Ka2
Bloodlight & Starlight: Arcueid's Summoned Storm
Chapter Four: Eclipse (Continued)
"It's not?" Arcueid sat up as well, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Kairos ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching starlight in impossible ways. "I don't understand it myself, to be honest. Normally by now, I'd be feeling the pressure—reality pushing back against my existence, trying to file off my edges to make me fit, or reject me entirely."
"And you're not feeling that?"
"Not even a hint of it." His eyes met hers, searching. "At first I thought it was the summoning circle—that it had somehow altered me more fundamentally than I realized. But now I'm not so sure."
"What other explanation could there be?"
He hesitated, which was so uncharacteristic it immediately put her on alert. Kairos never hesitated—he plunged forward, consequences be damned, always ready with a quip or outrageous claim. This careful consideration was new.
"I think it might be you," he said finally.
"Me? What do I have to do with it?"
"The summoning wasn't random, Arcueid. That circle was created specifically to call something that could face the Crimson Moon—a being from beyond conventional reality. It wasn't looking for just any anomaly." He gestured at himself. "It was looking for one that would be compatible with this world's defender."
"Compatible," she repeated, the word feeling strange on her tongue. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"I'm not entirely sure." He picked up a small stone from the rooftop surface, turning it over in his fingers. Where it touched his skin, it briefly glowed with inner light before returning to normal when he set it down. "But I think it's why our powers harmonized in the quarry today instead of creating a catastrophic reaction. Something about your essence and mine... they complement each other."
The implications hung in the air between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore. Arcueid found herself oddly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why.
"So the summoning circle was more sophisticated than I realized," she said, deliberately steering the topic toward technicalities. "It didn't just reach across dimensions, it specifically selected for compatibility."
"And found me." His smile returned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Lucky you."
"Is it luck?" she countered. "Or were you simply the only compatible anomaly in range when I activated the circle?"
"Ouch." He clutched his chest in mock offense. "And here I thought I was special."
"You know what I mean."
"I do." He nodded, becoming serious again. "And it's a fair question. The honest answer is I don't know. The multiverse is vast beyond comprehension, full of entities that defy categorization. Am I unique? Probably not. But I am rare, even among my kind."
"Your kind," she echoed. "You've never really explained what that is."
"Because I'm not sure there's a word for it in any language you'd know." He looked up at the stars, expression distant. "The closest concept might be 'cosmic mistake.' A paradox given consciousness. A being that shouldn't exist but does anyway, out of sheer stubborn improbability."
The description was both grandiose and oddly self-deprecating. Arcueid found herself wondering how much of Kairos's flamboyant persona was genuine and how much was carefully constructed armor.
"Do you ever wish you were... normal?" she asked, surprising herself with the question.
He looked at her sharply, those star-shaped pupils contracting. "Define normal."
"Belonging somewhere. Having a place, a role that fits. Being part of something instead of apart from everything."
"Are we still talking about me, Princess?" His voice was gentle, knowing. "Or are you projecting a bit?"
She looked away, uncomfortable with how easily he'd turned the question back on her. "I have a place. A role."
"As guardian. Protector. The White Princess of the True Ancestors." He counted off on his fingers. "Roles, yes. But do any of them feel like they're truly yours? Chosen rather than assigned?"
The question struck too close to truths she rarely examined. Her entire existence had been predetermined by her bloodline, her powers, her responsibilities. Even her brief attempts at a more human life—her fascination with Shiki, her experiments with normal activities—felt like borrowed experiences rather than authentic choices.
"We are what we are," she said finally. "Wishing for something different is pointless."
"Is it?" Kairos stretched out again, looking up at the stars. "I've existed in spaces between conventional realities for longer than I can remember. Always moving, never belonging. And yet here I am, having a philosophical conversation on a rooftop with a vampire princess who summoned me by accident. If that's not proof that the unexpected is always possible, I don't know what is."
Put that way, their entire situation did seem rather improbable. Arcueid found herself smiling slightly. "I suppose you have a point."
"I usually do, beneath all the charming nonsense." He winked. "It's part of my strategy—keep everyone so distracted by the absurd that they don't notice when I'm being profound."
"Very cunning."
"I have my moments." He patted the blanket beside him. "Now, are you going to lie back down and let me continue your cosmic education, or would you prefer to maintain your dignified sitting position while I tell you about the time I raced a comet through the Cygnus sector?"
Despite herself, Arcueid reclined again, this time with marginally less stiffness. "The comet story, I suppose."
"Excellent choice." He launched into a tale involving a sentient comet, a bet with an energy being, and what sounded like the cosmic equivalent of a highway chase. His storytelling was animated, full of sound effects and exaggerated gestures, yet somehow conveyed a sense of authentic experience beneath the theatrical elements.
