The Hunter crossed his arms. “I need a favor, Sybil.”
The girl—Sybil—didn’t hesitate. She moved to slam the door, but the Hunter's boot had already wedged in the gap, stopping it cold. Elara shot him a look, one brow lifting. His jaw tightened in response.
“You really do have a knack for showing up when you’re least wanted,” Sybil muttered, glaring at him.
“Charming as ever,” the Hunter shot back, a slow smile curling his lips. “I’d hate to think you’ve gotten too fond of the quiet life.”
Sybil's gaze flicked to Elara—curious, wary—before settling back on him. "The last time you needed a favor, I nearly lost my life, my home,andmy sanity."
He leaned against the doorframe, completely unfazed. “And yet, here you are. Still standing. Stronger. Wiser. Really, you should be thanking me.”
Sybil snorted but finally swung the door wide, allowing them in. “I’ll be sure to send you a thank-you note when I’m buried under the rubble of your next disaster.”
Elara slipped past the Hunter, eyes immediately drawn to the cramped hallway cluttered with odd trinkets, dusty books stacked haphazardly to the ceiling. The place reeked of ether—old, layered ether, the kind that settled into the very walls.
Sybil shut the door with a click before her eyes slid over to Elara, sizing her up like she was something to be toyed with. "And who’s the little stray you’ve picked up this time?"
Before he could answer, Elara straightened her spine, and forced the words out, refusing to let her nerve falter. "I’m Elara. And I wasn’t aware we were handing out pet names already. Should I come up with one for you?"
Sybil’s smirk deepened, her eyes flickering with amusement. "Well, aren’t you a little firecracker?"
Elara’s glare hardened as the Hunter’s mouth twitched.
“She’s tougher than she looks.”
Sybil glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly before she nodded. “Good. You’ll need to be if you want to keep up with that one. His idea of help usually ends with half a city burning or a knife at someone’s throat—most of the time,mine.”
“And yet,” he replied, stepping down the hallway, “you always let me in.”
"Call it morbid curiosity," Sybil sighed, leading him past a maze of piled books. "I keep hoping natural selection will catch up with you."
His smile widened. “Always knew you cared.”
Elara's hand darted out before she could stop herself, fingers gripping his arm—a solid band of muscle that tensed instantly under her touch. Heat flushed her cheeks as she released him just as quickly, the brief contact leaving a tingling imprint on her skin as she leaned in. “This is yourfriend?”
The Hunter’s eyes closed for a beat—just as Sybil started cackling. “Is that what he told you?” She stopped and crossed her arms, facing him head-on. “Embarrassed of me, cousin?”
Cousin?
“Sib—” he started, but she waved a hand dismissively.
“Forget it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes again. “I don’t care either way.”
Sybil turned the corner and disappeared, leaving Elara standing there, awkward and out of place. The Hunter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before trailing after her.
Elara shifted on her feet, her skin prickling. She didn’t know where to look, what to do with her hands. It felt like she was intruding, witnessing something she had no right to see. But what else was there to do?
She followed, her steps slow as she took in the narrow hallway that opened into a cramped cottage. The walls were a patchwork of peeling plaster and splintered beams, some barely holding on as if a strong gust could send the whole place collapsing. Sybil and the Hunter’s voices drifted back, their bickering a constant hum in the background.
Elara still couldn’t wrap her head around it—the Hunter like this. The man she’d seen in the alley, who cut soldiers down without a second thought, without hesitation… that was the man she knew. Cold. Calculated. Deadly. Not this… almost normal, interaction with a...cousin.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, restless. The entire dynamic left her feeling off balance, like she’d missed a step, and now she was waiting for the fall.
Sybil led them into a crowded living room that was barely that—a space swallowed by shelves crammed with jars of strange ingredients: dried herbs, twisted roots, and bones that seemed far too large to be human. Broken furniture was shoved into the corners, abandoned and forgotten. The massive wooden table inthe center dominated the room, covered in scattered vials and instruments, more a makeshift lab than a living space.
“Sit,” Sybil commanded, waving lazily toward the two stools at the table. Elara hesitated, her gaze flicking to the Hunter. He gave a slight nod, and she followed his lead, perching on the edge of the stool.
Sybil leaned back, crossing her arms. “So, what kind of calamity are you dumping on me this time?”
