Jennifer stared at the plate in front of her, the edges still warm from the food she’d been so eager to eat. The eggs were fluffy, the bacon crispy, and the toast perfectly buttered. Everything looked perfect, like the kind of meal she used to dream about. But the taste…

Each bite was dry and lifeless, as if the food itself had given up on trying. She chewed slowly, forcing herself to swallow, but her stomach twisted in disappointment.

She pushed the plate forward and sat back, staring at it as though willing it to have tasted better. It was more than the meal—it was the disappointment of this. She hadn’t eaten a meal like this in forever. For years, she’d survived on bland rations or quick bites that barely kept her moving. The promise of real food had seemed like a brief light in the dark, but it had fizzled out the second she tasted it.

The thought took her back, to a time when life felt just as dull and flavorless. She’d worked in a crappy shop, spending her days shelving dusty items and dealing with rude customers. Every morning, she’d drag herself out of bed, feeling like there was no point. The depression had sunk its claws deep. She barely had the energy to get through the day and didn’t want to talk to anyone. Her frustration had boiled over into a sharp, cutting rudeness, one she’d never completely shaken.

James noticed. “Not hungry?”

“It’s not that,” she muttered, pushing the plate slightly away. “It just doesn’t taste right.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Tastes fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are broken.”

Jennifer gave him a dry look. “Thanks, doctor. Real helpful.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Stress, maybe? Messes with everything.”

Jennifer leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just me. Been like that since I was working at a shop."

James set his coffee down, tilting his head. “You? In retail? Somehow, I don’t see it.”

“Why not?” she shot back.

He smirked faintly. “Because you’d scare off all the customers.”

Jennifer almost laughed but caught herself, her expression flickering. “Yeah, well, I did. I was miserable. Barely had energy to get through the day, didn’t want to talk to anyone. And when I did talk, I was rude as hell. That part’s... kind of stuck.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” James said with mock surprise. “You’re a ray of sunshine.”

Jennifer snorted, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Shut up.”

They fell into silence again, the weight of everything creeping back between them. Jennifer fiddled with her napkin, while James stared into his coffee.

“What now?” he asked eventually.

Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think going near a gate is smart until we figure out what’s going on with Henderson.”

James nodded slowly. “Yeah. Last thing we need is to get blindsided.”

The waitress approached, breaking the tension. She collected their plates, pausing as her gaze lingered on James. “You look familiar,” she said, tilting her head.

James stiffened slightly. “Do I?”

The waitress studied him, her expression sharpening with recognition. “Yeah. You... You’re Henderson’s brother, aren’t you?”

Jennifer’s hand stilled, her fingers tightening on her coffee cup. She glanced at James, whose jaw tensed before he answered. “Yeah.”

The waitress’s face softened. “I’m sorry for your loss. When I saw what they were bringing back to the Hub, I was frightened.”

Jennifer frowned, leaning forward. “You saw his corpse?”

Slayers’ bodies… They’re never covered. No matter how ruined they are. Civilians are forced to see how much slayers sacrifice for them. If not for them, they’d have to worry about gates festering, growing, and spilling monsters into the city in mass. The anti-gate spheres above the city protected them only from gates appearing within its bounds, not from monsters wandering in from the outside.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

She sighed. “It was burned all the way to the bones."

Jennifer felt a cold knot form in her stomach. Burned to the bones. Her thoughts snapped to the enforcers at the Hub, their talk of fire and a “dragon-man.” The texts made by fire, the burns she feels by the key. Fire. It wasn’t a coincidence.

James exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. His shoulders slumped, and he seemed to deflate, like a weight had just been lifted off him. “So he’s really dead,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Jennifer watched him closely. His reaction was different from what she expected—less relief, more disbelief. She leaned forward. “James?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes distant.

The waitress, sensing the tension, offered a polite nod and walked away, leaving them alone.

Jennifer stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to go to a gate,” she said. “You should come. Fighting and killing—it helps. Relieves stress.”

James looked up at her, blinking as if he’d just come out of a trance. He shook his head slowly. “He’s really dead,” he muttered again, almost as if he didn’t believe it.

Jennifer hesitated, the fire in her voice dying down. She hadn’t considered what James might be feeling. For all Henderson’s faults, he was still James’s brother. Her chest tightened with guilt. She thought of Heath, how he’d always been the one to sit with her, ask her what was wrong, and talk her through it.

