Echoes of a Collapse and a Protector's Rage

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee pulled me from my thoughts as I settled onto a barstool at our kitchen counter. Silas moved with practiced efficiency behind the counter, his glasses slightly fogged from the steam rising from the machine.

"Since when are you a professional barista?" I asked, watching him create intricate swirls in the foam of my latte.

Silas smiled, sliding the mug toward me. "I worked at a café in the human realm for a summer. Call it research."

I took a sip and nearly moaned. "This is incredible."

"Better than that dishwater they serve at the Academy dining hall," Ronan agreed, nursing his own mug with both hands.