Held in Hushed Shadows

A week passed like a fevered dream. The city, its constant hum, its sirens, its flashing lights, was now nothing more than a shadow in the rearview mirror. Kaizel had driven them far from it all, leaving the concrete jungle behind in exchange for open sky and the sound of wind through trees.

The new house sat on a quiet hill, encased by nature, surrounded by an impenetrable perimeter wall masked as rolling hedges and vibrant flora. It looked peaceful, idyllic even, but beneath its serene exterior, security pulsed like a hidden heartbeat. Cameras were tucked into corners of trees, thermal sensors lined the gates, and a discreet team of guards rotated shifts, never leaving a single blind spot.

He needed it to be safe. He needed it to be home.

Astrith's laughter echoed from the backyard, bright and alive as she darted across the green grass. Her small hands clutched a butterfly net while bubbles floated through the air like soft, glowing orbs. Xavion stood not far, dressed in a loose sweater and joggers, watching her with a distant kind of fondness in his eyes.

Kaizel leaned against the glass door from the kitchen, sipping black coffee, letting the steam fog his glasses for a moment before wiping it away. His gaze shifted between them, Astrith glowing with joy, and Xavion quiet, a presence so constant it had become calming.

And yet, his thoughts weren't quiet.

He was still haunted by the last attack.

That night replayed in his mind like a cursed lullaby. No weapons. No signs of breach. No trail left behind. It had been so precise, so clean, so impossible. Like a phantom slipped through reality.

He hadn't told Astrith. Not yet. He wasn't ready.

Instead, he buried himself in building something real for them.

The house was perfect. Five bedrooms. A study. A playroom designed with input from a child psychologist, colorful walls, sensory toys, a climbing wall, a reading nook shaped like a castle turret. The backyard boasted a heated pool and a pond teeming with koi, their colors flickering like living jewels.

Still, none of it soothed the unease in Kaizel's chest.

That evening, after Astrith had gone to bed, tucked in with a new picture book and a night light shaped like a fox, Kaizel found himself in the living room again. The fire crackled. Xavion sat curled on the sofa, legs folded beneath him, hands clasped around a mug of peppermint tea.

Kaizel took the seat beside him, dropping a folder onto the coffee table with a dull thud.

"Still nothing." He rubbed at his eyes. "No weapon left behind. No entry marks. No indication of how they got past security. Whoever pulled off that attack, they're a ghost."

Xavion didn't look surprised. He simply sipped his tea.

Kaizel's voice lowered, as if the walls could hear. "Was it you? The one who fought them off?"

Xavion blinked. He set his mug down and tilted his head slightly.

"Just... just nod," Kaizel said, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. "Was it you that night?"

A pause.

Xavion didn't move.

Not even a blink.

Kaizel stared, the silence between them stretching thin like glass.

Then, Kaizel hesitated, voice almost too soft to hear. "Can I hear your voice again?"

Still, Xavion didn't respond.