They stared at each other. Cassian sighed. "I need to wash up. Don't break anything."
In his room, he grabbed clean clothes and headed for the washroom.
The water was lukewarm but refreshing. He scrubbed away sweat and dust as his mind wandered.
Celeste hasn't bothered me since yesterday. No burning mark, no cryptic threats. Just silence.
Should he be relieved or worried?
A shiver crawled down his spine. He froze, water dripping from his hair. The room felt colder suddenly, despite the steam rising around him. His skin prickled, the same instinct that had kept him alive on the streets. That feeling of being watched.
He scanned the small washroom. Nothing.
The sensation vanished as quickly as it came.
Probably just nerves from last night. Leoric's accusations still echoed in his mind.
He dressed and returned to find Caspian hunched over a piece of paper, fingers stained with ink.
"Cassy, look!" The boy held up his drawing proudly.
Cassian squinted. It looked like a distorted blob with legs. "A... dog?"
Caspian's smile faltered. "It's a horse!"
Oh.
"You'll get better," Cassian said, patting his head awkwardly. The gesture felt foreign, but Caspian didn't seem to notice.
"That's what Dad says too," the boy muttered, staring at his drawing.
Something twisted in Cassian's chest. I even sound like Leoric now.
"I'm hungry," Caspian announced.
Of course you are.
"What do you want?"
Caspian's eyes lit up. "Mom keeps sweets in the high shelf!"
"Doesn't she keep them up there for a reason?"
"Just a few?" Caspian gave him those wide brown eyes, his mother's eyes.
Cassian sighed. "Fine. A few."
In the kitchen, he stretched to reach the jar. It was barely within reach, filled with colourful wrapped candies and biscuits. He handed Caspian one biscuit and watched the boy devour it.
His gaze drifted to the knife block. Almost unconsciously, his hand reached for one. The blade was sharp despite scratches from years of use.
Celeste's knife appeared on my nightstand this morning. I'm not making it that easy for her. One would think she wants him dead with how persistent she is.
His fingers moved without thinking.
The blade spun, flipped, and was caught by the handle in one fluid motion. Muscle memory from years of practice. Nights with sore wrists, learning tricks from street hustlers.
"Whoa!" Caspian's eyes went wide. "Do it again!"
Cassian stared at his own hands. I didn't even think about it. The skill was still there, buried in whatever part of consciousness survived the body swap.
My skills transferred. I just need to train this weak body.
He flipped the knife again, slower, controlled. Precise.
"You never did that before," Caspian said. "You said knives were scary."
The original Cassian was afraid of knives. Of course he was.
"The awakening changed things," Cassian said carefully, sliding the blade back.
"You're different now." Caspian tilted his head. "You run. You do tricks. You talk funny."
Cassian's pulse spiked. "Funny how?"
"Like you're older."
Because I am. He had lived seventeen years, hardened by hardship and the need to survive. Now, he was trapped behind a pretty face.
"Can you read me a story?" Caspian asked, moving on.
This is going to be a long day.
"Father has picture books in his study."
Picture books. Better than entertaining a six-year-old with nothing.
Leoric's study smelled of parchment and lamp oil. Without the chief's imposing presence, the room felt less threatening. Cassian scanned the shelves until colourful spines caught his eye among the serious tomes.
His fingers traced book spines and picked one at random.
The cover showed a red-haired woman surrounded by light, facing a shadowy figure with claws.
'Mother Celeste and the Corruption'
"Not that one," Caspian groaned. "We've read it a hundred times."
"It will be fun." Cassian settled into Leoric's chair, flipping it open. Caspian leaned over.
The story was simple, clearly meant for children. Celeste the Great Weaver, beloved goddess, defender of mortals. He snorted. Too much praise for a crazy woman.
The god of corruption, named Zuri, spread rot and madness across the world.
Zuri.
The name made his back burn where the mark lay hidden. He frowned. So this is my target?
Illustrations showed epic battles. Celeste's ribbons fought against Zuri's shadows. Villages were saved, heroes rose. Then Celeste won.
"The Council of Gods locked Zuri away in the Abyss, where he could harm no one ever again. Mother Celeste was hailed as a hero, and peace returned."
Cassian stared at the final page. Celeste smiled benevolently as mortals worshipped below.
Locked away.
His mind raced. If Zuri's already imprisoned, why does she need him dead? Why now? Why me?
And this version of Celeste bore no resemblance to the woman who'd strangled him and smiled while handing him a knife.
Something doesn't add up.
The hair on his neck rose. That metallic smell of blood drifted faintly through the air.
"Stay here," Cassian said quietly, closing the book.
The hallway felt cold despite the afternoon sunlight. He looked toward the entrance.
The door was open. Just a crack.
I closed that when they left. He was certain.
His eyes caught details he'd missed. The rug near the door was pushed aside. A wet smudge on the floor, too dark for water.
We're not alone.
Caspian!
He moved silently back to the study. The boy sat reading, oblivious to the dangers.
"Want to play outside?" Cassian kept his voice even.
Caspian looked up, confused. "Um... okay?" His small fingers slipped into his hand. It was soft, trusting and vulnerable. They moved toward the door.
A sound stopped them cold.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps with claws scraping wood.
A shadow passed the doorway crack. Cassian's breathing froze.
Through the gap, he saw it. Massive. Hunched. Thick fur, the colour of dried blood. It was wolf-shaped, but it was too large, too wrong-looking. A collar of dark metal circled its throat, etched with runes that pulsed with faint purple light. One eye glowed faintly in the darkness, the other hidden beneath a thick scar.
That eye fixed on the study door.
A suffocating sensation overpowered him, bringing him back to the crumbling temple. The mark on Cassian's back burned in recognition. Duvessa's magic.
The wolf's lips pulled back. It had found what it was looking for.