klo-olk

Her gaze drops.

And her heart stops.

She’s on all fours.

Directly at his feet.

He looks down at her with a slow, amused smirk.

Aurora scrambles backward instantly, hands slipping slightly on the polished, mirror-like floor. She half-stumbles, half-crawls to the nearest chair, the one opposite his throne, and practically throws herself into it.

“What- what the hell! Thanatos?!” she sputters, breath shaking. “Why am I here again? I didn’t call for you. I didn’t do anything. I was at the hospital- Oh my god! I’ve got a bone to pick with you! You just threw me there! Into that world! Without letting me finish-”

He swirls the white liquid again, the motion elegant, effortless, and lifts up a hand.

“Ugh.” He recoils. “So many words in ten seconds. Calm down.”

Her eyes narrow, choosing to close her mouth for a bit.

He lifts the glass slightly, studying her over its rim.

“Aurora,” he says languidly, “you don’t have an Evol.”

She stares at him.

“…What?” she demands. “Um yes, I do. I literally just healed someone. In front of a whole board of doctors.”

A soft laugh drips from his lips.

“If that was the joke then I’m leaving. That was very funny.”

She gets up dramatically.

“Let me finish…please.” Thanatos side-eyes her.

He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that curls around her spine,

“What you used today was not an Evol.”

“…Then what was it?”

Thanatos tilts his head, watching her like a curious little puzzle.

“Aurora,” he says softly, almost indulgently, “what you wield… is divine power. A gift I bestowed on you.”

Her breath catches.

“Divine-? The hell is divine power supposed to mean? And why would you give me something like that?”

Her eyes widen.

“-and what’s happening at the hospital? Did I die again?!”

Thanatos sighs. A slow, elegant exhale, as though she is a child asking why the sky is blue.

The air shifts.

Behind him, the void ripples — dark and vast, filled with drifting lights like floating green embers. 

“You’re not dead,” he says finally. “Your body is still lying quite peacefully in Akso Hospital. Your heart beats. They believe you fainted. They are examining you as we speak.”

Aurora swallows hard.

“Okay… so… why am I here?”

Thanatos leans back in his throne, the obsidian surface shimmering beneath him.

“I didn’t let you go there for free, Aurora.”

A shiver crawls up her spine.

“What does that mean?”

“I appointed you,” he says, “as my vassal.”

“…Your WHAT. Your vessel?”

“My vassal,” Thanatos repeats calmly. “A servant of higher order. Bound by divine tether.”

He gestures loosely with his glass. “A very old arrangement. Quite standard, actually.”

“STANDARD?!”

She nearly chokes.

“I didn’t agree to ANYTHING like that-!”

“You didn’t disagree,” he counters smoothly. “Which, in cosmic law, is very similar.”

Aurora gapes at him. 

Don’t ‘um actually’ me. What the fuck.

Thanatos sets his glass aside, and with a flick of his wrist, a thick, ancient-looking book materialises in his hand — bound in dark metal and inked, neon glyphs that shimmer faintly.

He offers it to her.

She doesn’t move.

He arches a brow.

“Take it.”

Aurora reaches out reluctantly, and the book lands in her palms with surprising weight. It feels… alive. Warm. Wrong.

“What is this…?”

“A manual,” he says casually.

“For dark magic. An ability you acquire as my vassal. It will come to you in time, with practice.”

“Dark… magic.”

She says it like it tastes weird in her mouth.

“Yes,” Thanatos says, amused.

“Though for now, you are only newly appointed. Barely awakened. You won’t wield it properly yet.”

“But why dark magic? Why would celestial beings use dark magic?”

Thanatos tilts his head, leaning it on his hand. “Dark magic is a bit more flexible. It fills in the gaps of Divine power, since Divine power is pretty limited to a specific focus.”

Aurora flips the book open.

Black pages. Dark green ink. Symbols that shift when she tries to read them.

“Divine power obeys rules. Dark magic doesn’t.”

She lifts her eyes up from the book and snaps it shut.

“And the healing thing?” she demands. “How does that even work? Why do I have it?”

Thanatos steeples his fingers.

“Because,” he says, “some of the divine power must be passed down to the vassal when appointment happens. I cannot keep it forever. The cycle of souls requires succession.”

“Succession,” she repeats blankly.

“Yes,” he says. “Promotions, Aurora. Even deities have them.”

She stares at him, horrified.

“And my healing divine power,” he continues lightly, “is merely what I chose to bestow upon you. A fragment of what I once held. Now that you have it, I no longer possess that ability.”

