The bottle made its fifth pass.
Laughter echoed—loud, unfiltered, and just messy enough to know they weren't sober anymore.
Elias sat at the edge of the table, watching it all unfold like a sitcom haunted by ghosts.
Mira had slumped over Lucien's shoulder. Both were fading fast—Lucien still clutching a half-empty glass, her boots propped on the coffee table, one eye barely open.
Dave leaned back with a lazy grin. "Man, this is the most peace we've had in weeks. No monsters. No cryptic riddles. Just bad booze and worse decisions."
Jonas, already two drinks past sensible, pointed across the room like a prophet.
"You know what's worse than cursed books?"
Elias raised a brow. "What?"
"Daughters."
Dave snorted into his glass.
Jonas kept going, hand flailing like he was giving a drunken TED Talk. "You raise 'em, you teach 'em, you say, 'Don't go chasing shadows or opening cursed books.' And what do they do? Chase the shadows. Open the damn books. Every. Time."
Elias smirked. "You don't have kids, Jonas."
Jonas blinked. "That's not the point."
Dave wheezed, nearly choking on his drink.
Lucien mumbled something about burning the world, then passed out cold, head tilted back, glass slipping from her hand. Mira followed a second later, curled up small like the weight had finally fallen off her shoulders.
Silence crept in.
Not awkward. Just quiet—the kind that comes after storms.
Then Elias asked, too casually to be casual:
"By the way… why didn't you tell her?"
Krane, who'd been brooding quietly against the wall, looked up.
"Tell her what?" he asked. But he knew.
"That you're not just a 'friend of her father.'"
The air shifted. Tensed.
Krane didn't answer right away. He walked over, picked up the bottle—then set it down without pouring.
"Because it's not time," he said finally. "She's not ready. And neither am I."
Jonas sat up, a little more sober. "You think she can't handle it?"
Krane looked at Lucien—fast asleep, fists still clenched even in rest.
"I think… she'll try to carry it all. Like always."
Elias nodded. He understood.
Some truths have weight. Others? Gravity.
And some—could break a soul.
He glanced at the two girls on the couch. Battle-worn. Bruised. Still breathing.
"I just hope we have time," Elias said.
Jonas raised his glass one last time. "To surviving storms… and hiding secrets."
They clinked bottles.
Outside, the world was quiet again.
Jonas leaned back in his chair, swirling what was left in his glass. "You ever think we're just side characters in someone else's twisted bedtime story?"
Dave grunted. "Only when I drink."
Jonas pointed his glass at Elias. "You? You've got main character trauma. Bet your therapist quit."
Elias chuckled. "Never had one. Cheaper to keep it all bottled up."
There was a lull.
Then Jonas, grinning, nudged Elias with his foot. "So, uh… daughter issues, huh? That whole scene with Lucien felt… spicy."
Elias didn't laugh.
He stared at his drink for a long second, then finally spoke.
"You ever look at someone and wonder if they'd forgive you for not telling them the truth?"
Jonas blinked. "Damn. That's… heavier than I expected."
Elias didn't answer.
He just leaned back in his chair, eyes distant, listening to the quiet breaths of the two women fast asleep on the couch.
Jonas looked over at Dave. "Okay. So… definitely not just side characters."
Dave raised his drink. "To unfinished business."
They clinked glasses again for the last time
The room settled into soft silence again. The storm outside had passed.
But inside?
Something was still brewing.
The night went on.
And somewhere, the Cipher waited… breathing quietly in the dark.