He stares at me, pulse ticking in his throat.
And then he looks away.
“Good night, Maliek,” I say softly, and turn back toward the door.
Behind me, I hear him exhale, sharp and angry. When I glance back, he’s already walking away—coat flaring, dignity trailing behind him like smoke.
Inside, the apartment lights are low. The air smells like cinnamon and soap. I kick off my boots and move quietly down the hall.
Kairo’s asleep on the couch, arm thrown over her face, a blanket half-slipped to the floor. Her breathing’s even, peaceful in a way I haven’t seen in years. I tuck the blanket back over her shoulders and brush my fingers once through her hair before heading to Ben’s room.
The door’s cracked. I nudge it open.
Ben’s still awake.
He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a small galaxy of glow-stars he’s stuck to the ceiling. A tiny Redscale plush—his handmade “Daddy?Jav”—is tucked under one arm.
He looks up when I step in. “Hey,” he whispers. “Mom said I could stay up till you came back.”
“Did she?” I sit down beside him, the mattress dipping under my weight.
“Yeah.” He yawns. “She said you had to talk to a not-nice grown-up.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say, smiling.
Ben tilts his head. “Was it about me?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, kiddo. It was.”
He studies me for a moment with that too-old look he gets sometimes, the one that reminds me he’s Kairo’s child through and through—seeing everything, missing nothing.
“Did I do something bad?”
“No,” I say quickly. “You did everything right. You’re perfect, Ben. I just had to remind someone else of that.”
He nods, half-satisfied, then flops backward and stares up at the glowing stars. “Mom said I can ask you anything now.”
My throat feels thick. “She did?”
“Uh-huh.”
He rolls onto his side, facing me. “What’s it like? Being grolgath?”
I blink. “That’s a big question for bedtime.”
He shrugs. “I’m a big kid.”
I laugh softly. “Fair point.”
I lean back, propping myself on one arm. “Being grolgath is… complicated. It means I’m stronger than most folks. Heal faster. It also means I come from people who weren’t always kind. We used to solve everything with claws and fire. But we learned—slowly—that power’s just another tool. It’s what youdowith it that matters.”
He listens, eyes wide. “Do I have claws too?”
“Maybe someday,” I say, smiling. “Or maybe you’ll get your mom’s gift for words instead. Either way, you’re gonna be unstoppable.”
He frowns a little. “Can I be both?”
That question hits somewhere deep.
