The streets of Glimmerden felt colder as Theory and Caspian made their way back to the inn. The stone beneath their feet seemed to absorb the echoes of their steps, as if the village itself was wary of the violence that had just occurred in its shadows.

The inn's warm glow was a stark contrast to the alley's grim darkness. Caspian pushed open the door, and they stepped inside. The hum of quiet conversation and the scent of roasted meat greeted them. Theory's nerves, still on edge, began to settle. But it only fully dissipated when they made it upstairs to their rooms. When he checked their shared room, he noticed that the male was nowhere to be found. 

"Niro?" Theory asked once they were a safe distance from prying ears. His voice was laced with concern. "He should have been back by now."

Caspian, who was checking his fingernails for bloodstains, glanced up nonchalantly. "He went to gather supplies," he said, as if explaining why the sky was blue.

"But I was attacked," Theory pressed, his brow creasing. "Why would he be okay on his own?"

Caspian chuckled lowly. "People in Faltaire are smart," he said, locking eyes with Theory. "They know when to pick a fight and when to cower. Trust me, anyone with a half-decent sense of self-preservation would think twice before tangling with Niro."

That look in Caspian's eyes again—the one that saw too much—made Theory's insides twist. "What do you mean? What do you sense from him?"

The Incubus hesitated, his expression sobering. "I don't know exactly what lurks within your friend," he admitted, his tone losing its playful edge. "But whatever it is, it's old, and it's angry. The kind of anger that could burn the world if it wanted to."

Theory swallowed hard. "Rage?"

Caspian nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving Theory's. "Rage," he confirmed.

The word hung between them, a single syllable heavy with unspoken fears. Caspian's acknowledgment of Niro's inner turmoil was unnerving; it wasn't just the acknowledgment itself but the understanding behind it, as if Caspian was familiar with such darkness.

Theory looked away, his thoughts turning inward. He felt the undercurrent of power that Niro carried with him, a dangerous undercurrent that had always been there, thrumming beneath the surface of his cold demeanor. 

Rage, Caspian had said. Was that what drove Niro? What fueled him? Was that what kept him safe in these unforgiving lands?

"The question is," Caspian continued, breaking the heavy silence, "can you handle that rage if it ever comes to the fore?"

Theory met his gaze, his determination steeling. "I have to," he said, the words not just a promise but a vow—for Niro, for their mission, for himself.

Theory's stomach grumbled, a reminder that anger and suspicion did little to satisfy physical hunger. The tension from the alley encounter, coupled with Caspian's cryptic insights, had worn him out. He descended the inn's creaky stairs, leaving Caspian behind, his footsteps deliberate, seeking the comfort of whatever meal the innkeeper had on offer.

The common room of the inn buzzed with the muted conversations of its patrons. Theory claimed a corner seat, one that afforded a good view of the entrance and the stairs. As he waited for his meal, he couldn't help but glance at the door periodically, half expecting, half hoping to see Niro stride through at any moment. But as he ate, the doorway only framed the ordinary bustle of Glimmerden's folk.

Upon finishing, Theory's concerns for Niro remained, nagging at the back of his mind. Yet, he had to admit to himself, the male was capable. Theory's concern may be more personal than practical. With a sigh, he pushed back his plate and made his way back to his room.

The sight that greeted him froze him on the threshold. Caspian stood amidst his belongings, the small vial of tonic held up to the light, his expression unreadable.

"What are you doing?" Theory's voice was sharp as the edge of a knife, but it didn't slice through Caspian's focus.

"How long have you been taking this?" Caspian asked, his tone even, his eyes not on Theory, but on the liquid that danced within the glass.

"That is none of your business!" Theory snatched the vial from Caspian's hand, a flare of anger igniting within him. His privacy had been violated, his secrets probed.

Caspian faced him, his expression serious, a stark contrast to the mischievous demeanor he had maintained since their meeting. "I knew a Carrier, back in the brothel where I grew up," he began, his voice low. "Madam Margot had them on a tonic much like that one. Made the heats fierce, profitable."

Theory, still simmering with indignation, stopped at the mention of a brothel, curiosity piquing despite his anger.

"The Carrier became dependent on it," Caspian continued, undeterred by Theory's glower. "Their cycles grew erratic without it. And when the tonic no longer suppressed the heat... it exacerbated it."

The room felt still, the only movement being the gentle rise and fall of Caspian's chest as he inhaled deeply before concluding his tale. "It became a never-ending heat. They... lost themselves to it. And in the end, they chose to escape the only way they could."

Silence settled heavily, laden with the implications of Caspian's words. Theory's anger dissolved into a chilling dread. He had heard stories, whispers of such things, but to have it laid out so bluntly...

"You think that'll happen to me?" Theory's voice was a whisper, vulnerability seeping through for the first time.

Caspian's eyes met Theory's, a hint of sympathy within their golden depths. "I'm not saying it will. I'm saying... be careful. These tonics are a temporary solution. And temporary solutions can have... permanent consequences."

Theory clutched the vial tighter, as if by holding it he could suppress the fear that bubbled beneath his skin.

"I can handle myself," Theory said, though his conviction wavered, betrayed by the tremor in his voice.

"I'm sure you can," Caspian said softly, turning to leave. "But even the strongest walls can crumble, Theory. Remember that."

The silence in the room was broken only by the soft crackling of the wick as Theory held the vial in his trembling hand, contemplating the gravity of Caspian's tale. The Incubus stood across from him, his expression inscrutable, yet there was a hint of genuine concern in those golden eyes.

"What should I do then?" Theory's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of his burgeoning desperation.

Caspian leaned against the wooden frame of the door, his gaze never wavering. "If you cannot—or will not—involve Niro for your heat, then I will assist you." His words were deliberate, even as they stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Theory. "But you have to stop taking those tonics. Like...now."

Theory's grip on the vial tightened. "You don't understand. I'm a fire Shifter." The explanation hung between them like a specter of danger. 

"I am well aware," Caspian replied calmly. "And I also know that there are ways for fire Shifters to mate without causing harm. It might be uncomfortable, but I assure you, temporary discomfort is far preferable to an unending torment."

There was a raw honesty to Caspian's words that cut through Theory's defenses. It was not just the suggestion of an alternative that gave him pause, but the undercurrent of empathy that laced the Incubus's tone.

"And how would you know that?" Theory couldn't mask the skepticism in his voice.

Caspian's lips quirked up in a small smile, "I've lived among many and learned much. Fire, ice, earth, or air—Shifters are diverse, and so are their solutions. Trust me."

Trust was a currency Theory felt he had too little of, yet in that moment, the earnestness in Caspian's voice tempted him to spend it.

"If you need me," Caspian continued, moving to the door, "call on me. Do not suffer in silence or pride, Theory. There are fates far worse than asking for help."

With those parting words, Caspian left, closing the door softly behind him. Theory remained still, the turmoil inside him a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. The vial in his hand no longer seemed like a lifeline, but a chain. He placed it back in its hidden recess with a finality that felt like closing a chapter of his life.

As he lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above, Theory pondered the strange turns his path had taken. From the alley where danger had breathed hot on his neck, to this room where possibilities he'd never dared to contemplate now unfolded before him.

The words "temporary discomfort" echoed in his head. He thought of Niro, of the bond they shared, and the complications that bringing his heat into it could cause. And then there was Caspian, a relative stranger, offering a solution that was as unsettling as it was alluring.

Theory closed his eyes, and a decision formed in the darkness behind his lids—a decision to face the fire within him head-on, and to quench it with the help of one who walked in shadows yet offered light.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would face it.

***