Dawn in the Cottage
A thin ribbon of morning light cut across the room.
Nyxar's eyes opened first—black and scarlet gleam catching the soft glow.
He noticed Ember asleep, her cheeks faintly pink.
For a moment he simply…watched.
Then, moving with unexpected care, he eased his arm free and lifted her as though she were glass, settling her onto the couch.
Not a sound.
The Apron Decision
He stood for a beat, gaze drifting toward the small kitchen.
The memory of Ember cooking—clumsy but confident, apron tied tight—flashed through his mind.
Without a word he strode over, picked up her apron, and tied it around his waist.
The knot was a little crooked, but he didn't care.
From the couch, three silent spectators gawked:
Bug, perched on a cushion, antennae quivering.
Spirit, a faint halo hovering.
Ember, eyes squeezed shut in a "still sleeping" performance that fooled no one.
Cooking, Nyxar-Style
Nyxar opened a recipe book, flipping pages with slow precision.
Ember peeked through her lashes and whispered, "Since when can he read?"
Bug buzzed quietly back, "Pretty sure he's just looking at the pictures."
Spirit shimmered like a barely contained giggle. "Picture reading counts, right?"
Despite their commentary, Nyxar worked methodically:
Eggs cracked with flawless precision.
Bread toasted over steady heat.
A surprising dash of herbs—instinct or imitation?
Plates began to fill. Then came the real challenge: table arrangement.
He stared at the empty table like it was a battlefield.
Plate in one hand, fork in the other…then paused.
Set it down. Picked it up again. Shifted to the left.
Back to the right.
He even crouched to table-eye level, measuring spacing like a strategist mapping troop movements.
Bug whispered, "He's fighting the true enemy: table manners."
Spirit snorted, light flickering with suppressed laughter.
The Waiting Game
Finally, everything looked…acceptable. Nyxar sat down, recipe book in hand, eyes darting between the mysterious letters and the food cooling before him.
Minutes passed.
Spirit finally broke. "How long are we going to wait? Food's getting cold."
Bug and Ember startled, realizing the game was up.
They stretched in exaggerated yawns.
"Good morning," Ember said, voice slightly too bright.
Nyxar gave a curt nod. "Morning meal. Ready."
Taste Test
They gathered at the table. Ember took a cautious bite—then her eyes widened.
"This is…really good!" she said, half shocked.
"How?" she added, genuinely curious.
Nyxar simply turned the recipe book toward her and tapped a page.
"Mimicked," he said flatly.
Bug sampled a forkful and let out an impressed hum. "Okay, cave boy's a chef now. Great."
Spirit hovered over the plate, sighing dramatically. "Still can't eat, but I'm spiritually impressed."
Closing Beat
As they ate, Ember stole a glance at the tall boy in her apron, quietly flipping pages, lips barely moving as he tried to decode letters.
It was strangely…adorable.
Bug nudged her with a tiny grin. "He's basically domesticated now. Next step: teach him napkins."
Ember smiled despite herself, cheeks warming again.
"Let's not rush," she murmured, but her eyes lingered on Nyxar a heartbeat longer than she meant.