Light clung to Eren's lashes as he stirred, breath uneven.
The first thing he felt was warmth — steady, grounding, alive.
Kael's warmth.
He blinked, vision sharpening through the blur. They were no longer in the mirror's origin — only its echo. Shards of glass floated around them like fragments of frozen stars, suspended in slow orbit. The Pulse thrummed faintly beneath his skin, softer now, like a heartbeat that finally remembered its rhythm.
Kael held him close, one arm steady beneath his shoulders. His gray eyes — storm-dark and exhausted — searched Eren's face as if confirming he was real.
"Eren." The name came out rough, almost broken.
"You're—" Kael swallowed hard. "You're back."
Eren's amber-hazel eyes fluttered open fully, catching faint reflections of violet light across Kael's cheek. "How long was I gone?"
Kael hesitated. "Long enough for me to think the city took you."
Eren tried to sit up, but Kael's hand gently pressed him down. "Don't. The Pulse nearly burned through you."
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence between them wasn't empty — it hummed with everything unsaid: fear, relief, something deeper neither dared name.
Finally, Eren exhaled shakily. "I saw him again. Draven."
Kael's jaw tightened. "He's inside the Pulse now. Feeding off what's left of the Observer's code. That's why he can reach you."
"He said I could rewrite my origin," Eren murmured. "That I didn't have to go back."
His fingers trembled, tracing the faint glow on his forearm — the lines that had once burned. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I shouldn't have come back."
Kael's eyes flashed — not with anger, but with something fierce, protective. "Don't say that."
He leaned forward, voice low. "The city needs you. I need you."
Eren looked up. Their faces were close now — close enough that Kael's breath warmed the edge of his jaw. The tension between them felt like lightning restrained — fragile, dangerous, wanting to break free.
"Kael," he whispered, unsure whether it was a warning or a plea.
Kael's hand hovered near his face, fingers barely brushing the side of his neck. "You don't have to be what they made you, Eren. You just have to stay."
Eren's pulse stuttered. He searched Kael's gaze — the storm-gray eyes that had once terrified him now felt like the only anchor keeping him from dissolving entirely.
"I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Then let me remind you," Kael said softly. "You're the one who makes the Pulse listen."
A single shard of glass drifted between them, catching the light — a mirror sliver reflecting two faces drawn by gravity and ruin.
Eren's breath hitched. "Kael…"
But before the words could form, the city above shuddered. The suspended shards trembled, each surface rippling with faint crimson veins.
Kael stiffened, eyes darting to the nearest reflection.
"He's trying to breach through again."
"Draven?"
Kael nodded. "He's learning to use your frequency."
Eren's veins pulsed, faint gold threading beneath his skin. "Then he's not just after the Pulse. He's after me."
Kael's gaze softened again — pain and pride blending in his expression. "He can try."
Then, quieter: "But he'll never take you."
The Pulse between them answered, faintly alive, like a heartbeat syncing to both of theirs.