Odaix’s resignation letter was rejected. They didn’t even give her a passing glance before telling her no. She couldn’t even transfer. She was just stuck there, under the thumb of some messed up healer. Mihr wasn’t a healer though, he couldn’t be. It was unexplainable how he was a healer and he killed.

When she had tried to file her resignation letter or request for a transfer they had handed her orders to the hole in the wall they currently were at. Mihr hadn’t offered any explanation; he seemed to prefer ignoring her existence. He just strolled straight up and into the house without even pausing.

Odaix had followed at a much slower pace. She kept trying to figure out the what and where and why on the building they were sent to. Mihr got dragged away and Odaix got sent to a chair in what seemed to be a living room. So she sat down and waited.

And waited.

And she still waits, thrumming her fingers on the padded chair’s arm rest. It had been close to an hour since Mihr vanished. The only reason she was able to deduce that it was a hospital was because of the lady sitting next to her.

Ivory was the name she had given when she plopped down next to Odaix. It’s a joke, for my skin she had said. Then she reached over and pressed her hand against Odaix’s head and made a humming noise. Odaix had startled, flinched away and stared over at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry, habit from work.” Ivory swung a smirk in Odaix’s direction before she pulled back and leaned against the chair. So they both just sat there in this clinging silence and waited.

“So. Uhm, you’re a-“ Odaix gestures in the air, trying to find something to do with her hands. She couldn’t just sit still and wait, the pads of her fingers already tingling from the incessant tapping.

“The name is Ivory. I’m a black magic, type leech.” Ivory’s grin is a crooked one as she offers up her hand. Odaix stares at it, a brief moment of hesitation before she reaches out to shake the offered hand.

“Odaix. Black magic, type possessor.” A timid smile graces her lips as she looks at Ivory. Ivory is all cool smiles and slanted eyes as she gives a hum and pulls back her hand.

“You work with a white magic, don’t you?”

“Wha- how did you know?” Odaix cocks her head to the side.

“Have you been feeling any symptoms?” Ivory ignores her completely. She leans forward, her fingers tracing patterns in the armrest.

“Symptoms?”

“Headaches, random blood loss or not clotting, nausea, bruising, vertigo, exhaustion or insomnia are the common symptoms. For the disease.” Ivory waves her fingers as if she was explaining the obvious. “So do you have any? You’ve been working with your partner for what… a week or two?”

“Um- ten days? Why are you-“

Ivory speaks right over Odaix, “So symptoms? They are wanting to get an idea on how frequently you’ll need to see a leech; especially with how Mihr is always radiating the disease. It doesn’t seem like your levels are too high. You might have some resistance to it.”

Ivory reaches over to touch Odaix’s forehead again. “Mihr has resistance to your magic; might be because of how much white magic he has though. There’s all sorts of theories on-“

Odaix jerks away, pressing herself as far into the seat as she can to get away from the intrusive touch. “Uh- What- Are you a doctor or something?”

“I’m a contract leech. For the last time, have you experienced any symptoms yet?” Ivory pulls away, straightening up and the smile drops from her face.

“I- Some nausea, I guess? And… pain? I-“

“You guess? Have you ever been affected by the disease before?”

“Once when it first started-“

“Let me guess, you nearly died. Placebo effect. You know he’s a white magic so your mind is working against you and telling you that you should feel certain symptoms. Have you had any bouts of bleeding in the past ten days?” Ivory interrupts in a flurry.

“I think I’d-“ Odaix stops, swallowing down the words before saying, “No.”

“Not even a nosebleed?”

Odaix fidgets, eyes darting to the side as she hums her confirmation.

“Great.” Ivory claps her hands once before giving Odaix a grin and continuing, “I’ll let them know to wait another ten days before treating you. 20 or 30 days between a visit is a good timeframe; especially since your partner needs to come in semi-frequently anyways.”

“Er, why would we-“ Odaix fiddles with her fingers and tried to find the words because-

Why would she wait to be cured? Why wait for symptoms to show up and then fix her. Why-

Ivory answered the unasked question without prompting, “You won’t always have a leech available, so it’s better to figure out the limits now rather than wait for you to fall into a coma later.”

