The bar is already too loud to think, but that almost helps.

  It gives Lemres an excuse not to.

  He sits alone at a scarred wooden table, fingers wrapped around a glass of apple cider, letting the noise wash over him as he tries to clear his thoughts.

  Glasses clink in uneven rhythms. Laughter spikes and collapses. Somewhere near the back, a jukebox fights for relevance against the crowd. The air smells like spilled beer, citrus peel, and sweat that’s been pretending not to exist for hours. Every stool is taken. Every table has claimed more people than it was built for.

  A group near the wall cheers at a story no one else can hear. Two strangers lean too close at the bar, shouting their names like volume alone will make them memorable. Someone laughs too hard, too fast. Someone else stares into their drink like it might explain something.

  Lemres barely notices any of it.

  The noise makes it hard to focus on the television mounted above the bar, but he forces himself to watch anyway.

  The Church of the Rapture fills the screen, announcing their newly chosen priest. The man speaks with practiced certainty—measured pauses, careful smiles—promising action. Promising justice.

  Promising blood.

  He talks about demons like they’re vermin. Condemns the one they call the Dragon Slayer, accusing him of betrayal, of corruption. He mentions—openly, eagerly—that the man is married to a demon. A girl they describe with horrifying ease, saying things they would never dare repeat if she were standing in front of them.

  Lemres exhales slowly.

  His reflection stares back at him from the darkened glass of the screen—tired, unmoving.

  The plan was supposed to prevent a war.

  Instead, all he’s done is give them the excuse they were waiting for.

  “Well, well, well. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Old York,” Demono says, strolling up with a beer already in hand. She looks him over like she’s counting old mistakes.

  “Things have been going great over here. The Americans were kind enough to give up the city.”

  She takes a long drink, then smirks. “Their loss. Not my fault they sucked.”

  “Modest as always, I see,” Lemres says, snickering as he reaches out and gives her hand a quick shake.

  “I know, right?” Demono grins. “Easily the most modest person you’ll ever meet.” She tilts her head, eyes narrowing just a little. “But you didn’t come all this way just to shower me with praise.”

  Her eyes widen suddenly. “Don’t tell me you talked the government into giving Old York the whole state.”

  “Nothing like that,” Lemres says.

  The humor drains from his voice as he explains—about Markus, the fight, everything that went wrong. About Sid. All of it.

  When he finishes, he doesn’t meet her eyes.

  “I know you’re busy being the mayor of Old York,” he says quietly, “but I need a favor. Something’s wrong with Markus. I’m almost certain he hates me now.” A pause. “But you can still keep him safe. At least until things stop falling apart.”

  “Well, I should probably talk to the kid anyway,” Demono says casually. “Once the government realizes the New York they left in rubble is now one of the biggest cities still standing after the dragon attack, they’re going to come knocking.”

  She smirks. “Wouldn’t hurt to have another powerful ally watching over Old York City.”

  As she speaks, the bartender slides two beers onto the table. Demono immediately grabs both—one in each hand—then glances over her shoulder.

  “Hey,” she calls out, nudging one of the glasses toward Lemres, “can we get one for my friend here?”

  He exhales, already reaching for his Mahoishi. “And if she gets into a fight, Markus will hurt himself trying to protect her.”

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  A portal blooms open beside the table, light bending inward.

  “It’s been a while,” Demono says with a grin, stepping toward it without hesitation.

  Then she jumps through.

  They barely make it to the door before Sally gasps like she’s just seen a celebrity.

  “It’s a demon! Are you friends with Mom?” she blurts, grabbing Kanna’s hand and dragging her forward.

  “Uh—yeah,” Demono says, blinking. “Something like that.”

  Sally’s eyes sparkle. “Cool! A demon. Just like Mom!”

  Demono presses a hand to her chest, visibly struck. “Lemres. Did you hear that? I’m officially cool.”

  Lemres sighs and knocks on the door, pretending he doesn’t.

  “You can do fireballs, right?” Kanna asks, bouncing on her toes.

