Perun tried to steady himself… or at least pretend he could.
His knees trembled, the wooden stick slipping in his sweaty grip as silence pressed down around the hallway. Even the steady footsteps inside had faded, leaving only an unnatural stillness.
Then a whisper slid through the air like a knife through silk.
Sans estoppel~
Perun froze. His breath hitched.
A moment later, Vaelor's voice drifted through the door—calm, casual, completely unfazed.
"Friend, where's the problem?"
And then the impossible happened.
Vaelor stepped straight through the locked door as if it were nothing but smoke. Half his body slid through the solid wood before the rest followed, emerging into the hallway like he had simply walked out of a passing cloud.
Perun's heart almost stopped. His eyes widened dangerously, his face drained to a ghostly pale. The stick rattled in his shaking hands.
Vaelor blinked around as if confused by the situation.
"Is the door locked or what?" he muttered, before finally noticing Perun standing there, statue-still, stick raised like a fragile weapon.
He arched an eyebrow.
"And what exactly are you doing with that stick?"
Perun glanced down at it. His mind blanked out completely.
"I… uh… I—"
His vision blurred. His legs folded. He collapsed in a heap.
Vaelor jolted forward, panic breaking through his usual calm.
"Oh, Perun! What happened? Hey—Perun!"
Darkness took over.
When Perun came to, he was lying on his bed, breaths short and uneven. For a moment he just stared at the ceiling, dazed, until the memories rushed back. He sat up sharply.
"He's not here… was that a dream?" he whispered.
Tik—
The door unlocked.
Vaelor stepped in with a relieved expression.
"Finally. You're awake. You scared me when you collapsed."
He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Oh. So that was the reason."
Perun stiffened.
Now he's going to kill me. He knows I tried to hit him. I'm dead. I am actually dead.
But instead, Vaelor sighed and scratched the back of his head.
"Sorry. I might have crashed into you when I came through your window earlier."
Perun let out the breath he was holding… only halfway relieved.
Vaelor crossed his arms. "And you must be wondering how I passed through the door."
Wondering? I thought you were a ghost, Perun thought grimly.
"But before that," Vaelor added suddenly, "I need to eat."
"What?" Perun blurted.
A few minutes later, they were in the kitchen. Leftover food from last night sat on the counter. Perun reheated it quickly and handed the plate over.
Vaelor took one bite—and practically inhaled the rest in seconds.
Once he finished, they returned to Perun's room. Vaelor sat comfortably on the bed while Perun sat stiffly in the chair, still tense, still watching him like one wrong move might end his life.
Vaelor noticed immediately.
"Oh right. I need to explain that thing."
Perun leaned forward slightly.
"Let me start from the beginning," Vaelor said. "My home is the Realm of Dominion. Everyone there has abilities like mine, though our power depends on our rank."
"Ranks?" Perun asked.
"Four of them. I'm at the lowest—Herald. Our job is simple: go to the place we're assigned, observe, and report. There are a lot of Heralds. Most of the Realm's grunt work starts with us."
Perun frowned. "With your powers, you're telling me Heralds are the lowest?"
"Oh yeah," Vaelor nodded casually. "That's pretty normal there."
He lifted a finger.
"You've already seen the first ability. I can pass through any surface."
Perun swallowed hard.
"The second," Vaelor continued, "is invisibility. With some limitations."
Perun leaned away unsure whether he wanted to hear more.
"And I can enter someone's mind."
Perun jerked back in horror.
"Anyone's mind!?"
"No, no," Vaelor waved quickly. "Relax. I won't peek into yours. And I can only do it three times a day."
Perun let out another thin sigh.
"And one more ability," Vaelor added, lowering his tone. "A unique one. Only Heralds have a chance of possessing it. And among them… I'm the only one who has this version."
Perun leaned closer, expecting something grand. Maybe something world-ending. Something divine.
"What is it?"
Vaelor took a slow breath.
"It's… the ability to speak to you."
Perun blinked.
"…"
He stared.
And blinked again.
"That's… that's it?"
Vaelor nodded proudly.