Odaix would rather not even have that chance. It was a risk she’d never willingly take, something she never wanted to relive. “What if-“

“Anyways, it seems you aren’t allergic to white magic so that’s a good thing.” Another grin is flashed in Odaix’s direction before Ivory is standing up. “I’ll be reporting to the others. We may or may not see each other again, but it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Ivory is holding out her hand again, as if Odaix would count the entire experience as nice and welcome. She doesn’t. Odaix doesn’t even move a muscle, just stares up at the leech.

Ivory just waits with that awful cheery smile of hers until Odaix relents and shakes the offered hand again.

“It-“ A frown twists Odaix’s features before she forces out the words, “Nice to meet you as well.” It wasn’t, not really. She’d have been happier sitting in silence in the living room that was an actual waiting room.

Ivory doesn’t seem to notice as she releases Odaix’s hand and leaves Odaix to the solitude of the room. Odaix doesn’t move from her corner of the couch for the longest time. The only reason she changes position was because her left arm began to go numb with pins and needles teasing her delicate flesh.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, waiting for the unknown. Well, not completely unknown. She’s waiting for Mihr, but why they were at the hospital was unknown.

All they’ve done for the past ten days was paperwork. That’s it. Mihr would throw files at her while she wrote up her resignation letter and he’d be browsing through piles of folders himself.

Cross referencing, he’d called it. Getting to know your suspects, their crimes. He said it was easier to pinpoint locations and times that way and with comparing the magic used to the magic users in record you could figure out the correct identities from there.

It was a waste of time is what it was.

Outside of the initial nightmare, Mihr was… normal. Boring. A stickler for research and knowledge because knowledge is power. If it wasn’t for that first day, Odaix wouldn’t have been trying so hard to resign or be transferred.

She wouldn’t be looking at every suspect and seeing a grave.

Some of them were for minor things, like stealing a pack of cigarettes or for a human going AWOL while drafted into the CME. Some weren’t so minor, the serial robber that Mihr had asked about when they were dealing with Jaquin for example.

Dealing with. Such a nice way of saying murdering.

But, there was no reason for the orders they got to come here of all places. Maybe it was for the leech to check them out, but Ivory didn’t even do anything and-

She had said something. Something about Mihr and having semi-frequent visits to the hospitals and-

And-

Mihr’s walking out. He’s standing tall with his chin lifted. As if he was the strongest, and maybe he was. She saw what he could do with a touch, what could beat that?

Not Odaix. She’d crumble against that kind of power. And the fact that it came from such a small, delicate body? Unimaginable.

There’s a doctor next to him, she’s got her head bowed and Odaix can barely make out her lips moving. Telling him something, but she doesn’t have the faintest idea what it could be.

“Odaix.” Mihr’s voice rings out and Odaix is on her feet within seconds.

“Are we done?” She hopes they are. She wants to leave, to escape the cozy little waiting room and get away from the never ending boredom of sitting in silence. Her mind whirls, thoughts flying in and out. She just wants to get away.

“Yes.”

“We still need to-“ It’s the doctor talking, she’s got a frown on her face and holds her clipboard like a shield that could protect her.

“I can do it.” Mihr doesn’t even sound snappy. The words are all flat, like a robot was speaking them.

“That’s what fucked up your knee to begin with. If you would just let Dr. Anderson look at it-“ The doctor bites out, her frown deepening even more.

“What’s wrong with your knee?” Odaix didn’t even notice anything and-

They didn’t even do anything. How could he injure himself?

“Nothing. Everything is fine.” There’s a twitch of Mihr’s eye before, “Thank you for your assistance doctor.”

Mihr heads out the door before the doctor can even say anything else. Whatever words were hanging on her tongue dying as the door swings shut.

“Um- sorry about- Is there anything...?” Odaix inches towards the door, giving her best apologetic smile. The doctor simply stares at her before shaking her head,

“Have a good day Ms. Ianoth.”

Mihr didn’t even wait for Odaix. As soon as she exits the large house she has to run to catch up with the small man. Mihr doesn’t even acknowledge her when she does catch up. He just keeps walking without faltering once.

