She had rewritten everything she remembered about the subject and the questions, practicing them again and again for hours. Until the sun began to set, long past the echo of the sixth bell.
Writ sat cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the rough frame of the bed. Fingers curled around the worn leather of Kion’s coin pouch, tucked deep in her pocket, tracing its familiar creases like a talisman against the pressing weight inside her chest.
The room was dim. A single lamp spilled pale light across cracked plaster walls, casting long shadows that pooled silently in the corners. Those shadows watched, unblinking and patient, as the quiet tension settled over her.
She didn’t look up when Kion slipped down from the vent above the window. The faint flutter of his wings was the only sound between them as he landed and settled beside her.
"Good evening! How’s today?" His voice was bright, too bright for the heavy air.
She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, “...Complicated.”
“Want to talk about it?” His tone was gentle, but there was an edge of hope in it, a plea masked in casualness.
Her fingers kept fiddling with the coins, the soft clink a sharp note in the silence.
Kion didn’t press. Instead, he rummaged through his satchel and produced two small meal boxes and a flask. He placed them on the floor with a soft click as the boxes unfolded.
“I brought rice balls today,” he said, voice warming, “bite-sized. The green box has mild fillings, the brown one’s stronger. Wanna try?”
Writ finally lifted her head, eyes sliding to the lunchboxes. She nodded and picked a rice ball from the green box, popping it into her mouth without hesitation.
The rice crumbled gently on her tongue, soft and warm. The filling was minced beef, lightly seasoned. Mild enough not to overwhelm but with a quiet, familiar savor that made her eyes close briefly in small approval.
Kion grinned, took one from the brown box, and chewed with exaggerated relish next to her.
Swallowing the second rice ball, Writ finally broke the silence.
“Do you know there’s been an attempt to leak cure intel from...,” her voice dropped to a near whisper, “...from Accord?”
Kion paused mid-chew for a heartbeat but quickly resumed, swallowing deliberately.
“I’ve heard gossip, but nothing exact,” he said, “they hush it down faster than anyone realizes.”
Writ reached for another mild-flavored rice ball, eyes flicking to the brown box as if weighing the bite inside. She chewed slowly, letting the thought of stronger flavor settle.
“Why?” Kion asked softly, “is it related to your next task?”
She nodded, eyes still fixed on the brown box, “they want me to interrogate the suspect.”
A sharp, low gasp escaped him.
Her glance shot up, startled, but Kion’s attention was back on his meal, biting into the rice ball with a quiet satisfaction, cheeks puffed like a hamster savoring a treat.
She must have imagined it.
“Do you interrogate people often?” he asked between bites.
“Never. This is the first,” she bit into the brown box rice ball, the stronger filling now fully hitting her palate, “I wonder what they’re planning.”
The taste was almost too much, rich and sharp, and she blinked, slowing her chewing.
Without a word, a glass hovered into view before her, filled by Kion tilting his flask. She took it, drank deeply, washing the taste away.
“You sure you can’t read minds?” she teased softly.
He laughed, a smug curl to his lips.
“Do you know the suspect?”
“No. Never met him. Only from the profile they gave me.”
“Name?”
“Rowan Brennan. Ring a bell?”
Kion tilted his head, thinking, then shook it.
“No. Never heard of him.”
Writ gave a small nod. Not unexpected. Accord’s hush on Blissbane meant even the researchers were ghosts.
“So... when do you start?”
“Told to come at zero eight thirty,” she said, voice flat, “don’t know exact time.”
Kion brightened, “wanna come out for dessert tonight?”
“No. Too worried. I’ll just rest.”
“Good call. Rest helps. Hope you won’t be too nervous. It’s your first.”
He hesitated, the easy brightness dimming as his eyes lingered on her. For a beat, it looked like he might let it go, then he drew a quiet breath, voice gentler.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“...Are you going to sleep early, then?”
She lowered her gaze to the rice ball, fingers pressing faintly into the grain as if the texture alone could anchor her.
Sleep early. As if it would come easily with the thought of questions waiting, answers weighing, eyes watching for the slightest crack. Her throat worked around a lump she couldn’t quite swallow.
The words lingered unsaid, pressing until they finally slipped out in a murmur.
“...Not sure I can sleep tonight.”
Kion’s eyes lifted, catching the worry swimming there.
“You’ll do fine,” his voice dropped low, careful not to break the fragile calm. He patted her arm lightly.
She nodded, the motion small and uncertain.
Even Caustic had wished her luck. She’d felt the honesty in that quiet tap on her shoulder, like a tired shadow giving another a small gift. He knew what was coming. The fire they’d stoke in her.
No wonder he gave her that encouragement with the file. It was a rare kindness in a cold place.
The sterile lines of the dossier still burned in her mind. Cold facts bleeding like ink through parchment. The questions she’d written. The eyes she’d have to meet. The constant watch.
Her hand brushed the empty green meal box, which she’d finished alone. Kion gathered both boxes and tucked them away.
“Want something to calm you down? Help you sleep? You’ll wake fresher at dawn.”
She hesitated, “what if someone comes and I can’t react?”
“I’ll keep watch. Bubble out. I can maintain it mid-sleep. You know how strong it is against that book you slammed me with.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she gave him an annoyed look. He just laughed, cheerful as ever.
An amused breath slipped out of her lips, and she gave a small smile.
“Alright then. Keep your word.”
“Surely do!”
He pulled a small vial from his bag, half filled with a soft green liquid.
“I can be your alarm too. What time?”
“Before six hundred,” she turned the vial over in her hands. The liquid glowed faintly. Cool, smooth, but foreign, “drink all?”