Her blood runs cold. “You- you GAVE me your healing?”

Thanatos laughs softly.

Aurora grips the book tighter, heart racing.

“So what now?” she whispers.

Thanatos smiles.

“Oh, Aurora,” he says, leaning forward, eyes glinting like dying stars.

“Now… you begin learning what you truly are.”

Thanatos watches her clutch the book with that same amused, patient-but-not-really-patient expression.

Click!

He snaps his fingers.

The book vanishes instantly from her hands.

Not faded.

Not dissolved.

Just gone, like reality forgot it was ever there.

Aurora gasps.

“What-?!”

Click!

Thanatos snaps again.

The book reappears in her lap, heavy and humming with a dark pulse.

He twirls his finger in his hair lazily.

“Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To cloak it,” he says, tone clipped as if this is basic kindergarten magic. “I don’t need Akso’s little monitors discovering you brought forbidden texts into their sterile world. Or anyone knowing, in fact.”

She stares at him.

He stares back expectantly. He makes a snapping gesture sharply.

“You are my vassal now. Act like it.”

Aurora panics. Hands shaking, she lifts the book in front of her.

“O-okay- uhh-”

Thanatos taps his foot.

“Aurora. It works through intention. Command the power from your head and imagine it running all the way through to your hands, then fingertips, then out to the book.”

She sucks in a breath.

Fine.

Okay.

Focus.

Hide.

A swirl of deep purple mist bursts outward from her fingertips.

It wraps around the book like ribbons of smoke, coiling elegantly up its spine, across the dark metal, through the neon glyphs.

The mist thickens, tightens, and sinks into the book’s surface swallowing its presence.

Aurora’s eyes widen.

“…I did it?”

Thanatos pauses and lifts one brow.

“Well. Good job. First try.”

He tilts his head slightly.

“Perhaps you are not as hopeless as I assumed.”

She groans internally. 

Was that a compliment or an insult. 

Probably both.

Thanatos rises from his throne with fluid, unnatural grace.

“Good,” he says. “Now let’s not waste any more time.”

He snaps his fingers one last time.

A luminous summoning circle ignites beneath Aurora’s chair — sprawling lines of green, white, and black flame weaving into geometric patterns that rotate like a clock and a star map layered together.

The floor hums.

Her stomach drops.

Thanatos’s eyes glow with a pale, inhuman light.

“Time to go back, Aurora.”

“W-wait-! I still have questions-!”

“Ask them when you survive your next fainting spell,” he says dryly.

Aurora feels herself falling.

Air rushes past her.

Light flickers.

And everything blacks out once again.

------------

“Well, you’re doing wonderfully already,” the woman replies, tone smooth but warm, like she actually means it. “I’m Marceline. You can just call me MC though.” 

Aurora lets out a playful scoff which could be mistaken for a nervous huff, deadpanning. 

She is quite literally MC, huh.

Aurora swallows, daring a small smile. “My name is Aurora. It’s nice to meet you two.”

The man beside her—Caleb—finally speaks, his voice low and even. “Aurora. Fitting name.” His gaze is sharp, but there’s no malice in it. It’s the kind of look that weighs, measures… and, oddly, approves.

Heat prickles at her ears. She shifts on her feet. “Can I get you both started with drinks?”

The woman nods, rattling off an order with ease, while Caleb just murmurs, “The same.” His attention lingers on Aurora a second longer than necessary, like he’s cataloguing details he won’t forget.

Aurora scribbles down the order, but her fingers tremble slightly against the page. It’s not fear—it’s something else. Like being seen through.

---

SUNDAY June 30th, 2047 Aurora re-reads the email on her phone for the twelfth time.

Akso Hospital.

Board-level meeting.

Sunday. 9:30 AM.

Special case review.

Her stomach twists itself into an anxious pretzel.

“Yep,” she mutters under her breath. “This is the building.”

The towering hospital looms above her. An elegant monolith of glass, white alloy, and sharp geometric architecture. The morning sun reflects off its crystalline panels, scattering light across the plaza like fractured starbursts. Drones hum overhead. Holographic banners ripple with rotating medical announcements. Everything feels too advanced, too clean, too intimidating.

She takes a breath and steps inside.

The lobby is cavernous and bright, filled with the low buzz of staff and the gentle hum of hovering machines disinfecting the floors. The ceiling arches high enough to hold a small planetarium. Pale blue light pulses along the edges of transparent screens displaying patient wait times.

Aurora approaches the receptionist, palms clammy.