“What’s wrong with your knee?”

He gives her a side glance, doll-like face frozen into something akin to forced politeness. “What do you remember of Nasei?”

Odaix blinks, biting her lip as she tries to figure where the nearby town fits in with what she was asking. There’s nothing, only-

“You said that the serial thief might be heading this way?” It still has nothing to do with his knee though.

“Did you look into why at all?” There’s a bite to his monotone now. As if some great weight has been put upon him without his consent. Odaix grits her teeth at the thought. It wasn’t like she wasn’t trying.

“I- Because they’ve been striking near Heisenworth and Nasei seems like the most likely target.” The words escape in a rush, as if she has to prove herself. She doesn’t though, she doesn’t even want to be here. But…

“Anything else?” Back to monotone. He still doesn’t even glance at her.

“Uhm, I- Because…” Odaix frowns and shoves her hands into her pocket. There’s nothing really. All she can think of is paper after paper depicting crimes or suspects. They all blur together, mixing into one chaitic mess.

How could she remember one specific file out of the hundreds Mihr had her skim through?

“It’s his hometown?” Her voice sounds weak even to her ears.

“Just say you don’t know if you don’t know.” The bite is back and Mihr walks slightly faster to the stables.

“I don’t know.” Odaix accepts her defeat with a bow of the head. The mumbled words are fed straight to the ground.

“He’s been doing a counter clockwise circle on the towns around Heisenworth. Three nights ago he hit Sindersen so he should be hitting Nasei or the next town over next. We are only checking to see if any new faces showed up in town and then cross referencing them to the information we currently have.”

“Oh.”

Mihr simply gives a hum.

The little hospital wasn’t too far from Nasei. The sun didn’t even dip at all during the journey.

Mihr was stubbornly hunkered over the horse; his small frame struggling to fight against the jarring movement of the creature. Odaix still marveled on how such a small man, boy really, could even ride a full grown horse.

She struggled herself and she was taller than the other by at least half a foot.

Nasei itself was a small town. Mom and pop shops littered the main road with some of the monopolies lurking in the background. There’s trees and bushes lining the busy dirt road that were filled with horses, wagons, and pedestrians. For such a small place it was loud, filled with chatter and laughter.

“Where are we going?” Odaix broke the stifling silence as she leaned further into her horse. Mihr doesn’t so much as flinch from the sudden noise.

“There’s a news shop further up.”

“Why would go there?” The horses begin to slow. Mihr guides his horse to a clearing near the side of the road with Odaix following behind like a baby duck.

“You can find a lot of information there.” Mihr stumbles as he hits the ground and drags the horse reins down with him.

“On an arsonist thief? Wouldn’t the police be better?”

“It’s not just information on the thief we will be looking for.” His words are more clipped and he’s glaring at the horse. The poor creature just stands there with its head tilted to get leeway from the reins.

“Plus, the news shop here is also their grocer. Small towns usually don’t have the land to separate everything like the cities.”

The horses ended up getting tied to one of the trees near the clearing. Odaix shiftily eyeing the tied reins and asking, “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Do you want to pay for a space in the stables for a few hours?” Mihr doesn’t even look back. He’s already charging ahead and leaving Odaix to fend for herself.

One last look at the horses and Odaix trails behind Mihr on the way to the news shop. It’s not that far from where they tied up the horses; no where near long enough for the silence between them to start suffocating Odaix.

The news shop is this large glass building with newspapers lining the window. There’s even a tv in one corner with images playing across it. As Mihr neared it the image dissolved into static before flickering back to life once he passed it.

A bell rings as they open the door and they’re greeted by a shouted,

“Welcome to Nicks!”

The entire place is lit by lamps, newspapers lining the first row before dissolving into aisles of food and other miscellaneous things. In one of the back corners Odaix spots the owner of the voice; an older man that gives them a slight wave.

Mihr doesn’t even pause as he makes a beeline straight to one of shelves with newspapers on it. Odaix hesitates, eyes flickering from the old man to Mihr.

She was probably expected to help Mihr with whatever he was looking for but… She liked talking to people. It beats reading musty papers anyways. She didn’t even know what Mihr was looking for. Everything in the newspapers they should already know.

