Departure by Ash

IX

The phone pressed against my ear felt heavier than it should have, while my mind focused on keeping my voice low. Leon was finally asleep in his crib, his soft breaths filling the otherwise quiet cave. The thought of waking him after the battle I'd endured to get him to sleep made me tread carefully.

"Leora, give the phone to Jacob," I said, keeping my tone steady.

There was a muffled shuffle on the other end, then a familiar voice. "This is Jacob."

Straight to business.

"I have two possible answers for the information you want," I began. "The location of the Lesser Key of Solomon, or the direct translated instructions on how to catch devils. Choose the former, and you'll owe me another three favors. Choose the latter, and we'll be quits."

Jacob paused, the line falling silent for a few seconds. I could almost hear him calculating. Finally, he asked, his voice edged with cautious curiosity, "How are you going to enforce these favors?"

I smiled faintly, amused but not surprised. "Easy. I'll threaten you with information. In your case, dissemination of everything about you—your special ability, your weaknesses, your past life, your connections, your aliases. I've collected more than enough on you. Think of what I'll do with that if you decide you're above my rules."

The silence stretched, heavier this time. Jacob hated being cornered, but he knew better than to underestimate me.

Finally, he let out a breath, breaking the tension. "I don't like being threatened—" His words faltered, leaving the sentence unfinished.

I let the silence hang for a moment before softening my tone, just enough to assure him. "Don't worry. I have no intention of blackmailing you. I'm a businessman—integrity and whatnot. As long as you don't screw with me, I won't screw with you."

It wasn't a threat; it was a fact. Jacob understood the rules between people like us. Cross a line, and there was no going back.

"Understood," he finally said, his voice more subdued. "I'll choose the latter, the devil-catching info. It's more useful for what I'm doing."

"Smart choice," I replied, nodding to myself. "You'll have it within the next two days."

There was nothing more to say. Jacob wasn't the kind of person you built friendships with, but for now, we had an understanding. That was all I needed. Even if he managed to get the Lesser Key of Solomon, he'd still need it translated. More work for him, less concern for me.

"Tell Leora I'll see her soon," I added before hanging up.

As the call ended, I looked over at Leon, still asleep in his crib. His tiny chest rose and fell steadily, peaceful and unaware of the dangerous world waiting outside. For now, he was safe. For now, I had time.

But I wouldn't be able to stay off the grid much longer. Too many pieces were moving, and soon enough, I'd have to show my hand. I just hoped Leora would be ready when the time came.

Two weeks. It seemed like an eternity, but I had learned to make the most of time. I had spent the past week meticulously erasing every trace of our presence here, burning anything that could be tied back to us. The cave, once a refuge, was now an empty shell, wiped clean of human life.

"Buuu~"

Leon's faint whimper brought me back to the present. A ripple of discomfort brushed against my senses through the aura I shared with him. He was cold.

Before I could react, I felt the subtle shift in his energy. His little body began to warm itself, his natural heat attribute kicking in instinctively. A flicker of pride swelled in my chest. Even at his young age, Leon was learning to control his abilities, protecting himself in ways most children couldn't dream of.

I walked over to his crib, crouching beside it and placing a hand gently on his chest. His warmth radiated against my palm, steady now, his breathing even. For a moment, I just watched him, his tiny fists curled under the blanket, his face serene. He didn't know about the dangers outside, the enemies we were hiding from.

But someday, he would.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Leora needed to know the truth. Not just about what I used to do, but about what was coming. The world was shifting, and soon enough, it would reach us. When the time came, I would tell her everything.

Until then, my only focus was keeping us safe.

"Hang in there, Leon," I whispered, brushing a hand over his soft hair. "Your mother and I will figure this out."

I took one last look at the crib. It would have to go. Borrowing Leon's heat attribute, I ignited the wood, watching as the flames consumed it. As the fire crackled, I reflected on the strangeness of my situation.

The attribute theory didn't apply to me.

For months, I had tried to discern what my aura was supposed to represent. Hunters and practitioners of aura all spoke of attributes—the defining themes or elements that their power revolved around. If Leon's aura carried the fiery essence of heat, then what about mine?

Nothing.

Every time I meditated, pushed my limits, or tapped into the well of energy coursing through me, I found the same thing: a faint, featureless aura. It wrapped around me like a second skin, barely perceptible and utterly without substance.

Most hunters spent years discovering their attributes. It wasn't uncommon for someone to go their entire life without understanding what their aura truly was. Yet, I couldn't shake the impatience that gnawed at me.

Maybe it was because of how I'd awakened my aura.

In this world, aura awakening usually came through three means: luck, enlightenment, or talent. Mine had been different. It wasn't the result of a breakthrough or an epiphany. It wasn't a natural talent I'd cultivated over time. My aura had been wrenched into existence through sheer desperation—through a near-death experience that left me teetering on the edge of oblivion.

I couldn't help but wonder if that was why I couldn't define my attribute.

Hunters didn't need to manifest a specific ability to survive in this industry. Simply tapping into the extra boost aura provided—strength, speed, focus—was enough to be considered competent. In this era, even possessing aura at all was enough to earn you respect. But I knew the future.

The standards would rise.

As the world evolved, the hunters' bar would be raised. In the future I once thought of as fiction—a future I had written into existence—nearly every hunter would have an ability tied to their attribute. Those who didn't would fall behind, relics of a simpler time.

