When Layla cracked her eyes open, the first thing she saw was a pristine white ceiling curving overhead like the inside of a giant seashell, carved with delicate spiral patterns and studded with damp, glowing crystals. The enchanted torches bathed everything in soft, rippling light that made the air itself look like still water. Lavender hung in the breeze… mixed with something salty. Sea air?

  She blinked. Then the pain hit—like her body was politely reminding her it had been through a blender.

  And then she saw Jay.

  He was slouched on a stool beside the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like a guy waiting for bad news. That usual smug, shit-eating grin of his? Nowhere to be found. Instead, his face had this weird… gentle look. Almost dad-like.

  Layla blinked again. Her voice came out as a rusty squeak.

  “Nya… you pulled another miracle out of your ass, didn’t you? Like that time with Aethon, meow?”

  Jay startled, then flashed that lopsided, warm grin that basically screamed “everything’s fine now (even if it’s totally not).”

  “Hey, Layla. Good to have you back among the living… Nessa camped out here all day yesterday. I practically had to drag her to bed.”

  He answered in that stupidly soothing voice… and completely dodged the question. Layla narrowed her eyes. Coward.

  She tried to sit up. A white-hot spike stabbed through her stomach and ribs like someone had parked a truck on her.

  “Tch—!” She hissed through clenched teeth.

  Jay was at her side in a flash, one hand gently pressing her shoulder back down.

  “Whoa, easy there, hero. No epic sit-up scenes today. Your insides are still playing bricks game with themselves.”

  She huffed—way more cat-like than she wanted to admit.

  “I died, didn’t I?”

  “Eh… 98%. The remaining 2% were too damn stubborn to clock out.”

  Layla looked away. Her mismatched eyes—one vivid green, one icy blue—stared at the living stone wall covered in glowing blue moss. Somewhere nearby, water trickled like the whole temple was whispering secrets.

  “I was useless, wasn’t I?”

  Jay hesitated. The correct answer was “no.” Jay sucked at lying.

  He flopped back onto the stool with a sigh.

  “Reckless as hell. But useless? Nah. You bought us time. Protected Nessa. Did what nobody else in that mess could’ve pulled off.”

  “And still almost became worm chow, meow.”

  “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it—that was ugly. Like, ‘avert your eyes’ ugly.”

  Layla’s eyes went wide, scandalized.

  “Jay!”

  “What? If you’re offended, that means the real Layla’s still in there.”

  She wanted to scream, punch him, yank those stupid ears of his… but her body vetoed everything. So she just turned her head dramatically (as dramatically as one can with full-body bandages).

  “Idiot.”

  Jay’s grin tilted sideways. Still had energy to roast him. Excellent sign.

  “Idiot who’s alive. And so are you. That’s what counts.”

  Silence stretched for a few seconds. Her eyes watered—not just from the pain. Shame. Weakness. Remembering how helpless she’d felt. But underneath that… something warm was creeping in. Something new.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  She looked at him, voice small.

  “Why do you even care so much?”

  Jay took way too long to answer.

  “Because you’re my friend, Layla.”

  She stared.

  “…Am I?”

  “Duh. And I suck at the whole friend thing, so enjoy it while it’s trending.”

  A weak laugh escaped her. Before she could reply, Jay stood up.

  “Gonna grab Nessa. She’ll wanna see you. Fair warning… she’s, uh… emotional.”

  Layla raised an eyebrow.

  “Nessa? Emotional?”

  Jay raised a finger like a wise old sage.

  “You’ve been warned.”

  He slipped out, the door clicking shut softly behind him. Silence returned for a heartbeat. Layla closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

  Friend…

  Weird word. But… nice.

  …

  BAM!

  The door flew open like it owed her money.

  “L-Layla?!”

  For the first time ever, Layla saw the perpetually graceful Nessa completely lose her shit. Her sea-green hair was messily tied back under the hood, her robes actually wrinkled, and her eyes—red and puffy.

  “You’re awake! Thank Malkut—!” Nessa bolted over, dropped to her knees beside the bed, and grabbed Layla’s hand with both of hers like it was the last lifeline on the planet.

  “Y-Yeah… still breathing, meow.”