Another glance at the old man and it seems he lost interest in his new customers. Instead he was talking avidly to another man. Mihr on the other hand was starting to pull out newspaper after newspaper.

It feels like dragging concrete when Odaix makes her way over to Mihr. He doesn’t even notice her presence, simply continues to browse the titles and grabbing them at random. Nothing that seems like it would be the slightest bit productive.

She grabs one as well, one on the top shelf with the bold words of NEPHLIM PROTESTOR MURDERED.

“Not that one. Get January 4th, I already went through the 13th. Nothing of interest happened.” Odaix jumps at the soft voice.

“O-okay. Which- ah.” Mihr taps the right hand corner of the newspaper before she even finishes asking the question.

“Pay more attention.” Is all Mihr says before he goes back to his hoard of papers. Odaix’s shoulders slump, pouting before she scans over the newspaper dates.

January 4th was a boring one on the cover. The cover was about some school science fair, first place going to an experiment on the disease and how it interacted with plants. The second page though-

GHOST CONFIRMED DEAD it displayed in big bold letters. She knew that name; saw it scribbled on several of the pages Mihr had given her earlier in the week and everyone knew about the serial killer.

She glances over at Mihr, certain that he’d already read this newspaper if it had such big news on one of his cases. There’s no way he hadn’t. Not with his obsessive need to read every article.

She bites her lip, gives one more shifty glance over at Mihr before skimming through the article. Mihr and Malakai Detrann (deceased) were investigating the serial killer known as Ghost, it began. Odaix chanced another peek at Mihr before skipping through the paragraph.

Basically, Mihr had reported both his partner’s death and Ghost thanks to natural causes in the wastelands further west. No bodies were found, but it was the wastelands. Even Odaix, who came from the southern east parts, knew that place was a death trap.

Mihr was the sole survivor though.

Doctors kill people too.

It’d be so easy just for Mihr to kill his partner and no one would suspect a thing. He could-

“That’s because of stupidity.” Odaix jumps, head jerking up to stare at Mihr who was hovering next to her. His pale eyes were trained down at the article. “There’s a time to give chase, and a time to just wait. Stupidity is charging in without knowing.”

He looks up at her before saying, “I’m not going to be your crutch. If you want to be stupid, I’ll let you be stupid. I won’t be stupid with you though.” Mihr’s voice is cold, like a sheet of ice.

Odaix fears she could slip on it. Slide and crash into the ice. She fears that it’d break under her weight and she’d drown. She swallows before croaking out, “Oh. Um.”

He stares for a second longer before, “Go talk to the clerk. See if there is anything worth knowing.”

“I can help-“

“No, you can’t.” Mihr snatches the newspaper out of Odaix’s hand before turning away and going towards the beginning of the aisle.

Odaix just stares after him. Her fingers twitch and she takes a step after Mihr because she can help. She can. He told her not to though. He brushed her away and-

She turns and heads towards the back with her shoulders slumped. It was what she originally wanted, but-

She could help.

The clerk is still talking to the same man. He’s not gesturing anymore, instead he’s more akin to a cardboard cutout. His smile twitches as he turns to Odaix and says,

“If you could, please give us a few minutes and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Um, I actually don’t want anything. I was just-“

“In a moment.” The man’s voice is harsh, the smile dropping as he stares at Odaix. Odaix raises a hand, the words to argue at the tip of her tongue before she swallows them.

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you over when we are done.” He gives a slight smile.

The man across from the clerk just offers a shrug before returning his attention back to the clerk. Odaix is left twiddling her thumbs, leaning against one of the aisles as she peeks over at the clerk and the man.

She doesn’t even know what all she’s going to ask the man so maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was preoccupied. Mihr probably didn’t even expect her to get anything useful out of the clerk. If he did, he would have made sure he was at least there.

Whatever they were talking about, the clerk did not look pleased at all. Maybe the talks were on returning something or the man was accusing the clerk of stocking expired items. Maybe it was personal or-

It didn’t really matter what the two were talking about. She just hoped it wouldn’t leave the clerk in a bad mood.

