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 Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:25 am
Takes place after: The Cost of Living
Énna had fallen asleep fast, exhaustion winning out over adrenaline, and Riker had lingered just long enough to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly wake up again. Made sure his breathing was steady, that there was no restless shifting, no mumbled words from the edge of sleep. Only then had he straightened, eased himself off the bed and out of the room and pulled the door carefully shut.
The clock on the stove read well past midnight.
He didn’t sit back down.
Riker heard the front door before it opened — footsteps outside, the quiet jangle of keys — and something in his chest tightened in anticipation. He moved automatically, crossing the living room and stopping near the entryway, his posture straight but not defensive.
When the door opened, he didn’t speak right away.
Nic Cary looked… like someone who had been bracing himself for bad news. Of course he would have known Riker was there. He had cameras and Énna had already texted him to let him know he was okay.
“Hey,” he said finally, voice low so it wouldn’t carry down the hall. Calm. Respectful. Not at all familiar.
He met Nic’s eyes and didn’t look away.
“Énna’s asleep,” Riker continued. “Physically… he’s okay. Shaken. Exhausted. But he’s breathing easy. No injuries that need immediate attention.”
He paused, because he knew that wasn’t the part Nic would be listening for.
Riker drew in a slow breath. “I figured you’d want to hear that first.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:31 am
Nic eyed Riker the way he eyed most people—distant, a little cold, like he expected to be disappointed by him at any moment; not quite guarded but not open, either. Some might consider it unwelcoming. Nic liked to think himself calm, straightforward.
“What I want to hear is why you’re in my house telling me my son’s okay,” he said.
He moved inside enough to close the front door behind him, shoving his keys back into the pocket of his jeans. Nic kept his leather jacket on even if the house was warm enough to go without it. He wore flannel beneath, and a pair of boots which looked a bit worn from age but proved to be in relatively good condition otherwise.
Nic knew he could be imposing and made no effort to tone it down, even if Riker hadn’t seemed like a bad kid so far. A little reckless, maybe. A little defiant. A little unsure, too.
“Should he not be?” Nic asked, glancing toward Énna’s closed bedroom door.
He’d gotten the alert from the security cameras as soon as Énna and Riker had arrived. Énna’s text had been uninformative. Home. I’m okay. Riker’s staying for a while. We’ll leave the door open.
Nic eyed Riker up and down. “Second time in two weeks you’ve had to tell me about my son.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:32 am
Riker didn’t flinch under the look he was given. But he didn’t try to puff up his chest to counter the look either. He just stayed where he was, hands loose at his sides, back straight, meeting Nic’s eyes with a resigned kind of calm.
“I’m here because he’s my friend,” he said, glancing briefly toward Énna’s door in a way that was protective without being possessive, before returning to Nic. “Because something happened tonight that you deserve to know, and Énna needs a break from thinking about.”
He took a breath. Not necessarily to calm himself, but to make sure he didn’t stumble over any words in his own exhaustion.
“The General who attacked us in the office building at Northpoint,” he started, voice low and clearly trying to hold back from bubbling with anger now that he’d pulled the topic back to the surface of his thoughts. “He found us again. He got his hands on a few of us. On Énna’s starseed, too.”
He didn’t rush though it, but instead let Nic feel the weight of it.
“We got them back,” Riker added, before Nic had any real chance to ask. “All of them. Everyone walked away.”
He paused, longer this time.
“I know I’m not exactly the kind of person you’d pick to tell you,” he said, not defensive, just speaking the truth of what he knew. “And I get why you’re not thrilled to see me standing in your living room. I’m not offended.”
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, drawing in a careful breath as he did so, and let them settle again with a quiet exhale.
“But Énna didn’t do anything wrong. And if you’re angry,” Riker said quietly, holding Nic’s gaze. “I’d rather you be angry at me than anyone else who was there. I take responsibility for what happened. I should have done more to keep him and our friends safe.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:32 am
Nic’s reactions were subtle—a tightening of the jaw; a dip of the mouth; tension along his brow; the curl of fists.
He let Riker say what he needed to say and waited a beat to make sure he’d heard all of it, then stalked past Riker and rounded the loveseat to make his way to Énna’s room. Lamplight filled most of the living-room but didn’t reach far enough to illuminate the family pictures on the wall. Cam’s smiling face seemed to stand out anyway, a constant reminder of what someone getting their hand on a starseed typically meant.
