"I know," he said softly, meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry I worried you. Both of you."
The word 'both' seemed to puncture her anger. The rigid tension in her shoulders eased a fraction. She looked away, focusing on a non-existent speck of dust on the sofa. "You are covered in grime from that barbaric mountain outpost. Your suit is ruined. Go shower. I have laid out fresh clothes in the storage room. After, you will eat. You look pale."
It was a command, but it was also care. Her version of it.
"Yes, Eryndra," Xylon said, a faint smile touching his lips.
He retreated to the storage room—his room. True to her word, a set of clean, simple clothes was folded neatly on the cot: dark trousers and a gray, long-sleeved tunic of soft, durable fabric. They were not military issue, but civilian clothes of good quality. A small, personal touch.
The shower was a revelation, washing away not just the dust and sweat of Zenith's Reach, but the clinging fear of the storage bay. The cut on his cheek stung under the water, a sharp reminder of his mortality. As he dressed, he checked his System interface.
Xylon Enderwood
Level: Dormant
Aether Core: Null
Achievement Points: 37
Chaos Points: 0
Shop Unlock Progress: 50%
Stats:
Strength: 14
Agility: 13
Endurance: 15
Perception: 11
Willpower: 12
The 25 points from 'Exposed Corruption' were there. A small fortune. He stared at the Shop progress. Halfway. What would it offer? Weapons? Skills? Knowledge? The System remained silent, a tool without a voice, its purpose still shrouded.
When he emerged, clean and in the new clothes, he found the small dining table set. A steaming bowl of soup sat at one place, accompanied by thick slices of fresh, dark bread and a small dish of butter. Eryndra was not in sight.
He sat and ate. The soup was a hearty vegetable and barley broth, rich and deeply satisfying. The bread was still warm from the oven, its crust crackling. It was the first proper meal he'd had since leaving, and it grounded him in a way nothing else could.
He was halfway through the bread when Eryndra silently entered the room. She had changed as well. She now wore a simpler, pale blue dress made of soft wool, functional yet elegant. It was still clearly a maid's dress, but less formal than her regalia. Her hair was down, falling in a soft, silvery cascade over her shoulders. The chain was still there, but she had tucked it inside the dress's high collar, mostly hiding it.
She picked up his discarded travel satchel and began methodically unpacking it, brushing dust from the fabric, checking the contents.
"She is still at the command debrief," Eryndra said without looking at him. "It will be lengthy. They will dissect every second of your time there. They will try to find an error, a breach of protocol, to diminish the victory."
"Will they succeed?" Xylon asked.
"Not if I can help it," she said, her voice low and determined. She pulled out the Aether-Nullification Charm, now inert, its subtle glow gone. She held it up, examining it. "You used this. It worked."
"It saved my life. It created the dampening field that let me scan the cores without being detected by the bay's sensors."
Eryndra nodded, a flash of something like professional approval in her eyes. "Good." She placed the charm aside carefully. "Your actions were chaotic, but the outcome was optimal. You protected her. You validated her authority in a foreign command. That has value beyond the cores themselves."
She finished unpacking and turned to face him fully. The vulnerability from earlier was gone, replaced by her familiar, calculating intensity. "Now, we must plan. The Stromveil family will react. This success is a problem for them. They preferred you as a mysterious null, a potential embarrassment to be managed. Now, you are the aide who helped uncover a Draxmor plot. You have measurable worth. They will either try to co-opt you or remove you."
Xylon felt a chill. "Remove?"
"Transfer to a 'more suitable' unit on the front lines. An 'accident' during a Chaos Beast patrol. The methods are numerous." She crossed her arms. "Your protection is your connection to Astraxion, and the fact your success is now a matter of record. But records can be lost. We must make you more indispensable. More visible to powers outside the Stromveil influence."
"How?"
"You need to awaken your Aether Core," Eryndra stated bluntly.
Xylon stared at her. "I'm a null. The System says it's null. Lyn confirmed it."
"The System is a mystery. But null is not the same as absent. Your unique signature defies scanning. That does not mean nothing is there. It may mean something is there that standard scans cannot perceive." She stepped closer, her blue eyes boring into his. "You have been training. Your physical stats are improving without Aether enhancement, which is unusual. You survived an encounter with a trained operative. There is potential. It must be forced to the surface."
"Forced? How?"
"Pressure. Crisis. The border is a place of constant crisis. When Astraxion returns, we will petition—she will petition—to have you assigned to active field training with the unit, not just base drills. You will join patrols. You will face Chaos Beasts. In that crucible, with your life on the line, your core may respond." Her tone was clinical, but her eyes burned with a fervent hope. "You must become strong. Not just for your story, but for ours. To be the shield she needs. To be the… the third pillar."
The third pillar. The words hung in the air. It was the closest she had come to openly acknowledging the future she secretly dreamed of—the three of them, together.
Before Xylon could respond, the front door chimed and opened. Astraxion walked in.
She looked utterly drained. The formal uniform was still perfect, but she moved with a slow, heavy grace. She placed her captain's hat on the entry table and began unbuttoning her stiff jacket with deliberate, tired motions.
Eryndra was at her side in an instant, her demeanor shifting from strategic mastermind to devoted caretaker. "Let me," she murmured, gently brushing Astraxion's hands aside and finishing the buttons. She helped slide the jacket off, revealing the simpler white undershirt beneath. "Sit. I will make tea."
Astraxion allowed herself to be guided to the sofa. She sank into it, closing her eyes. "It was as we predicted," she said, her voice muffled by exhaustion. "Two hours of questioning. Praise for the result, scrutiny of every decision. The political officer, a man named Jax, was particularly interested in you, Xylon. Your 'uncanny insight.' He suggested a more thorough background investigation might be prudent."