Chapter 13

They walk in silence through the sleepy streets of Noctreign, the city's perpetual dusk pressing low over their shoulders like a weighted blanket. The air is thick with the city's signature scent—a mixture of wet stone and something organic, like roots left to rot.

A crooked neon sign buzzes violet above Ira's shuttered laundromat, throwing fractured light across the narrow doorway beside it. Her door. The glass is dull with age, smudged with fingerprints. Its cheap metal frame is pocked with rust; a dented push bar sits crooked in the middle.

"This is your home?" Cobalt asks. His voice is low and unjudging, but something in it feels softer than it should.

His cobalt-blue eyes flick over the façade—if you could call it that. Water-stained concrete, dim neon reflections, the old glass door hanging slightly off-kilter.

"It is," Ira replies. The words catch in her throat.

She unlocks the door and leads him inside.

The studio greets her with the usual hum of the old heater, the faint scent of dry tea leaves and lavender detergent soaked into the walls. Cracked linoleum tiles spider across the floor, catching in uneven patches of light. Her battered floor mattress lies in one corner, half-covered in mismatched blankets.

Cobalt steps in behind her and says nothing. She watches him take it in, his movements quiet, deliberate.

"I like your plant," he says at last.

He crouches beside the squat table and reaches for the pothos. One of the leaves curls under his touch like a shy animal.

"You can talk to plants?" Ira asks, tilting her head.

"In a sense," he shrugs. "They just listen differently."

She doesn't know what that means, but it feels true. She files it away for later.

Cobalt stands and drifts toward the back wall, where the shadows hang deepest. His gaze sharpens. "Is this where the portal led you the first time?"

"Yes," she murmurs. "Right there."

"Mmh." He's quiet, focused, almost like he's listening to something beyond her range.

"How did you know?" she asks.

"A feeling." He grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

A pause stretches between them, filled only by the low hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the old building settling.

Ira shifts her weight. She opens her mouth, then hesitates—something about his silence feels off. Like he's holding something behind his teeth.

"I've been thinking," she says instead, stepping to the center of the room. "I have a theory. That the portals are fixed points. Like… scars in space. Once they form, they stay. If we can find them—track them, mark them—we could use them to meet up again."

He nods slowly. "It's a sound idea."

"But they don't open consistently," she says, a thread of frustration slipping into her voice. "There's no pattern."

"Maybe not one you can see yet."

She glances at him. "What if we're triggering them? With the rings?"

Cobalt raises his hand. His ring pulses faintly, ruby-red and alive. Hers hums in reply beneath her sleeve—sapphire blue, cold and steady.

"They always vibrate right before a shift," she murmurs. "Like they're reacting to something. I swear I can feel it in my bones sometimes."

He studies his ring in silence.

"I don't feel that," he says finally.

She frowns. "Never?"

"No." He pauses. Then, almost to himself: "This might be the trickiest part. Trial and error. Finding the rhythm."

"Like we're on different beats of the same song," she murmurs.

"Exactly."

He looks at her. Something unreadable passes through his face.

"Ira…" he begins, hesitating. His voice is softer now. "I need to tell you something. About the portals."

Her stomach tightens.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I haven't been honest."

Something shifts in her. Her shoulders stiffen.

"…About what?"

"I don't need them," he says quietly.

She blinks. "You—what?"

"I don't need them." He repeats, eyes not leaving hers.

There's a silence.

She lets out a breath—slow, steady, like she's trying to keep a fire from catching. "You're telling me you can just… go?"

He nods. Then—without another word—he steps backward. Not toward the door, but toward the shadowed corner of the room, where the light barely touches.

Ira's breath catches. "Cobalt?"

He glances at her once more—soft, sad.

Then he's gone.

No shimmer. No sound.

Just an absence. Like someone had edited him out of the frame.

"Cobalt!"

Ira rushes across the room, heart thudding, footsteps too loud in the silence. She presses her hand to the wall where he vanished.

It's solid. Cold. No seam. No portal. Just stone.

Her ring hums faintly beneath her skin—but nothing opens.

Of course not.

She exhales hard, resting her forehead against the wall. It's real. Unyielding. She half-hopes it will shift, open, shimmer. But it doesn't.

Because he never needed the portals.

He never had.

Her throat tightens. Anger rises behind her ribs like a slow flood. Her hands begin to tremble.

And then—just as suddenly as he vanished—Cobalt steps back through the wall.

Effortless.

Like a shadow flickering back into place.

He looks at her, sheepish. "Ira—"

She doesn't let him finish.

"You—you can walk through walls?" she demands, voice sharp, each word sharper than the last. "Seriously?"

"It's… complicated." He rubs the back of his neck. "It's more than that."

"Enlighten me, then." Her eyes flash.

"I can teleport," he says finally.

Silence.

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Teleport?! What do you mean, teleport?"

Cobalt tilts his head, confused. "Do you… not know what teleport means?"

She stares at him. "Of course I know what teleport means."

Her tone could cut glass.

Then it hits her. Like a slap she didn't see coming.

Her voice drops. "What about the story? About the library? And the portal opening when you 'felt something'? Was that just—bullshit?"

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "We just don't know each other that well. I didn't want to reveal too much too soon. I didn't know if you'd… take advantage of me."

"Take advantage?" She laughs, bitter. "What could I possibly want with your magic party trick?"

Cobalt flinches. "It's not like that—"

"No," she cuts in. "You made me feel like we were in this together. Figuring it out side by side. But you already had the answer. You could leave any time you wanted."

"I wasn't trying to manipulate you—"

"But you did." Her voice drops lower—steady now, and dangerous. "You told a whole story. And I believed you."

He says nothing.

She takes a step back, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

"This is a huge red flag," she mutters. "How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Cobalt swallows. His eyes search hers, but still—he says nothing.

"I want you to leave," she says finally, the words like iron.

"Ira—"

"Leave." She snarls. Her anger crests—her talons prick through her fingertips, her teeth lengthen. She can feel herself…changing.

Cobalt stills. His eyes flick over her, noting what's happening to her. He nods—once, solemn.

"Okay," he says softly.

And just like that—he's gone.

Again.