Harlin’s house felt like a different world entirely. The air was warm, lived-in. No sterile walls or buzzing monitors—just the faint clatter of cutlery from the kitchen, old wood that creaked with history, and soft yellow lights that gave the place a sleepy kind of soul.

  Kael sat quietly on the couch, the cushions too soft, the silence too calm. Somewhere in the background, a soulful old track warbled from a speaker in the hallway. It was the kind of music that had nothing to prove.

  Annabelle had gone upstairs not long after they arrived. Harlin had disappeared into the kitchen, muttering cheerfully about overcooked stew.

  Kael was alone.

  Until he heard boots thudding down the stairs.

  “There he is,” a voice said, casual and warm.

  Micah.

  He looked exactly how Kael remembered him—only scruffier. Hoodie half-zipped, hands in his pockets, oil stains on his sleeves. He gave off that relaxed older-brother energy that was impossible to fake.

  “Didn’t scare you off yet, huh?”

  Kael looked up. “You’ll have to try harder.”

  Micah grinned, stepped into the room, and tossed something underhand.

  Kael caught it by reflex. A bottle—sparked cider. Low-alcohol, a little bitter, but nostalgic in its own way.

  “Come on,” Micah said, nodding toward the stairs. “Let’s get some air.”

  The rooftop hadn’t changed. Still half-forgotten, cluttered with old garden pots and tangled wire coils. One broken chair sat against the railing like it had claimed that spot generations ago.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The city stretched out beyond them. Dim streetlights and quiet rooftops. The occasional hum of a passing tram.

  Kael stepped out and took a breath.

  “You look like someone carrying something heavy,” Micah said, leaning against the railing.

  Kael gave a noncommittal shrug.

  Micah held out a closed fist. When he opened it, a soft pulse of blue light shimmered across his palm, and a familiar shape began to form.

  A weightless metal sphere hovered above his hand, humming faintly before it stabilized—dense, then light, then perfectly still.

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “You still use that thing?”

  Micah chuckled. “Weightbinder’s still alive and kicking. I just make it look cooler now.”

  He underhanded the orb toward Kael.

  Kael caught it effortlessly. It felt lighter than air, but somehow still solid.

  “Back in the day, I used to cheat with this thing,” Micah said. “We’d play goal up here. Annie hated it. I’d lighten it for myself, then max it out mid-shot.”

  Kael smirked. “Sounds like you.”

  “She broke my nose with a frying pan.”

  That pulled a laugh from Kael—short, but real.

  They started tossing the orb between them. Slow, easy. No pressure. Just the soft thud of catching, and the night.

  Micah took a drink. “I saw the footage. The diner.”

  Kael caught the orb. Didn’t look up.

  “I’m not gonna ask,” Micah added quickly. “Just figured you might need... space. Or a person who doesn’t freak out easy.”

  Kael looked down at the sphere in his hands. The silence sat between them.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he said quietly. “But it still happened.”

  Micah nodded, catching the next toss. “Doesn’t always mean it’s your fault. Some stuff just latches on.”

  Kael hesitated. “You ever feel like... something else is in there with you? Not a voice. Not even thoughts. Just... presence?”

  Micah took a long breath. Sat down on the edge of the roof.

  “I’ve had nights,” he said, “where I couldn’t sleep unless someone else was breathing in the room. Like if I let the silence go too long, something would come in.”

  Kael joined him, shoulder to shoulder.

  “That ever stop?” he asked.

  Micah shook his head. “Not really. But you learn to live with it. Especially if you’ve got people who can remind you it’s still you in there.”

  Kael nodded, fingers tracing the smooth surface of the orb.

  “You’re a good kid,” Micah said, his tone soft. “Always were. Annie saw it first. Dad saw it too. Just don’t go quiet on us if things get worse.”

  Kael gave him a sideways glance. A nod.

  They didn’t talk much after that.

  They didn’t need to.

  The ball hovered between them, drifting in lazy arcs. The wind was calm. The stars flickered like distant watchlights.

  That night, the spiral stayed silent.

  But Kael knew it was still there.

  Just waiting.