It takes a few minutes of cautious coaxing, but eventually, Wren agrees to follow us to a small cafe down the street. I think he’s given up on running for now though because if he wanted to escape us, now would be the time to do it. But no, he keeps a careful distance, trailing a few hesitant steps behind Lukas and me, his shoulders hunched as if he’s expecting something, or someone, to grab him at any moment. He flinches at every loud noise, his sharp blue eyes flicking toward passing cars, scanning every stranger we pass. Is he looking for Solem? The thought makes my stomach turn. I hadn’t even considered that. What if he is being watched? It’s more than a little likely. We reach the cafe, a quiet little spot with an outdoor seating area, and Wren hesitates, his hand twitching slightly like he’s second guessing this whole thing. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and for a moment, I think he’s going to bolt again. But then he lets out a shaky breath and forces himself forward.
“I can’t stay long.” He mumbles as we approach the seating area, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze flickers around like a skittish animal, taking in the people sitting nearby, the street beyond, the alley that runs alongside the cafe. Like he’s mapping every possible escape route. The paranoia in his voice makes me even more certain, he’s trying to avoid being seen by someone. I lower my voice.
“Are you here alone?” I ask gently. Wren tenses. A flicker of something, fear, maybe, crosses his face, but he gives a short nod.
“I… I don’t think anyone followed me.” He mutters, though he sounds far from convinced. Lukas studies him carefully, his expression unreadable, before gesturing to an empty table near the railing where Roxy can sit at our feet.
“Sit, order whatever you want.” Lukas says simply, his tone quiet but firm. Wren hesitates again, eyeing Lukas warily. I don’t think he trusts us yet, not fully. Which is fair, considering we literally chased him down the street. I can’t blame Lukas for being wary either. He still seems tense, like he’s waiting for Wren to prove he’s dangerous. For a guy who reads minds, he isn’t all that good at reading people and guessing their motives. That’s just how Lukas is. He doesn’t like uncertainty, he likes hard facts, clear truths. He’s not the type to guess whether someone is trustworthy. He just reads them and knows. But Wren? He’s not reading Wren. He hasn’t even tried. Maybe because I asked him not to. Maybe because he’s waiting, hoping, the kid will tell us the truth on his own. It would be better to have his cooperation than to have a frightened teen resenting us for invading his privacy. I settle into my chair, ready to give Wren space to breathe, while Lukas heads inside to grab menus. Wren stands there for a second, his expression tense as he eyes the empty chairs at our table. Then, softly, so softly I almost don’t hear him he speaks.
“Will you please move?” He asks. I blink, confused. Move? Am I in his way? Did he want a specific seat? I glance around, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the chair across from him. The empty chair. Roxy, who had been watching Wren carefully, suddenly tilts her head toward the same spot. She doesn’t growl, doesn’t seem upset. If anything, she just seems… Curious. A strange shudder rolls down my spine. I can’t see anything there, but I’m pretty sure Wren can. A moment later Wren gives a slight nod to the empty space by the table.
“Thanks.” He mutters before lowering himself carefully into the chair. He notices me watching, then gives an awkward half shrug.
“I don’t like sitting on ghosts.” He mumbles, almost embarrassed, like he expects me to laugh at him. I don’t. It’s such a small thing, a quiet moment that most people wouldn’t even notice. But something about it hits me. Maybe it’s because he asked. Because Wren, a necromancer, someone with the power to raise the dead, is so careful, so considerate, that he asked permission before sitting in a chair occupied by a ghost. My heart clenches. This kid is not some heartless necromancer playing with life and death like it’s a game. He’s just a scared, exhausted kid who treats the dead with more kindness and respect than most people treat the living.
Lukas returns to the table, sliding into the seat beside me as he drops the menus onto the table with a casual thump. Without hesitation, I grab one and start flipping through it.
“I definitely need food. Something greasy.” I announce, aiming for an easy, lighthearted tone. Wren still looks anxious, his fingers twitching slightly on the edge of the table, his blue eyes darting from Lukas to me, then back again. He doesn’t look comfortable here at all. That much is obvious. But I figure if we act normal, if we just sit here and talk about food for a second instead of whatever nightmare he’s tangled up in, maybe, he’ll start to breathe a little easier. And if not, at least I’ll have a burger. Lukas, for once, doesn’t push. He just studies Wren in that sharp, assessing way he has, then finally picks up a menu himself.
“I could eat.” He mutters, not sounding entirely convinced. I think he would rather start pelting Wren with questions, but he holds back. Wren, though, Wren doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs the menu so fast he nearly knocks over the salt shaker, his hands unsteady as he flips the pages. I exchange a quick glance with Lukas. When was the last time this kid ate? We place our orders, and when the food arrives, I barely get a chance to take a bite before Wren starts inhaling his meal like he hasn’t eaten in days. Maybe he hasn’t. Or maybe it’s just because he’s a teenage boy. I remember how much food my brother used to get through. I swear he was ALWAYS hungry. Or maybe it’s the magic. A thought flickers through my mind. Magic burns energy. A lot of it, depending on the spell. If Wren has been using his abilities frequently, and given what we’ve seen, that seems likely, he might be starving just from sheer exertion. I file that away for later. For now, we let him eat. Lukas, somehow, manages to keep his mouth shut until Wren has at least slowed down a little. But the moment there’s even a pause, he leans forward, elbows on the table, and fixes Wren with a level stare.
“Tell us what’s going on.” Lukas says, voice firm, no nonsense. It’s not unkind, but there’s an edge to it, an unspoken implication that we’re not leaving until we get answers. Wren freezes mid bite, his fork hovering just above his plate. His fingers tighten around it slightly, his shoulders creeping up.
“I…” He swallows hard, glancing off to the side. His foot bounces anxiously under the table.
“I messed up. Really bad.” He says finally, voice barely above a whisper. Lukas doesn’t say anything, just watches him, waiting. Wren exhales sharply, his breath unsteady.
“I made a deal with a demon. I didn’t think. I didn’t realise-” He cuts himself off, rubbing a shaky hand over his face.
“It all just went so wrong, and now I’m stuck, and bad things keep happening…” He sighs heavily. His words are rushed, tumbling over themselves in a mess of panic and guilt. It’s like he’s trying to purge it all, trying to get rid of the weight pressing down on him, but he’s too frantic, too worked up, and none of it is making sense. I reach across the table, gently touching his wrist.
“Hey, it’s alright. We just want to help.” I say softly. Wren stiffens slightly at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You need to slow down. Take a deep breath, then start from the beginning. Tell us what happened.” I encourage him gently. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to listen. His fingers twitch, his knee still bouncing under the table. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to take a slow, shaky breath. His whole body trembles with the effort. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he nods.
“It… It all started about four months ago.” Wren says, his voice quieter now, heavier. His fingers clench in his lap.
“That was the first time I saw someone die.” He starts, then he swallows hard, staring down at the table like he’s trying to burn a hole through it. He sighs heavily, then corrects his statement.
“It was the night my mother died.”