“Hi. My name is Aurora Doran. I have a meeting with the board?”

The receptionist scans her face with a practiced smile. “Yes, Miss Doran. You’re expected. Please follow me.”

Aurora tries not to trip as she trails behind the woman through a series of sleek corridors.

The door slides open with a soft chime.

A long table curves through the center of the room. Eight people and their titles sit spaced evenly along it.

Heads of departments, senior clinicians, administrative leads.

And one familiar man in a white coat with dark hair, golden-green eyes, and a composed presence that borders on intimidating.

Zayne Li.

Aurora internally screams.

Fantastic.

Cold, stoic, and sexy. 

She forces a smile as she steps inside.

“Miss Doran,” the Chairwoman greets. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

Aurora bows slightly. “Thank you for having me.”

She goes around the table, shaking hands one by one.

Firm hands. Sharp eyes.

Professional smiles that feel more like assessments.

When she reaches Zayne, he offers his hand with polite neutrality, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

“Dr. Zayne Li,” he introduces.

“I—I know,” she blurts, then wants to fling herself out the nearest window. “I mean—nice to meet you.”

Aurora takes her seat, setting her phone face down to keep her hands from shaking.

Explain my case. Demonstrate. Impress. Then LEAVE.

One of the board members clears his throat.

“In your email, you mentioned you possess a… special Evol. One you could not describe digitally. Please elaborate.”

Aurora nods, inhaling deeply.

“I believe I have a healing-type Evol,” she begins. “It activated accidentally- twice. I didn’t want to risk writing details electronically in case it was intercepted or flagged.”

Several members exchange interested glances.

“What precisely happened?”

Aurora explains everything.

Finding the injured kitten.

The golden mist.

The leg healing fully.

The second test at the vet clinic.

When she finishes, the room goes silent.

Not disbelief.

But… calculation.

Finally a woman leans back. “Miss Doran… that’s a substantial claim. Can you demonstrate it?”

Aurora swallows. “I can try.”

“Bring in a low-priority ED case,” another member instructs. “Someone stable. Non-critical.”

A nurse steps out.

Aurora’s pulse hammers.

Minutes later, the nurse wheels in a patient—mid-thirties, pale, restless, gripping his abdomen. 

His chart indicates:

Severe kidney stone pain.

Stable, but in acute discomfort.

He groans softly, clutching his side.

“A stone stuck in the ureter,” the nurse explains. “Pain management is ongoing, but we can pause medication to allow demonstration.”

Aurora steps forward, heart pounding.

She hovers her hands over him.

…

…

…

Nothing.

No warmth.

No glow.

No mist.

Aurora stiffens.

One member raises an eyebrow.

Another scribbles something.

Zayne watches quietly—but with focus sharpened like a blade.

Aurora’s palms sweat. “I swear- it usually works- ”

One man sighs, sitting back down. “Miss Doran, you were informed that misuse of departmental time comes with financial penalties. The entire board is present today. I hope you understand the gravity-”

The rest of the words blur out. Her heart thumps in her ears.

His tone is cold.

Clinical.

Borderline accusatory.

They all walk towards their seats.

Aurora’s chest tightens painfully.

Why isn’t it working?

Why now of all times-?

She lifts her eyes just in time to see the patient wince, his face contorted in agony. His breath stutters. Sweat beads along his temple.

“Sir?” Aurora whispers, stepping closer. “Please… look at me.”

He lifts his head weakly. Their eyes meet.

A sharp, stabbing pain tears through her own lower abdomen, fast and brutal.

She gasps quietly.

The board barely notices—they’re watching the patient, not her.

Her heart stutters.

Her breath shakes.

The pain keeps pulsing.

Matching his.

Perfectly.

Her hand trembles and heat blooms in her chest.

A spark.

A glow.

A golden warmth rising like a held breath finally released.

Light crawls down her arms.

And then—the mist pours out.

Chairs hover backwards as the members scamper out of their seats.

Soft, golden, effervescent light swirls from her hands, weaving itself around the patient’s abdomen. The fog thickens, glows brighter, and begins sinking gently into his skin.

The room goes silent.

The board watches in stunned disbelief.

The patient’s breathing slows. His heart rate and blood pressure stabilises. His muscles relax.

He exhales shakily, eyes widening as the pain dissolves from his face.

But Aurora is still hurting.

The pain doesn’t leave her.

In fact, it gets worse as the healing finishes, stabbing hot and relentless through her abdomen.

She bites her lip, forcing her expression still.