Énna’s door opened without a creak or groan. Nic stepped in only far enough to see him, small and pale on one side of the bed, curled up in the soft glow of fairy lights with the blanket he’d had since childhood pillowed beneath his cheek. For a few moments Nic simply stood there, watching the slow rise and fall of Énna’s chest as he breathed, gripped by old fears and long buried instincts.
When Énna had been a baby, Nic would creep close and put a hand on his chest, unconvinced by what his eyes were seeing, his worries tempered only by the reassurance of touch.
He resisted now only because Énna no longer slept as well as he used to.
Only partially satisfied, Nic left and quietly shut the door behind him. He stalked into the kitchen next and reached into the upper cabinet near the pantry. A bottle of whiskey in hand, he turned for the upper cabinet on the right side of the sink and retrieved a glass. Nic poured himself a healthy amount and drank it quickly, then poured again before turning to find out what Riker was doing.
“Sit,” Nic said, motioning toward the nearest chair at the dining table. He brought the glass and the bottle of whiskey with him while he took the opposite chair. “Don’t know what the ******** makes you think I’d be angry with Énna instead of the sick ******** who did this. Don’t know what the ******** possessed any of you to go out and make yourselves a target either, but there’s nothing any of us can do to change that now, is there.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:32 am
Riker stayed standing where he was after Nic disappeared down the hall. He didn’t follow. He already knew what Nic would see there.
By the time Nic came back to the kitchen, Riker was rubbing a hand down his face, dragging tired fingers over his eyes and bridge of his nose like he could physically wipe away the exhaustion. It didn’t work, but he also hadn’t expected it to. His body was humming with lingering adrenaline, even as his shoulders sagged.
At the sharp command, he hesitated. Just for a second. Skeptical. Cautious. Then he nodded and pulled out the chair, sitting when Nic did. He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the table, hands loosely clasped together. Alert despite the building fatigue.
“I don’t think you’d be mad at Énna,” Riker said quietly, meeting Nic’s gaze again. There was no challenge in the look, just clarification. “I just wanted you to know he didn’t do anything wrong.”
He let out a breath, knowing he’d have to explain this more than once. Evan would be worried too. They both deserved explanations.
“We weren’t being reckless,” he continued. “At least not how it looks. We knew there was a pack of youma targeting us. We didn’t just run out and hope for the best. We planned it. Picked a location that took time to get into. We had exits planned. There were enough of us that it should have been simple.”
He paused, his jaw tightening. “The General showing up was a possibility, but he had some kind of magic that kept ours from working. Completely. None of us had seen anything like it before, and we didn’t know it was possible.”
He looked down at the table for a moment, as though it would help him organize his thoughts, before looking back up again.
“If Énna doesn’t go out again,” Riker said carefully, “I won’t argue with his decision. But I will tell you honestly — I will. And some of the others will too. Because whatever this is, it’s not going to stop with us. And if it spreads—...”
He stopped himself, closing not to finish the thought out loud.
“The General didn’t just threaten us,” he said instead, his voice low. “He threatened our families.”
Riker held Nic’s gaze then, the seriousness etched into his expression, despite the lingering exhaustion.
“So we’re not chasing danger for the hell of it,” he said quietly. “We’re trying to keep it from coming after everyone we care about.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:33 am
Nic let Riker talk again, let him pause where he needed to and gather his words. He didn’t interrupt even when he had the opportunity. He pushed down any urge to counter and contradict, waited for Riker to go quiet for longer than a few seconds before even contemplating a response.
The bottle of whiskey sat on the table. The glass sat in Nic’s hand, fingers curled tight enough around the surface for his knuckles to go pale. The frown on his face was deeply etched and twitched each time he forced back a reaction. His gaze was dark and steady. The only light in the kitchen came from the little light over the sink, so they sat half in shadow.
“D’you know he hasn’t been sleeping,” Nic said instead of commenting on the night’s events.
Maybe he was looking for a show of guilt. Maybe he was testing Riker’s concern. Maybe he was looking for proof of Riker’s feelings, whatever they were.
“Since last time,” Nic explained. “I hear him up at night. He cries sometimes. Tries to hide it when I check on him because he doesn’t want me to worry. Sometimes he’s in the bathroom throwing up. Can’t hide that. A week ago he threw up so hard he fainted. He jumps at strange noises. Flinches at sudden movement. He barely eats. Hasn’t even been to his dance classes. You go to Azure? I don’t need to tell you he hasn’t been there either. He moves around like he thinks he’s gonna split open.”
