I don't really know what changed from yesterday to today. Huge spike in reading and collections. I am forever grateful for that.
I'm excited because we are finally going to be seeing superheroes or villains start to show up. Can you all guess which one is the first one in this chapter. There is a hint in the chapter itself.
Hope you enjoy reading. Drop some powerstones to help out this book please and thank you.
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(Location: Seattle streets.)
They wandered deeper into the city, following the flow of morning traffic until the smell of roasted coffee and warm pastries drifted across the street. Erik paused mid-step. The scent was foreign, rich, and strangely comforting.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Coffee," Death replied, amused. "Humans rely on it the way stars rely on gravity."
The building in front of them was an old brick café with tall windows and ivy creeping up one side. A wooden sign above the door read Harbor Harmony Café in painted cursive. Warm lights glowed from within, and the gentle buzz of conversation seeped through the glass.
Death nodded toward it. "Let us try this place. It is quiet compared to others. I think you will like it."
Erik followed her inside.
The shift from city noise to soft interior warmth made him relax instantly. The café was cozy, lined with shelves of books and mismatched chairs. A soft amber glow filled the room. The air smelled of baked bread, cinnamon, and something sweet he could not name.
But it was the far corner that caught him completely off guard.
A small wooden stage sat tucked beside a row of tall windows. A microphone. An acoustic guitar resting on its stand. A keyboard. A cello leaning against the back wall. Even a small drum kit sat waiting for hands to bring it alive.
Erik stopped moving.
Death noticed the way his eyes fixed on the instruments.
"A stage," she said softly. "This world loves music. It is a part of them the way it is a part of you."
He stepped closer, slow and reverent, as if approaching an altar. Humans turned briefly to glance at him, but quickly returned to their drinks and conversations. None sensed that an Eldritch being with the first sound of the universe in his bones was examining their little corner stage.
Erik ran a thumb gently down the neck of the guitar without touching it, just feeling the vibrations in the wood.
"It is simple," he whispered.
"Human instruments often are."
"Simple is beautiful."
Death smiled. "Yes. It is."
A barista walked up to them with a friendly grin. "Hey there. Welcome to Harbor Harmony. You two looking to grab a seat?"
Erik blinked. Being addressed directly by a stranger still felt strange. But he nodded. "Yes. That would be nice."
They were guided to a table near the stage. Erik chose the chair closest to the instruments without even realizing it. Death hid her amusement.
"Menus are right here," the barista said. "Take your time."
When they were alone, Erik picked up the menu and stared at it as if trying to interpret ancient scripture.
Death watched patiently. "Do you need help choosing?"
"Yes," Erik said immediately. "I do not know what any of this is. Except water. That one I understand."
She pointed at a drink section. "Coffee. Start small. A latte is smooth and mild."
"And food?"
"Try pancakes. Humans love them in the morning."
"Pancakes," he repeated carefully, testing the word.
Death nodded. "You will like them."
He trusted her judgment with quiet certainty. "Then I will have pancakes and a latte."
When the barista returned, Erik repeated the order exactly, feeling oddly proud of himself for speaking like a normal human customer. Death ordered coffee for herself and something called a berry scone.
When the barista left, Erik leaned back in his chair.
"This is very… peaceful."
"It is a small place," Death said. "People come here to rest, think, and create. Many artists perform on that stage."
"Artists," he whispered. "Human musicians."
"Yes."
His gaze drifted to the guitar again. "I can feel the wood vibrating. Even unused, it remembers being played."
"Everything resonates with memory," Death replied gently. "Especially things that were made to sing."
Something in his chest warmed.
A few minutes later the food arrived, and Erik stared at the plate of golden, fluffy pancakes as if they were a cosmic puzzle. He tapped the edge of the plate lightly. The sound was soft and dull, but somehow pleasant.
He took a bite.
He stopped.
Death raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
Erik swallowed, eyes widening. "It tastes divine."
Death laughed softly. "That is syrup. Humans are addicted to sugar."
"And the drink?" Erik lifted the cup and took a cautious sip. He blinked. "It is bitter, but not unpleasant."
"Welcome to coffee."
He took another sip. "This is strangely enjoyable. I can understand why humans gather here."
