Chapter 36 On the day of the Outing
Kai.
Kai was in their kitchen, hair loosely tied, wearing comfortable clothes like she had been awake for a while. She was so focused on packing that she didn’t even notice Selene’s presence at first.
Selene stopped dead.
Confusion hit first then irritation.
Then the sharp, instinctive anger of someone whose space had been invaded at four in the morning.
“Kai,” Selene said quietly.
Kai jolted so hard she almost knocked the oil lamp over.
Her head snapped toward Selene, eyes wide.
For half a second, both of them froze. Selene standing in the shadows with something metallic in her hand, Kai standing by the table with her fingers half-curled around a snack pack like she’d been caught stealing.
Kai blinked rapidly. “Selene—”
Selene lifted the ruler slightly, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
Kai swallowed. “I… I was preparing—”
Selene took another step forward, the oil lamp’s flicker catching her face now. Her expression wasn’t panicked. It was coldly awake.
Kai’s gaze flicked down to what Selene was holding.
She stiffened. “Wait—what is that?”
Selene’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
Then she lowered the ruler just a little, still not fully relaxing.
“You almost let me hit you,” Selene said, voice flat and sharp with leftover adrenaline. “I thought you were some burglar.”
Kai froze.
Not dramatically. Not guiltily.
Just enough for Selene to notice.
The kitchen light was still off, the only illumination coming from the thin blue line of moonlight slipping through the window above the sink. It cut across the counter—over a half-packed bag, over neatly stacked supplies that had no business being touched at four in the morning.
Bandages. Protein bars. A flask of water sealed tight. A folded map.
Selene lowered the weight in her hand, but didn’t set it down.
Kai let out a small laugh, the kind meant to soften edges before they were examined too closely. “You’re jumpy,” she said lightly. “It’s just me.”
Selene’s gaze drifted—not to Kai’s face, but to the bag. To the way it was packed with intention. To the way nothing was excess, nothing forgotten.
“For someone who invited me on an outing,” Selene said calmly, “you’re very… prepared.”
Kai shifted, placing herself slightly in front of the counter without seeming to. A protective instinct, poorly disguised. “You know me. I like to plan.”
At four in the morning?
Selene tilted her head, studying her sister the way one might study a familiar pattern that had begun to repeat too often. Kai’s expression was open. Almost sincere. Her shoulders relaxed. Her eyes did not.
“Where are we going again?” Selene asked, voice even.
Kai hesitated.
Not long enough for anyone else to catch it. Long enough for Selene to file it away.
“Just outside the territory,” Kai said. “Somewhere quiet. I thought… after everything, you might want space.”
Space.
Selene almost smiled.
“I already have that,” she replied. “I didn’t realize it required maps.”
Kai’s lips pressed together briefly. “You’re reading too much into it.”
Selene finally set the weight down on the table. The sound was soft.
“No,” she said. “I’m reading exactly what’s there.”
Silence settled between them, thick and careful.
Kai glanced toward the hallway, then back at Selene. “You don’t trust me anymore.”
It wasn’t a question. It was bait.
Selene met her gaze at last, eyes cool, unreadable. “Trust isn’t something that disappears,” she said. “It erodes.”
Kai swallowed.
For a moment—just a moment—something sharp flickered beneath her practiced composure. Fear? Or calculation adjusting course.
“Well,” Kai said gently, reaching for the bag and zipping it closed, “you agreed to come. So whatever you think… you’ll see for yourself.”
Selene watched her lift the bag.
Watched how careful she was not to turn her back.
“I will,” Selene said.
And she meant it in a way Kai didn’t understand yet.
Somewhere deep beneath Selene’s skin, the Hourglass Mark stirred because the fracture was close now.
Selene did not go back to sleep.
She stood in the kitchen long after Kai had zipped the bag, long after the quiet returned to its usual shape. The house felt like it was holding its breath with them, walls listening, floorboards remembering every step that had been taken too carefully.
When Selene finally turned away, she didn’t do it with anger.
She did it with the same calm she used when she already knew the ending of a conversation and had decided not to waste words getting there.
Upstairs, she moved through her room without turning on the light.
Her hands found what they needed by memory: a small utility knife tucked behind the drawer divider, a roll of tape, a miniature flashlight that fit into her palm like a secret, a thin coil of cord that could be mistaken for a simple strap but wasn’t. She laid them on the bed in neat rows, the way someone laid out instruments before a procedure.
Overly prepared—yes but Selene had learned in her first life that being unprepared was just another way of bleeding.
She pulled on dark clothes. Not the kind meant to look pretty. The kind meant to disappear into shadow if she needed to. A jacket with inside pockets. Shoes that didn’t slip. Hair tied back, no loose strands to be grabbed, no soft vulnerability left hanging.
Then she added what made the whole thing almost ridiculous.
A small first-aid kit.
An extra bottle of water.
And the book.
She hesitated with it, fingers hovering over the worn cover like she was asking permission without wanting an answer. The hourglass symbol on the cover didn’t glint, didn’t flare—just sat there, patient as a bruise.
Selene slid it into her bag anyway not because she expected to read but because she had learned to keep witnesses close.
When she finally went downstairs, the sky outside had turned from black to that early gray-blue that never felt like morning, only a lighter shade of night.
Kai was already by the door.
Of course she was.
She looked fresh in a way that irritated Selene quietly. As if she’d been awake for hours but wanted the world to believe she had simply risen early out of discipline and good intentions. Her bag sat at her feet like a loyal dog.
Their aunt’s door upstairs remained shut.
Selene’s gaze drifted toward it instinctively.
“Does she know?” Selene asked, voice low.
Kai blinked, then smiled in a way that tried too hard to be normal. “Auntie? She’s asleep.”
Selene didn’t move. Didn’t soften.
Kai lifted her shoulders slightly. “She didn’t go out. She hasn’t even come down.”
“So she doesn’t know,” Selene said.
Kai made a small sound of impatience disguised as reassurance. “I left a note. It’s fine. We’ll be back before she even notices.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed, not at Kai, but at the idea of it.
A note.
As if their aunt was the kind of woman who didn’t wake at the smallest change in the house. As if she hadn’t been strange lately—standing outside, losing herself in thought like something was calling her name from the dark.
Selene’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
“She’s been… off,” Selene said. “Lately.”
Kai’s expression slipped for half a second. Just enough to reveal that she had noticed too, and had decided it was inconvenient.
“She’s tired,” Kai replied quickly. “She’s always tired. You know how she is.”
Selene held Kai’s gaze, calm and unyielding.
Then, because there was no point pressing with someone who would only smile and deny until your throat hurt, Selene simply nodded once.
“Right,” she said.
But her worry stayed.
It sat in the back of her mind like a door left unlocked.
They stepped outside.