  “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

  Sally joins in immediately. “Fiiiire! Fiiiire!”

  Demono laughs. “I love you two, but fire is not a toy.” She leans in, lowering her voice like it’s a secret. “Maybe I’ll show you something later—but first, I need to talk to the wielder real quick.”

  “Oh, okay!” Sally says, already sprinting off. “Have fun with Daddy!”

  Demono pauses, watching her go, then steps inside.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” she calls out.

  A sharp shh answers her from upstairs.

  “I finally got him to sleep—don’t wake him,” Liddle whispers as she comes down the stairs. Her eyes look tired. “He’s not taking his loss at the Fey very well.”

  “I’d say I understand,” Demono replies with a shrug, “but I’m undefeated—and I handle my wins with grace.”

  She glances past Liddle, toward the stairs.

  “Anyway,” she continues, her voice dropping just a little, “I was told you two need a bodyguard. Someone very dangerous is actively trying to kill your husband.”

  “The man can summon a black hole,” Lemres says grimly. “Anything caught in its pull is crushed.”

  He exhales. “I’ll try to calm her down, but if the worst happens… I need the two of you to work together. Take him down if it comes to that.”

  A portal blooms open as he speaks, light folding in on itself.

  “I don’t need to convince Liddle,” Lemres adds, meeting Demono’s eyes. “But keeping Markus alive is critical. Whatever it costs.”

  “I got it. I got it,” Demono says, waving him off with easy confidence.

  The portal snaps shut, and Lemres is gone—already on his way to find Sid.

  Lemres walks up to Sid’s house and sighs before knocking on the door.

  “Oh, hey,” Sid says as he opens it. “What’s up?”

  “I’m guessing you already know what happened,” Lemres replies, watching his face carefully.

  Sid exhales, almost bored. “Yeah. Sorry about Markus. He died too young.”

  He starts to close the door.

  Lemres slams his foot forward, catching it before it shuts.

  “Don’t,” he says flatly. “You just said he died. Markus isn’t dead—he’s paralyzed and recovering in his bed. If you’d heard anything legitimate, you’d know that.”

  Sid’s expression flickers. Just for a moment.

  “The only place that story exists,” Lemres continues, his voice hardening, “is Ange. Because that’s what she told the person who was supposed to kill him.”

  Silence stretches between them.

  Lemres leans in. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “You keep saying we have to protect Earth,” Sid says. “You really think he can handle that? Even with the sword, all he does is fail—and people get hurt.”

  He sighs, rubbing his face. “Look. You’re right. I shouldn’t have tried to kill him. I was only going to take the sword.”

  “The gods choose who can wield it,” Lemres says flatly. “Not us.”

  Sid scoffs. “Lemres, come on.”

  “No,” Lemres replies. “Let’s actually play this out.” His voice sharpens. “Say we kill Markus. Then what? We still need a wielder. You’d be disqualified by the murder you committed, and we’d be right back where we started—only without Markus.”

  There’s a pause.

  “…You know there’s someone better,” Sid says quietly. “Somewhere out there. A stronger fighter.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it was to find one person who could even touch the Life-Giving Blade?” Lemres snaps. “This isn’t something I get to be picky about.”

  “He would do anything to hurt Alexia,” Sid says, his voice dropping. “I won’t allow that.”

  The door behind him opens.

  Alexia steps into the hall wearing one of Sid’s T-shirts and her underwear, hair still messy from sleep. “Did you call me?” she asks.

  “No,” Sid says immediately. “We were just talking.” He forces a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He kisses her gently, then closes the door, shutting Lemres out.

  For a moment, neither man speaks.

  “I didn’t want to be part of this,” Sid admits quietly. “But after she came back hurt—after fighting a baby dragon of all things—I…”

  “It’s okay,” Lemres says, cutting in. “Go be with her. I’ll take care of everything from here.”

  Sid studies him for a moment, then nods. He opens the door and slips back inside.

  Lemres remains alone in the hall, the weight of the decision finally settling in.

  He teleports away knowing he’ll have to watch the mess he made—before it turns into a full-out war.