— UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO —

The city sprawls below, bathed in the dying light of sunset.

Golden hues melt into the creeping dark, stretching long shadows over rooftops.

A few dragons drift overhead, their wings catching the last of the sun before the stars take over.

Hawkins leans onto the railing, spinning a business card around his fingers.

Private Detective Consultant.

The words just don't sound real, even now.

He exhales slowly. The weight of his last conversation presses heavy on his chest.

Behind him, Yui perches on the ledge, one leg swinging over the side, tail flicking lazily.

He pops a piece of gum in his mouth. Chews. Watches.

A beat. Then—

“So.” Yui stretches the word out. “Are you gonna tell me why you look like you just made a deal with the devil?”

Hawkins flips the card once more, before pocketing it.

“Met Thalor.”

Silence.

Yui stiffens. His ears twitch. His tail freezes mid-swing.

For a second, he nearly chokes on his gum.

“Thalor?” His voice jumps a pitch. “Thalor Elentáriën?”

Hawkins frowns. “Yeah…?”

Yui lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

Hops down from the ledge.

Starts pacing.

His wings twitch. His tail lashes. Every part of him screams holy shit.

“Wait, wait, wait—you met him? You—Messival Hawkins—just walked into a room with that guy and left in one piece?”

Hawkins blinks. “You’re reacting like I met the king of the gods.”

Yui jabs a finger at him. “Dude. You kinda did.”

Hawkins scoffs. “He’s just a detective.”

Yui stops mid-step.

Stares.

Then, before Hawkins can react—

Hands on shoulders. Sudden, violent shaking.

“Bro! That man single-handedly fixed Japan.”

Hawkins frowns. “…What?”

Yui throws up his hands. “Oh my god. You seriously don’t keep up with anything, do you?”

He starts pacing again. Faster now.

“Okay, I knew you were out of the loop, but this is next-level.”

“I’m not that out of the loop.”

“Yes, you are! Because if you weren’t, you’d know why I moved here in the first place!”

Yui gestures to himself. "You think I came to Canada because I like the cold?"

Hawkins shrugs. "Figured you just hated the heat."

"Everything! Everything about the cold!" Yui shoots back, dramatic as ever. “I left Japan because it was a dumpster fire!"

He started ticking things off on his fingers.

“Work culture? Hellish. Corruption? Everywhere. Bullies in school? Might as well be faculty-approved.”

Then switched to his other hand.

"Housing crisis? Brutal. Public transport? Amazing, but full of train otaku who yell at you for standing in the wrong spot. Idol industry? Toxic. Dating culture? Basically extinct. And don’t even get me started on the—"

“Alright, I get it.”

Hawkins held up a hand.

“But what does that have to do with Thalor?”

“What doesn’t it have to do with him?!”

Yui stopped pacing, tail lashing.

“Corrupt politicians? Gone. Shady corporations? Exposed. He didn’t just ‘investigate’—he dragged every dirty secret into the daylight. Held up a mirror to the entire country and said, ‘Look at what you’ve become.’”

He lets out a short laugh. "And the worst part?"

His grin turns sharp.

"He wasn’t wrong."

Hawkins studies him.

"And nobody stopped him?"

“Oh, they tried.”

Yui smirks.

“But the guy had receipts on everyone. Every bribe, every backroom deal, every politician who thought they were untouchable—he had proof, and he used it.”

...

“That was phase one.”

Hawkins crosses his arms. "Phase one?"

Yui's grin fades.

"Yeah. Politics was just the start. Phase two was... culture."

A flick of his tail.

"See, laws are one thing. But fixing people? That’s harder."

His voice dips.

"For decades, Japan was stuck in this weird loop. Work yourself to death. Never complain. Never break the mold. Marriage? Ha! Who has time?"

His wings twitch.

"Instead, we got creepy age-gap anime, idol groups built to feed parasocial obsessions, and train otaku who hiss at you for using the wrong type of camera."

Hawkins blinks. "…Hiss?"

Yui waves a hand. "You don’t wanna know."

A pause.

Then, more quietly—

"People stopped living, man."

His voice is different now. Less playful. Less sharp.

"We had entire train stations full of salarymen who looked dead behind the eyes. No love. No passion. Just… going through the motions."

He exhales. His tail sways.

"And don’t even get me started on the incels who decided dating was ‘too hard’ and married their anime waifus instead."

Hawkins rubs his temples. "That can’t be real."