Nic paused to take a sip of his drink, staring at Riker over the glass.
“You tell me if you think he should be out there,” he said once he lowered the glass back to the table with a soft thunk. “I don’t want to hear what he wants. He’s like Cam. He’ll push himself until he dies because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. You want to respect his decision, fine. I respected Cam’s decision. What I want to hear is if you agree with it. Do you think he should be out there?”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:33 am
Riker didn’t answer right away.
Nic’s words struck, one by one, each detail sinking in heavier than the last. The sleepless nights. The vomiting. The flinching. The way Énna had been moving through the world like he was made of glass and expected to shatter. Riker’s eyes dropped to the table, jaw tightening hard enough to hurt. He swallowed, slow, like he was bracing himself against something that was already too familiar.
It was his fault. All of it. At least, that was how it settled in his heart.
“I know,” he said quietly. It wasn’t defensive, just tired. “I’ve seen it. I mean… not all of it, but enough.”
He pulled his hands apart briefly, lifting them to scrub at his face again before dropping back to the table. He didn’t look up yet.
“I don’t think he should be out there,” Riker said. His voice wasn’t loud, but the words were firm. “I don’t think any of us should be. If I could do this alone — if I could figure out how to handle everything and keep everyone else out of it — I would. In a heartbeat.”
He finally lifted his eyes up to Nic, but there was no defiance in them. Just quiet honesty.
“But that’s not how this works,” he continued. “And I hate that. I hate every time we go out, knowing someone could get hurt. Knowing Énna could get hurt.”
He paused to take a breath. It was shaky but he did his best to control it.
“He’s not weak,” Riker said after a moment. “He’s strong. Capable. And when he’s with us — when we’re together — we’re safer than when we’re alone. We’ve got friends who can shield, friends who can heal, others who know how to work through strategy and help figure out the risks. We have the power to stop this.”
His fingers curled slightly against the table, knuckles turning white.
“That doesn’t make any of this okay,” he added. “It doesn’t make it fair. And it doesn’t mean I want him out there. But I think he’ll keep fighting. Because the alternative is doing nothing and still suffering. Still waiting. Still letting fear eat him alive.”
His voice lowered a bit, rougher now.
“And if he’s going to do it either way, I don’t want him doing it alone,” he said, lifting his head to meet Nic’s gaze, like he was already bracing for judgment.
“So, no…” he said softly. “I don’t think he should be out there. But I think he will be. And if he is, I want him protected so he can come home.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:33 am
Nic took another generous swallow of whiskey.
A short silence hung between them. Nic used it to stare at his glass. He turned it against the table, watched the remaining liquid slosh around inside, then stopped to drink that, too. He poured himself more—too much, maybe, but the war did that to people. To the ones who fought, and the ones left behind.
“Cam could shield,” Nic said. His dark stare lifted back to Riker, full of frustration and fury that wasn’t meant for him. “It didn’t save him. He had friends who could shield, too. You think they’re all still alive? He had friends who could heal, but they can’t save everybody, can’t do anything about a ******** starseed. They talked about the risks. They planned. They coordinated. They strategized. Knights and Senshi older than you. Stronger than you. More experienced than you. A lot of ******** good that did them.
“You sit around like me, you watch all this s**t without the power to do anything about it, and you start to notice patterns,” Nic continued. “A bunch of idealists band together. They wanna use their magic for good. Think they can change the ******** world. Some of ‘em might do alright. They fight together. Protect each other. But some of ‘em die anyway. Some of ‘em give up and go into hiding. New ones come along to fill the gaps. Those ones, they think they’ve got it figured out. Band together. Strategize. Like everyone who came before them hasn’t done the same ******** thing.
“You a Knight of Ganymede, too?” Nic asked, scrutinizing Riker’s every reaction, searching for tension, for fear, or anger, or hopelessness. “You were quick to defend her last time. Have you asked her about the war? How strong or capable do you think she is? You think it’s done her any good?”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:33 am
Riker listened. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t argue when Nic said Cam could shield, or when he listed the dead and the disappeared. Each name Nic didn’t say still weighed heavy in Riker’s chest. His gaze dropped again, fingers curling slowly against the edge of the table as if to keep himself grounded there.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. It wasn’t to placate him. It wasn’t an attempt to fix anything. Just acknowledging his pain. “About Cam. About all of them.”
When Nic asked about Ganymede, Riker’s jaw tightened. Not sharply, not in panic, but rather with consideration. He didn’t answer right away.
