Darkness.
Warmth.
Soft breathing nearby.
Drake opened his eyes slowly.
For several quiet seconds he didn't move.
Didn't think.
Didn't remember.
He simply existed.
And after everything that happened in the cemetery—
That alone felt strangely precious.
The first thing he noticed was warmth pressed against his side.
The second was the steady rhythm of breathing against his chest.
Ciri.
White hair spilled across him in soft waves while one arm remained wrapped tightly around his waist even in sleep.
Protective.
Possessive.
Like some part of her genuinely believed he might vanish if she let go.
Honestly?
Reasonable concern.
Drake stared silently at the ceiling above them.
Their room.
Their house.
Reality.
No fractured skies.
No cosmic screams.
No ancient entities clawing against existence.
Just silence.
Human silence.
The kind he never realized he missed until now.
His chest tightened unexpectedly.
Because for the first time since recovering his memories—
He understood exactly what he almost lost.
Not power.
Not immortality.
This.
A home.
Warmth.
Love.
Someone sleeping beside him without fear.
The Wanderer would have destroyed worlds to preserve balance.
Drake would destroy worlds to protect moments like this.
The realization settled heavily inside him.
"You're awake."
Drake turned his head slightly.
Lady Death leaned casually against the bedroom doorway dressed entirely in black, silver eyes glowing softly in the dim light.
Unlike everyone else—
She looked unsurprised.
Naturally.
Drake sighed quietly.
"You always appear after reality-threatening events."
Death smirked faintly.
"You make those happen alarmingly often."
Fair.
Ciri stirred slightly against him before blinking awake slowly.
The moment she noticed Death standing nearby—
She relaxed instantly.
Which honestly said alarming things about how strange their lives had become.
"Hey," Ciri mumbled sleepily.
Death's expression softened slightly.
"Hello, little wolf."
Drake carefully sat up against the headboard while Ciri remained leaning against him without complaint.
His body felt strange now.
Lighter.
And somehow infinitely heavier at the same time.
Like old broken pieces inside him had shifted into place.
Not healed.
Aligned.
Death noticed immediately.
"You remembered more."
Not a question.
Drake nodded once.
"Enough."
Silence settled briefly.
Then quietly—
"I used to lead them."
Death walked further into the room.
No judgment crossed her face.
Only understanding.
"Yes."
Ciri looked carefully between them.
"You knew."
Death raised one eyebrow slightly.
"Of course I knew."
Then her silver eyes returned to Drake.
"You are very old."
Drake rubbed one hand across his face tiredly.
"I'm starting to hate hearing that sentence."
Death smiled faintly before sitting near the foot of the bed.
For several moments she simply studied him quietly.
Not clinically.
Not cautiously.
Almost thoughtfully.
Then finally—
"You're afraid."
Drake laughed softly.
"Congratulations. You discovered basic emotional awareness."
Death ignored the sarcasm entirely.
"You fear becoming him again."
That wiped the humor away instantly.
Because yes.
That was exactly the fear.
Not death.
Not power.
Not the Forgotten.
Losing himself.
Becoming the Wanderer fully again.
The ancient being capable of sealing realities without hesitation.
The being who once stood among cosmic horrors and called them allies.
Drake looked down at his hands silently.
"They bowed to me."
The memory unsettled him deeply.
The envoys kneeling instinctively.
The Forgotten obeying his voice.
The terrifying familiarity of it all.
"I remembered how easy it felt," he admitted quietly.
The room grew silent.
Even Death stopped smiling.
Drake's voice lowered further.
"For a second…"
He swallowed once.
"…part of me wanted to answer them."
Ciri's grip on him tightened immediately.
But she didn't recoil.
Didn't fear him.
Instead she shifted closer until their foreheads touched gently.
"You didn't."
Simple words.
Absolute certainty.
Drake closed his eyes briefly.
"No."
"Because you chose us."
The statement hit harder than any cosmic truth.
Because she was right.
At the Gates—
He chose humanity.
Again.
Death watched them both with faint amusement.
"Human attachment continues being absurdly overpowered."
"Coming from you," Drake muttered, "that's deeply concerning."
"It should be."
Death leaned back slightly afterward.
"You closed the Gates again."
"Temporarily."
"Still impressive."
Drake exhaled slowly.
The memories remained unstable inside him.
Fragments surfacing unpredictably.
Ancient knowledge appearing naturally now.
