He doesn't speak right away. But his jaw ticks.
"Morning," he says carefully, silver eyes still taking in the scene.
"Coffee's fresh," Gray offers, not looking up from the eggs he's dividing between plates.
Thane nods but doesn't move toward the pot. Instead, he lingers near the doorway, watching us with that assessing gaze that makes me feel like he's cataloging everything for some report I'll never see.
Stellan appears behind him, and the temperature in the room seems to shift.
Not dramatically. Not dangerously. Just... different.
He leans in the doorway, gray eyes sweeping the kitchen with something I can't identify. When his gaze lands on me, it's not sharp or hungry—it's unreadable. And I hate how much that unsettles me.
"Good morning," he says, voice carrying that familiar edge of amusement.
But the amusement doesn't reach his eyes. And when I offer him coffee, he doesn't quite meet my gaze.
"Morning," I manage, tugging the sweatshirt down a little like it'll help. It doesn't.
"It's more than I expected," he says quietly, still watching me.
"What is?"
He gestures vaguely at the kitchen, at the perfectly brewed coffee and magically stocked pantry and the way everyone moves around each other like pieces of a puzzle finding their places.
"This," he says. "All of it."
There's something in his tone that makes my stomach clench. Not quite approval, not quite concern. Something heavier.
Breakfast proceeds with careful conversation—Jace making observations about magical appliances, Wes inhaling food like he hasn't eaten in days, Theo quietly helping clear plates while catching my eye with small, encouraging smiles. Rhett positions himself where he can see all the exits, still protective even here. Normal things that feel surreal in this ancient place that's rearranging itself around my subconscious.
Stellan barely eats. Doesn’t talk much, either, though I can feel something strange in the room—like the energy is humming just beneath the surface. Jace’s laughter, Wes’s restlessness, the warmth between everyone else… itshouldfeel like enough. But Stellan just watches, like none of it touches him
He brushes past me to refill his coffee, and the distance feels deliberate. Like the kitchen is too warm for him.
Instead, he watches. Catalogues. Pulls away.
When the last plate is cleared and conversations start to wind down, he stands.
Thane’s still near the wall, arms crossed. Watching. Still.
The room goes quiet.
“I’ll be leaving this morning,” Stellan says, smooth and matter-of-fact.
My coffee mug stops halfway to my lips. “What?”
He sets the cup down with quiet precision. “There are things I need to tend to. Council threads to pull before they tighten.”
There’s no tension in his voice, but something about the phrasing lands wrong.
“Now?” I ask.
“It’s better if I’m not here for what comes next.” His smile is faint and polished. “You’ve made this place yours. The rest of it doesn’t need me.”
“Stellan.” I rise without thinking. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He cuts me off gently. “But I’m going anyway.”