“I’m not an idealist,” he said instead, voice flat with honesty. “I don’t think magic makes us special, or chosen, or capable of saving the world just because we want to.”
He took a breath. Slow. Controlled.
“And I’m not sitting here pretending that teamwork makes us invincible,” he continued. “I know shields fail. I know healers can’t get to everyone in time. I know people die anyway.”
He finally looked up then, meeting Nic’s stare without flinching.
“But if we sit around and do nothing,” Riker said, frustration bleeding through despite trying to control his voice, “if we watch the Negaverse tear through people one by one and don’t try to stop them, then we might as well hand our starseeds over right now. Because that’s where it ends. That, or they just kill everyone who ever had a chance to fight back.
“And if it’s not them,” he added, voice rougher, “it’ll be something else. Another world eating serpent. Maybe an alien invasion. A war from beyond the solar system. Something bigger and worse that doesn’t care whether we’re tired or grieving or scared.”
He shook his head slightly, more at himself than Nic.
“So yeah,” he said quietly. “I know I’m young. I know I don’t have the experience or the skills. I know there are people smarter and stronger than me who still died.”
He paused.
“But right now,” he continued, “there’s someone stealing starseeds and— feeding their bodies to monsters growing out of vegetable pods in abandoned basements and god knows what else. And I’m not going to pretend that doing nothing somehow keeps anyone safe.”
He looked back at Nic, exhausted and unyielding all at once.
“Why have power,” Riker asked softly, not accusing, just bitterly honest, “If you’re not willing to use it to stop the worst thing in front of you?”
He exhaled, deflating a little.
“I don’t know if it makes a difference in the end,” he admitted. “But I know that letting them do whatever they want unchecked makes it worse. And I can’t live with that.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
Nic waved off Riker’s sympathy—not ungrateful or unkind, but tired, maybe. He’d had enough of sympathy over the years. It wouldn’t bring Cam back, or fill the void left by his absence. His loss wasn’t Riker’s to mourn.
Grief wasn’t tempered by time. Seven years hadn’t lessened the depths of it. How Nic handled it was what changed. Wallowing in misery inevitably lost its appeal. These days Nic preferred anger and vengeance.
“And what are you gonna do about it?” Nic asked. He let go of his glass to fold his arms over his chest, regarding Riker across the table. “This General who’s killed my son, who’s stealing starseeds and feeding the bodies to monsters. What’s your plan to stop him? You go out. You find him, or he finds you. Then what? He sticks a hand in my son’s chest, rips out his soul. He cuts him open, leaves him bleeding out where no one’d think to look for him.”
Nic had heard enough—had seen enough—to know he didn’t want his son out there.
He also knew enough to understand he wouldn’t be able to stop him. Énna was like Cameron in that regard. Good natured. Soft hearted. Stubborn. Fear hadn’t kept him home yet. He loved his friends too deeply to abandon them.
“Doing nothing—hiding—that’s an option, but you don’t want to take that one. So what do you do when you’ve got this son of a b***h cornered? Assuming you can even manage that.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
Riker didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, just enough to put some space between himself and the table, eyes drifting somewhere unfocused as Nic’s words replayed in his head. Cornered. Hand in the chest. Left bleeding out where no one would look. The images weren’t hypothetical. They were things he’d already seen. Things he could still smell, still hear, when the adrenaline wore off.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, then slowly down his jaw. Buying time. Or maybe just making it look like he needed it.
“That’s a lot to think about,” he said finally, voice low. Thoughtful, at least on the surface.
Then he looked back at Nic, and whatever mask he’d been holding slipped — just enough.
“But if you’re asking what I’d do,” Riker continued quietly, “if I had him cornered… if I had a real chance to stop him—”
He didn’t raise his voice. Nor did it harden for effect.
“I’d kill him.”
There was no drama behind the words. They weren’t angry, nor triumphant, just fact.
“I wouldn’t pretend it was justice,” he added. “And I wouldn’t pretend it wouldn’t stay with me. It would. Forever.”
He took a breath. Controlled and steadying.
“But if someone is ripping starseeds out of people’s chests,” he said, eyes locked on Nic now. “If they’re cutting people open and threatening families — then yeah. I’d end it. So he couldn’t do it again. And I’d do it so none of my friends had to. So Énna doesn’t have to live with that choice. So anyone else who gets there first doesn’t have to do it.”
He swallowed, throat tight.