He understood dimensional structures instinctively.
Could feel weak points in reality.
Could hear distant echoes between worlds if he focused hard enough.
And honestly?
That terrified him more than the Forgotten did.
Ciri noticed the shift in his expression immediately.
"What is it?"
Drake hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"I can still feel them."
Silence.
"The Forgotten?"
He nodded slowly.
"Not clearly. But…"
His gaze drifted toward the window.
"…the Gates aren't walls anymore."
Death's expression sharpened slightly.
Interesting.
"Explain."
Drake frowned while trying to articulate something fundamentally inhuman.
"It's like…"
He searched for the right words.
"…imagine locking a door your entire life only to realize the key was always part of you."
The room fell silent again.
Because that sounded horrifying.
Drake leaned back against the bed tiredly.
"The Wanderer didn't just build the Gates."
Realization slowly crossed Death's face.
"Oh."
Ciri looked between them immediately.
"What?"
Death's silver eyes remained fixed on Drake now.
"You are the anchor."
Drake gave a humorless laugh.
"Apparently."
The implication settled heavily through the room.
The Gates recognized Drake because they were connected to him directly.
Not metaphorically.
Fundamentally.
Which meant if Drake ever lost control—
The prison holding the Forgotten might collapse entirely.
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
Klaus suddenly appeared in the open doorway.
Because apparently privacy no longer existed anymore.
"Well," the hybrid announced cheerfully while holding a glass of bourbon, "that explains why every supernatural creature in Louisiana spent the last twelve hours hiding in terror."
Death glanced toward him once.
Klaus immediately stopped talking.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The hybrid cleared his throat awkwardly.
"…Right."
Ciri snorted softly against Drake's shoulder.
Death looked back toward Drake calmly.
"They will try again eventually."
"I know."
"And next time?"
Drake was quiet for several long seconds.
Then honestly—
"I don't know."
That answer lingered heavily in the room.
Because for perhaps the first time since meeting him—
Drake genuinely didn't know if he could keep holding both halves of himself together.
The man.
And the Wanderer.
The silence stretched.
Then unexpectedly—
Klaus spoke quietly.
"You know, for what it's worth…"
Everyone looked toward him.
The hybrid shrugged slightly.
"I've spent a thousand years becoming a monster."
His gaze shifted toward Drake.
"You're the first immortal being I've met actually terrified of becoming one."
The room went still.
Because coming from Klaus—
That meant something.
Drake stared at him for a moment.
Then laughed softly.
"…That might genuinely be the nicest thing you've ever said."
"Don't ruin it by repeating it."
Naturally.
Death rose slowly afterward.
Silver eyes lingering thoughtfully on Drake.
Then softly—
"You've already changed fate once."
Drake frowned slightly.
"What does that mean?"
Death smiled faintly.
"Mortal hearts were never supposed to survive cosmic memory."
The statement sent a chill through the room.
Because somehow—
It sounded less like praise and more like confusion.
Like even Death didn't fully understand what Drake had become anymore.
Then she vanished into drifting black feathers.
Silence followed her departure.
Klaus looked deeply uncomfortable now.
"…I dislike when omnipotent entities sound uncertain."
"Seconded," Elijah said from somewhere outside the room.
Apparently he'd been listening too.
Not surprising.
Ciri looked back toward Drake quietly after a moment.
"You okay?"
Drake thought about the question honestly.
About the Gates.
The Forgotten.
The Wanderer.
The terrifying power still sleeping inside him.
Then he looked down at her.
At warmth.
Humanity.
Choice.
And slowly—
Some of the fear eased.
"Yeah," he answered quietly.
Not entirely true.
But not entirely false either.
Ciri studied him for another second before nodding once.
Then without warning—
She shoved him backward onto the bed.
Drake blinked.
"What—"
"You almost died," she informed him calmly while climbing over him.
"That means I get to hold you hostage for emotional recovery."
Klaus immediately turned around.
"Well."
He walked toward the door.
"Suddenly this feels significantly more private."
"Get out," Drake threw at him instantly.
Klaus grinned over his shoulder.
"No promises."
Then he disappeared laughing down the hallway while Ciri buried her face against Drake's neck.
And despite ancient wars, cosmic Gates, and existential terror—
Drake realized this was what truly anchored him.
Not power.
Not destiny.
Love.
Simple.
Human.
Terrifyingly important love.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
That was stronger than the Wanderer ever had been.