Death rested her chin on her hand and watched him with quiet pride. "You are adapting well."
Erik looked around the café. He saw humans smiling, talking, reading. The stage waiting. The instruments waiting. Everything alive in a way that vibrated gently through him.
"It feels good to be here," he admitted. "Not overwhelming. Not frightening. Just… human."
Death nodded. "That is why I chose this place."
After a moment Erik spoke again.
"Would they let me play?" he asked softly, glancing at the stage.
Death smiled, warm and knowing. "They would be honored."
He looked at her, the faintest spark of hope flickering behind his wave-patterned eyes.
"Maybe not today," he said. "But someday soon."
"Whenever you are ready," she replied.
Erik took another bite of pancakes, humming quietly under his breath. The café walls vibrated faintly, not enough for humans to notice, but enough for the instruments on stage to respond with the softest, almost imperceptible tremble.
Erik was halfway through another bite of pancakes when something shifted in the room. Not a sound. Not a movement. A feeling. A vibration in the emotional resonance around him, subtle at first, then clearer, like a soft chord played off-key.
He paused.
Death noticed immediately. "What is it?"
Erik did not answer at first. His gaze drifted across the café, past chatting couples, past the barista wiping the counter, past the window fogged with morning warmth.
Then he saw her.
A young woman sat alone at a two-person table tucked near a bookshelf. A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her. Her arms rested on the table, hands clasped loosely as if she had forgotten she was holding them together. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, staring at nothing.
Her hair was dark, pulled back neatly but with strands falling loose near her face. She wore a black jacket with subtle patterns sewn into it, reminiscent of tribal markings. Her posture was relaxed, yet everything about her presence felt heavy.
Not dangerous, nor hostile. Just alone.
The air around her vibrated differently, like a muted echo. A quiet pain that she kept locked inside.
Erik lowered his fork slowly.
Death followed his gaze. "You feel her."
"Yes," Erik whispered. "She is not crying. She is not outwardly upset. But there is something within her. A fracture."
"A human emotion," Death said softly.
"But deeper than that." He glanced back at the woman. "Her emotions ripple outward. They create dissonance in the air. She is hurt. Or lonely. Or both."
Death studied him for a moment. "What are you thinking?"
Erik hesitated.
He looked at the stage.
The instruments waiting.
The microphone untouched.
"I want to help her," he said quietly.
Death leaned back in her chair. "You feel connected."
"Not connected." Erik shook his head gently. "Just aware. She is drowning inside herself. The world is loud, but she hears only silence."
Death smiled faintly. "And you know how silence feels."
Erik's jaw tightened at the truth of it. "Music helped me survive when nothing else did. Perhaps it can help her too."
Death placed her hand on his. "Then go stand on the stage. Humans respond to sincerity more than perfection."
Erik looked at her, surprised. "That quickly? No caution?"
"You are not going to unleash cosmic destruction with a gentle song in a café." Her tone was light, reassuring. "Besides, your heart is in the right place."
For the first time, Erik felt confidence ripple through him without hesitation. He rose from his chair with slow, steady motions, not wanting to disturb the air too much.
The woman did not notice him. She remained inside her quiet bubble, lost in thoughts that seemed to pull her down.
Erik walked toward the stage.
Each step felt deliberate, guided not by instinct alone but by a purpose so soft it almost frightened him with its simplicity.
As he approached the instruments, he extended a hand toward the microphone, not touching it yet, only letting his presence settle. The guitar on its stand vibrated faintly, responding to him the way instruments always did.
Death watched from the table, calm and proud.
Erik stood at the edge of the stage, facing the café.
He looked at the woman once more.
Her loneliness was a silent scream to him.
He placed one hand gently on the guitar, letting his fingers rest on the neck. The wood resonated warmly beneath his touch.
He was not playing yet.
Not speaking yet.
Just standing there.
Preparing.
Breathing in the emotional rhythm of the room. Feeling the fragile thread of sadness coming from the woman who sat alone, unaware that someone across the room had felt her ache like a sound.
Erik closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he opened them, softly.
"I will help her," he whispered to himself.
And the café seemed to grow still, waiting for the moment when his music would begin.
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That's it for this chapter, no worries there will be more soon.
As always any questions or concerns leave a comment.