well the new system works in practice. If it's successful, we make it permanent. If it's not..." I shrug. "We figure out what needs to change."
"And if someone violates these protocols?" the demon asks, his amusement fading into something more serious.
"Then we deal with it," I say simply. "Together. That's the whole point."
The angel's expression doesn't change, but I sense a subtle shift in their posture. "And you would submit to oversight? Accept limitations on your abilities?"
"I would accept accountability," I correct. "There's a difference. I'm not looking to be anyone's puppet, but I'm also not interested in being a cosmic dictator. The power I have... it's meant to be used for balance, not control."
More silence. I can feel the delegates weighing my words, considering the implications. Finally, the demon with silver horns nods slowly.
"Acceptable," he says. "Presuming, of course, that the terms of this trial period are negotiated fairly."
Director Chen glances at her notes, then back at me. "The Human Supernatural Authority is willing to participate, provided adequate safeguards are in place for civilian populations."
All eyes turn to the angel, who sits in perfect stillness for what feels like an eternity. When they finally speak, their voice carries the weight of cosmic authority.
"The Celestial Council will... consider... this proposal. But understand—any violation of cosmic order will be met with appropriate response."
"Understood," I say, though I can't help adding, "Just remember that 'appropriate response' is a matter of perspective. What looks like violation to you might look like necessary adaptation to someone else."
The angel's eyes flash with something that might be anger, but they don't respond. Instead, they rise from their chair with fluid grace.
"We will convene with our respective authorities," they announce. "Decisions will be made within the week."
As the delegations file out, I remain seated, suddenly feeling the exhaustion creeping back in. The brief burst of energy from confronting the angel's threat has faded, leaving me drained and slightly shaky.
"Well," Caleif says once we're alone, "that went better than expected."
"Did it?" I ask, rubbing my temples where a headache is beginning to form. "Because I'm pretty sure I just made enemies of the Celestial Council."
"You stood up to them," she corrects. "There's a difference. They respect strength, even when they don't like it."
"And if they decide my existence is too dangerous to tolerate?"
She's quiet for a moment, then moves to stand behind my chair, her hands settling on my shoulders. "Then we deal with it. Together. Like you said."
I lean back into her touch, feeling some of the tension ease from my muscles. "I keep saying that—together—but I'm not sure I really believe it yet. This whole cosmic responsibility thing... it's hard to share."
"You'll learn," she says, her fingers working at the knots in my shoulders. "And in the meantime, you've got people who care about you making sure you don't carry it all alone."
Through the conference hall windows, I can see the doorway in the courtyard cycling through its connections to the three realms. Beings continue to move back and forth, tentatively exploring this new reality I've created. Some look excited, others nervous, a few openly hostile.
But they're trying. All of them, in their own ways, are trying to make this work.
Maybe that's enough to start with.
"Come on," I say, standing and taking Caleif's hand. "Let's go see what other impossible things are happening in our new world."
As we head for the door, I catch another glimpse of movement in the shadows—that same sense of being watched by something that shouldn't be there. But when I turn to look, there's nothing but empty space and afternoon sunlight.
sigh
I'm probably going to get fucked over real soon.