"Oh, it’s very real." Yui tilts his head. "One guy held a full-blown wedding ceremony with a hologram."

Hawkins stares. "…Did the hologram say yes?"

Yui squints.

Opens his mouth.

...

Closes it.

"That’s not the point."

A slow, steady breath.

"The point is, we were stuck. Then Thalor came along and made us see it."

Hawkins leans back. "And that changed things?"

Yui nods. "Dude, when Thalor Elentáriën looks you in the eye and says, ‘You’re better than this,’ you listen."

Silence.

He exhales. Rubs the back of his neck.

“Honestly… if he hadn’t stepped in, I don’t think I ever would’ve gone back.”

Something shifts in his voice.

Hawkins notices.

This isn’t just a history lesson. It’s personal.

He watches Yui carefully. “But now?”

Yui hesitates.

His tail swishes—slower this time.

“…Now, I don’t hate the idea.”

A small chuckle.

“Still weird, though. Seeing the place I ran from turn into somewhere people actually want to live.”

Silence.

The city hums below.

A breeze stirs Hawkins’ hair. He rubs the back of his neck.

Yui’s ears flick toward him.

He studies Hawkins, then smirks.

“Alright. Enough about me. Let’s talk about you—why the hell are you working with Thalor?”

Hawkins didn’t answer right away.

He looked down at his hands.

“David.”

The teasing faded from Yui’s face.

His expression softened.

“Daisy’s brother.”

Hawkins nodded.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The city hummed below, distant and quiet.

Then—

“Alright.”

Hawkins glances up. “Alright?”

Yui exhales sharply, watching Hawkins. Studying.

“…You think you’re the only one who wants answers?”

Hawkins looks up. Frowns.

But Yui doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t joke. Doesn’t hide behind his usual easy, untouchable attitude.

He shifts his weight, flicking his tail once before crossing his arms.

“This isn’t just about Daisy, man.” A pause. “It’s about you.”

Hawkins exhales. “Yui—”

“You think I forgot?”

Stillness.

Hawkins’ fingers tighten around the railing.

He knows exactly what Yui’s talking about.

Yui tilts his head. Voice steady. Too steady.

“When people called me a freak.”

“When they spat at me, told me I should’ve stayed in my ‘broken country.’ When they saw nothing but Japan’s problems and pinned them all on me.”

A slow breath.

“And you?” A beat. “You didn’t just sit there.”

Hawkins stares.

“You didn’t stay quiet. Didn’t walk away. Didn’t pretend it wasn’t your problem.”

Yui’s tail flicks.

“You put yourself between me and them.”

The memory hits. Sharp. Unavoidable.

Hawkins remembers.

The way the air had gone electric before he even knew what he was doing.

The way the world had held its breath.

The way people had stared. Whispered. Laughed. Until he stepped forward. Until he made them stop.

Yui’s voice pulls him back.

“And it wasn’t just me.” His eyes flicker—soft, but not weak. “You did it for everyone you cared about. No hesitation. No second thoughts.”

A pause.

"So don’t you dare—" Yui exhales sharply. His jaw tightens. "—tell me to stay out of this... please."

Silence.

Hawkins exhales. Clenches his jaw.

Then—

"Alright."

Yui grins. Just slightly. Just enough.

“Damn right I am.”

Hawkins exhales. The weight in his chest eases—just a little.

“Let’s get food before you start ranting again.”

Yui slings an arm over his shoulder.

“Oh, you know I’m not done.”

They leave the rooftop.

Hawkins exhales. Mind clearer.

Thalor wasn’t just a detective.

And this case… was bigger than he thought.

— THALOR'S OFFICE —

A single flame flickered on the desk, holding its own against the whisper of a draft slipping through the room.

Stacks of case files loomed untouched. From the open window, the city murmured—siren wails, the low hum of traffic, the rustle of leaves under streetlights.

Detective Thalor sat motionless, silver eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair. An old habit. One he barely noticed anymore.

He wasn’t thinking about the case.

Not about David Hawkings.

Not about the sigil.

Not even about the watch he’d seen on Hawkins’ wrist.

And yet—

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound cut through the hush of his office. Sharp. Impossible to ignore.

But it was not coming from his desk.

It did not belong to this room.

⁂

"Enough."

One word.

Not loud.

Not shouted.

But resonated like a call from God's bell tolling.

The sky split apart. Light—golden and jagged—slashed through the storm like a blade, cleaving darkness in two.

A battlefield drenched in flowing gold and shadows.

