The house felt different.
Not colder. Not louder. Just… different. Like every room carried an echo of the rift, an aftertaste of that other world. Ari felt it most strongly near the backyard door—like a faint vibration through the floorboards. Mika felt it too; her eyes kept darting toward the windows as though expecting another tear to open.
Kael had spent the rest of the afternoon in the yard, pacing slowly, checking the soil, the air, the angles of the fence like he was analyzing invisible threads only he could see. Ari wanted to ask him a thousand questions, but she couldn't drag Mika back outside. And Kael didn't come back in until the sun dipped below the rooftops.
When he finally stepped inside, his expression was unreadable again—calm, mild, almost ordinary.
Almost.
But Ari now knew better. Behind that calmness hid the force of a storm.
Dinner smelled warm—pan-fried vegetables, garlic noodles, and grilled chicken. Their mother hummed in the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the supernatural terror that had unfolded while she was at work. When she looked at them, her smile faltered.
"You three look like you've seen a ghost."
Mika stiffened. Ari forced a too-fast laugh. "Just tired."
Kael paused before sitting down. For a moment, Ari saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was strange—he faced monsters without fear, but apparently dreaded worrying their mom.
The meal began quietly. Kael ate slowly, thoughtfully. Mika barely touched her food. Ari kept twisting her fork, her mind spinning.
Their mother glanced between them. "Is something going on? Did something happen today?"
Mika blurted, "Yes—"
Ari kicked her under the table.
Mika squeaked, "—yes, uh… school was really hard."
Their mom narrowed her eyes. "Really."
Kael stepped in. "It was my fault," he said smoothly. "I made them help me with some heavy work before you came home. They're tired."
Ari stared.
He didn't lie often, but when he did, he did it flawlessly.
Their mother sighed. "Kael, don't overwork them. They're just kids."
Kael nodded, accepting the admonishment with the same seriousness he'd used to face the monster.
Ari kicked Mika again—this time to warn her don't talk. Mika kicked back in protest.
Their mother noticed but couldn't decode their silent battle.
After dinner, she grabbed her coat. "I have to run out for an hour—late shift paperwork. Kael, could you keep an eye on them?"
Kael nodded. "Of course."
Mika visibly panicked. Ari tensed.
As soon as their mother left, the house door clicking shut behind her, Mika whispered loudly:
"Ari, we need to talk to him!"
Ari wanted to say no. She wanted time. She wanted to breathe.
But Kael had already turned toward them.
"We should talk," he said quietly.
He led them into the living room. The lights stayed dim; only the hallway lamp glowed softly. Kael sat down on the couch, posture relaxed but alert. Ari and Mika sat across from him, shoulders tense.
For a long moment, silence.
Then Kael spoke.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
Mika whispered, "It was scary."
Kael nodded slowly. "It was. And you handled it very well."
Ari crossed her arms. "Why didn't you tell us? Or mom? About… any of this?"
Kael hesitated.
"I wanted you to have a normal life," he said. "I wanted her to stay safe."
Ari's throat tightened. Safe? From what? From YOU? From monsters? From your past?
Kael continued, "There are things… hunting rifts. Creatures that shouldn't exist here. They target strong hunters. Especially those who've sealed rifts before."
"Like you," Ari said.
Kael nodded.
Mika hugged her knees. "So… the monster came because of you?"
"Yes."
Ari's stomach twisted. She hated that she understood. Hated that it made sense.
"Are more coming?" she whispered.
Kael's silence stretched too long.
Finally, he said, "Yes. But I won't let them near you."
Ari shook her head. "That's not enough. You can't protect us forever."
Kael looked at her with a strange, unreadable sadness.
"You're right," he said quietly.
Ari blinked. She hadn't expected him to admit that.
"That's why," Kael continued, "you need to understand what's happening."
Mika leaned forward. "Are you gonna train us?"
Kael paused. His jaw tightened.
"No," he said firmly. "Not unless I have no choice."
"Why not?" Mika asked, wounded.
Kael's eyes darkened. "Because hunters don't return home the same. And they rarely return at all."
Ari felt the weight of those words like a stone sinking in her chest.
Kael had lived that reality.
And he didn't want it for them.
A sudden tap-tap-tap echoed on the window. Ari jerked around. Mika gasped. The sound was too deliberate, too rhythmic.
Kael stood instantly.
He didn't draw a weapon. He was the weapon.
He moved to the window and peered outside.
The backyard looked normal.
Yet Ari felt it—something was wrong. Air pressure shifted again. The faint vibration under the floorboards returned.
Another rift?
Mika clutched Ari's arm. "Is something coming?"
Kael didn't turn. "Stay behind me."
Ari frowned. "Again?"
"No," Kael said softly. "This one… feels different."
He unlocked the back door and stepped out.
Ari and Mika stayed just inside the doorway.
The air outside was unnaturally still.
No wind.
No insects.
No night sounds.
Just… silence.
Then the ground vibrated.
A tiny ripple—gentle, almost peaceful.
A soft glow formed near the far fence. Pale blue this time—not the jagged black distortion from before. The light pulsed like a heartbeat.
Kael tensed. Ari could see the muscles in his shoulders shift.
Something stepped through.
But it wasn't a monster.
It was small.
Barely knee-height.
A creature shaped like a fox—but made of blue flame and soft light instead of fur. Its eyes shimmered like molten silver.
Mika gasped. "It's… cute…"
Kael lifted a hand sharply. "Do not touch it."
The creature padded forward on silent paws. Its glow reflected off Kael's expression, softening his features. The fox-like being tilted its head.
Then it spoke—not with words, but with a soft psychic whisper that all three heard:
"Found you… Warden."
Kael froze.
Ari stared. Warden?
Mika mouthed, "What's a Warden?"
Kael took one slow step forward. "You shouldn't be here. Not now."
The fox-creature bowed its head. "The seal weakens. The Abyss stirs."
Ari's heart skipped. The Abyss? Seal? This wasn't like the monster from before.
This was a messenger.
Kael's voice was barely audible. "It's too soon."
"It will not wait."
The glowing fox looked straight at Ari and Mika.
"They carry a trace. You cannot hide them any longer."
Kael's eyes widened.
Ari felt her blood run cold.
A trace? From what?
From Kael?
From the Abyss?
The creature turned. Its body dissolved into a gentle gust of blue light and vanished into the night.
Silence returned—but it wasn't peaceful anymore.
Kael stayed frozen for several seconds.
Then he whispered a single word.
"Ari… Mika…"
They both looked at him, hearts pounding.
His next words changed everything.
"There's something about you two I haven't told you."