One large turquoise towel hugged my frame tightly, its plush fabric cocooning my skin as droplets of water trickled down my legs. A smaller cream towel, twisted into a makeshift turban, ensnared the damp tendrils of my hair, my fingers meticulously wringing out the stubborn droplets from a few stray strands that had audaciously clung to my cheek. The sensation was oddly comforting, a fleeting moment of solitude in the whirlwind of my day.

With each step down the hallway, the carpet squelched softly under my damp feet, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints like breadcrumbs. I barely noticed, my mind preoccupied with the warmth seeping back into my skin, the fabric of the towels absorbing the lingering moisture. The hallway felt longer today, each step echoing in the silence, as if the house itself held its breath.

My sanctuary, my bedroom, loomed at the end of the corridor, a beacon of privacy and personal space. But as I approached, my heart skipped a beat. There, in my sacred space, was Leigh, an unexpected shadow against the familiarity of my room.

"Shit, Leigh! What the hell are you doing here?" The words erupted from me, a cascade louder than I had anticipated, reverberating against the walls. My pulse quickened, a surge of adrenaline tingling through my veins as I leaped in surprise at his unforeseen presence.

Without missing a beat, I darted into the room, my actions swift, fuelled by a sudden urge to shield this intrusion from my mother's prying eyes. The door clicked shut behind me, a barrier between us and the outside world.

"Sorry," he uttered, his voice laced with a sincerity that tugged at my defences. His face bore the weight of his apology, eyes reflecting a turmoil that piqued my curiosity despite my initial shock. "I thought you were out."

"What, so you thought you'd lurk about in my room?" My voice, tinged with disbelief, cut through the tension, a sharp note that seemed almost foreign in the usually tranquil haven of my bedroom. I could feel my eyebrows knitting together, my eyes narrowing into a glare that I hoped would convey my irritation. Today of all days, I thought, my mind a silent snarl, I didn't need this—this invasion, this disruption.

"No. I just meant that I didn't realise you were in the shower. If I knew, I would have left and come back later," Leigh stammered, his words tumbling out in a clumsy attempt to shield himself from my growing frustration. His defence, earnest yet feeble, hovered in the air, an unsatisfactory explanation that did little to quell the storm brewing inside me.

"Unlikely," I muttered under my breath, my tone softer now but laced with a cynicism I couldn't suppress. Turning my back on Leigh, I sought refuge in the ritual of selecting my attire, allowing the familiarity of the action to soothe my frayed nerves.

My fingers trailed over the fabrics in the closet, the smooth textures and familiar contours grounding me as I sifted through my belongings. The metallic whisper of coat hangers gliding along the rail punctuated the silence, a soundtrack to my indecision. After a moment's hesitation, I extracted a pair of jeans and a top, the fabric cool against my skin as I balanced them on my shoulder.

Yet, as I reached for a hooded sweater, a more forgiving garment, I paused. The fabric brushed against the recent scratches on my arms, a stark reminder of the turmoil that lay just beneath the surface. It's still winter, I reminded myself, a justification that felt as much for the sweater as it was for the need to conceal my vulnerabilities. In that moment, the weight of the garment felt like a shield, a barrier between myself and the world, even as Leigh's presence behind me loomed like a question mark, persistent and unresolved.

My gaze hardened, a fusion of anger and disbelief, as I swivelled to confront Leigh. There he stood, awkwardly clutching the remnants of what once was a dress I cherished – now nothing more than a crumpled, torn fabric stained with blood. The sight of it, dangling limply in his grasp, was like a visual echo of pain, reigniting memories I wished to bury.

Leigh's face was a canvas of concern, his usual carefree expression marred by deep furrows of worry. "Care to explain?" he questioned, his voice steady yet laden with an unspoken gravity, his eyes flicking between me and the tattered red dress.

"What the fuck is your problem today!" I couldn't hold back the surge of anger, my voice a growl of frustration as I snatched the dress from his hands. It felt like an invasion, a violation of my private turmoil. "First you lurk in my room and now you demand an explanation."

"I'm concerned for you, Beatrix," he countered, his tone shifting to a gentle cadence. His words, meant to soothe, only fanned the flames of my indignation.

"Perhaps you should have been more concerned about me when you gave me that stupid device," I retorted, the words spilling out with a venom I barely recognised in myself.

"You mean the Portal Key?" His inquiry was tentative, as if he were now treading on broken glass.

"You didn't give me any other device," I shot back, my voice laced with a bitterness that tasted foreign on my tongue. As I spoke, a tremor began to weave through my hands.

