The paper crane came through the open window like it knew where it was going. It circled once, folded wings clicking softly, and landed on the coffee table between Elly’s tea and the takeout containers we hadn’t bothered to throw away yet.

  Nobody moved for a second. The apartment still smelled faintly like burnt ozone and day-old ramen. My warhammer leaned against the couch, a sad reminder that Mjolnir II had vaporized. Lily’s glamour had finally come back that morning—she’d used it to turn the curtains a violently inappropriate shade of pink out of sheer joy. Eury’s hair had been flicking lazily all day, like it was stretching after a long nap.

  Elly sat cross-legged in my hoodie, humming some song that wasn’t from this realm, and looking more solid every hour. According to her, she was doing some sort of special meditation, drawing the universe’s fae energies back into herself, allowing her to tempt and twist luck and fate again.

  Everything was almost normal again. Which meant, naturally, something was about to interrupt it.

  The crane clicked once, unfolded itself, and the paper rearranged into Jade’s handwriting.

  When you can stand without pain, come walk the garden. Bring those who remember the ledger. — J.

  “Short, ominous, and polite,” Lily said, reading over my shoulder while sipping her tea. “Classic Jade.”

  Frowning, I checked the Hoardlink phone Jade usually used to communicate with me. It wouldn’t even turn on. Apparently, that supernatural makeout session the other night had fried the device. That explained the paper message.

  “Do we have to?” Elly asked, eyes narrowing. “I just got my body back. And my appetite.”

  Eury tilted her head, the snakes whispering. “We owe her a visit. She was the one keeping balance while we played demolition crew.”

  I sighed, already on my feet. “She’s not going to eat us. Probably. Grab your coats.”

  The garden sat behind a walled estate at the edge of the city—a slice of quiet carved out of chaos. The moment we stepped through the gate, the noise of traffic disappeared.

  The air smelled like rain and pine. Wind traced through bamboo, making the kind of music therapists charge you for.

  Gravel crunched underfoot in deliberate patterns. Koi moved under a narrow bridge, pale gold and shadows in equal measures.

  Jade stood at the far end of the path. She wasn’t dressed for war this time—no coat, no weapons. Just a charcoal qipao with wide sleeves and bare feet that didn’t disturb a single pebble when she walked. Her hair was pinned high, streaked faintly silver at the temples, like lightning that decided to stay.

  “Daniel,” she said as we approached, voice soft but certain. “You look less dead than expected.”

  “Thanks. I moisturize.”

  A small smile. “You’ve done well.”

  That was Jade-speak for you didn’t ruin the world yet. I’d take it. High praise from a dragon.

  We walked together along the path, the others a few steps behind. Jade’s gaze lingered on the pond, on the reflection of the sky.

  “Do you remember the list?” she asked.

  I nodded. “The five favors: The seed. The tree. The fruit. The rescue. The return.”

  “And here you are,” she said simply. “All debts are paid.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Elly then, and for the first time I saw genuine warmth soften her expression. “Few have ever cleared their debts with me. Fewer still come back from the Curator’s catalog. You have my respect, truly.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Elly bowed slightly, all fae grace even when tired. “The Curator underestimated the power of stubbornness.”

  “As do most powerful things,” Jade murmured.

  We stopped near a lantern half-buried in moss. The air here shimmered faintly. It was neutral ground with old magic, the kind that made reality behave. I realized she’d picked this place on purpose. No one could lie inside its bounds.

  “You’ve earned independence,” she said finally. “While I am a jealous creature, I am also a fair one. Therefore, I will not challenge you for your blocks of the city or the loyalty of your people. They look to you now. The stories already call you ‘Mercer’s Band.’ Your deeds carry great weight.”

  “Not exactly the name I’d have picked.”

  “That’s why it works,” she said. “Names given, not claimed, have power.”

  Lily caught up, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “So, what—you’re giving him the city?”

