Chapter 8: No fade no fear

Ysmeine stared at him, and this time... she didn’t stop him. Actually, it was a good thing that he had seen that by himself. ’That means he will be careful. I would hate for the fade to infect him too.’ She thought to herself. ’I need to call Athea quickly.’ She had already tried to hide this news from him, for his own sake. She knew he was very sensitive about the way people like him were treated. But what could she do now? The silence between them went on, thick with unspoken dread. Ezra finally tore his gaze away from the screen. He processed what he had just seen. Ezra had always prided himself on being unshaken. Unmoved. Cool no matter what. But this... this was different. This scared the hell out of him. Seeing someone, no, a man, just like him reduced to that: Twisted. Mindless. And powerful enough to slam a war lady into concrete like a toy? That shook even him. And what made it worse was knowing that it wasn’t some distant report from across the sea. That wasn’t an abstract danger. That was in the same city as he was now. He was now afraid he might get it too. The cheerful hum of the apartment’s tech lights now felt like a mocking counterpoint to the horror on the screen. Ezra stared at the image of the contorted, violent male, and a cold dread coiled in his gut. "Sector Seven..." he mumbled, his voice flat, barely a whisper. "That’s... that’s in this city, close to my academy, does that mean the fade virus could..." he didn’t want to finish that sentence. His gaze flickered from the screen to his own hands, then down his legs. Suddenly the skin on his arms felt too tight, his pulse suddenly thrumming with a frantic, sickening beat. This is it, he thought, a wave of nausea washing over him. This is real. This is happening. He was a man. A walking target. And now, the Fade was spreading fast, soon it will get him too. Every man in this world, every single one of them, lived with this ticking clock. But for him, it had always been a distant, abstract threat. Now, it was a clawing, tangible terror. He sat himself back down. "They said... ’spreading quickly’," he let out the words, his eyes wide, fixed on the screen, seeing himself in that twisted figure, his own future potentially mirroring that gruesome end. The thought of his strength, his resistance to the Fade, felt like a cruel joke now. Ysmeine moved without a word. She came around the couch, dropping to her knees beside him, her earlier seductive poise completely gone. Her hands, surprisingly strong that she carried herself around him gripped his shoulders. Her green eyes, no longer mischievous, were filled with a raw, desperate empathy. This was why she didn’t want him to see that news, because she knew it would mess with his head. "Zaeryn," she said, her voice soft but firm, cutting through his rising panic. "Look at me." He slowly turned his head, his gaze unfocused, seeing only the horror from the screen reflected in her eyes. "Listen to me," she continued, her thumbs tracing soothing circles on his arms. "You are not them. You are strong. You are different." Her voice was a fierce promise. "I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it." Her touch, her assuring gaze, her simple conviction. It was a lifeline. For a moment, the world didn’t feel like it was collapsing. Ezra listened to her words, to her warmth, to the desperate, pure protectiveness shining in her eyes. It was a side of Ysmeine he rarely saw, stripped of all artifice, and it hit him harder than any of her playful flirtations. "Damn, Ysmeine," he muttered, forcing a smirk. "If I’d known you’d get this handsy, I’d have freaked out sooner." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a glint of her old mischief returning. Her lips curved, a slow, knowing smile that promised more than words. "Careful, Zaeryn," she purred, her thumb brushing his chest and lingering there. "Keep talking like that, and I might not stop at handsy." He snorted, the sound half-laugh, half-relief, but the heat in her gaze kept his heart pounding. "Noted," he said, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. He finally composed himself and opened his eyes. ’Damn, I can’t believe I’m scared of that.’ he breathed in and exhaled. ’Alright Ezra, calm the fuck down. This fade thing will not affect you.’ he told himself. Then looked down at his hands again. "...You’d tell me if I started foaming at the mouth, right?" he said, voice casual. Ysmeine blinked, startled. "What?" "You know. If I started groaning and charging at furniture. Or tried to do anything.... Just knock me out. Preferably before I start chewing through reinforced alloy or tossing war ladies out windows." She stared at him, caught between a gasp and a laugh. Ezra gave a weak smirk. "Just checking. Wanna make sure my ’zombie buddy system’ is solid." A second passed, she just gave him a look, half astonished, half annoyed. And then, unexpectedly, Ysmeine laughed. Short, sharp, and shaky—like she couldn’t help it. "You’re such an idiot sometimes," she whispered, giving him a quick a peck on the forehead. "I know," he said, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling. "But I’m your idiot. At least until I lose all higher brain function." Ysmeine’s laughter softened, a low, comforting hum. She shifted, moving from her knees to sit close beside him on the couch, her hip warm against his. Her hand found his, intertwining their fingers. Her thumb stroked his knuckles, a familiar, reassuring gesture. "You are, my idiot," she murmured, her voice laced with affection, her eyes still holding a hint of concern. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her soft hair brushing his cheek. "You’re safe here, Zaeryn. Always." She promised. "No fade virus is going to take you away from me. Not when I’ve got plans for you."