According to the lore I'd once crafted, aura always carried a theme, a purpose. Strength, speed, elemental manipulation, or even more abstract traits like focus or perception—everyone had something.

And it frustrated me to no end I was lacking progress on learning my attributes.

Months of testing myself, of experimenting and researching, had led to nothing. No flame, no strength, no sharpened focus. Just the faint, formless energy that clung to me like a shadow.

And then there was Leon.

Even as a baby, his attribute was obvious. The warmth that radiated from him, the instinctive way his body regulated its own temperature—it was natural for him. Watching him, I felt a strange mixture of pride and envy. Whatever I lacked, Leon didn't.

I stood in the dim light of the cave, watching him sleep in his crib. His tiny body shifted slightly, and a ripple of heat spread through the air, subtle but undeniable. It was as though his aura was alive, responding to his needs without conscious thought.

He didn't have to struggle like I did. He didn't have to question or search for meaning. His attribute was as much a part of him as his heartbeat.

I closed my eyes, focusing inward.

I had done this exercise a thousand times before, reaching into the depths of my being, trying to grasp at something—anything—that would give me a clue.

There was nothing.

The faint aura wrapped around me like a thin veil, offering no answers.

"Patience," I muttered to myself, the word feeling hollow even as I said it.

I knew I was being impatient. After all, most practitioners never fully understood their attributes. Many hunters didn't even bother to try, content with the basic enhancements aura provided. But I couldn't afford to settle for mediocrity. Not in this world.

Leon stirred, his small hand twitching as he let out a soft whimper. A ripple of heat radiated from him, and I felt it brush against my own aura like a warm breeze.

I crouched beside his crib, resting a hand on his chest. His warmth was steady now, his breathing even.

"You're going to be strong," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Stronger than I ever was."

I wanted to believe that.

Standing, I glanced at the faint glow of embers in the corner of the cave, remnants of the fire I'd used to burn the last traces of our presence here. The crib would be next, along with anything else that could tie us to this place.

As the days passed, I would keep searching for answers. Maybe I'd find them, or maybe I wouldn't.

But for now, it didn't matter.

Leon had his attribute. That was enough.

Leon's weight was a small but steady comfort against my chest as I slung him over one arm, my machete gripped firmly in the other. The blade caught the dim light filtering through the mouth of the cave, its faint gleam a silent promise of protection.

The Mivah Mountains were unforgiving—cold winds biting at exposed skin, rocky paths treacherous underfoot—but I'd walked these trails long enough to know them by heart. Still, the knowledge brought little comfort. Our sanctuary, hidden deep within these peaks, was gone, reduced to ash and embers. 

I did that just to erase my tracks: amateur hour at its finest.

It was time to leave.

The cold stung, but my aura provided just enough warmth to stave off the worst of it. Leon stirred in his sleep, his tiny hand grasping at the fabric of my shirt. I glanced down at him, wondering for the thousandth time what kind of future he would inherit, especially with me meddling in it.

The thought lingered as I began my descent.

Aunt Marie had been invaluable in the past few weeks, helping me tie up loose ends. Her sharp tongue and sharper instincts had kept me grounded when my own paranoia threatened to spiral. With her help, I'd packed the essentials: supplies, money, and the tools to stay one step ahead.

After shaving off my beard and shedding my former identity, I'd disposed of all my phones except one—the one Leora could reach me on. That single connection was a calculated risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

Down the mountain, my second-hand car sat waiting, its faded paint and scratched exterior blending seamlessly into the mundane world. I tossed my backpack into the back seat and secured Leon in his car seat, ensuring he was snug and warm.

The trunk held everything else: clothes, wigs, basic supplies, and a collection of items that could alter my appearance at a moment's notice. I caught my reflection in the side mirror as I adjusted the cheap wig I'd slipped on. The fake tattoo I'd drawn on my neck with a sharpie completed the transformation.

The man staring back at me was unremarkable. Forgettable.

The Mivah Mountains had served us well, but they couldn't shield us forever. The neutral cryptid sealed within these peaks had been our unknowing guardian, its natural aura-dispersing properties making it nearly impossible for anyone to track us. For two years, we'd been invisible, hidden by the mountains' strange, protective energy.

But Leon was changing.

Even now, his aura was growing stronger, more distinct. It blended with nature effortlessly, but the day was coming when that wouldn't be enough. Someone would sense it—an enemy, a hunter, or worse.

The cryptid's protection couldn't mask us forever.

I glanced back at Leon, his face peaceful as he slept. His aura, though subtle now, would one day blaze bright enough to catch the attention of every dangerous entity out there. That thought haunted me.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the car. The engine sputtered before settling into a steady hum. For a moment, there was quiet—a calm before the storm.

The road stretched out before me, empty and silent. But I knew better than to trust the stillness. The real danger wasn't behind us anymore. It was ahead, waiting.

As the miles rolled by, my thoughts drifted to Leora.

Two weeks. March 17. That was the deadline I'd set. By then, I'd have to be ready—for her, for whatever came next.

There was no turning back now.

For two years, I'd prepared for this. The supplies, the disguises, the contingency plans—they were all pieces of a puzzle that had taken far too long to assemble. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough.

The road stretched endlessly into the horizon, a thin veil of silence draped over the world. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my eyes scanning the path ahead.

Leon stirred in his seat, a soft murmur escaping his lips. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his tiny form barely visible under the blanket I'd tucked around him.

"Hang in there, kid," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

The real fight hadn't even begun.

~009