Chapter 210: Epitaph Of Embers And Eternity

The bedroom was quiet save for Cyrus’s even breathing, the dragon sprawled across silk sheets in deep sleep.

Kane sat hunched at the desk, pen hovering over blank paper while his mind raced through possibilities.

Normal couple activities.

The dragon egg case occupied one corner of the desk, its wards pulsing with faint crimson light.

On the opposite corner, the fox and dragon plushies sat propped against each other—he’d almost forgotten about those until he’d spotted them gathering dust on Cyrus’s nightstand.

Kane’s tail curled around the dragon plushie absently while he scribbled:

1. Movie marathon (no werewolves)

2. Cooking together without emergencies

3. Dancing (somewhere public, not running from wolves)

His pen stilled.

Kane glanced back at Cyrus’s sleeping form, noting the too-careful stillness even in rest.

Dragons planned. Dragons calculated odds.

Dragons made terrible, noble sacrifices.

"Not happening," Kane whispered to the plushies.

He added another line:

4. Convince stubborn dragon he’s not dying alone.

Kane’s pen stilled on the paper, his amber eyes narrowing at the last line he’d written.

Wait.

He set the pen down, tail uncurling from the dragon plushie.

Where had that even come from?

Cyrus hadn’t said anything about dying. Hadn’t acted like someone planning a noble sacrifice. He’d just... asked Kane to make a list of normal couple activities.

Which was actually kind of sweet, in a dragon way.

Kane rubbed his face with both hands, feeling ridiculous.

Maybe the pendant incident had rattled him more than he’d thought. Maybe exhaustion was making him paranoid.

Or maybe he’d spent too much time around Bureau agents who saw conspiracies in everything.

Cyrus wanted to make Kane happy. That’s all this was.

The dragon who’d destroyed an expensive diamond pendant because Elias touched it. Who’d ordered dinner and wine instead of immediately planning counterattacks. Who’d stroked Kane’s hair and promised nothing would happen to him.

Those weren’t the actions of someone planning to die.

"You’re being dramatic," Kane muttered to himself.

He crossed out the last line, replacing it with something simpler:

4. Stargazing on the balcony

Kane stared at the list, pen hovering over the paper.

Movie marathons. Cooking. Dancing. Stargazing.

It all felt like pretending. Like playing at normalcy when what he actually wanted was...

Everything.

He crossed out the entire list with one decisive stroke, black ink bleeding across the page.

What he wanted couldn’t be reduced to bullet points or weekend activities.

He wanted mornings waking up to Cyrus’s warmth. Wanted arguments about dragon diets and late nights researching ancient texts together.

Wanted to watch their son—their son, because the egg already felt like theirs—take his first flight.

He wanted forever.

Kane set the pen down and crossed to the bed, sliding beneath the sheets. Cyrus’s body radiated heat even in sleep, scales flickering beneath skin where control slipped.

Kane pressed against his back, one arm curving over Cyrus’s waist.

The dragon stirred slightly, unconsciously leaning into the touch.

"Just you," Kane whispered against Cyrus’s shoulder blade. "That’s what I want."

Cyrus’s breathing deepened, steady and sure.

Kane’s tail wrapped possessively around Cyrus’s leg as sleep finally claimed him.

The crossed-out list sat abandoned on the desk, unnecessary.

The next morning’s routine felt too normal.

Cyrus drove Kane to BSA headquarters, fingers drumming against the steering wheel at stoplights.

His usual smooth composure held, but Kane caught the telltale tightness around his eyes.

"I’ll pick you up at five," Cyrus said when they arrived.

"Promise?"

Cyrus’s gaze cut sideways, something unreadable flickering in those red-gold depths. "Promise."

The kiss Cyrus pressed to Kane’s knuckles lasted a fraction too long.

Kane climbed out of the Lamborghini, watching it disappear into traffic before heading inside.

The BSA lobby buzzed with morning chaos—agents clustered around coffee stations, trainees rushing to debriefings, and the usual organized pandemonium.

Kane bypassed it all, heading straight for his desk.

The stack of overdue reports had grown embarrassingly tall. Incident documentation from the warehouse where Cyrus first saved him. Analysis of the synthetic binding agents. Follow-ups on recovered spirits from St. Mariel’s.

All the paperwork he’d been putting off because life kept trying to kill him.

Kane pulled out his chair and got to work.

Three hours later, his fingers cramped around the pen, but every form bore his signature. Every file completed, cross-referenced, and submitted through proper channels.

Ginsei wandered past around noon, double-taking at Kane’s empty desk. "Did you actually finish all of that?"

"Seemed like a good time," Kane said, stretching his sore wrist.

"You feeling okay? Maybe that shard essence scrambled something—"

"I’m fine." Kane stood, straightening his suit jacket. "Just tying up loose ends."

Ginsei’s serpentine eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push.

Kane headed upstairs to the executive offices.

Commander Qi’s door stood slightly ajar, voices filtering through—probably a meeting with senior staff.

Kane knocked anyway.

The conversation inside cut off. Footsteps approached, and Qi appeared in the doorway, his bronze antlers catching the fluorescent light.

"Agent Ashwood." Qi’s tone held its usual edge of disapproval. "This had better be urgent."

"Request for extended leave, sir." Kane kept his voice steady and professional. "Starting immediately."

Qi’s green eyes sharpened as he observed Kane’s posture and the unusual formality of his demeanor.

The qilin spirit stepped back, gesturing Kane inside. "Close the door."

Kane obeyed, feeling the weight of what he was about to do settle over his shoulders.

Whatever Cyrus planned, Kane would be ready.

And that meant preparing for worst-case scenarios.

Commander Qi’s eyes narrowed, his antlers shifting slightly as he studied Kane’s face.

"This is about the Thorne case."

Kane didn’t bother denying it. "Yes, sir."

Qi’s scarred face remained impassive as he signed the leave approval form with swift, decisive strokes.

"Approved. Two months effective immediately." He looked up, green eyes sharp.

"Take care of yourself, Ashwood. Don’t be reckless."

"I won’t—"

"You will," Qi interrupted. "You always are. But when it becomes too much, call my personal line."

Kane swallowed past the unexpected tightness in his throat. "I promise, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my office before I reconsider."

Kane returned to his desk, clearing it just like he had before starting at Veyr Corp. Personal effects into the box. Case files locked in the drawer. Desktop wiped clean.

Ginsei watched from across the room but didn’t comment.

Kane left the BSA and took a cab to Cyrus’s penthouse, his stomach sinking as the elevator doors opened.

Professional movers swarmed the space, wrapping furniture in protective coverings, sealing boxes with efficiency.

As he suspected, the dragon was moving.

Without telling him.