We stumble through together, him holding me up, me keeping him solid through touch. The portal closes behind us, sealing away the Collector's dead realm.
We collapse on the floor of his study, our study, still clinging to each other. Both changed. Both depleted. Both alive.
He presses his forehead to mine. "We need to stop almost dying."
"Agreed. It's exhausting."
I can sense his relief, his wonder at his new form, his gratitude mixed with frustration at my stubbornness. I send back exhaustion, satisfaction, and the absolute certainty that I'd do it again.
We stay there on the floor, too tired to move, existing in the space between what we were and what we're becoming.
NEZAVEK
Three weeks later, I wake to the sound of books hitting the floor.
Not literally, books can't die, but the way Yorika is reorganizing my study sounds destructive. Thuds. Scrapes. The occasional curse when she encounters one of my floating volumes that refuses to be shelved.
"What are you doing to my sanctuary?" I ask from the doorway.
She doesn't even look up from where she's kneeling, sorting texts into piles that make no sense to me. "Improving it."
"It was perfect."
"It was chaos. You had books on dimensional theory mixed with poetry from dead worlds mixed with what appears to be a cooking manual for beings that eat light."
"That's a very valuable manual."
"You don't eat light."
"I might want to learn."
She looks up at me then, hair falling across her face. My shadow tendrils manifest and gently pull it back, beginning to braid. She doesn't even pause anymore when they touch her, just continues sorting while my shadows arrange her hair.
"Tea?" I offer.
"Please."
I move to the small kitchen area we've added to the study, her innovation, since humans apparently need constant hydration. The silver veins in my hands pulse with warmth as I heat the water. A week ago, I discovered I could actually make things hot now, not just cold. The tea doesn't turn to ice the moment I touch it.
Progress.
"Why do humans need to eat so often?" I ask, watching her work. "You just ate yesterday."
"That was dinner. It's now morning. Different meal."
"But you're not damaged. Why do you need to repair yourself with food?"
"It's not repair, it's fuel." She accepts the tea from me, and I've learned exactly how she likes it. Strong enough to wake the dead, sweet enough to make her smile. The temperature is perfect. It's always perfect now. The one human thing I've mastered completely. "Like you absorbing void energy, but more often and with taste."
"Seems inefficient."
"Says the being who used to dissolve every few hours."
"That was a medical condition."
She laughs, and the sound changes the entire atmosphere of the study. "Come help me. Your organizational system makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense. Everything is arranged by the emotional resonance of acquisition."
