Warm water ran down Elion's body. It felt so good. He still couldn't believe he was back.
It had been about two weeks since his group of ragtag survivors finally made it back to Nexus.
His white hair clung to his skin. It had grown longer during his travels, and he hadn't had the time to cut it. Steam rolled past the glass panels of the shower, spilling into the room as he stepped out and grabbed his towel.
Elion wiped the mirror clean and looked at himself. He grimaced at the sight. His pupils gleamed like gold because of the divinity that had nested within them, and his stare felt… off. He couldn't quite place why, only that it felt wrong.
His gaze drifted to the mask lying neatly atop a pile of folded clothes. It had been his little island, the thing that allowed him to be something more acceptable. But he couldn't wear it anymore.
The tale of his group surviving the Depths was sensational news. They had instantly become public figures, attracting far more attention than he ever wanted. Fortunately, he had been mostly disguised when he met with Agath's group, and by the time they returned to Goreth his hair had been stained crimson with blood while the mask hid his face.
But that also meant the mysterious, crimson-haired masked young man had become a legend.
He had disappeared as quickly as he could—no interviews, not even following the normal procedures they were supposed to go through.
He just wanted to go home.
Elion sighed, got dressed, and left the bathroom.
He hadn't spoken to anyone since arriving back in Nexus. All except—
"Hey, Eli." Kellta sat at the long table, studying a textbook with rapt attention.
He wasn't wearing the translation runes at the moment, but he still understood her.
"Morning," he said, passing by to make himself some tea.
She was staying at his place, since she couldn't exactly get one of her own when she didn't even know the language or culture of the human world.
Eshrod didn't really have a home. Lumos had matters to take care of and couldn't look after her. Leonard, Talom, and Hela all came from modest families without the budget to take her in. And Farha's family… well, they weren't exactly the best choice to host someone with Kellta's origins.
Speaking of which, her story had caused waves in the world. Her family had been more or less forced to acknowledge her as part of Uru, now that she could speak and would no longer stay silent in her corner.
Her family faced backlash, but the uproar had been covered up as best as possible.
Elion didn't know what she was doing now. He hadn't kept in contact.
Better this way…
He shook his head. The water he had put to boil was bubbling. He poured it into a cup and dropped in a teabag.
Truth be told, Kellta being here was good for him. He could learn the runes from her while teaching her the human language. At the very least, he felt he owed her this much—he had been the one to convince her to accompany them on their perilous journey, after all.
And without her, he might have completely isolated himself.
Elion fetched his laptop from his room. He had bought a new one, since he had no idea what had happened to the old one. He'd left it at S33, but even if they kept it, retrieving it wasn't worth the hassle.
He set it on the living room table where Kellta was studying, took a sip of tea, and opened it.
"Still working on that thesis?" she asked, raising her head from the book.
"Yeah. There was so much insight in our travels—it's bound to advance the study of the Third Age by miles once I publish this," he said.
That was what he had been doing most days: compiling discoveries and presenting his theories about the Third Age.
He didn't add what he knew about the Forgotten King. That man was the source of his affinity, and there simply wasn't enough information to work with.
But the rest, he wrote in great detail: the names of the Gods, the advanced technology of the Third Age, the fragment of the surface brought down into the Depths.
He also sought to demystify the Dwellers of the Depths. They weren't exactly friendly to humans, but they weren't the savages people once believed they were either.
With Kellta's help, he built a basic dictionary of their language—something that would at least allow communication if one were to encounter such an imp in the Depths.
That was mostly how Elion spent his days. He also practiced swordsmanship and studied his tapestry.
He couldn't stay under the radar forever. Sooner or later, he would be sent on another dangerous mission, and for that he wanted to be ready.
Judging from his time with Agath's group, his skills weren't too bad for a First Finger.
Elion worked to untangle the weave he had botched during his improvised surgeries, trying to restore everything to its proper place. He didn't want his body rebelling against him again, like it had on his climb back to Nexus.
It was a long process, but one that couldn't be rushed.
Kellta approached him, pointing at a page in her textbook.
"What's this word mean?" she asked.
"That's the word for nazar," he explained.
Elion had learned that nazar meant 'soul' in the language of the Depths—or something close to it.
"Huh. Alright, thanks." She smiled, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and returned to the far end of the table.
It felt like helping a little sister with homework, though Elion had never had siblings. He was an only child, but he often wondered what it would have been like otherwise.
He watched her studying and smiled.
The young cook closed his laptop and stood.
"I'll go buy some food. We don't have much left in the fridge."
Kellta lifted her head, eyes sparkling.
"Can I come with?"
"It's better not…" Elion said. "You can't really wear your mask in public, and your horns are too visible. You'd attract too much attention."
"Oh…" she sounded disappointed.
It made sense; she hadn't left the house much, given that her appearance wasn't exactly suited for public outings.
"I'll buy you a pair of sunglasses and a mask. Next time, you can come with me."
"Alright." She seemed genuinely eager to explore the city—maybe because it was the land her father had grown up in.
Elion smiled and put on his coat. Before leaving, he checked his reflection in the mirror. He smiled, but it looked horrifying. He blinked and tried again. Not much better.
In the end, he settled on a blank, bored expression. It was the only one left in his repertoire of metaphorical masks that didn't look entirely wrong.
The young cook walked the streets of Mirth. The neighborhood his house sat in was as beautiful as ever. Well, his father's house—but the man was never home, so it was really just him. And now Kellta.
He descended to the lower plateau by way of stairs carved into the stone. People stared as he passed. His appearance was unusual: golden eyes and white hair stood out sharply in Mirth.
He hadn't dyed it black again—maybe it was because of what Farha had said about him looking cooler with white hair…
Get her out of your head, you fool!
Either way, attracting glances was fine so long as no one tried to talk to him. And no one ever did. Perhaps it was the uncanny look on his face, or the aura of danger that clung to him.
That was what being a First Finger did. Normal humans could sense he wasn't quite right—just as he could sense the will of a Class V, though at an infinitely lesser degree.
It made his trip to the grocery store easy enough.
Normally, Elion preferred high-end stores for the best ingredients, but these past two weeks he had kept to a tighter budget. He hadn't worked in some time, and he didn't want to rely on his father's money.
Even though the man was filthy rich.
He could always earn a living as an Unlocked and get a place of his own, but right now he wasn't eager to return to the Depths.
"That'll be seventy-eight NC," the cashier said.
Elion dug through his coat pockets and handed her the bills.
With enough provisions to last a week, he headed back home. Climbing the stairs to the second plateau, he felt something was off. His senses had grown razor-sharp during his two months of climbing back to Nexus.
A combination of his affinity, ability, and status as a First Finger made him hyperaware of his surroundings—so much so that he struggled to sleep unless he was completely exhausted.
There was a presence. Someone incredibly strong, near his house.
Don't tell me…
The figure was heading straight for the door.
Shit!