NOVPUB
Chapter 41: whoosh
WHOOSHHH ~~~
A sudden heat filled the room as Rhea’s flames erupted, blazing bright and fierce, casting jagged shadows across the Haven’s walls.
The morning light streaming through the cracked windows paled in comparison, swallowed by the vivid orange glow that danced in her hands and engulfed her body.
Kael instinctively lunged back, his body tensing into a cautious fighting stance, muscles coiled and hazel eyes narrowing with alert precision.
Harris stood rigid, his broad frame still, his eyes locked onto Rhea’s display—not fearful, not startled, just measuring. Assessing. A silent wall of authority.
"Relax," Rhea said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire, calm but edged with a hint of mock.
With a subtle flick of her wrists, the flames shimmered down, their intensity fading until they vanished entirely, leaving only faint wisps of heat in the air.
She glanced at Kael, her amber eyes glinting. "No need to piss your pants. I was just testing the costume."
His gaze flicked over her suit—black and orange, snug against her form. Untouched. Not a single scorch mark. The flames had engulfed her, yet the fabric remained pristine, its surface smooth, as if it had never felt the fire at all.
He studied her, still processing what he’d just seen.
She’d been marked as a B-class threat, but that raw, unrestrained power? It felt like something higher. Maybe A -class?.
Harris adjusted his suit jacket, his expression unreadable but firm. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped, commanding. "Time for duty."
He turned without another glance, his footsteps crisp as he strode toward the door.
Rhea sighed, her amber eyes meeting Kael’s.
He offered a small, encouraging smile. "Take care Rhea. Be careful out there and listen to Harris. Also, he has a bad sense of humor, so no comedy."
A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips, her crimson hair catching the light as she shrugged. "Don’t expect great things from me. I’ll only try, that’s it."
She started forward, her boots scuffing against the floor—but just before crossing the threshold, she paused.
Turning back, she met Kael’s eyes once more.
For a fraction of a second, something softened in her gaze.
"Bye, Kael."
The words were quieter, almost hesitant—then the moment was gone.
She pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving him alone in the lingering warmth of her fire.
Kael stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door as the rumble of an engine roared to life.
The sound grew distant, fading into the morning hush until silence settled around him like a heavy cloak.
For a long moment, he didn’t move.
Then, with a slow exhale, his shoulders slumped slightly, the tension draining from his body. "Hopefully, things go well," he muttered under his breath.
The words were more a prayer than a certainty. Shaking off the weight of lingering thoughts, he turned toward the kitchen.
He had set aside a plate of food for Freya earlier—scrambled eggs, toast, something simple but still warm under a cloth.
Balancing the plate in one hand, he crossed the hall to her room, his footsteps light but steady.
He knocked lightly but didn’t wait for permission—he opened the door himself. Still, he stayed a safe distance back, cautious after their past encounter.
Freya sat poised on the edge of the bed, her platinum-cyan hair spilling like liquid silver, catching the dim light in a way that made it seem almost ethereal.
She wore a fitted cyan T-shirt, the fabric hugging her voluptuous frame, its vibrant hue accentuating the subtle curve of her waist and the lean, toned arms. It clung just enough to hint at the shape beneath—an effortless balance between casual elegance and quiet authority.
Her dark pants tapered down to her ankles, the deep shade a stark contrast against her pale skin, emphasizing the long, elegant lines of her body. She sat with a queen-like demeanor, chin lifted slightly, spine perfectly straight, a leg on top of another—turning even the worn-out cot beneath her into a throne.
Kael stood there, plate in hand, momentarily caught by the sight of her.
The clothes he’d picked out for her—so plain, so unassuming—somehow made her regal presence even more pronounced. The simple outfit didn’t diminish her; it sharpened her effortless confidence on her beauty.
He shook the thought away, stepping forward with a small, easy smile—relieved by the rare stillness of the morning. No tension. No outbursts. Just breakfast.
"Good morning," he greeted, setting the plate beside her.
Freya acknowledged him with a slight tilt of her head—not submission, never that—just recognition.
Kael hesitated. Normally, he would have retreated, given her space. But today, he didn’t. Instead, he lowered himself onto the bed, sitting at a slight angle, hands resting loosely in his lap, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
Freya’s fingers curled around the plate, but as she lifted it, her posture stiffened. The composure she wore so effortlessly faltered, if only for a breath—her pale eyes flickering with something uneasy.
Kael noticed.
He raised a hand before she could say anything, his voice light, disarming. "You can eat. I’m just sitting here—nothing shady, promise."
Freya’s lips pressed into a thin line.
"You staring at me while I eat makes me uncomfortable," she said, her tone clipped, edged with that same icy authority—the voice of someone unaccustomed to being questioned. "I like eating alone. Get out of my room."
Kael’s smile faltered, heat creeping up his neck. Right. That was stupid.
He stood quickly, offering a sheepish "Sorry" before moving toward the door, his grin wilting.
His fingers brushed the knob—then paused.
A thought tugged at him.
Leaning against the frame, arms crossing over his chest, he turned back.
"You’ve known Rhea for a while, right?"
Freya’s fork hovered over the eggs, her gaze flicking to him with a wry twist of her lips.
"Yeah. She was a pain in my ass for a while—that’s how I knew her," she said, her tone dry but tinged with a faint, reluctant amusement.
Kael chuckled, the sound easing the lingering tension as he relaxed against the doorframe. "I sent her off to be a superhero today," he said, then hesitated, his voice dropping with a hint of uncertainty.
"Do you think she’ll be fine, or will she go back to her supervillain ways?"
Freya set the plate down with a deliberate grace, her movements precise as she fixed him with a stare that cut through the air like a blade.
Her face sharpened, her blue eyes glinting with an unshakable certainty. She continued, "Rhea? She is going to die."