One minute.

Four deep breaths.

Hold. Don’t react. Don’t expose anything.

Slowly and mercifully,

the pain fades.

The ache melts away.

The moment it disappears, the golden mist dissipates.

Aurora sags forward slightly, dizzy but composed.

Zayne’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“Miss Doran?” he asks quietly.

“Yes?” She stumbles out.

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m fine.” she lies.

The Chairwoman steps toward the patient. “Sir? How do you feel?”

He sits up cautiously.

His eyes widen.

“…The pain is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Completely.”

A murmur of astonished voices fills the room.

“A regenerative Evol?”

“Advanced healing—never documented at this level.”

“Incredible…”

Zayne remains silent, assessing Aurora.

Studying the faint tremor still in her hands.

She forces them still.

“This could revolutionize—”

Zayne’s voice cuts through cleanly. “Miss Doran, please sit.” He pushes the glass of water towards her as he, along with the other members of the board, moves to his seat.

She collapses into her chair, trembling.

A board member leans forward.

“Miss Doran… with an ability like that, why would you want it hidden?”

Aurora lifts her eyes, voice small but steady.

“Because people get kidnapped for powers like this,” she says. “Weaponised. Forced into military branches. Tracked. Hunted. I don’t want to be a target. I don’t want to be used.”

Another voice says, gentler, “We understand. And confidentiality is… negotiable, especially since hiding something like this from the Evol Department…is risky.”

“Althought, there is no doubt you would be joining us. But we require formal testing.”

A holographic machine is wheeled forward.

“Please place your hand on the sensor.”

Aurora nods shakily.

The board watches.

Zayne watches closer.

She places her hand on the glowing panel.

It lights.

Flashes.

Her chest squeezes sharply.

Her vision tunnels.

“…W- wait…”

“Miss Doran?”

She hears Zayne’s voice, too far away.

The world thins.

Light engulfs her.

Everything goes black.

---

??? ??? ?? ???? Aurora abruptly opened her eyes. 

If this was all just a dream, I might jump.

“Why hello again… Aurora.” The owner of the deep voice swishes the shimmering, white liquid around his wine glass.

What-

------------

Aurora takes a few uncertain steps back, staring down at her hands.

They were trembling slightly. 

She brings them close to her chest.

It felt so… warm.

But also foreign. Strange. Like something ancient had brushed through her.

“It’s been fixed!”

Aurora’s head shoots up.

“What?”

Sarah spins the desktop monitor around with wide eyes. On-screen were two scans: one from before, with the fracture clearly visible, and one just taken—clean, flawless.

“Her leg’s no longer broken!” she says, voice filled with disbelief and awe. “Do you have some kind of healing Evol? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Aurora stares.

“…Neither have I,” she whispers.

I can’t have an Evol… can I?

What’s happening to me?

“Well, that’s pretty cool,” Sarah added, still staring at the screen like it might explain itself. “That kind of ability would be insanely helpful in the healthcare field.”

Aurora didn’t respond.

Her eyes drift down to the cat again—now fully relaxed, curled up on the blanket like nothing had happened.

And in her chest, that same warmth lingered… but it didn’t feel like hers.

Not entirely.

---

Aurora didn’t sleep.

All night, she sat on her bed with her computer lighting up the darkness, screen after screen of fruitless searches.

Self-healing Evols. Golden Evol mist. Unknown Evol abilities.

Nothing. No records. Not even old wiki forums or archived posts.

Just silence.

By morning, she gave up trying.

---

THURSDAY June 27th 2047

The bell jingles as she steps into the vet again.

Sarah perks up. “You came to check on Ruby?”

They had decided to name the little kitty Ruby, after her crimson eyes.

Aurora gives a tired smile. “Yeah. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

“She’s in the back. Come on.”

The kitten curled up in a crate, cleaned, warm, and halfway through her breakfast.

Aurora drops to her knees in front of her. “Hey, you…”

Ruby looks up and lets out a soft, healthy mew.

Sarah leans against the doorframe. “She’s doing a lot better, you know. You could adopt her.”

“I want to,” Aurora admits softly, brushing a knuckle over the side of Ruby’s ear. “I really do…”

“…But I can’t afford to. I don’t even know how to take care of a cat. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Before Sarah could respond, the bell over the clinic’s front door rings again.

“Hello—how can I help you?” she calls from the hallway.

A moment passed, and then a calm, composed voice replies.

“I’m here for Mephisto’s monthly routine checkup.”

Aurora didn’t turn.