  “I stayed here! The whole time! I swear! I only left because Jay made me, but I came right back as soon as—”

  Her voice cracked. Tears rolled.

  Layla, mortified, tried to play tough.

  “Hey, quit it, meow. You’re making me sound way too important.”

  “But you are, you stubborn cat!” Nessa squeezed harder than any dainty priestess should be able to. “I thought… I thought we lost you. And I… I couldn’t—”

  Layla tried to smirk, but her throat betrayed her. She looked at Nessa and, for the first time, saw past the perfect manners. Raw fear. Real fear.

  “…I’ll try not to die again, okay?”

  Nessa laughed through ugly sobs.

  “Please do. That’s an official clerical request—from priestess to badass amazon.”

  Layla took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. The pain was still there. But something else was too. Two idiots had cried over her. Stayed. Waited.

  Maybe… maybe she really did have friends now.

  And damn if that didn’t hurt less than everything else.

  …

  Jay walked down the corridor with his hands in his pockets, footsteps echoing softly off smooth stone. Tiny streams of enchanted water ran along grooves in the walls, murmuring ancient prayers to the tide lords. The air smelled of wet moss and something almost divine. This temple could make even the saltiest mercenary drop their guard.

  Jay? Not so much.

  He stopped. The air shifted—like the world itself held its breath.

  In the center of the circular courtyard ahead, bathed in the soft column of light pouring from the open ceiling, stood a hooded figure. No footsteps. No warning. Just… there.

  Jay’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t reach for a weapon yet. A faint arcane buzz crawled up his spine. Not a real person. Projection? Doppelg?nger? Avatar? Whatever it was, the magical signature was top-tier.

  The figure lifted its chin just enough to show the ghost of a smile beneath the hood.

  “So… rumors reached me. About a certain silver-haired half-elf… and a sword that really shouldn’t be walking around in public.” The voice was deep, refined—like it had been trained over a thousand noble banquets. “Funny how fast stories sprout wings, isn’t it?”

  Jay crossed his arms and leaned, classic “I’m listening but I can leave any second” posture.

  “Rumors, huh? Half-elves and legendary swords… sounds like bard fanfic. People love to exaggerate.”

  “True,” the figure said, stepping forward. Even as light and mist, he somehow felt more solid than the temple itself. “But when mercenaries in three different cities suddenly start sniffing around adventurers matching a very specific description… I’d say the bards weren’t the only ones singing.”

  Jay sighed, eyes half-lidded, watching the trap close like a pro.

  “We’re handling it. Low-profile style.” He let that last part hang, like he was trying to convince himself too.

  “Low-profile,” the figure echoed with a soft, melancholy chuckle. “You know she can’t hide that sword forever. It practically screams its own name. Like a lighthouse for every greedy moron in a hundred-mile radius.”

  Jay scratched the back of his neck.

  “Believe me, I’m trying to teach the kid stealth. Lesson’s… in progress.”

  Silence. The heavy kind where ten unspoken thoughts and half a dozen oaths pass between two people in a single glance.

  Then the hooded figure spoke again, quieter.

  “I heard what happened to the little kiteni. Sent my best clerics the moment word reached me. She’s… important. For many reasons.”

  Jay blinked, almost slipped. Almost said the title.

  “Thanks. That… really helps, Your Majes—” He caught himself, coughed. “Really helps.”

  The figure’s smile warmed—almost fatherly. For a second the hood slipped just enough to show not a king, but an old friend.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. I never forgot what you did for me… or for my bloodline, or for the entire kingdom. As long as I draw breath, I’ll keep the jackals away. Just… try not to paint a bigger target, yeah?”

  The projection faded like smoke in the wind, leaving only a lingering warmth in the air.

  Jay stared at the empty space for a long moment, then smirked.

  “Atrian… you dramatic bastard. Still pulling the same tricks.”

  He turned to leave, footsteps echoing again, when something darted past the corner of his eye—a tiny fluffy figure bounding along the wall with impossible grace. A fox spirit. Glowing faintly like liquid moonlight.

  Jay stopped. Raised an eyebrow.

  “Huh. That’s either a really good sign… or a really bad one.” He glanced up at the shaft of light spilling from the ceiling. “Probably both.”

  Then he kept walking, whistling a tune only the dead still remembered.

  ...