"Hehhch! Eraow!"

Both humans snap their heads forward to where they last saw Bamboo; somewhere within the darkness stretching to the nearest street lamp. Squinting and heart skittering, Thea struggles to make out anything through tear-warped vision.

It's useless.

Before she can make sense of warbling shadows, the air between ex-priest and monk begins to swirl. Light and space fold end-over-end. Around a pulsing, pitch-black, spherical center. It's mesmerizing; painful. Yet, Thea can't shift her gaze.

Nostalgia rushes through her mind. A feeling of familiarity and calm and desire; a feeling of need. To slip inside that pitch-black core and return home. To return—

W-wait, what? Why does it feel so—

Air splits in a deafening crack.

For an instant, the entire gravel lot stands in stark white. Car husks, elm trees, the far off buildings. Pure and colorless. They'd be without form if not for sharp shadows falling off their facets to cut swaths from reality.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Afterimages burn in Thea's mind. She blinks, but she can still see everything just as it was. Black and white. Over tens of seconds, the images fade and she can see again. Bamboo bristles between their chairs — her fur raised to needles and emerald eyes piercing into the darkness ahead.

Thea follows her gaze.

Between the two elm trees, a shadow shifts. A human shadow. Moving closer. Thea's heart hammers in her ears, blocking out wind and word. Elia?

The figure's silhouette doesn't quite match Elia's. Less stocky. Their hair might pass: long and gathered into a bun. Though, it doesn't hang. It sits atop the figure's head, a quarter the size.

There's something about it. Tugs at a memory; a person. Thea works her mind and tries to reel whatever — whoever — it is to the surface.

Frank raps a knuckle against her knee. "Your boss's shop is closed, right?"

The memory feels close. So close. Like it's darting past, just beneath unbroken water. "Yeah. Closed. A couple hours ago." She says, offhand.

He pats her leg and rises from his chair. "Weird; I'll go talk to them. Just watch my back from here, alright?"

Water parts; her stomach falls. No. How? How would he be here?

She scrambles to her feet and — balance unsteady — she claws after Frank. Her fingers tangle into his habit's sleeve. "Stop!" She says, yanking Frank back. "It's him."

Frank's brow furrows, but he lets Thea pull him back. "Who?"

She stumbles to her seat and plucks her cane off the ground. "From the aquarium. Waylon."

"Aquarium? What aquarium? What's wrong?"