Vargas clenched his jaw as Emilie's small hand grasped his. The sensation hit him like a wave—a slow, relentless drain of his aera, pulling at his very essence. He steadied himself, his fingers tightening around hers in reassurance despite the strain. "Let's get out of here," he muttered, helping a still-dazed Giolio to his feet.
Together, the trio descended from the rooftop, the oppressive aura of the null pylon waning as they moved further from its epicenter. Vargas remained alert, his sharp eyes scanning for any lingering threats, while Giolio stumbled beside him, pale and drained.
The diner was a relic of simpler times, its neon sign flickering faintly in the dusky evening light. Inside, the air was thick with the aroma of grease and coffee, a stark contrast to the horrors they had just left behind. Vargas chose a booth near the back, away from prying eyes.
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind but tired eyes, approached with a notepad. "What can I get you folks?" she asked, eyeing their disheveled appearances but saying nothing.
"Coffee, black," Vargas said gruffly.
"Same, and maybe a sandwich or something," Giolio added weakly, slumping into the seat.
The waitress turned to Emilie, her tone hardening."And you?"
Emilie hesitated, her fingers gripping the strap of her satchel tightly. "Just... water, please," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The waitress looked at her with a dark expression bordering on hostility before nodding and shuffling off. Vargas waited until she was out of earshot before leaning forward, his intense gaze locking onto Emilie. "All right. We're here. Safe for now. Let's start with the basics. Why were you at Maria's building? What do you know about what's going on?"
Giolio stared around noticing dark looks from the other patrons aimed at Emilie, they all seemed to share looks of disdain. Even he found himself disgusted by her presence, but he kept himself composed as much as possible.
Emilie ignored these stares, having gotten used to them over the years, as she began to speak, "I... I didn't know anything about the ritual," she explained, her voice shaky. "Maria—she was like family to me. She took care of me when no one else would. But lately... she'd been acting strange. Secretive. She told me to stay away for a few days, and said it wasn't safe. I thought she was just being overprotective."
Vargas exchanged a glance with Giolio, whose face was pale but attentive. "And the last time you spoke to her? What did she say?"
Emilie hesitated, tears welling up in her eyes. "She... she wasn't herself. Her voice was off, like she was struggling to speak. She told me to leave the city, to get as far away as I could. She said... she said she'd already made a deal, and there was no turning back."
"A deal?" Vargas pressed. "What kind of deal?"
"I don't know!" Emilie's voice cracked, her hands shaking. "She wouldn't tell me. I thought it was just her being paranoid, but then..." She trailed off, her gaze distant. "I felt it when I got to her apartment. That... thing, it was not her. It looked at me with fear and disgust like all the others, and did not let me inside the apartment. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what to do."
Vargas leaned back, his expression grim. "It wasn't paranoia," he said. "Maria was part of something dangerous—something she couldn't control. Whatever deal she made, it cost her everything."
The waitress returned, setting down their drinks and meals with a warm smile that didn't reach her eyes. Once she left, the tension in the booth returned, thicker than before.
Giolio broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "If Maria's deal summoned that demon... and it's still out there, what does it want?"
Vargas stared at Emilie, his tone dark. "That's what we need to find out. And I'm starting to think it has something to do with you."
Emilie flinched, her grip on her satchel tightening. "Me? Why would a demon care about me?"
"That's what I intend to uncover," Vargas said, his voice firm. "But we're not dealing with coincidences here. Maria's connection to you wasn't random, and neither is this. So start talking, Emilie. What aren't you telling us?"
Her eyes darted between Vargas and Giolio, her lips trembling as though weighing whether to trust them. Finally, she exhaled shakily. "I don't know who I am," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not really. And I think... I think Maria knew the truth."
Emilie's trembling voice filled the space between them, her eyes fixed on the table as if meeting Vargas' or Giolio's gaze would shatter her resolve. "I've been hated all my life," she began, her voice soft but steady. "People fear what they can't understand. They called me cursed, bad luck, a walking disaster. Doors slammed in my face, whispers followed me wherever I went... even when I did nothing wrong."
She paused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the table. "Work was the only place where they didn't care what I was, so long as I could lift, push, or haul. It didn't matter how broken you were there. Everyone else was broken too." She looked up briefly, her gaze distant. "I barely survived. I lived off scraps, slept where no one could find me, and just kept moving."
