Chapter 7: Don’t watch the news , the fade is here

Ysmeine snapped it off, spotting him. She forced a smile, setting the tablet aside. "You’re back, darling. Come here." Her voice was warm, but her hands trembled slightly, showing that something had profoundly unsettled her. Weird, because Ysmeine never got unsettled by anything as far as Ezra knew. Ezra sat, grabbing the TV remote. "What’s the news today?" Ysmeine snatched it lightning-fast, switching it off. "Not the best time for that, honey. Let’s just... talk." Ezra’s eyes narrowed. She was indeed bothered by something, he could see it now. "You’re acting weird. What’s up?" She hesitated, her Green eyes flickering. "Just... bad news cycles, Zaeryn." Her purr was strained, unconvincing. "But, isn’t that what the news always is? Bad news?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. Ysmeine’s forced smile softened, transforming into something far more enticing. She leaned closer, her scent – a rich blend of orchids and something distinctly her own – filling his senses. Her fingers, long and delicate, traced the line of his jaw. "Zaeryn, darling, why bother with the boring broadcasts when you have me right here?" Her thumb brushed his lower lip, a soft caress that sent a jolt down his spine. "There’s nothing on the news that can’t wait. I want you to tell me about Sage’s reasonable tantrum." Her voice was sensual, dripping with a promise that made his earlier frustration melt away. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her full lips, then down to the glimpse of cleavage her casual stretch afforded. He wanted to push, to understand why she was so unnerved, but the seductive pull was undeniable. Ysmeine was a master at distraction, and right now, he was a willing student. A slow smile spread across his face, pushing his curiosity about why she didn’t want him to watch the news to the back of his mind. "You make a very compelling argument, Ysmeine." He reached out, his hand settling on her hip, pulling her a fraction closer. "So... where do you want me to start?" Ysmeine chuckled, a throaty, satisfied sound. "From the very beginning, of course." She settled back slightly, her hand sliding from his jaw to his neck, her fingers playing with the short hairs there, just teasing. They talked for a long while. Ezra recounted his day, editing out the part about where Tiffany found him in possession of a forbidden codex because that would just make Ysmeine mad to learn that he would have something like that in his possession. She didn’t want him to get in trouble and if she found out that he was seeking it? Frankly, he would see a side of her that was very different from this. Ysmeine listened, interjecting with teasing remarks and small, seductive touches that kept his focus firmly on her. Her initial terror seemed to have vanished, replaced by her usual alluring confidence. But what exactly made her so terrified? Ezra didn’t care much about that right now. He found himself completely engrossed, charmed by her easy laughter and the playful glint in her Green eyes. It was now nearly evening, and Ezra just finished munching on food that Ysmeine prepared for him. "Alright, Ysmeine," Ezra said, stretching. "I think I’m going to take a nap." She gave him a soft, lingering smile. "Sleep well, darling." He stood, but as he turned to leave, his eyes inadvertently darted to where she had placed her tablet earlier, on the small side table next to her chair. It was lying face down, but the subtle glow of its screen, even dormant, caught his attention, and he remembered back to how weird she acted when watching whatever was on that screen. A prickle of unease, and curiosity he couldn’t quite shake, ran through him. Ysmeine was still watching him, her smile a little too fixed. Without thinking, driven by an instinct he couldn’t explain, Ezra reached for the tablet. "Just checking the time," he mumbled, even to himself, the excuse sounding hollow. He flipped the device over. The screen flared to life. And it was not a clock. It was a paused news broadcast. A grim-faced anchor filled half the screen, but Ezra barely registered her. His gaze locked on the image beside her. A male figure stood in a building choked with weeds and crumbled statues. His eyes were a soulless white. His skin is a waxy, corpse-like gray. And his limbs... bent in ways that no human should move. But he moved. Violently so. He looked stronger than any typical make too. The clip resumed. The infected male let out a shriek, high-pitched, unnatural, like metal scraping against bone, and hurled a stone bench across the frame like it weighed nothing. It smashed into a wall, sending debris flying. A soldier sprinted into view. No, not just any soldier, it was a war lady. Tall. Armored in black Dominion -grade exo-gear, moving with predator precision. Her visor lit up with data feeds as she advanced, a sword crackling with pale blue energy. She issued a warning Ezra couldn’t hear. Maybe it was for the cameras. Maybe for herself. The infected male lunged. He closed the distance faster than Ezra expected, a blur of twitching limbs and raw power. He slammed into her like a battering ram, lifting her clean off the ground and slamming her into a nearby column. The camera wobbled violently. Dust exploded. For a split second, Ezra thought she was down. Surprisingly,the war lady snapped back to her feet. She ducked under a wild swing, drove her armored knee into the infected gut, and, without hesitation—drove her glaive through his torso, pinning him to the wall with a burst of crackling electricity. The Fade writhed, limbs flailing as sparks danced across his skin. Then his head twisted, unnaturally, and he let out one last, guttural shriek before collapsing into a heap. The war lady didn’t flinch. She yanked her weapon free, fluid and practiced. Her visor turned directly toward the camera as if she knew someone, maybe everyone—was watching. The feed cut back to the anchor, her voice tight with fear: "The Fade infection has now been confirmed in Sector Seven. Authorities stress that infected males may exhibit extreme strength and unpredictable behavior. All sightings must be reported. Citizens are warned not to approach. Repeat: do not engage." Ezra stared at the screen. Swallowing hard. Now he understood why Ysmeine didn’t want him to watch the news earlier. The Fade, something he’d feared his whole life, was no longer some distant horror. It was here. In Sector Seven. And it didn’t care who you were. It infected all men.