  Jade’s lips curved faintly. “Hardly. The city is mine, but his home is his. I’m giving him his freedom. Which is more dangerous.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because freedom attracts the hungry,” she said. “And not all that escaped the filing realm wish to be found, and some of them have escaped with great hungers after being deprived for so long.”

  The koi rippled beneath the bridge. For an instant, their reflections twisted, with shapes moving below that weren’t fish at all. Eyes without faces. Shadows that remembered being caged.

  Jade followed my gaze. “When you tore open the Curator’s drawer, you did not just rescue the stolen. You released the contained.”

  Eury’s breath caught. “Contained?”

  “Old spirits. Constructs. Half-finished ideas. The city’s night has grown crowded.” She knelt, touched the surface of the pond. Circles spread outward, and for a heartbeat the water showed a street I recognized—our street. Something long and pale moved along the gutters, sniffing the air.

  Then the image shattered.

  “We’ve already had reports,” she continued. “A whispering light in the cathedral. An echo that bleeds in the subways. And the Eidolich’s name has begun to appear again on the aether winds.”

  Lily whistled low. “You sure know how to ruin a victory lap.” For all her bravado, I knew that name chilled her to her very center.

  That name still brought nightmares to me as well, memories of Lily nearly dying.

  “It’s not meant to ruin,” Jade said, “but rather to give context. Every triumph changes the world that comes after it.”

  I looked at the koi again. “So, what—you want us to go hunting?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I will ask nothing of you. You must do what you will, but not too soon. Rest. Heal. Let the world breathe before you start remaking it again.”

  “The dust is still settling, and we have to wait for creatures to show themselves.” I summarized.

  “As you say.” Jade inclined her head. “Be ready for what comes next. Moving too soon will expose your weaknesses.”

  That last line hit harder than I wanted to admit. My knuckles still ached from swinging the hammer. My dreams were full of filing cabinets that screamed.

  We kept walking. The others drifted ahead—Elly and Lily talking quietly, Eury trailing behind like a shadow with good posture. Jade slowed near the archway leading back to the gate.

  “You’ve changed,” Jade said finally. “Not just the city. Yourself.”

  “I keep hearing that,” I said. “Not sure I like it.”

  “Change rarely asks permission.” She studied me for a long moment. “When I first met you, you were trying to survive. Now you’re trying to lead. That’s a harder task by far.”

  I frowned. Did she think I was trying to take power? “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “Neither did I,” she said simply. “But someone must keep the ledger honest.”

  Her eyes found mine then—sharp, gold-brown, and impossible to look away from. “Tell me, Daniel Mercer. Now that your debts are paid, what do you owe yourself?”

  That one I didn’t have an answer for. Not yet…

  When we reached the gate, Jade stopped. She bowed slightly, a warrior’s gesture—not dominance, but respect.

  “Rest easy, Null. You’ve earned a quiet night… or three.”

  Elly bowed back with a grin. “That’s a nice way to say, ‘try not to break anything else too soon.’”

  Jade’s eyes glinted. “If he does, I expect you’ll fix it together.”

  “We always do,” Lily said, half-smiling.

  Eury said nothing, but her hair gave a whisper that sounded suspiciously like hissing.

  We stepped out through the wooden arch, the sound of gravel fading behind us. The city noise returned—the hum of traffic, a siren far away, the smell of hot asphalt instead of incense. The world felt bigger again.

  Something fluttered behind me. I turned just in time to see a slip of paper drift down from the gate—torn from a ledger, lines faintly glowing. My name was written there, once in black, crossed out in gold.

  Elly caught it before it hit the ground. She held it out with a small, knowing smile. “Looks like someone finally balanced your books, Daniel.”

  “About damn time,” I said, taking it and crumpling it up for the nearest trashcan.

  We started walking home, side by side. The skyline ahead was still cracked with storm light, but the air smelled almost clean.

  Behind us, somewhere deep in that perfect garden, Jade stood at the pond’s edge, watching the ripples fade.

  She whispered something I couldn’t hear.

  And under the water, the reflection that looked back at her wasn’t hers, but rather, that of a dragon.