Chapter Six: The Visitor I
Kane didn't ask. He just stayed.
Nelson Kent never said the words, "You can live here," but he didn't send him away either. That was enough.
The house was quiet. Clean. Filled with old books, old memories, and a kettle that always seemed warm. Kane spent the mornings helping fix things—fences, hinges, lightbulbs—and the afternoons studying with Nelson, who taught not with spells but logic. The kind that made mysticism less overwhelming and more like a language that had structure.
"This isn't about learning to cast fireballs," Nelson said one day. "It's about learning when to shut up and listen to the world around you. The universe murmurs. The smart ones listen. The reckless ones yell over it."
Kane listened.
He kept his powers quiet, mostly. He hadn't tried to fly. Hadn't ripped any holes in reality. But he learned. Read. Practiced subtle shifts—touching emotion like a tuning fork, sensing the weight of magic in the air, meditating on the movement of time. He began to understand what he could do, even if he didn't use it.
And he was happy.
Not blissful. Not safe. But… peaceful. For the first time in either life.
Until someone knocked.
It was a sharp, precise knock. Not lost, not casual. Intentional.
Kane opened the door.
And there she was.
Tall. Athletic. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a deep blue coat that did little to hide the posture of someone who could crush steel without blinking.
Diana of Themyscira.
Wonder Woman.
Kane's throat tightened instantly.
Not because she was famous, or powerful, or real.
Because she wasn't here for him.
And somehow, that made it worse.
"Is Nelson Kent home?" she asked.
Her voice wasn't demanding. It was calm, deep. Like a cello wrapped in discipline. She already knew the answer before he spoke.
"Yeah," Kane said, stepping aside, pulse hammering.
Nelson appeared in the hallway like he'd been expecting her. He didn't smile. But he didn't flinch either.
"Diana."
"Nelson."
They looked at each other for a long moment. Kane didn't dare interrupt.
She finally stepped in, gaze briefly drifting to Kane again. Just a glance.
But something in her eyes changed.
A spark.
She noticed.
Nelson led her to the sitting room, and Kane stayed out of the way, pretending to read while their voices murmured behind the wall.
Something about "the bindings weakening."
Something about "a convergence too early."
Names like Circe. Trigon. Even Nabu.
Then—silence.
A chair shifted. Footsteps returned.
Diana stood in the hallway again, looking at Kane.
"You're not his student," she said.
Kane put the book down slowly. "Technically, no. Just… crashing here."
She stepped closer. Not threatening. Not invasive. Just curious in the way predators study motion.
"Your aura is… fractured," she said. "No. That's not the right word. It's layered. Woven with something not entirely of this plane."
"Yeah," Kane said. "It's been a weird month."
"You don't wear the signs of power," she added. "No rings. No relics. No sigils."
"Don't need them."
She raised an eyebrow. "What are you?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know yet."
She nodded, respecting the honesty. Her eyes glowed faintly with divine recognition—but not alarm.
"Then learn," she said. "Before someone else decides for you."
With that, she turned and walked out.
Kane didn't breathe until she was gone.
Nelson returned to the room, sipping tea.
"She's not the type to make small talk," he said.
"What did she want from you?"
"To see if I still knew how to notice."
"And did you?"
Nelson gave him a long look. "You make it hard not to."
Kane chuckled, low and nervous. "I thought I was flying under the radar."
"You're a lighthouse pretending to be a lantern. Eventually, someone's going to notice the beam."
Kane sank into the chair, rubbing his temples. "So much for quiet."
Nelson smirked. "Peace never lasts. But it's always worth the time it gives you."
Outside, the wind picked up. The air felt heavier.
Something had shifted.
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