Chapter 90: Between Laboratory and Lake

The warmth immediately slid over her frozen skin, drawing a long, exhausted sigh from her entire body. After hours spent in the brutal cold of the Otherworld, her muscles finally seemed willing to relax. Steam quickly filled the room, fogging the mirrors with thick condensation while the scalding water streamed down her shoulders and along her back, still tense from training.

Her body and hair desperately needed this.

Even if "Rest" now kept her clean, nothing compared to hot water and soap.

The scented soap foamed between her fingers as she slowly ran a hand through her red hair to untangle it. The sensation was simple, ordinary even... and yet deeply comforting.

Here, at least, she could breathe for a few minutes.

No snow.

No monsters.

No absurd quests.

Just warmth, the steady sound of water, and Phénix's reassuring presence behind the door.

Every now and then, she heard him shift slightly in the locker room, his claws softly scraping against the floor before he settled back into vigilant stillness. Strangely enough, that simple presence was enough to calm her.

Blanche closed her eyes for a few seconds beneath the burning stream, letting the water wash away the accumulated exhaustion.

And honestly, after everything she had been going through lately, this bath felt almost divine.

At lunch, fresh and relaxed, she let herself be tempted by the cider Glen was drinking. A few sips were enough to raise "Poison" by one level.

Derek, already grumpy by nature, was even worse without Aaron around; but he softened — if such a thing was truly possible — when Saphir suddenly appeared out of nowhere and finished the meal with them. D. seemed to like him far more than Blanche would have expected.

As for Phénix, back in cat form, he spent the entire meal purring on her lap.

The day was peaceful. She spent it with Argy, who eventually told her how she had gifted Aaron her own scales as a wedding present.

Deprived of information by the father, she obtained it from the son instead, delighted to finally learn everything.

Inside his darkroom, while he developed his photographs, he spoke to her about their life.

The room glowed with that reddish darkness unique to old photographic laboratories, where every movement seemed to belong to another era. The smell of chemicals lingered in the air, mixed with damp paper and the scent of antique cameras carefully lined across the shelves. Several photographs hung drying from metallic wires around them, slowly revealing frozen landscapes, familiar silhouettes, and a few battle scenes far too aesthetic to be entirely honest.

Argy worked with an almost religious calm.

His fingers handled the photographs with meticulous precision while he spoke in a surprisingly detached tone, as though he were recounting a story only a few years old... and not several decades spent living alongside a group of emotionally dysfunctional monsters.

His mother had been gone for fifteen years, Glen had arrived afterward, and then Aaron had met Derek — only ten years later.

Blanche blinked.

Only ten years.

The way they talked about time obeyed rules deeply insulting to ordinary humans. Ten years were mentioned with the same casualness as a slightly long weekend.

Argy calmly slid another photo into the developing bath.

The four of them had lived together for nearly a century.

Nearly a hundred years.

Blanche looked from the photographs to Argy, then back to the photographs again, with the growing impression that her brain was outright refusing to process the information correctly.

A century.

Together.

She already struggled to imagine sharing an apartment with someone for more than three months without contemplating minor homicide. They had survived nearly a hundred years of cohabitation.

"Not always happily," he added in a perfectly neutral tone.

The sheer understatement nearly made her laugh.

Because yes, she was beginning to gather enough evidence to suspect their family dynamic had probably never resembled a cozy fairy tale by the fireplace.

Three men and one child — Argy had apparently terrorized them all.

The photographer even looked vaguely offended by the memory.

"I was a very energetic child," he corrected with dignity.

Blanche slowly raised an eyebrow.

Judging by the lingering trauma that had just crossed his face, she strongly suspected the word "energetic" actually concealed domestic war crimes.

Especially considering one of them was a sociopath who slept with one eye open.

This time, she did not even need to ask which one.

Honestly, Derek radiated such a permanent aura of menace that he could have calmly announced he buried bodies in the garden without shocking anyone.

Argy let out a dramatic sigh while hanging another damp photograph.

"You have no idea what it's like growing up with someone capable of silently appearing behind you at any hour of the day or night just to correct your posture."

Unfortunately, Blanche was beginning to understand that very well.

"One time, he woke me up because I was breathing 'inefficiently.'"

She burst out laughing despite herself.

The worst part?

It was believable enough to be true.

Nicky, meanwhile, had arrived only six months before Blanche.

"You warned us, you know," Argy said while sliding another photograph into the developing bath. "When you traveled through time. You always told Dad and me that you would come back one day... that you might not remember who we were, but that you were certain you'd love us again."

Blanche smiled softly. He repeated it often, almost like a mantra. A promise she intended to keep.

"When Aaron comes back, I'll tell him I don't mind the others knowing who I really am."

The joy on Argy's face was worth every speech imaginable. He removed his gloves, kept his glasses on, and threw himself into her arms.

Late in the afternoon, Saphir invited her onto his back for an aerial ride.

As if he were simply suggesting an ordinary walk.

Blanche accepted without hesitation.

Even after several flights, even as the novelty slowly began to settle into familiarity, she did not think she would ever be capable of refusing such an invitation. Not from him.

Saphir's transformation left her speechless once again: magnificent.

Magic unfolded around him in a silent ripple of energy before his immense form gradually took shape before her eyes. His body expanded, stretched, and covered itself in scales with dark reflections until he became that colossal creature that seemed to belong more to legends than to reality itself.

Majestic.

Even the word felt insufficient.

His deep midnight-blue scales captured the last rays of daylight with an almost unreal beauty. Under certain lighting, they appeared black; under others, cobalt and silver reflections slid along his massive form like waves of living ink.

Every movement sent metallic glimmers racing across his colossal body.

Even motionless, Saphir radiated overwhelming power.

An ancient nobility.

Something that immediately reminded her why drakions had inspired so many myths and terrors throughout the centuries.