5 - Smoke figures

The dream didn't come gently. It tore through Rafael's mind like smoke through a broken window—slow at first, then suffocating.

He stood in the middle of an empty room, the walls scorched black, the floor cracking beneath him like fragile ice. No sound. No wind. Just the brittle silence of something long gone.

Then he saw her.

Lilith.

Not the woman who had cried in his arms hours earlier—this version of her stood barefoot in a field of ash, her back turned to him, hair billowing like the remnants of a fire.

She didn't speak.

Because when she turned, she wasn't alone.

A child stood beside her. Dark hair. Pale eyes. Watching him. It felt too real.

He took a step forward. The ground crumbling beneath his feet.

"Is it you?" His voice cracked in the cold. "Is that... ours?"

But neither of them answered.

The child reached for Lilith's hand. She hesitated—just for a breath—before taking it. Then they turned away.

"Wait," His voice snapped out sharper this time. "Don't go."

Still, they walked. Into smoke. Into nothing.

The dream ended there—cut off like a severed thread.

Rafael jolted awake.

Chest heaving, skin damp with sweat. His heart thundered as he looked beside him. Lilith was still asleep. Peaceful. Real.

But the child's face remained etched behind his eyelids.

---

The next morning, Rafael was different. Quiet, and the air around him felt gloomy.

He poured her coffee with shaking hands, eyes trained on the steam, on anything but her face.

She noticed. "You're awfully quiet for someone who claimed the world yesterday."

He looked up, forcing a small smirk. "Even kings dream, my dear."

But Lilith wasn't fooled. Not by the twitch in his jaw or the way he hadn't touched his drink.

And when he kissed her temple before walking out of the room, it felt more like goodbye than good morning.

---

What would it cost him to keep her safe this time?

The clash of the various clans from different cities outside was one thing.

But something else was coming.

And it started with that dream.

The morning unfolded in strange stillness.

Lilith sat at the edge of the bed, wrapping the oversized cardigan tighter around her frame. The cotton still smelled like him—warm spice, smoke, and some old cologne that clung to the collar. A scent that had once meant home. A scent that now confused her more than it comforted her.

She could hear Rafael outside, pacing. Not barking orders. Just… pacing. A heavy sort of restlessness hung in the air.

She stood, bare feet brushing the cold tile as she cracked the door open. Through the narrow gap, she saw him by the window, phone pressed to his ear, his entire posture strung tight.

"No. Quietly. No blood unless necessary."

A pause.

"I said necessary, not convenient. There's a difference."

His voice wasn't raised, but every word carried weight. His other hand ran through his hair—once. Twice. That was a tell. He was spiraling.

Lilith pulled the door open and stepped into view. The moment Rafael saw her, the phone call ended. No goodbye. Just a clipped silence as he slipped the device into his back pocket.

"You're up," he said, too casually.

She studied him. "Who was that?"

Rafael didn't answer immediately. He just watched her the way he always did when he was calculating—like he was weighing how much of the truth she could handle.

"You don't need to worry about it," he finally said.

"That wasn't a 'checking on breakfast' kind of call."

He looked down, jaw tightening. "I'm handling something. It's nothing that concerns you."

"That's a lie," she said softly.

Silence again. A kind of quiet that frayed the edges of her patience.

"Was it the Vilufs?" she asked.

His gaze sharpened instantly. That was answer enough.

Lilith stepped closer. "Rafael, if they're coming for you—"

"They're not coming for me." He cut her off, his tone low, yet piercing like sharp edges of a blade. "They're coming for us."

The words sank into her, heavy and cold.

"I thought the treaty protected us," she whispered.

"It did. But someone talked. Someone close." He finally met her eyes, and for the first time since the night before, there was no bravado in his voice—only rage. Cold and coiled. "They know what we were. What we had. They think they can use it."

Her breath hitched.

"You think they know about the baby?"

"I think they knew enough to make you disappear." His voice cracked, just slightly. "And now they're trying again."

Lilith crossed the room, pressing her hand against his chest. "Then don't hide things from me. If they're coming, I want to be ready."

Rafael's hand came up, resting over hers. His fingers curled gently, holding her in place.

"You won't have to fight," he said, voice steel wrapped in silk. "That's my promise."

But Lilith saw what he didn't say.

He was already preparing for war.

And this time, he wasn't planning on surviving it.

Rafael stood still, one hand gripping the edge of the marble counter like it was the only thing anchoring him to the present. Lilith's presence beside him—soft, steady.

"You think if you don't tell me," she said gently, "you're protecting me. But you're not. You're isolating me."

His eyes flicked to her, something unreadable dancing beneath the surface. "If I let you in… you'll hate what you see."

She didn't flinch. "Let me hate it, then. But at least let me choose."

The words cut through the silence like a blade.

For a brief second, something broke in his expression—guilt, perhaps. Maybe fear. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, but his hand lingered there, fingertips grazing her cheek like he was memorizing her face.

"I lied before," he murmured. "The call this morning wasn't just about them getting close."

Lilith's breath stilled.

"They're already here. Someone inside the estate. One of mine."

Her eyes widened, "You mean—?"

"I mean you were never safe." His voice was quiet now. Tight. "And if they know what you've told me… they'll use it."

Before she could respond, the light above them flickered.

Then went out.

A low pop echoed from somewhere deep in the house.

And then—glass shattered.

Rafael moved instantly, grabbing Lilith and pulling her behind him, already reaching under the counter for the weapon stashed there.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, voice low but deadly calm.

"Stay behind me. And whatever happens—don't run this time."

Because this wasn't just their past coming back.

This was war.

And it had just stepped through the front door.