Which, was likely a lost cause already.

It wouldn’t be the first time she had to juggle a conversation around someone who was miffed. Wouldn’t be the last either.

She could just-

“Leave. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” The voice echoes in the shop so loud that even the walls shake. It’s the clerk, he’s standing tall with the fiercest scowl. His hands are fists pressed tightly against his pants.

The man doesn’t even flinch, just lowers his head and says something Odaix doesn’t catch. He leans his weight onto the counter between them as he talks.

“Last warning, leave.” The clerk reaches for something underneath the counter.

Odaix takes a step forward, words tickling the tip of her tongue but suddenly there’s a cold hand gripping her arm.

There’s a spark, the air flickers-

The man leans closer to the clerk and reaches his hand out-

Mihr is behind her, his delicate fingers encasing her arm in a fragile hold that could shatter like glass at the slightest hint of force.

If she wanted to, she could watch as his hold splintered off into tiny shards of glass. She could just move, jerk her arm out of those delicate fingers and step forward.

She could.

Glass breaks skin though. Tears into tender flesh and draws blood. A risk to breaking that fragile grasp.

It’s terrifying that such a small thing could cause her to fear.

She’s frozen, delicate glass encasing her arm as she watches and-

There’s screaming.

This awful, blood curdling scream.

It’s worse than the glass.

It’s worse than the man in the coma who suddenly died.

It’s worse than the man who caused the death of the man in the coma.

It smells of burning flesh.

Something toxic and awful.

Smoke, black and curling and-

The screams-

She should-

She’s-

There’s this wretched gasping sound; wet breath being thrown out before getting corrupted by agony.

She wants to get away.

The glass is still there, just this gentle touch and-

The smoke is gone. The smell of burnt flesh is just a thing from her imagination. The older man is standing there hugging his arm to his chest and the other one is just standing there as if nothing happened. The air sparks again as the younger man leans forward.

Odaix just stands there, screams echoing in her head that no longer exist. She just stands there.

Doing nothing,

Nothing.

She needs to move. To go, if she could-

Cold fingers release her arm and suddenly Mihr is stepping forward. This frail boy drowning in clothes that are too big just steps forward and Odaix is stuck, unmoving.

Afraid.

Of Mihr. Of the younger man who seemed to control fire and-

That’s what they were there for. The robber, the one that was an arsonist. Of course Mihr would go forward, it’s their job. It’s-

But he stopped her at first. He held her back with the iron grip of fear and the delicate touch of glass. He stopped her. She was going to help. If she had the chance, she was going to.

The younger man pauses, tilts his head away from the clerk and says, “This doesn’t deal with you. Skedaddle kid.”

Mihr pauses, his head tilting and then he’s reaching forward with his glass fingers.

“You don’t need to-” The old man’s voice is a croak, raw with pain and torn from screaming. It’s too late for whatever the old man was about to say, Mihr’s already close enough to touch.

Odaix just stands there, a rock waiting for the ocean waves of reality to crash into her and force her into movement.

Fire explodes around her as the man swats at Mihr’s reaching hand. Heat burning into her very skin as the floor turns to ash. Smoke fills the air and suddenly-

The old man is screaming again; there’s movement.

She can’t breathe, she’s hovering in one moment to the next and once again there’s fire-

The fire was everywhere, the air crackled with it and sparks danced in the air.

She can’t breathe.

It’s a stumble, away from the heat and from the chaos that started it and-

She’s going the wrong direction because Mihr is still there and-

The screaming, it’s awful.

The stench of burning clogs her throat and the flames keep reaching and reaching and-

This was a mistake.

Everything was a mistake.

She can’t even see Mihr amongst the flames, eyes squinting in the onslaught of heat. He’s in front of her, but the fire has eaten away all hopes of seeing him.

The fire could be feasting on his flesh,

The burning smell could be him.

She can’t breathe.

Another step back, her heel hits one of the aisles.

The black smoke suffocates. It drags itself down her throat like sludge on every attempted inhale. Tears burn the edge of her eyes as everything blurs into a mixture of red and orange and-

She can’t breathe.

It’s gone in a snap.