"Yes. I can speak your language," he explained. "It may not sound impressive, but for Heralds, this ability is incredibly rare."
Perun slumped back in the chair, defeated by how anti-climactic that was.
Perun blinked several times, still trying to grasp what Vaelor had just claimed. His mind tripped over the idea again and again.
He finally managed to speak, voice tight with confusion.
What do you mean by talking to me?
Vaelor leaned back slightly, speaking as if the answer were obvious.
You should understand it the way you understand speaking to animals. Every creature has its own language. Humans, beasts, spirits… and every realm has its own tongue.
Perun frowned, trying to fit that into something sensible.
So every realm really has different languages…
Vaelor nodded as if he had been expecting that exact reaction.
Exactly. But I can speak in any of them. Other Heralds can understand all languages, but they cannot speak them properly.
That pulled Perun's attention sharply.
Heralds… so there are more like you?
Vaelor let out a long, weary breath, as if he'd carried this explanation through countless nights.
In the Realm of Dominion, people are divided into four hierarchical groups.
Perun straightened, instinctively listening more carefully.
The lowest are the Heralds, Vaelor continued. They follow the instructions given to them—nothing more. They do not make decisions. Their purpose is observation.
Perun nodded slowly, letting the idea settle.
Above the Heralds are the Omen Binders, Vaelor went on. They possess more authority and more power. They command Heralds and travel between realms, but only to verify information. Even they are forbidden from interfering with events.
So both Heralds and Omen Binders are just… watchers, Perun said.
Exactly. Neither of them is allowed to act in mortal affairs.
A faint shadow crossed Vaelor's expression as he shifted to the next rank.
Then come the Duskbringers of the Last Mandate. They do act. When they descend, they bring calamities—storms, disasters, plagues. They are the hands of the Final Mandate's judgement.
A chill crawled up Perun's back. The entire explanation felt unreal—too large, too foreign, too heavy for his shabby room with its cracked ceiling and damp corners.
Vaelor sighed and rubbed his forehead, his tone softening again.
So, Perun… do you have any questions?
Perun opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. His thoughts were tangled into useless knots.
Honestly… I'm tired. My brain's fried. I was going to ask a lot but…
His eyes drifted toward the dim corner of the room. Vaelor followed his gaze—the thin blanket, the broken desk, the scattered books. He glanced back at Perun with a pleading, almost gentle look.
It's the middle of the night, and I don't have anywhere else to go. Could I stay here for tonight?
The tone was so sincere it almost sounded fragile.
Perun hesitated, but exhaustion smothered every instinct to think harder.
…Yeah. Whatever.
Vaelor's eyes brightened instantly. And with a shy, half-blushing awkwardness, he lifted his hand as if presenting an important fact.
There's only one bed in this apartment. If you don't mind… we could even share it.
Perun froze on the spot.
No. Absolutely not. I'll sleep on the floor.
Both of them looked down at the floor—a thin line of rainwater shimmered near the window, soaking into the wooden boards. The rest looked cold and unforgiving.
Their eyes met again.
Perun narrowed his gaze.
You crashed through my window in the rain. How are you dry already?
It didn't make sense at all. He wondered if it was some divine ability.
These clothes don't get wet, Vaelor explained casually. Water, liquid—nothing sticks to these clothes. And we use spells to clean our clothes. Though I don't think I dried them perfectly.
Perun stared at him, exhausted.
Magic… right. Of course.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Fine. We need to sleep. I'll take the chair. You take the bed.
Vaelor tried to protest immediately, shaking his head.
No, I cannot let you
It's fine. Just sleep.
Vaelor eventually stopped resisting.
Perun dragged the old wooden chair into the corner and settled into it, folding himself into the least painful position he could find. Vaelor lay on the narrow bed, pulling the thin blanket to his waist.
Within minutes, both of them were drifting off Perun drained to the bone, Vaelor watching quietly as the dim room sank into darkness.
The antique wall clock ticked softly, its golden hands edging toward 4:30 A.M.
Outside, the storm finally began to ease.