As he spoke, Arcueid found her usual vigilance softening. There was something soothing about lying beneath the stars, listening to his voice weave impossible tales that nevertheless held grains of truth about the wider universe. Whether every detail was accurate seemed less important than the perspective they offered—a reminder that reality was vaster and stranger than even she, with her centuries of existence, had imagined.
"—and that's why I'm no longer welcome in any establishment that serves liquid nitrogen cocktails," he concluded, grinning at her.
"I find it hard to believe you're welcome in any establishments at all," she replied dryly.
"You'd be surprised. I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it."
"When you're not causing interdimensional incidents, you mean?"
"Those are rare! Well, rarer than they used to be." He crossed his arms behind his head. "I've learned restraint over the eons."
"This is you with restraint?" The thought was both amusing and mildly terrifying.
"Oh, absolutely. You should have seen me in my younger days. Absolute chaos." His smile turned nostalgic. "I once accidentally created a pocket dimension inside another pocket dimension. The resulting paradox loop took seventeen cosmic entities to untangle."
"And yet somehow you survived."
"I'm very fast," he said with a wink. "And surprisingly good at apologizing when necessary."
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below—car horns, fragments of conversation, the steady pulse of human life continuing despite the lateness of the hour.
"Can I ask you something?" Kairos said after a while, his voice unusually hesitant.
"You just did."
"Ha ha. Very literal, Princess." He turned his head to look at her, expression suddenly serious. "The human boy—Shiki. What is he to you, exactly?"
The question caught her off guard. Shiki Tohno was... complicated. A human with mystical eyes that could see the death of all things, including beings like her that should be beyond such mortality. A boy who had awakened something in her that had slumbered for centuries—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper she wasn't ready to name.
"He's interesting," she said finally.
"Interesting," Kairos repeated, clearly unimpressed with the answer. "That's it? Because you've been stalking him—"
"Observing," she corrected automatically.
"—observing him for weeks before I arrived. That suggests more than casual interest."
Arcueid sighed, staring up at the stars. "He's different. His eyes can see what others can't—the lines of death in all things. Even me."
"And that's... attractive to you? Being seen for what you truly are?"
There was something in his tone she couldn't quite identify—not jealousy, exactly, but perhaps a certain wistfulness.
"It's not about attraction," she said, though the protest felt hollow even to her own ears. "It's about... possibility. He represents something I didn't think could exist—a human who could potentially understand what I am. Who might not fear me."
"And has he? Understood you, I mean?"
She frowned, considering. Her interactions with Shiki had been limited, complicated by the fact that their first meeting had involved him nearly killing her. Since then, there had been brief encounters, tentative conversations, but nothing that could truly be called understanding.
"No," she admitted. "Not really."
"Hmm." Kairos returned his gaze to the stars. "And do you want him to?"
"I don't know," she said honestly. "I thought I did. Now I'm not sure what I want."
The admission cost her something—a piece of the careful control she maintained over her thoughts and feelings. It was rarely safe for beings like her to acknowledge uncertainty. Doubt could be exploited, used against them. Yet with Kairos, the usual rules didn't seem to apply.
"Well, that makes two of us," he murmured, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.
Before she could ask what he meant, a flash of movement caught her eye—a streak of light across the sky, gone almost as soon as she registered it.
"A shooting star," she said, pointing.
Kairos smiled. "Not quite. That, my dear Princess, was a minor elemental spirit taking a joyride through your atmosphere."
"You're making that up."
"I assure you, I'm not. Your world has quite the lively ecosystem of non-corporeal entities that most humans never notice. Little wisps of conscious energy that play in the upper atmosphere, ride weather patterns, occasionally cause minor electrical anomalies that scientists blame on 'atmospheric conditions.'"
"And you can see them?"
"I can see lots of things other people miss." His eyes, with those strange star-shaped pupils, met hers. "Including what's behind careful masks and centuries of practiced indifference."
There was something dangerous in his gaze—not threatening, but unsettling in its perception. Arcueid found herself looking away first, an unusual concession for a predator of her caliber.
"It's getting late," she said, sitting up again. "We should go inside."
"Ah, and thus ends astronomy class for the evening." He sat up as well, stretching with catlike grace. "Did I pass as an activity planner? Was my choice 'within reason' enough for your exacting standards?"
The teasing brought them back to safer ground, away from unsettling perceptions and uncomfortable truths. Arcueid found herself grateful for his ability to shift moods so effortlessly.
"It was acceptable," she allowed, standing and brushing invisible dust from her clothes. "More educational than I expected."