The screams of dying men, the clash of steel, the scent of fire and blood—

Then—

Silence.

A shadow drifted through the air, weightless. Untouchable.

It moved like silk, trailing behind it like mist. Long strands of black hair stirred in an unseen wind. Skin—golden—flickered like the last ember of a dying sun.

Thalor—an elf knight back then, an archer with his bow drawn tight—stood in the eye of the storm, the weight of the moment pressing into his bones.

Only one thing moved.

The man in blue.

Reaching into his robes.

Pulled something out.

A pocket watch.

Golden. Engraved.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound cut through everything.

Thalor’s breath caught. A sensation, buried and forgotten, clawed its way up from the depths of his soul.

He knew this watch.

He knew it.

But how?

The man’s deep, knowing eyes met his. He raised the watch once. Twice.

Then his fingers closed around the chain.

And as soon as he did—

The world shattered.

A boom of golden energy exploded outward, warping time itself.

Fire twisted into frozen light. Swords clashed but never struck. The battlefield blurred, caught in a ripple of shifting, breaking reality.

And Thalor felt it—an impossible weight slamming into his chest, his mind screaming that something was changing.

The man’s voice came again, softer now, meant only for him.

"Your past is not done with you."

The words rang in his head.

"When the clock turns again, seek the one who carries my blood."

Something grabbed him. Something pulled.

The battlefield spun—

No—no, this wasn’t right, something was pulling him too hard—

⁂

Thalor jolted awake.

His breath caught. His heart pounded against his ribs, the force of it slamming him back into reality.

His hand shot forward, gripping the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The candle sputtered.

Papers rustled.

For one second—just one—golden light still flickered at the edges of his vision.

His pulse was too quick.

His fingers twitched.

He drew a sharp breath and dragged a hand over his face...

Damn it.

That hadn’t just been a memory.

It had been too real. Too close.

His silver eyes flicked to the scattered files.

They landed on one thing.

Hawkins.

The watch.

The weight of what had just resurfaced settled deep into his bones.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Thalor straightened, pulse in shambles.

Then forced himself to straighten and steady his breath.

The candlelight stilled. The room—just another place.

"Come in." His voice was even.

The door creaked open.

Leann Marie stepped inside, emerald eyes flicking to the untouched case files before settling on him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She crossed her arms, bioluminescent lines along her forearms pulsing softly.

“Something wrong?”

Thalor exhaled, running a hand over his face.

“Nothing.”

She arched a brow. “Right. Because you always sit alone in the dark, staring at paper like it personally offended you.”

Thalor smirked slightly. “Paper and I have a complicated history.”

Leann chuckled under her breath.

The glow in her skin brightened briefly, warming with amusement before dimming again.

Then her expression shifted, more serious now.

“I came to ask something,” she said. “And I want a real answer this time.”

Thalor gestured for her to continue.

“Why him? Why Hawkins?”

The glow along her collarbone dimmed as she asked, her body language sharpening, pressing in.

Thalor leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers.

“Because he notices things others don’t-"

“A lot of people notice things. Hell, I notice things. But you’re not pulling me into this case, are you?”

His gaze flickered—just for a second.

Leann caught it.

“See,” she said, tilting her head. “I know you, Thalor. You’re careful. You don’t take unnecessary risks. So why bring a university student into something this tangled?”

Thalor tapped the desk twice, his face unreadable.

Then, quietly—

“Because he’s already involved.”

Leann frowned. “What do you mean?”

Thalor hesitated.

His eyes flicked toward the candlelight, where gold danced in the reflection.

“…I don’t know yet.”

Leann studied him. For once, her usual easy expression was gone.

The glow at her fingertips barely flickered now, subdued. Waiting.

“Well,” she finally said, “I hope you figure it out fast.”

She turned toward the door, then hesitated.

“Hey, Thalor?”

He looked up.

Leann’s voice was quieter now. “The kid’s nervous, but he’s got heart. If you think he’s already in this, make sure he’s ready for whatever’s coming.”

Thalor held her gaze for a moment.

The light along her knuckles flared briefly, just for a second—then faded.

Then gave a slow nod.

“I intend to.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence settled in.

For a long time, Thalor sat there, staring at the candlelight.

He could still hear it, even in the quiet.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

He reached for the case file, flipping it open.

His silver eyes lingered on Hawkins’ photo.

"Seek the one who carries my blood."

A quiet exhale.

The echo of the past still burned in his chest.

His silver gaze drifted toward the candlelight—

And lingered.