Mephisto?

Oh hell no. What can Sylus be doing here in Linkon???

Tall, broad-shouldered, and silver-white hair brushed neatly to the side, stands in her peripherals. A black coat hangs effortlessly off him. His presence alone made the space feel smaller. Cooler. More controlled.

When his eyes met hers—crimson, unreadable—Aurora forgets how to breathe.

This guy can kill anyone with the flick of his wrist. I need to calm down before he thinks I’ve recognised him.

He gives the crate a brief glance.

“Are you taking her home?” he asks, voice level.

Aurora blinks, caught off guard. “I… I want to, but I can’t afford it. And I don’t really know how to look after a cat. I don’t want to mess up.”

Why is he showing interest in what I’m doing? I’m just a civilian.

Sarah smiles from behind him. “This is Skye. He’s the one who sponsors the clinic. That’s how we were able to keep Ruby overnight and give her proper care.”

Aurora turns sharply toward him. “You… you sponsor this place?”

The man—Skye—nods. “Yes.”

Why?

Her fingers trembles slightly on Ruby’s fur.

Why would a man like that fund a clinic like this?

His eyes moved back to Ruby, then to her again. 

“Take her home,” he says calmly. “I’ll cover everything.”

Whaa?

Her heart slams against her chest. “Wait- seriously?”

“Anything she needs. Medical. Food. Long-term care.”

What?! Why?

“It’s not just the cost! I don’t even know if I can handle it properly-”

“I’ll fund everything for as long as she’s alive.”

Aurora’s mouth opens. No sound comes out.

Who says that?

“You don’t even know me,” she breathes.

“I don’t have to.” Skye tilted his head slightly. “She’s alive because of you. You seem like you’ll take good care of her.”

Her eyes lit up.

Is he serious?

“I—what? You—thank you. Seriously—I’ll take such good care of her—I promise—thank you so much—!”

He raises a hand, silencing her flurry of gratitude. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Caw.

The sudden crackle of feathers snaps the moment in two. Aurora’s head whips around just in time to see a large shadow sweep across the clinic’s ceiling before landing with eerie precision atop a nearby cabinet.

A crow. 

Its feathers, midnight-black, glisten under the sterile clinic lights. Slender, mechanical plating line the joints of its wings—fluid yet metallic. Thin veins of glowing red pulses faintly along its sides, alive and artificial all at once.

It tilts its head at her. Staring.

Aurora straightens. He was far too deliberate in its movements.

"Someone’s impatient," Skye murmurs, voice smooth as obsidian.

He didn’t flinch. Of course he didn’t. It was as though the bird was simply another extension of him—sharp-edged, silent, and unbothered by the weight of attention.

Sarah emerges from the back with a towel draped over one arm. She pauses only briefly at the sight. "Ah. Mephisto’s here."

The crow ruffles his feathers again, letting out a guttural croak in response.

Sarah laughs, tapping the metal examination table with a gloved hand. "Come on then, drama king. Let’s get your check-up started."

Mephisto hops down with surprising grace, talons clicking against the surface. His wings fan once before folding, mechanical joints humming softly as they settle.

Aurora couldn’t help but stare. The way the tech and biology intertwined—it wasn’t just augmentation. It was integration. Seamless.

"He’s huge," she murmurs, half to herself.

Aurora turned her gaze back to him, half-expecting a smirk.

"Is he yours?" she asks. 

I know he’s his. I gotta keep the act up. 

"Yes."

No elaboration. No warmth.

Mephisto let out a softer croak this time, then stilled as Sarah began her inspection.

Aurora watches as fingers gloved in latex check the wings, the joints, and the feathers—every motion clinical and practiced.

"He’s got tech in his wings," she whispered. "That’s… not from a pet store."

Should I be saying this?

"Modified for aerial recon," Skye replies, gaze focused on the crow.

She blinked. "Recon?"

A beat.

Nahhh. Did he just say that in broad daylight?

He glances at her. "I didn’t say that."

Her lips parts. "But you just-"

He turns away.

Aurora shuts her mouth.

What the f- 

Alright then. Cool. Totally normal.

She lowers her eyes to the crate in her arms. Ruby sleeps soundly, unaware of the strange tension around her. Aurora gently stroked behind the kitten’s ear.

"...Thank you again," she whispers, even if he didn’t acknowledge it. “I’ll be taking my leave now, Sarah.”

“Okay. Bye. Come back tomorrow for the essentials.” Sarah doesn’t lift her eyes from Mephisto.

------------