Consciousness returned to Pryce in slow, sticky drips—like cheap street-synth filtering through a clogged pipe.
He could feel the warm, uneven ground beneath his back. He could smell dust, ozone, and the faint metallic tang of scorched concrete. He could hear distant creaks of settling rubble and the soft, broken sound of his sister's breathing.
But he kept his eyes closed. Something small and desperate was still hammering against his chest, and he needed to let it run its course first.
'Lulu.'
Her fists pounded weakly but frantically against his sternum. Half her body was a nightmare of burns—from the left side of her face down through her neck, shoulder, and all the way to her hip.
The skin there was raw, blackened, and peeling in wet, glistening patches where the blue lightning had licked her.
Clothes had fused horribly to flesh in places, creating ugly, weeping scars that still smoked faintly at the edges. The right side of her remained untouched, pale and trembling, making the contrast even more brutal.
Yet she didn't seem to care about her own injuries at all. She was too busy trying to beat life back into him.
"You left me!" Her voice cracked, raw and shredded with terror. "You left me, Big Brother! I woke up and you weren't breathing—your whole body was black and crispy and you just… stopped! I screamed and screamed while the buildings kept falling and the sky was still breaking and I thought the Thunder Saint had finally finished what he started and I was all alone—"
She broke completely.
The pounding fists turned into desperate clutching. Her small body shook with huge, heaving sobs that wracked her from head to toe. Hot tears splashed onto his chest, mixing with the last traces of cosmic ichor still clinging to his skin.
Pryce stayed perfectly still, eyes shut, letting her pour it all out. Deep inside his chest, something dark and sharp coiled tight—cold, poisonous anger aimed straight at Sylas Stormveil for turning his little sister into this half-melted wreck.
But none of it showed on his face when he finally decided it was time.
He cleared his throat loudly, the sound rough and deliberate.
Lulu froze mid-sob, her fists still pressed hard against him. Her breath hitched violently.
"B… Big Brother?" she whispered, voice tiny and disbelieving.
Only then did he open his eyes—slowly, lazily—like he was waking up from nothing more dramatic than an afternoon nap. The same cocky street-rat grin curved his lips as if the world hadn't tried to end them both.
"Miss me, shortstack?" he,said, the words dripping with the lazy confidence only a naked man who just came back from the dead could properly muster.
Lulu stared, her single good eye wide enough to see her own disbelief reflected in it. Her gaze traveled from the face she knew so well, down the newly unscarred chest she'd last seen as a chunk of charcoal, and then lower, only to pause.
There was no blush, no gasp, no awkward shuffle away. She simply registered the fact of his nudity and moved on, her attention snapping back to his face with an urgency that burned brighter than her wounds.
"You... you're healed?" she breathed, her trembling hand reaching out to press flat against his sternum, as if to confirm the solid, warm reality of him. "You were... you were charcoal, Big brother. I saw it. I felt it. How...?"
Pryce just grinned wider, completely unbothered by either his own lack of attire or his sister's intense scrutiny.
For half a second she looked like she might faint from sheer relief, her body swaying.
Then the dam exploded again.
"You idiot!" Her fists, still weak but now fueled by a tidal wave of shaking relief, resumed their assault. "You stupid, stupid idiot! Why did you leave me? Why did you throw yourself over me like some self-sacrificingmoron? I thought you were gone forever and I couldn't—I couldn't breathe without you!"
He caught her wrists gently, his fingers circling them easily, holding them still against his chest so she could feel that perfectly healed heartbeat—strong, steady, and undeniably alive. "Hey, hey—easy on the merchandise.These abs just got back from cosmic dry-cleaning. They're still a little tender."
Lulu sniffled hard, the tears still carving clean paths down the unburned side of her face while the scorched half glistened.
She didn't bother wiping them away.
She didn't even flinch at her own injuries or at the fact that her brother was buck naked in the middle of a disaster zone... she'd seen him more than allowed.
As long as he was breathing and whole again, nothing else registered.
"Why did you leave me?" she whispered again, her voice breaking into a million pieces.