As Leigh advanced towards me, my eyes bore into him with such intensity that he halted abruptly, as if struck by an invisible barrier. The air between us crackled with tension, a palpable force that seemed to ignite the familiar, unwelcome sensation of burning within me.

"Now, get out so I can get dressed," I commanded, striving for authority. Yet, despite my efforts to cloak myself in a veneer of strength, my voice betrayed me, fracturing on the final word, revealing the turmoil beneath my stern exterior.

A heavy silence enveloped us, thick with unspoken words and tension that you could almost reach out and touch. Leigh then broke the silence, his voice carrying a decisive edge that contrasted with the tumult churning within me. "I'll return in ten," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

Leigh possessed the ability to conjure his Portal effortlessly within the confines of my room, yet he refrained, his intention—to shield me from its mesmerising draw. He was well aware of the Portal's seductive call, an allure so potent that a mere touch from me could result in my inadvertent exile to Clivilius—a fate he seemed keen to prevent. With this resolve, he stepped out, the door's closure echoing his departure. Moments after, a distinct shiver coursed through my arms—a sensation now eerily familiar. Simultaneously, the room's light offered a subtle yet unmistakable dance, a silent herald of the Portal's activation somewhere beyond my immediate view.

The moment I was alone, a torrent of emotions erupted. With a swift, almost violent motion, I yanked the clean clothes off my shoulders, the garments cascading onto the bed in a tumultuous heap, a physical manifestation of my swirling frustration, anger, and the ache that clung to my bones.

"Fucking shadow panther," I muttered venomously, my voice a low growl as I seized the dishevelled dress, a reminder of the ordeal, from where Leigh had carelessly discarded it. My movements were brisk, fuelled by a storm of emotions, as I hurled the dress into the wastebasket beside my desk, eager to banish it from my sight.

In a rush, I slipped into the fresh clothes, my actions quick and mechanical. I was acutely aware of the time, the ticking clock a reminder of Leigh's impending return, and the last thing I wanted was for him to intrude upon my privacy once again.

A sharp pang throbbed at my temple, a physical echo of the turmoil within. My fingers pressed against the tender skin, massaging in vain as I sought a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. My eyes closed, heart stuttering in my chest when a soft yet insistent knock broke the silence.

Cautiously, I inched towards the door, my mind racing with the possibility of facing my mother, a confrontation I was not prepared for. But it was Leigh's voice that filtered through, a soft whisper carrying a sharp edge, "Beatrix."

With a deep breath to steel myself, I pulled open the door, allowing Leigh to step inside. The door shut swiftly behind him, a barrier once more erected between us and the world, sealing us within the confines of my room

"You're really not going to leave me alone, are you?" The words slipped out, tinged with a complex mix of emotions. My sigh mingled frustration and annoyance, yet beneath it all lay an undercurrent of relief, a reluctant acknowledgment of not facing the madness alone.

"Of course not," Leigh responded, his voice firm, imbued with an unwavering resolve. He casually positioned himself against the desk, a casual stance that contrasted sharply with the intensity of our conversation.

My gaze inadvertently flickered to the wastebasket beside Leigh, the discarded dress peeking out like a ghost of recent turmoil. I can't really leave that—my thoughts fractured as Leigh's voice sliced through the silence, his questions rapid and probing.

"What happened to you? How did you manage to get yourself all scratched up? Is Luke's settlement that dangerous?" The inquiries poured out, each one laden with concern and a desire to understand, to peel back the layers of the mystery shrouding my recent ordeal.

My lips pressed tightly together, a barrier holding back the flood of explanations and emotions threatening to spill. "You could say that," I offered, a terse reply that held volumes, my voice a mix of weariness and defiance.

"Say what?" Leigh's inquiry was gentle, yet persistent, his head tilting in a silent prompt for more, his eyes a mirror of his concern, reflecting a genuine desire to delve deeper.

"That Luke's settlement is dangerous," I exhaled, the words leaving me in a huff, a simplistic summary of a complex, harrowing reality.

Leigh's body language shifted as he encouraged me to elaborate, his shoulders lifting in a silent gesture of readiness, hands raised slightly in anticipation of what I was about to reveal. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for my words.

"I was attacked by a freaking shadow panther!" The words burst from me, a torrent of pent-up frustration and fear. The memory of the attack, so vivid and terrifying, reignited a fresh wave of anger within me, especially as I thought of Duke's tragic fate.

Leigh's reaction was immediate, his face morphing into an expression of sorrow, an unmistakable shadow of sadness darkening his features. "Oh," he uttered, the simplicity of the word laden with a profound depth of understanding and empathy.

