I woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of voices arguing.
For a blissful moment, I thought I was back in my old apartment. That everything, the binding, the rifts, the apocalypse, had been some kind of stress-induced nightmare.
Then I felt Azryth's arm still around me, the binding humming contentedly between us, and reality reasserted itself.
We were in an abandoned safehouse, hunted by multiple organizations, racing against Veyrith's apocalypse timeline, and apparently, we'd weaponized our feelings last night.
Normal Tuesday, really.
Azryth stirred beside me. "Are they arguing?"
"Sounds like it."
We untangled ourselves from the couch, a process made complicated by various injuries and general exhaustion, and followed the voices to what had probably been a kitchen.
Mara and Henrik were standing over a laptop, both gesturing emphatically at the screen.
"It's too dangerous," Henrik was saying. "Even if we could arrange it…"