"Until Maria," Giolio murmured, his voice unusually soft.
Emilie nodded. "She saw me one day while I was working outside a factory. I thought she was like the others—curious at first, then disgusted when they realized what I was. But she wasn't. She approached me and offered me something I hadn't heard in years: kindness. She gave me a place to stay on the top floor of her building. Said no one else could bother me up there. She'd even give me a small allowance every week."
"What did she ask in return?" Vargas asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Emilie hesitated, her lips trembling. "She... wanted me to help her with something. She had this book. It was old, filled with symbols and words I couldn't understand. She called it the 'Anathema'. At first, she just wanted me to learn a strange language she taught me—said it was a dead tongue no one alive could read. Then, she started asking me to translate the book. Piece by piece."
Giolio shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Vargas. "And you did it? You translated the whole thing?"
"Not all of it," Emilie admitted. "Just fragments. Some of it didn't make sense, even after I learned the language. But Maria was... obsessed. She wouldn't stop until she understood it."
Vargas leaned forward, his expression dark. "This book," he said, his hand moving to his satchel. He pulled out the bloodied tome, its presence darkening the air around them like a smothering cloud. "Was it this one?"
Emilie's eyes widened in recognition. "Yes," she whispered. "That's the 'Anathema'. Why do you have it?"
Vargas placed the book carefully on the table, his expression grim. "Because it was in the middle of a demonic ritual room, surrounded by corpses. Maria's corpses. I think this book is at the center of everything, and I think I know why you could handle it without going mad."
Emilie looked at him in confusion. "Why?"
"Because you're a Null," Vargas replied. "This book carries a curse—a malevolent aura that messes with the mind of anyone who touches it. That's why Maria wanted you to read it to her".
Giolio paled, his gaze darting between Emilie and the ominous book. "Wait. You're saying she had her translating a cursed demonic tome? And Maria thought this was a good idea?"
"Obsessed people don't think rationally," Vargas muttered. He turned back to Emilie. "Did she ever tell you why she was so fixated on the 'Anathema'?"
Emilie shook her head, her expression troubled. "She said it was important—something that could change everything. But I didn't understand what she meant, and honestly... I was afraid to ask."
"Thank you Emilie. Please tell me whatever you might have happened, and please eat you need it more that he does.", Vargas pushed the plate of food that Giolio ordered to Emilie, earning a look of ire from the alien.
Emilie's brows furrowed as she stared down at the food, her expression thoughtful. For a moment, the chaos of the diner faded into the background, leaving only the low hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes. Finally, she looked up at Vargas, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
"You keep calling me a Null," she said, her voice cautious. "What does that even mean? All my life, people told me I was cursed, that I was... wrong. But you say it like it's something you understand. So what is it? What am I?"
Vargas leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. He glanced at Giolio, who gave him a subtle shrug, clearly unwilling to dive into the topic. With a sigh, Vargas turned back to Emilie.
"A Null," he began, his tone steady, "is someone who exists outside the influence of aera—or any form of magic, for that matter. It's not a curse, and it's not something you can help. It's just... how you are. While most people are connected to the flow of aera in some way, nulls disrupt it. Magic doesn't work on you. It fails to detect you, affect you, even harm you in most cases. You're... an anomaly."
Emilie blinked, her expression a mixture of awe and confusion. "So... I'm immune to magic? That's why Maria wanted me to handle the book?"
"Exactly," Vargas replied. "To most people, that book would be like poison. Just touching it would start twisting their minds, pulling them into whatever dark intent created it. But you? It's like trying to light a fire without any wood. You're untouchable."
Giolio cut in, his voice hesitant. "Untouchable doesn't always mean safe, though. Being a Null can be... dangerous. People who use magic—and that's a lot of people—don't exactly feel comfortable around someone who can negate what makes them powerful."
"That explains... so much," Emilie murmured, her voice barely audible. "All those times people hated me, avoided me. Even when I was a child, I couldn't understand why. I thought... maybe they were right. Maybe I was cursed."
Vargas shook his head. "You're not cursed. You're rare, and people fear what they don't understand. That fear turned to hate, and it made your life hell. But that doesn't make you the problem."
Emilie studied him, her expression unreadable. "You're saying that like it's supposed to make me feel better. Like being a 'rare anomaly' changes the fact that my life has been nothing but misery."
