When Nulla returns to the Sanctuary, the lights inside the building are off and he makes is way to the side door towards the back of the property. The Hellhound follows him without any signs of aggression.

It’s been surprisingly calm and well behaved since being let out of its cell though it –she; the Hellhound was female—had bared her teeth at them when Poe clipped a leash onto her collar. It was no ordinary collar. The black leather fitted to her throat had the smallest of scripts, words in gold, etched all the way around the bottom. Nulla doesn’t know the script, which is unusual for him. He thinks it’s possibly a language that originates from the Fade. Whatever it’s doing, it’s keeping the Hellhound calmer than he’s sure she would have been otherwise.

They get home in another Uber though it takes longer this time. The first driver took one look at the Hellhound and started swearing right in Nulla’s face and they’d had to wait for another one. Luckily it had been a small family van, and the second driver hadn’t been all that bothered.

Nulla let’s himself in via the side door. It opens into a small, squared space between the kitchen and the hallway with the feel of a cupboard. It’s a tight squeeze with the huge animal in there with him.

The Hellhound stares up at him, sharp intelligence clear in her gaze.

Nulla considers the creature and then slowly, reaches down and cradles her muzzle in his hand, tilting its head up more.

‘Do you think we can get along?’ he asks.

The Hellhound bares her teeth and lets out a small rumbling growl, her ears twitching. But under Nulla’s steady gaze, the growling dies down, her ears swivel back up and she cocks her head. She remains watchful.

Nulla gives her head a careful pat before he opens the secondary door into the sanctuary proper.

Everything is off apart from the kitchen light.

Hope is sitting inside at the table, pen in hand and a pair of glasses perched on her nose as her attention skips between an open textbook and a bright yellow legal pad, pen moving fast across the page.

She’s wearing more casual clothes now. An oversized and lumpy cardigan over a t-shirt and sweats, her feet shoved into a pair of comfortable looking indoor boots.

She glances up when Nulla steps through and she does a double take when she spots the Hellhound.

Her mouth drops open, and she takes her glasses off, tossing them on the table and standing up. ‘Is that a Hellhound?’ she asks, blinking at it. She doesn’t cross the kitchen threshold though.

Nulla glances down at the Hellhound, appraising her temperament. She stays close at Nulla’s side, tranquil. He’s not worried about her turning on him, if she does, he can subdue her easily enough. He just wants to be sure she won’t pose a risk to Hope.

‘Yes, but I don’t plan on letting her leave my side inside the sanctuary, not unless I’m sure she won’t pose a risk.’

Hope walks a little closer, peering at it though she’s still cautious. ‘But why do you have it in the first place? And how? I thought they don’t really leave the Fade.’ Her tone is shifting a little into awe, and she crosses her arms over her chest, tucking her hands beneath them like she’s trying to keep herself from reaching out to pet it. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she says, ‘I’ve only seen them in books.’

‘I got her from the mediator I went to speak with. I need to go into the Fade and she’s going to help me track what I’m looking for.’

Hope’s eyebrows snap down over her eyes. ‘Isn’t that dangerous for you? Does it have to do with Ignácio? Did you find out anything?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll have to speak with the Ascendant, apparently, she’s doing business elsewhere now. But it seems like he did speak with her.’

‘Then why the Fade? Is that where she’s gone?’ she rubs at her arms and then reaches for the scarf draped over the back of the kitchen chair and drags that around her neck.

Nulla frowns. He’s sure they’d installed heating. ‘No, I don’t think she’d be too welcome there. There’s something in the Fade I have to find urgently and I don’t think I have much time. Is the heating broken?’

She blinks, nonplussed. ‘What?’

‘If it’s cold you should switch on the heating, unless it’s broken?’ he heads for the stairs leading down to the lower level. He needs his sword.

The Hellhound sticks to his side and Hope wraps the scarf tighter around herself and follows.

‘It’s not broken,’ she says, ‘it just feels like a waste unless we have other people here.’

He sighs. ‘From now on, please make sure you turn it on when needed.’ If her concern is saving money, then she doesn’t need to worry and he’s sure Ignácio would have told her so. Nulla has been alive long enough that he’s amassed a decent amount of wealth thanks to the people who first supported him after his fall.

The temperature drops further in the narrow staircase that forces them into single file. The click-clack of the Hellhound’s claws are loud in the quiet, but she manages the steps without issue. Hope follows closely behind them.

A tall lamp sits in the corner of the room, its outline barely discernible in the pitch-black to the human eye. Nulla strides over to it, Hellhound trotting along beside him, and tugs on the switch. A bright light floods the room just as Hope comes down the last step.

It’s a large, basic room. There’s a bookshelf against the far wall beneath a slim, half-moon, window that looks out onto the pavement outside the sanctuary, allowing for only a glimpse of people’s feet as they walk by. It’s filled with tomes and other, slimmer, fragile books. He’s accumulated them over time from the Night Market, collecting tales, history, new ideas and the wisdom of talented mediators throughout the centuries. Save for a few new additions that he doesn’t remember—must have been Ignácio—they’re all in the exact same place he left them.

A battered looking armchair is in the corner next to it, facing the staircase, complete with a footrest and a serviceable coffee table next to it. He’s spent some peaceful moments here, with a book in his hands, listening to the rain come down.