"You're familiar with the creatures, I gather?" My question was pointed, a mixture of accusation and a desperate search for answers.

Leigh's nod was gentle, almost reluctant. "Unfortunately, I am," he confirmed, his voice carrying the weight of his regret.

"And you didn't think to warn me?" The accusation snapped from me sharply, my patience frayed, my trust wobbling on an unsteady axis.

A heavy silence enveloped us, thick with tension and unspoken recriminations. Leigh's face became a canvas of conflicting emotions, each one flitting across his features in a rapid, almost indecipherable dance. After what seemed like an eternity, he found his voice again.

"Beatrix," he began, his tone soft, infused with a sincerity that reached out, attempting to bridge the gap my anger had forged. "Attacks on new settlements are rare. If I thought you were in any immediate danger, I would have said so." His words hung in the air, a plea for understanding, a bid to temper my indignation with his perspective, offering a glimpse into his rationale, flawed or not, in the face of the unpredictable wilderness I was navigating.

My gaze sharpened, slicing through the space between us as I weighed Leigh's explanation. His hesitation, the careful construction of his response, all while omitting any mention of Portal pirates or other perils he deemed unworthy of disclosure, eroded my trust. How could I believe he'd truly warn me of dangers when his silence had already spoken volumes? A wave of suspicion washed over me, cold and unsettling, sparking a cascade of doubts about what other secrets Leigh might be harbouring. The thought sent a shiver through me, an involuntary reaction that I hastily masked with a hand to my mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.

"I need to find Jarod," I declared abruptly, the words tumbling out in a rush. The urgency to divert our conversation and propel myself into action was overwhelming; standing idle was fuelling my restlessness, my mind racing with the implications of Leigh's admissions and omissions.

Leigh's movement was sudden, a slight miscalculation causing him to knock over the wastebasket as he slid off the desk. Papers and discarded items cascaded onto the floor in a silent testament to the turmoil that seemed to follow me. "I've already taken care of that," he announced, bending down to collect the scattered debris, his actions meticulous yet oddly grounding in the heat of our exchange.

"What does that mean… you took care of it?" My voice wavered slightly, betraying a surge of apprehension. Leigh's enigmatic demeanour only amplified my fears, conjuring images of grim outcomes far beyond what I felt equipped to handle at the moment.

"Don't look so worried," Leigh attempted to reassure me, his chuckle light, yet it failed to dispel the growing tension. The waste basket's metal rim echoed a clang against the desk as he set it upright, a minor distraction from the weight of our conversation.

I couldn't help but respond with a skeptical shrug, my eyes widening into a glare that silently demanded he shed more light on the matter.

Leigh seemed to understand the urgency in my silent plea, elaborating, "I followed the events of the night very closely after I purposely bumped into you."

"And?" I couldn't contain the impatience in my voice, my need for answers pressing. "What happened when he and I were separated? Did they hurt him?" The questions spilled out, each one laced with concern for Jarod's well-being.

"Jarod did get arrested—" Leigh started, his words sending a jolt of alarm through me.

Instinctively, I lunged for my handbag, seeking some semblance of action I could take, but Leigh was quicker, his movements smooth and assured as he retrieved my bag from its crumpled state beside the bed.

"But I spoke with my contact in the Department and had Jarod released and all charges dropped," he explained, offering the bag to me, his actions bridging the gap between his words and my rising panic.

Our eyes met in a fleeting connection, a silent exchange laden with a mix of gratitude and lingering concern. "Thank you," I murmured, the words barely escaping, a whisper of relief amidst the whirlwind of emotions, acknowledging his intervention and the complexity of the situation that continued to unfold.

"The two of you make a good pair. A somewhat disastrous pairing, perhaps, but well-suited nonetheless." The words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but respond with a mix of irritation and disbelief. My hand found its way to Leigh's bicep, delivering a thump that was more than a mere gesture—it was a physical manifestation of my frustration.

Leigh, seemingly undeterred by my reaction, continued, "But with the proper training, I think you could both make for a very formidable team." As he spoke, he extended his arm, his hand unfolding to reveal another Portal Key nestled in his palm. "I think we should give him this."

The suggestion hit me like a physical blow, intensifying the throbbing in my head, my eyes straining against the pressure of the moment, feeling as though they might escape their confines. "You're crazy!" The words erupted from me, a volatile outburst mirroring the inner turmoil Leigh's proposal had ignited.

His laughter in response to my exasperation only fuelled my ire, my glare intensifying as I sought to convey the depth of my disbelief and frustration.