Vargas hesitated, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. Finally, he leaned forward, his voice firm but not unkind. "It's not fair, and I'm not going to pretend it is. But you have a choice now, Emilie. You can either let what people did to you define who you are, or you can use what makes you unique to make your own way forward."
She looked down at her hands again, her fingers curling into fists. "And what if I don't want to be a Null? What if I just want to be... normal?"
With that question, Vargas had a sudden thought. He rummaged through his carry sack and took out a small choker that he had bought a few days ago.
"I bought this to help you. This a null-field destabilizer which stops a null's aura. It was quite expensive so most people probably never heard of it."
Emilie hesitated for a moment before standing up, her fingers brushing over the choker Vargas had handed her. It was simple, unassuming—nothing more than a dark, metallic band with an intricate design etched into it. She had been skeptical at first, but the look in Vargas's eyes as he explained its purpose was enough to push her forward.
With a shaky breath, she fastened it around her neck, feeling the cool metal against her skin. She looked up at Vargas and Giolio, waiting for something—anything—to happen.
For a second, nothing changed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the air in the diner seemed to shift. Vargas and Giolio, both attuned to the subtle fluctuations of the aera, felt it at once: the oppressive weight that had been hanging around Emilie lifted. The feeling of coldness, of isolation, that had clung to her—was gone. The sense of being surrounded by something unseen, something dangerous, vanished. It was as if a cloud had cleared from the room.
But Emilie, she didn't feel any different. She touched the choker again, her fingers trembling. "I… I don't feel any different," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It feels the same."
Vargas leaned back, his expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You won't feel it physically. But I can assure you, Emilie, it's working. You're blending in now. No more fear. No more hatred."
She nodded slowly, as if trying to process his words. After a beat of silence, she stood up abruptly, her eyes darting toward the counter where the diner's cashier was going about his business. Without another word, she walked over to him, a strange, determined look on her face.
The two exchanged words, and for the first time, Emilie spoke casually to a stranger. Her voice was soft, warm even, without the usual tension that had colored her interactions before. She smiled as she asked him a question about the menu, her eyes sparkling with a kind of tentative excitement.
The cashier responded kindly, and they laughed briefly at a small joke. Emilie even extended her hand, shaking his, and for a moment, she looked almost like any other person in the diner. As the exchange ended, she walked back to Vargas and Giolio, her steps light and somewhat unsteady.
She sat down, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The change wasn't obvious, but something had shifted in her posture, something that spoke of a new sense of possibility. Yet, as she settled into the booth, her body trembled, almost imperceptibly at first.
Vargas noticed the subtle shudder and leaned in. "Is something wrong?"
Emilie's eyes were wide, staring down at the table, but her mouth trembled as she forced out a shaky breath. Without warning, tears began to spill down her face, her emotions breaking through her fragile composure. She put her hands to her face, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was useless.
"I... I can't believe it," Emilie sobbed, her voice thick with emotion. "You—you fixed me. You really did. I… I didn't think I could ever be normal. I didn't think it was possible. I'm not invisible anymore. People… people are talking to me. They're not looking away, not staring at me like I'm some freak." Her shoulders shook violently as she buried her face in her hands. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Vargas. You don't know what this means to me. I—I thought I'd always be alone."
The room around them fell into an uncomfortable silence as other patrons began to notice the scene unfolding. A few glanced nervously at one another, unsure of how to react to the sudden outburst. The waitress paused in the middle of her task, watching the young woman cry, unsure of what to do.
Vargas remained quiet, his expression hard, though his eyes softened as he watched Emilie's breakdown. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could in that moment, though his mind raced with other thoughts.
"It's alright," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "You're not alone anymore. And you will be alright. We'll figure this out together."
Giolio sat stiffly beside them, looking away with an uncomfortable frown. He wasn't used to seeing someone break down like this, but there was a sense of helplessness in the air. What else could he do?
Vargas looked around at the diner's occupants, feeling the weight of their stares. It didn't bother him, but it clearly unnerved Emilie. He leaned in closer to her, blocking the view of the others as he softly spoke. "Don't worry about them. They're just curious, but it's not your problem anymore. You've got a future now, Emilie. You decide what it looks like."
The tears continued to flow, but Emilie's sobs softened. She leaned into Vargas' touch, her head bowing as she slowly started to regain control of herself. The tremors in her hands gradually faded, though the rawness in her chest remained. For the first time, in a long while, Emilie felt seen. And in that moment, it was enough.