It’s his second favourite place in the Sanctuary, after the greenhouse.

But what he’s here for right now is the large chest tucked into the corner opposite the bookcase.

‘While I’m in the Fade I think it would be a good idea to fortify the wards. As strong as you can make them,’ he says, looking over his shoulder before opening the chest, ‘let’s be cautious until we know what’s happening a bit better.’

‘Of course, I can do that.’ There’s no trace of insecurity in her. She knows her own strengths which Nulla appreciates.

In the chest, wrapped in black cloth, is a sword the length of his arm from shoulder to fingertips. Snug beside it, is his folded heavy-duty jacket and a scabbard that can be worn on his back. The jacket is lightweight but insulates well and has been customised with a hood and additional holds for his throwing knives and daggers. He’s had it for a long time. Its weight is familiar and welcome as he picks it up and grabs its sheath from beneath it.

With a glance at the Hellhound, he waits for her to make eye contact and drops the leash. A beat passes and she sits, body entirely upright almost as if she’s been lifted directly from a hieroglyph.

Assured the Hellhound will behave, at least with him in the room, Nulla pulls his hoodie up and over his head and drapes it over the side of the chest.

He hasn’t been in the Boundary in a long time and if it’s been weakening there’s no telling what might be roaming around. Still, his biggest concern is the Fade, and he needs to be able to defend himself properly. Drawing the sword from his back means any potential threats will have longer openings than he’d like but it would be impractical to carry a long sword any lower.

He brushes away another pang of longing for his celestial sword. It’s been centuries and though the sense of loss has eased, the longing for something that had been a part of his soul, never quite goes away.

‘I know we haven’t known each other very long,’ Nulla says as he pulls on the familiar black material and adjusts it over his shoulders, ‘but I’m going to need your trust.’ When he glances at Hope, she quickly looks away from him. ‘Hope?’

She takes a deep breath and meets his gaze with a nod. ‘Yes.’

With the evening she’s had, he’s not surprised she’s unsettled. Unfortunately, he has a feeling it’s not about to get better.

He shifts some of his knives into the holds in his jacket. ‘I might bring someone back with me that isn’t safe.’

She tightens her scarf around her shoulders like a shawl and holds it in place. She lets out a long breath and brushes her hair back from her face where the dark strands are escaping in gentle wisps. ‘Alright, okay. I can handle it. It’s important right?’

That makes him smile. Ignácio has always been a great reader of people, so he isn’t surprised he’s left someone like Hope in his place. ‘Yes.’

She heads over to the armchair, giving the Hellhound a slightly nervous look as she passes her. Perching on the edge, she watches Nulla has he starts to secure the sword on his back.

‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ she asks.

Nulla tilts his head, considering, and adjusts the sides of his jacket before pulling the hood over his head. He’s been thinking about the information Poe shared with him.

‘I think Ignácio is right to be worried. There’s a possibility that the reason why you’re not seeing as many celestials patrolling is because they’re being taken.’

Hope freezes, eyes growing wide. ‘What do you mean being taken?’ She gives a slight shake of her head. ‘First a Demon Lord crosses over and now you’re saying someone is taking celestials?’

‘It might be worse than that,’ Nulla admits, ‘but we don’t have enough information. It’s probably what Ignácio is trying to find out more about. I’ll be looking into it myself. I’ve asked Poe, the mediator I went to see today, to let me know if he hears anything else.’

Hope nods again. Then she wraps her arms around her waist and her gaze drifts back to the unnaturally still Hellhound. ‘I thought celestials couldn’t enter the Fade.’

He closes the chest and sets his neatly folded hoodie on top of it. ‘They can’t,’ he says, ‘I didn’t think there’d ever be a need for it.’ And ever since falling it had been in his best interest to stay as far away from it as possible. He hadn’t even been near the Boundary since his fall. His life is in the human realm now and it’s remained that way. ‘But…’

‘You’re not a celestial anymore,’ she finishes, ‘not entirely. How do you find the way?’ she asks. ‘I’ve never been to the Boundary, but Ignácio says people can end up trapped in there forever.’

Nulla tilts his head, considering. ‘You’d find your way if you were looking for it, but it’s easy to get caught inside.’ It’s a corridor between the realms, yes, but it’s very nature is volatile. Nulla has always thought that it’s because really there shouldn’t be a need for it to be navigated by anyone. If demons remained in their world, celestials could keep an eye on the human realm without ever really needing to crossover.

It occurs to him now that if the Boundary really is weakening, then maybe it’s a symptom of how it’s been increasingly used all of this time.

The world will always evolve to adapt to new patterns. That’s just how it goes. Maybe this is the result.

But the act of entering the Boundary is an innate ability to all who belong to the Veil or the Fade, or those descended from them.

The soul knows the shape of the Boundary, can recognise it instinctively, which is why so many humans unaware of their heritage have accidentally stumble inside. For others, it’s just a matter of knowing how to call the doorway to you. Getting out is the harder part, because once you enter, that doorway is gone and finding the direct point of entry you used to get in is near impossible.

Hope is still watching him, eyes wide with curiosity.

‘Want to see?’ he asks.