Everything is untouched.

The air clear of black smoke and the first lungful of air she takes in hurts. It’s an ache that vibrates through her entire being at the force of it. Mihr stands in front of her, this solid shadow of a child that simply stands there. He’s where the fire was. He’s what should of burnt and-

It’s still there. The smell of burnt flesh fills the room. There’s still the ragged breathing of the clerk, his entire frame shaking behind the counter as he curls up into himself.

The arsonist is on the ground in a crumpled heap. Occasionally there’s a twitch, as if he was trying to get up before gravity drags him back down.

Mihr cocks his head, taking a step forward before crouching next to the collapsed man.

“Odaix.” His voice is as loud as the fire, cracking right through the air. “Come over here.” Mih doesn’t even bother to look up, instead forcing the arsonist’s head up and pressing fingers against the frantically throbbing vein in the man’s throat.

Odaix takes one small, skittering step forward. She’s still gulping in air as if scared it’ll be tainted with smoke again, but she manages to find the strength to propel her feet closer to the origin of the fire.

Or what was the fire.

What was never actually a fire, but it felt like one. Sounded like on and smelt like one and oh-

It burned like one too.

“What do you think? Safe to put into a prison?” Mihr acts like he’s talking about the weather, voice this soft melody as he offers a slight hum. “I think the guards would have fun with the fire.” Everything about the words are awful. She knows what he’s doing, she wasn’t stupid.

It’s that newspaper article all over again. Another show and tell.

“You still think prison is the better option, don’t you?” His fingers are still pressed against the arsonist’s pulse, as if he was waiting for something.

Odaix stopped looking, choking on her tongue to prevent any response. Instead, there was the clerk. Some hollow of what he was before, hunched over his arm as he stumbled back. He’s reaching for something, blindly groping the wall behind him.

“Do you- I can- Are you okay?” She takes a bigger step forward.

Mihr is looking at her now, she can see those pale eyes on the porcelain face. He hasn’t moved his hand, as if he was comfortable sitting there with his hand pressed against someone’s throat.

The older man’s head jerks up, his entire face screwed up and-

She can see bits and pieces of his arm now, this black and red mess of flesh.

That smell was still there, sitting in the back of her throat and she didn’t even think someone actually got burnt. Not with the fire not actually existing, not with the imaginary smoke. Not with Mihr still being in one piece despite standing where the fire was. The man just grimaces at her, “I- a healer.” He chokes on the words as if his lungs were filled with smoke.

“Of course- um-“ Odaix is closer now, peering down at the mangled up arm as if she could-

She couldn’t, but Mihr could.

“Mihr! He’s a- He’s a healer so,” She looks over at him and Mihr is still staring as if she was a dog that learned a new trick.

“I- I’m going to call the hospital.” The older man is jerking away, another grimace that Odaix thinks might actually be a smile as he adds, “Thanks.”

There’s a click, the wall- a door- swinging open and revealing a dark closet. An office maybe, the clerk is blocking most of the room from view, but it has to be something other than a closet.

“Do you need-“ She doesn’t even know what she’d offer to begin with. Odaix is just stuck frozen, twisting her hands up as she just stands.

“Do you think he will die?” Mihr’s voice is a pebble thrown into a still lake. The ripples force Odaix to turn around and stare at the small frame squatting next to the crumbled body of the arsonist.

“Wha-“

Mihr stops looking at her.

“I think he will. He’s not worth a miracle.” His fingers are still pressed to the jumping pulse of the arsonist.

“He’s-“ Not fine. She’s seen Mihr kill before. All it takes is a touch.

Mihr’s fingers press into the man’s throat.

“He-Hello? I’m calling for- There’s been an accident. There was an attempted robbery and-“

All it takes is one touch, and his magic could destroy a brain.

“Don’t.” The word is barely a whisper. Mihr still doesn’t look at her.

“-yes. I think- I’m the only one injured. Yes, there were two customers in the shop during the attack-”

There’s this sound, this awful hollowed sound and the arsonist’s body jerks. He’s got wide brown eyes, this dark honey brown that melts into his tanned skin. Mihr’s hand stands out like a star in an empty night sky.