Pryce searched for the right words, something profound and comforting. Then, because he was Pryce and had never once picked the right words when a moment actually called for them, he went with the absolute wrong ones instead.
"I had to run ahead and save you a prime spot in the Heaven Gardens, obviously. A sweet little soul like you deserves the good plot—front-row seat to the eternal fruit buffet, personal fairy delivery service, the whole deluxe package. I was just making sure it was prepped and ready for when your time comes… y'know, after you've lived a long, safe, non-crispy life."
Lulu stared at him, scorched lips twitching despite everything.
Then she let out a weak, watery giggle. She was used to this. Used to her brother's dark humor crashing every serious situation like an uninvited guest.
"Is it already prepped?" she asked, voice still shaky but carrying that familiar spark. "Did you get the plot with the shade trees and the extra ambrosia?"
Pryce snorted. "Turns out Heaven Gardens ain't shit. Overhyped tourist trap run by a six-winged buzzkill with zero sense of humor. The ambrosia tasted like disappointment and cheap vanilla body spray. So screw that noise."
He sat up carefully, pulling her with him so she was tucked against his side, her burned half pressed gently to him. She didn't pull away. She leaned in harder, like his warmth could fix everything.
"I'll create better ones right on these Islands for you," he declared, waving one hand vaguely at their surroundings. "Private little spots. Unlimited fruit that actually tastes like fruit. Fairies that bring snacks and don't judge your life choices. Maybe even a few heroines who know how to give a proper welcome instead of cosmic rejection soup. Way better than whatever those stuck-up celestial realtors were offering."
Lulu wiped her eyes with the back of her unburned hand, a small smile breaking through the pain. "You're such an idiot. You almost died for real and the first thing you do is complain about the afterlife catering."
"Exactly! Priorities, Lulu. A man's gotta have standards. Can't go accepting subpar eternal reward packages. That's how you end up running around a footless chicken your whole death."
She blinked, half-giggling, half-wincing from the burns. "...What?"
"You know — running around a footless chicken."
Lulu shook her head, a tired but fond look crossing her face. "It's 'running around like a headless chicken,' Pryce. Headless. Not footless."
"Pfft. Footless makes more sense. At least then you don't trip over your own feet while panicking."
Lulu let out a soft laugh despite the pain. "You're twisting proverbs again."
"Twisting? Nah. Improving. The originals were written by boring old monks who never got laid. My versions are genuis-certified. Way more accurate for real life."
He paused, then added with mock seriousness, "Like that one about the early bird flys with the worm. Total mongrel. The early bird just gets eaten by the cat that stayed up all night partying. Moral of the story: sleep in, let someone else be the worm."
Lulu rolled her eyes, still leaning into him. "It's 'the early bird catches the worm.' And the moral is usually about working hard, not sleeping in."
"Exactly why it needs fixing. Hard work just gets you eaten."
She poked his bare side gently. "You're really back? Like… really, really back? Not some ghost or angel trick?"
Pryce wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, careful not to press on the burns.
"Really, really back. Got myself a fancy new job title—champion of the Second Strongest Angel Lady. Comes with powers, a snarky divine boss, and apparently the right to complain about afterlife catering. First mission's probably saving the world or something boring, but the benefits package includes healing my annoyingly sweet little sister and giving her powers later so she doesn't have to rely on idiots like me."
Lulu's good eye widened. "Powers? For me, Big Brother?"
"Yeah. But you don't gotta be anyone's champion or wear a stupid cape. Just enough juice to kick ass and take names if anyone tries to mess with you again. Fair trade, right?"
She was quiet for a long moment, processing, then hugged him tighter, burned skin and all.
"Don't leave me again, okay? Not even to scout Heaven Gardens."
"Deal. Next time I die, I'm dragging you with me. We'll complain about the amenities together."
Lulu laughed—soft, pained, but genuine this time—and Pryce kept smiling wide and easy while the quiet, burning anger stayed carefully hidden behind his eyes.
The Thunder Saint had made being cucked really personal, huh?
Just you wait bastard.