Leigh's amusement didn't last, his demeanour shifting as he countered, "I'm not the one who, in only twenty-four hours, tried to steal from a casino and survived the attack of a deadly shadow creature."

"Panther. It was a shadow panther," I interjected, a hint of insistence in my tone, unwilling to let the details of my ordeal be generalised.

Leigh's expression softened, his gaze finding mine, a serious undertone cutting through his earlier levity. "You can't deny it, Beatrix," he said, his voice taking on a note of sincerity. "You've got some fine skills there." His acknowledgment, while possibly meant as a compliment, only served to add another layer of complexity to the concoction of thoughts and emotions swirling within me, leaving me to ponder the implications of his words and the potential path they suggested.

As Leigh's proposal hung in the air, I found myself inhaling deeply, an involuntary response as I mulled over the ramifications of his suggestion. My mind raced, entertaining the prospect of aligning myself with Jarod in a capacity so intimate, so fraught with potential complications. Could reintegrating our paths, this time under the mantle of Guardianship, be a boon, or would it simply weave a more intricate web of challenges? The idea tugged at me, a mix of allure and apprehension. Yet, amid these swirling thoughts, a stark realisation struck me—I was still grappling with the essence of my own role as a Guardian. How could I possibly contemplate extending this labyrinthine journey to Jarod?

"At least think about it," Leigh urged, breaking into my internal debate with a voice that bore the weight of expectation.

My reply was almost reflexive, a loud exhale marking the release of pent-up tension as I yielded, if only slightly. "Fine," I admitted, a word that carried more resignation than agreement.

To my surprise, Leigh's reaction was immediate and vivid, his eyes expanding with a blend of anticipation and excitement, his demeanour brightening as if my tentative acquiescence was a beacon of hope. "You'll give the Portal Key to Jarod?" he queried, his voice tinged with an enthusiasm that seemed to stretch beyond the confines of the room.

But I was quick to temper his expectations, the reality of my indecision still anchoring me firmly to the ground. "I'll think about it," I clarified, stressing the point to Leigh once more. This wasn't a commitment, merely a concession to consider the possibility, to turn it over in my mind amidst the tumult of doubts, fears, and the nascent flicker of curiosity about what such a future might entail.

"Either way," Jarod articulated, his voice carrying a note of casual suggestion as he engaged in a stretch, his back cracking in response to the movement. His arms extended, pulling his shoulders back in a deliberate motion, emphasising the seriousness of his advice despite the nonchalance of his actions. "You should at least visit him. Tell Jarod that he should probably keep a low public profile for a while."

I couldn't help but scoff at the idea. "Jarod, keep a low public profile. Unlikely." The words slipped out laced with skepticism, reflecting my doubt about Jarod's capacity for discretion.

Leigh's tone sharpened, a hint of urgency creeping in. "I'm serious, Beatrix," he insisted, pausing to let his words sink in before gesturing towards the tangible proof of our predicament—the contents of my wastebasket. "It's a serious situation."

My response was an involuntary eye roll, a gesture betraying my exasperation with the insistence Leigh imposed on us. "Fine, but you're coming with me," I declared, unwilling to navigate the upcoming challenges solo.

"I am?"

"Yes, well, you are the one that got me onto this horrendous rollercoaster in the first place," I retorted, my words firm, leaving no room for argument as I rummaged through my handbag in search of my phone. "So yes, you are coming too," I reaffirmed, my stance unwavering.

"Okay," Leigh acquiesced, his energy undiminished as he wielded his device, casting an array of lights across my wall, transforming the mundane surface into a kaleidoscope of colours, reminiscent of a vibrant Christmas display.

Phone in hand, suspended in the half-light of decision, I felt Leigh's gaze on me, his perceptiveness cutting through the momentary stillness. "I guess there's no need to hide it anymore, now that you have your own Portal Key," he remarked, an undercurrent of resignation in his voice, acknowledging a shift in our shared duties.

Yet, even amidst his revelations, the persistent ringtone sliced through, a reminder of the world persisting beyond our immediate turmoil.

"What are you doing?" Leigh's voice, edged with urgency, broke the tension.

"Calling Jarod," I retorted, my impatience surfacing as I struggled to comprehend his apparent obliviousness to my actions. My brow furrowed with my growing irritation.

"Turn it off, quick," Leigh urged, his hand reaching out, swiping the phone from my grasp in a swift, almost desperate gesture.

In the brief interaction, Jarod's voice momentarily pierced the room, "Beatrix?" A fleeting connection, cut abruptly as Leigh terminated the call.