She wasn’t Heath. But she could try.

“Do you…” she began, her voice softer. “Do you want to drink? To his death, I mean.”

James looked up at her, his face unreadable. “Drink?”

Jennifer scratched the back of her neck, suddenly unsure. “Yeah. I mean, people grieve in all kinds of ways, right? Even if he was a... well, an evil bastard, you still lost someone. Do you want to drink to him?”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then he let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. I think I do. I don’t even know how to feel. I always thought I’d die an old man with him still looming over me. And now he’s gone. Just... randomly. It’s... I don’t know.” He shook his head, leaning forward. “You got alcohol? It’s expensive to buy.”

Jennifer smirked faintly. “Yeah, I’ve got some. Saved up for months back when I couldn’t afford it. You’ll see.”

---

Back at her apartment, Jennifer opened the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a dusty bottle of amber liquor. She grabbed two mismatched cups from the counter and set them on the table.

James eyed the bottle. “You weren’t kidding about saving up. That thing’s ancient.”

Jennifer cracked it open, the sharp, almost medicinal smell filling the air. She poured generously into both cups, filling them to the brim.

James stared at his cup. “That’s… a lot.”

Jennifer picked up her own cup, staring into it. “I like the way it burns,” she said quietly before tipping it back and downing the entire thing in one go.

The burn hit her immediately, a sharp heat that spread down her throat and into her chest. She coughed, groaning as she slammed the empty cup onto the table.

James hesitated, then took his own cup and followed her lead. The moment the liquor hit him, he choked, doubling over as he coughed violently. “What the hell?” he rasped, his voice raw. “That’s awful.”

Jennifer grinned, her voice still raspy. “I never said it was good.”

James glared at her, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. “This isn’t funny.”

Jennifer leaned back in her chair, a small chuckle escaping her. “It is from where I’m sitting.” She paused, her expression softening. “You know, I used to wish I had someone to drink with. When I was sixteen, I’d pour two cups and pretend I was talking to someone else. Like... to feel less alone.”

James stared at her, his brow furrowing. “You must’ve been seriously lonely.”

Jennifer laughed, a short, bitter sound. But as the laughter faded, her throat tightened, and her eyes stung. She tried to fight it, but the tears came anyway, sliding down her cheeks in hot, silent streams.

Jennifer’s sobs eventually slowed, the heavy weight in her chest easing just enough for her to pull herself together. She wiped at her cheeks, sniffling, and sat up straight, avoiding James’s gaze.

“Forget that happened,” she muttered.

James leaned back slightly, his expression neutral but not unkind. “You sure? If you want to talk about it... I’m a decent listener.”

Jennifer shook her head firmly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m good,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly. “Just had a moment. Happens to everyone, right?”

James studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “If you’re sure,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t entirely believe her.

Jennifer was about to thank him for dropping the subject when a sharp, sudden heat flared across her back. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was unmistakable. The familiar burn of the Key of Everything. Her breath hitched.

Time seemed to slow.

The room dimmed, the edges of her vision blurring as the heat intensified—not painful, but insistent. It felt... directional, like the fire wasn’t just burning aimlessly but pointing her somewhere. Her body turned almost involuntarily, her head snapping toward the far wall.

The burning fire became a guiding pull.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the world snapped back to normal. The room brightened, and the faint sound of the city outside returned. Jennifer blinked, her breath shallow as she found herself staring blankly at the wall.

“Jennifer?” James’s voice broke through the haze. “You okay?”

She swallowed, nodding quickly. “Yeah,” she said, her tone too quick and unconvincing. “I’m fine. Just... need to sit for a minute.”

Her knees felt shaky as she lowered herself back into the chair. The burn hadn’t faded—in fact, it grew stronger by the second, a steady, relentless thrum against her back.

James frowned, leaning forward. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, more sharply this time, but her hand tightened around the edge of the table.

The heat continued to build. Jennifer gritted her teeth, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The Key of Everything was pulling her, urging her, and she knew from experience that ignoring it wouldn’t make it stop. But the idea of going wherever it wanted her to go filled her with dread.

She couldn’t. Not now.

James reached out tentatively. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re sweating like crazy.”

Jennifer shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just... give me a second. I’ll be fine.”