“I can live with blood on my hands,” he said. There was no bravado or pride in his voice. “I don’t want to. But I can. If that’s what it takes to make sure he doesn’t get another chance…”
Riker looked down for a moment, then back up.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get that chance,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough, or fast enough, or lucky enough. But if it comes down to him or the people I care about…. I already know what I’ll choose.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
“Is that so,” Nic said. His voice lacked the inflection necessary to form a question.
For a few moments he simply stared at Riker, gaze dark and scrutinizing. He watched Riker’s face for signs of bravado, searching for cracks in his conviction. If Nic felt any sort of way about putting a teenager on the spot and asking him to answer difficult questions, he gave no indication. War didn’t give a damn about age. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t do anyone any favors.
“You ever had blood on your hands?” Nic asked. “You ever killed anything? I’m not talking bugs. I’m not talking youma either. I’m talking flesh and blood. You think you can live with it, and maybe you can, but thinking and doing are different things. This General, he’s got a sword. What’ve you got? How’re you gonna do it? Cam had chimes. You think he could’ve killed someone with those? Maybe if he got creative, but you’ve gotta think about it to be creative. You’ve gotta plan for it. D’you think about it? Or do you think, once you’ve got the opportunity, you’ll just know.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
Riker’s mouth opened, then closed again.
For the first time since Nic had come home, Riker actually looked his age. Just a little. Not scared, not wavering, just… caught off guard by how blunt the question was, by how little room there was to hide behind hypotheticals and experience that didn’t exist.
“No,” he said finally. Honest. Immediate. “I haven’t.”
His jaw tightened, color creeping faintly to his ears. It wasn’t exactly embarrassment, but the frustration of being measured against something he hadn’t yet been forced to become.
“I haven’t killed anyone,” Riker repeated. “And I’m not pretending I know what that feels like. I don’t.”
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to ground himself before he continued.
“But I’m not going into this empty handed. I’ve got a sword, too. And a lion. And neither are just decorative.”
His fingers flexed unconsciously, like his body remembered the weight of the hilt, even if his hands were empty now. It always reminded him of a baseball bat…
“I don’t think I’d just know,” he said, answering Nic’s. “I think about it. I don’t like thinking about it… but yeah. I think about what it would take to stop someone like him. About what it would take to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone else.”
His gaze lifted to meet Nic’s again, steadier now.
“I’m not under any illusion that he’s going to ‘get better’ if given a chance. People who do what he’s doing don’t stop because someone takes mercy on them and asks them nicely. They stop because they’re made to stop.”
He swallowed, then forced himself to take another breath.
“And I know thinking isn’t the same as doing,” he continued. “I know that when it actually happens, it’ll be worse than anything I can imagine. But that doesn’t change the decision. It just means I’ll have to live with it after.”
His shoulders squared up a little. Not in defiance, but resolve.
“If someone that dangerous is allowed to keep going, then every starseed he takes after that is on all of us who let it happen. Ending him isn’t about being righteous or brave,” he said, before his voice quieted a little as he added, almost to himself, “It’s the only way to start fixing what he’s already broken.”
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
A sword, a lion—Nic reacted to neither. A Knight’s sword wasn’t the same as a General’s sword. A lion wasn’t the same as a youma. They always seemed to come with limits. A test from the universe, maybe. Survival required persistence and ingenuity as much as brute strength.
Nic studied Riker. His face. His posture. His voice. Stubborn kid, it seemed like, but stubbornness was necessary. He was too young to be making the kind of choices he’d have to make. Énna’s age, probably. Barely any older. Brave, maybe because he had to be. Get caught up in a magical war and you don’t have many choices: face it, or run from it.
Clearly there wouldn’t be any running from this.
Nic heaved a sigh and rose from his chair. He circled the table back into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet by the sink for another glass.
“You ever been hunting?” he asked when he set the empty glass in front of Riker.
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2026 7:34 am
Riker blinked at the extra glass when Nic set it in front of him, then looked back up at him, brows drawing together in quiet confusion.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I’ve never been hunting.”
He hesitated, fingers resting against the edge of the table instead of reaching for the empty glass. There was a flicker of skepticism there. Not distrust, exactly, just uncertainty for where this was headed.
“I didn’t really grow up around that kind of thing,” he added, voice low. “So if this is some kind of metaphor, I’m not sure I understand it.”
His eyes stayed on Nic, attentive but wary.
“But I’m listening,” Riker said, honest despite the new tension in his shoulders from facing the unknown.
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