“Please don’t.” The words are dry on her tongue. It’s an empty request, she already knows Mihr would never listen to it. She shuts her eyes, as if that would make the vision of Mihr’s hand on the man’s throat go away.

It does.

Instead she sees a dark room with a monitor.

There’s a line zig zagging on the screen.

It’s worse.

“-the robber is still here. He uh- he might need medical attention? He collapsed, but one of the-“

“Is he worth more than everyone else?” Odaix startles as Mihr’s voice rings out next to her. Her eyes fling open to stare at the man, the boy, the child who simply watches with his pale pink eyes.

“His life matters.” The words are pulled out by cold, glass fingers.

The arsonist is still a crumpled heap on the floor, not a muscle moving. All she hears is the awful screeching sound. The line of the monitor dipping and dipping before vanishing.

She can’t even breathe, her throat dry and constricting as if she could swallow air. The world blurs, reality and the dark room merging and that noise-

Odaix chokes, eyes squeezing shut before she blinks the image away. Mihr is still watching her.

“You won’t last long if you can’t prioritize. Either be useful, or they’ll find a way to make you useful.” He stops looking at her, his entire body directed at the arsonist. “Harmless nephlims are hard to find after all.”

Everything is cold, the phantom warmth long gone as reality sinks in with every word.

This was a mistake.

“The police will be here soon.” It’s the clerk, his voice loud and booming. A welcome contrast to Mihr’s soft monotone. The older man is leaning against the wall, a grimace stuck to his face as he cradles his arm.

Mihr offers a hum.

There’s this poisonous feeling bubbling up, acid coating her throat as Mihr just turns away and starts walking. She should follow, but her feet are lead.

Maybe she could just stay put and he’d vanish from her life. Maybe the CME would vanish with him.

“Hey! You shouldn’t leave yet. The police-“

“We’re with the CME.” Is all Mihr offers as he stalks out. There’s a slight stumble once he nears the front aisle, his knee seeming to give out, but then he’s sweeping up an article off the floor and pocketing it.

“That’s-!” The booming echoes into the room as the door opens with a ringing bell. The older man is pushing himself up, his entire body jolting as his burnt arm grazes his body.

“It’s fine! I’ll- I’ll pay for it.” Odaix stumbles over her feet as she rushes forward. She digs into one of her pockets, trying to find whatever amount of coins was needed to pay for the stolen paper.

The older man just stands there, his entire body this stiff line as he works his mouth open and close before, “What about the- the robber?”

Odaix freezes, eyes slanting to the arsonist on the floor behind the counter. His wide, brown eyes had already started to glaze over. Her eyes flicker away. “He... won’t be an issue.” The words are dust in her already parched throat. “How- how much for the newspaper?”

The clerk just stares at her, not a muscle moving and for a second Odaix expects him to fall onto the floor and cease to be as well. “5 silvers- How do you know he won’t be an issue?” It’s a heartless question, one that makes Odaix flinch away.

She quickly counts out the coins, flashing a smile that breaks at the corners before repeating, “He won’t be an issue.”

You’d have to be alive to be an issue after all.

When Odaix exits the shop Mihr is standing in front of the TV. There’s a stutter in her footsteps as she approaches him. It might be a good thing that he stuck around, she wouldn’t have known where to go otherwise.

She wishes he hadn’t stuck around though.

“You- He’s-” She chokes on the words, as if saying them would make them a reality. It already was a reality; nothing she said or did would change the glossed over brown eyes and still body. “He’s dead.”

Mihr drags his gaze away from the flickering static of the TV screen. “I know. His heart stopped beating.”

The acid is back, crawling all over Odaix’s skin and dripping down her throat. Her stomach turns as she thinks of his hand on the arsonist’s pulse.

“Did you know? That- that he’d be here?”

“Would that make you feel better?” Mihr cocks his head to the side, pale eyes looking right into Odaix’s soul. “Would it make you feel better to think I knew everything rather than the Godlings deciding he didn’t deserve to live anymore?”

The acid keeps dripping, eating away at her lungs and words until she had nothing she could offer, not even air.

This…

Everything,

It was all a mistake.