“Yup. One dose. Calms the mind so they won’t force you awake all night. Fully recommended.”
She swallowed it in one gulp and handed the vial back. He tucked it away.
She climbed into bed, lying flat on her back.
“Why do you bring this with you?”
His hand stilled, eyes flicking toward her too fast, like a man caught where he shouldn’t be. For a breath, the silence held, shame darkening his expression.
Then he forced it into something lighter, tugging at the back of his head with a sheepish smile.
“Sometimes I need it when things get... too much.”
“Ah... I see...” She let the words trail off.
Silence wrapped the room.
Kion pulled the blanket up over her, then cast a shimmering barrier that cocooned the bed in soft light.
Her eyelids fluttered heavy.
“Sleep well, Lunlun.”
“Good ni...”
Sleep claimed her before she finished.
She sank deeper into her pillow, sensing the spell’s quiet hum as always, though she didn’t notice it had changed. To her, the night remained only soft silence and his steady presence beside her.
Kion hovered beside her, face too grim for the quiet darkness.
Kion's POV
Streets of Brandholt City, Bronze Concord
He flew as fast as he could.
High above the sleeping city, dodging spires and chimneys with practiced ease, using the wind’s pull to carry him faster.
The night air bit at his skin, but he hardly felt it.
Distortion spells cloaked every inch of him. no one would see the flicker of his form slipping between shadows, invisible as a ghost.
He’d poured more mana than usual into the barrier protecting her room, enough to hold steady for hours after he left.
She wouldn’t notice when it finally faded, not for a long while. He’d be back before then.
The tether pulsed faintly against his skin. She was still asleep.
Not just asleep.
Deep under the weight of the potion.
Not the gentle kind meant to ease restless minds, but the kind that forced sleep. Unbreakable even if the world caught fire.
He remembered how she’d stopped sniffing his food lately. That’s why he’d taken the risk to offer it anyway.
Grateful she hadn’t suspected a thing, especially not from him.
The vent above the window hissed open, and he slipped in, folding his wings close.
Silence swallowed the small sound as he dropped his concealment and landed lightly on the wooden table in Arkwyn’s library.
Euri looked up from his tome, not really a book, but a cleverly disguised novel. The faint curl of a smirk tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say a word.
“I need you to let me take a leave tomorrow,” Kion said, voice low.
Without looking up, Euri’s voice cut through the quiet, “so you want to be missing for two whole weeks again? No.”
“Kion’s smile faltered, “no. It’s different this time. I’ll be back... by dusk? Before dinner, definitely. I promise I’ll return as soon as it’s done, most likely before the day ends.”
Euri finally set the book aside, eyes narrowing on him, “what’s this about?”
“Remember months ago, when we got that message? The one claiming he was from the Accord, offering info?”
Euri’s brow furrowed, “we sent a decoy, but never heard back. Thought it was a trap.”
“Exactly. So we moved on.”
“Right. And now?”
“It might be real.”
The words hung between them, thickening the air. Euri blinked, stunned. He closed the book carefully, placing a bookmark in the pages before folding it shut.
“They have him. That’s why no reply came.”
“Did she tell you?” Euri’s voice was softer now, almost wary.
“Yes. She’s the one interrogating him tomorrow. And his fate will follow soon after.”
“We’ve been too cautious. Lost our lead.”
Kion nodded, voice firm, “exactly.”
Euri leaned back, arms crossed, “so why the time-off request?”
Kion’s eyes darkened with resolve, “I’m going to be at her interrogation, then tail him wherever they keep him. I want to see if he’s still willing to share what he knows, even if we can’t guarantee his safety.”
Euri’s laugh was dry and harsh, “rejected. Go back to sleep, Kion.”
Kion’s persistence didn’t waver, “we have no choice. No one else is willing to research that flower specimen. The data we have is outdated. They want fresh info. This is our only chance, straight from the source.”
“Too dangerous. They’d burn me at the stake if you left,” Euri said, his tone softening with concern.
“I’m careful. I once cloaked a fairfolk friend to slip past a Nexus cell unnoticed. I can handle myself.”
“And the Othvarn’s week-long commemorative charity started today. We’ll be dragged to attend,” Euri said, shooting him a sharp glance.
“I already showed my face at the opening. We’re nobodies with borrowed rank. Commoners. No one will notice I’m gone, no one who matters will even remember us.”
Euri exhaled, shaking his head, “then why bother asking permission, if your mind’s already made up?”
Kion grinned sheepishly, “so you don’t put me under house arrest again.”
Euri chuckled, the tension breaking, “fine. Write your statement, sign it. Make sure to mention I tried to stop you but you wouldn’t listen. I can’t have everyone skin me alive for your reckless plans.”
“Thank you, Euri. You’re the best.”
Kion levitated a paper and pen from the desk, scrawled out the note, sealed it with his mark.
Euri glanced it over, nodded, and slid it between the pages of his book.
“Go. You must be restless leaving your girlfriend alone in her room,” Euri teased.
Kion’s cheeks flushed, “she’s not my girlfriend!”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks, Euri!”
With a final cloak of hushspell, Kion slipped back into the night, wings folding tight as he vanished into the dark.
Tomorrow.
It would start.
He’d see with his own eyes how the Accord would do their work.
He’d watch the very thing that kept cracking Lunlun apart.
His Lunlun. His tethered. Not their Silent Writ.
...
He shook his head, a sharp breath chasing away the ache.
No. Stop.
He couldn’t let the tether consume him again.
Not this time.
He must hold steady. Mustn’t let himself be seen, no matter what they did to her.
No matter the crushing pain or panic that tether would send her.
It would be hard.
But he would be there.
He would.
