Jarek shoved the door open, harder than he'd meant to, and the hinges screamed like an old man woken up too early. The frame groaned, a long, low protest that felt personal. Fine. Let it complain. Everything else seemed to. The air was dense, the kind that clung to your skin and made every single breath feel like tedious work. Up his head was worse, stuffed with the kind of tangled thoughts you couldn't untie with your fingers without the help of scissors, and then there was the shard in his pocket, pulsing like it had a vendetta. It wasn't subtle, neither was he.
The door slammed shut behind him, a thunderous bang that made the shabby walls shudder. Somewhere, a photo frame tilted precariously, as if even the decor wanted to get out of his way. The sound ricocheted through the room, but Jarek barely noticed. He was too busy being pissed off at the world.
From the couch, Lira stirred, her small frame curled up like a forgotten bird in a nest of frayed fabric. The blanket was so thin it might've been more holes than material, and it hung off her like she'd borrowed it from someone bigger. She sat up slowly, her hair a wild and tangled mess that framed her pale face. Her eyes were tired but there was something sharp beneath the exhaustion. Something unyielding, a stubbornness from deep within, as if she was ready to attack whoever it might be.
"Where've you been, Jarek?" she asked, her voice shaky but honed, like a blade sharpened too often.
"Out." He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the nearest chair. The chair wobbled in protest, just barely holding its balance, but he didn't bother checking if it stayed upright. Instead, he walked to the sink, grabbing a glass cup, he turned on the tap. The water trickled out slow, almost mocking him with its refusal to rush into his cup. Silence hung between them, taut as a tripwire.
"Out," Lira repeated, her tone like the snap of a whip. "You're always 'out' these days. And when you do bother to come back, you look like you've gone three rounds with a brick wall. Cuts, bruises, and..." she glanced at his jacket, where a faint glow betrayed the shard's hiding place, "...whatever that thing is."
"It's nothing," Jarek said flatly. His reflection in the water-filled glass didn't answer him, but it didn't argue either. He stared at it, half hoping it might blink first.
"That's the biggest load of crap I've heard all week," Lira shot back. She shoved the blanket aside and stood, wobbling slightly but steady enough to make her point. "You've changed. You don't talk to me. You don't even see me anymore. Whatever this is, it's dragging you down, and I'm not sitting here pretending it's fine."
Jarek set the glass down with a thud loud enough to make the tap water tremble. He turned to her, his expression hard as stone. "Lira, I'm handling it. For us."
"For us?" Her laugh was bitter, more angry than humorous. "Don't give me that self-sacrificing bullshit. Don't try to make this about me, it's about you. "Whatever mess you've got yourself tangled in, it's chewing you up and spitting you out," Lira said, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. and don't even try gaslight me into thinking I'm imagining it. I'm not blind, Jarek."
"I said I'm fine," he shot back, his tone slamming the air between them like the bang of a slammed door. It was abrupt, loud, and as final as he could make it, though even he didn't believe it would stick.
"No, you're not." Lira didn't so much move toward him as she did advance, closing the space between them like she was daring him to run. Her footsteps were quiet, but the weight of her words wasn't. "You flinch at shadows, Jarek, shadows, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you zone out like the walls are whispering secrets you can't quite catch. You're unraveling Jarek, thread by thread, and all I want to do is help to sew you back together, but you won't even let me pick up the damn needle Jarek."
Her words hit him like a body blow, and for a moment, he was unable to say anything, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle in his cheek jumped in protest. He ground his teeth, each movement a futile attempt to crush the frustration that was building inside him like steam in a kettle.
And still, she kept going, her voice dropping lower, steadier, the kind of calm that made his spine itch. "You think you can out-stubborn me? Please. I could go pro. I've been watching you come apart at the seams for weeks now, and I'm not about to stand here like some extra in the tragedy of your life. I'm in this, whether you like it or not."
He turned his head slightly, his knuckles whitening at his sides, his silence saying everything and nothing all at once. For a brief, fleeting moment, he considered snapping back, maybe some sharp one-liner about how her stubbornness was more curse than cure, but the truth stuck to his ribs, too heavy to spit out.
For a moment, it looked like he might yell, maybe even throw something. Instead, his shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever he was carrying. "What do you want me to say?" he muttered. "That I'm scared? That I don't know what the hell's happening to me? Is that what you really want? Jarek fumed.
"Yes!" Lira's voice cracked, the rawness in it slicing through the tension like a knife. "That's exactly what I want you to do. Stop treating me like I'm some fragile glass. I'm not going to break because you tell me what's going on with you." she let out all her frustration.
The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that made you feel every millisecond trickle by. Jarek cupped his hands over his face, his fingers rubbing against his slight stubble as though it might ground him in the moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice was quiet but weighted. "It's this shard," he admitted. "It appears to be alive, or something close to it. It pulls me into the Hollow Realm. It's not just nightmares Lira. It's real. And every time I use it, it… takes something from me. Something I don't think I can get back."
Lira's expression softened significantly, the fight in her posture easing just a little. "The Hollow Realm?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less firm.
He nodded, his gaze was distant. "Yeah and I can't get rid of it. It's saved my life twice Lira, I would be buried six feet under by now without it."
"And with it?" she asked, her words landing like a punch to his gut. "How long before it takes everything from you?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
She reached out, her hand brushing his arm. "You're not invincible, Jarek," she said, her voice softening but losing none of its strength. "You don't have to carry this alone. Let me help."
Jarek did not move for a long time, the wall he'd built between them holding firm. Then, slowly, he covered her hand with his. It was the smallest crack, but it was enough. "I'll figure it out," he said, the words as much a promise to himself as to her. "I swear."
Lira didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway. She turned and sank back into the couch, curling into the cushions like she could disappear into their worn-out fabric. Her eyes closed, but Jarek could tell she wasn't sleeping.
He walked back to the chair, his eyes landing on the jacket, and the shard glowed faintly beneath it. Its malevolent hum filled the room, low and taunting, like a beast waiting to be fed. He clenched his fists. Whatever it took, he'd find a way to tame it. For her, for them, for himself.