My suspicion deepened as I regarded Leigh, his actions puzzling, sparking a flurry of questions. "Probably best that we don't pre-warn him," he reasoned, yet his words did little to quell my burgeoning doubt.

"I think it's a bit late for that," I countered, my tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and frustration, reclaiming my phone just as Jarod's name flashed again across the screen.

"Don't answer it," Leigh interjected swiftly, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Why the hell not?" My scowl deepened, my patience fraying at the edges as I grappled with his erratic instructions, yet I complied, rejecting the call in a swirl of confusion and agitation.

"Even better, turn your phone off," he pressed on, his tone brooking no argument.

"What?" My confusion escalated, teetering on the edge of exasperation. The drama unfolding was more than I had the bandwidth to handle, my mind screaming for a reprieve, yearning to telegraph my frustration to Leigh, who seemed oblivious to the mounting stress his directives were causing.

"It'll make him panic when he can't reach you," Leigh's voice was steady, his reasoning clear, yet it did little to quell the turmoil brewing within me.

My response was a narrowed gaze, my eyes transforming into sharp points of skepticism as my brows drew together, a result of the inner tension clashing with exhaustion. The idea flickered through my mind, a tempting whisper: There's still time to call Jarod back and fabricate a small white lie. I could easily claim it was a mistaken dial—a plausible excuse in our ever-connected world.

I exhaled a soft sigh, my mind teetering between two daunting prospects. On one hand, dragging Jarod deeper into the maelstrom of Clivilius could send our already precarious journey spiralling into darker chasms. Yet, the thought of navigating the murky waters of Guardianship without his presence seemed even more daunting—a solitary venture into the unknown that I was loath to undertake.

"Beatrix," Leigh's voice cut through my reverie, sharp and demanding attention. "What are you doing?"

My fingers continued their dance across the phone's screen, crafting a message with deliberate calmness. "I'm messaging Jarod," I stated plainly, my voice a steady contrast to the flurry of activity under my fingertips.

Leigh's expression shifted to one of surprise, his dark eyes widening. "I thought we agreed that you were going to turn your phone off?"

His words hung between us, but my resolve was firm. "You agreed to that," I countered, a hint of defiance colouring my tone as I completed the message. The thought of Jarod embarking on a frantic search if I vanished from the digital world was unappealing. "He'll only come looking for me if I turn my phone off, and I don't fancy a wild goose chase around town," I explained, sealing my decision with practical logic. "I've told him I'm on my way to meet him.”

10:17AM Beatrix: On my way to meet you at our usual rendezvous

Leigh's reaction was a mix of surprise and resignation, his body language shifting as he leaned back against the desk, a silent observer to the unfolding plan.

Almost instantly, my phone buzzed with Jarod's reply.

10:18AM Jarod: Wrest Point?

I couldn't suppress an eye roll, a small chuckle escaping me. The thought of returning to Wrest Point, a place now tangled with memories and risks, seemed ludicrous. There's no way in hell we're going back to that place anytime soon, I silently vowed.

The room was suddenly awash with the vibrant, pulsating lights from Leigh's Portal, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

"And where are you going?" My curiosity piqued as I watched the colours flicker.

"To Jarod's," he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural decision. "I've registered the location of his house with my Portal Key."

My astonishment was evident, my eyes widening as I processed his words. "Of course you have," I replied, the incredulity dripping from every syllable.

Leigh's expression shifted to one of mild apology. "Oh, sorry," he offered. "I forgot you're a new Guardian. You wouldn't have access to his location yet."

"No," I conceded, acknowledging the limitation but dismissing its significance. "But that doesn't matter."

A smile of relief spread across Leigh's face. "I'll meet you there then?"

"Unlikely," I shot back, a playful edge to my voice.

"What?" Leigh's confusion was almost comical.

I couldn't contain my amusement at his baffled expression. "We're not going to his house."

"We're not?"

"Come on, I'll drive us," I declared, a plan forming in my mind as I headed for the door. The muffled sounds of my parents' voices floated up from downstairs, prompting me to shut the door swiftly behind me. "On second thought, let's meet at Luke's." It was a safe bet, a location I knew my Portal Key could access and far removed from the complications of any engagement with my parents.

Leigh nodded, understanding dawning. "See you in a minute," he said, before disappearing through the Portal.

My fingers flew over the phone's screen as I sent a clarifying message to Jarod.

10:22AM Beatrix: No! The other rendezvous

As the message sent, I steeled myself for what lay ahead, the weight of my decisions pressing heavily as I navigated through the maze of our intertwined fates, stepping into the unknown with a mixture of determination and trepidation.