"High praise indeed from the Princess of the True Ancestors." He gathered up the blanket, shaking it out with a dramatic flourish. "Same time tomorrow for our morning battle, or would you like to sleep in? I could entertain myself for a few hours—perhaps chat with the local spirit elementals, or investigate that dimensional pocket I noticed near the river—"
"Absolutely not." The thought of Kairos wandering unsupervised, poking at potential supernatural weak points, was enough to banish any thought of sleeping late. "Dawn as usual."
"As my lady commands." He bowed with exaggerated formality. "Though I feel compelled to point out that your lack of trust wounds me deeply."
"You'll recover," she said dryly, heading toward the rooftop access door.
As they descended the stairs to her apartment, Arcueid found herself unusually aware of Kairos's presence behind her—the subtle heat that radiated from him, the way the air seemed to bend slightly in his proximity, the soft sound of his breathing that was so convincingly human despite everything she knew about his true nature.
It was strange, she reflected, how quickly someone could become significant in one's existence. A month ago, she had never heard of Kairos. Now, she couldn't imagine her daily routine without him in it—his outrageous stories, his playful challenges, his unexpected insights.
The realization was not entirely comfortable.
The following week passed in a blur of new routines. Their dawn battles continued, growing more elaborate and beautiful as they pushed each other's limits without true intent to harm. Kairos insisted on exploring every corner of Misaki Town, dragging Arcueid to parks, shopping districts, historic sites, and obscure locations he claimed had "interesting energy signatures."
To her surprise, she found herself enjoying these excursions. Seeing familiar places through his eyes made them new again—his endless questions and observations highlighting details she'd overlooked despite centuries of existence.
They were returning from one such exploration—an afternoon spent at a traditional tea garden that Kairos had deemed "delightfully ritualistic"—when they encountered an unexpected figure waiting outside Arcueid's apartment building.
Shiki Tohno leaned against a lamppost, hands in his pockets, his expression difficult to read behind his glasses. He straightened as they approached, eyes moving from Arcueid to Kairos and back again.
"Arcueid," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "I've been trying to find you."
"Shiki." She stopped a few feet away, suddenly aware of how this must look—her walking companionably beside the golden-eyed stranger, their shoulders occasionally brushing, a certain easy familiarity between them that hadn't existed in her interactions with Shiki himself.
"So this is the famous Shiki Tohno," Kairos said, studying the human with undisguised interest. "The boy with death-seeing eyes. Fascinating."
Shiki's gaze sharpened. "Who are you?"
"Kairos." He extended a hand, seemingly oblivious to the tension. "Interdimensional anomaly, cosmic wanderer, and temporary resident of your charming dimension. Pleasure to meet you."
Shiki ignored the offered hand. "Arcueid, can we talk? Alone?"
Before she could respond, Kairos stepped back, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Say no more. I'll make myself scarce." He turned to Arcueid. "I'll be upstairs when you're done with your... conversation."
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he slipped past them both and disappeared into the building, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
"Who is he really?" Shiki asked once Kairos was gone. "And what is he doing here?"
Arcueid hesitated, unsure how much to explain. The truth was complex and would sound absurd to human ears. Yet Shiki was not an ordinary human, and he deserved some measure of honesty.
"I accidentally summoned him," she said finally. "From... elsewhere. I've been keeping an eye on him to ensure he doesn't cause trouble."
"Keeping an eye on him," Shiki repeated skeptically. "Is that why you've been seen all over town with him? At restaurants, museums, the park?"
The implication was clear—he'd been watching her, or at least hearing reports from others who had. The realization was both surprising and vaguely uncomfortable.
"Yes," she said firmly. "He's powerful and unpredictable. Leaving him unsupervised would be irresponsible."
"And that's all it is? Responsibility?"
The question caught her off guard. "What else would it be?"
Shiki ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "I don't know, Arcueid. You tell me. You've been avoiding me for weeks, then suddenly you're spending all your time with this strange guy who talks about dimensions and cosmic whatever." His voice dropped slightly. "People are saying you look... happy when you're with him."
The accusation—for that's what it felt like—struck deeper than she'd expected. Had she been happy? The past weeks with Kairos had certainly been entertaining, challenging in ways her existence rarely was. She'd laughed more, experienced more, questioned more about herself and her place in the world.
But happiness? That seemed too simple a word for something so complex.
"This isn't about happiness," she said carefully. "It's about duty. Kairos is my responsibility because I brought him here. Once I figure out how to send him back, things will return to normal."
Even as she said it, Arcueid wondered if that was true. Could things ever return to what they had been before the golden-eyed boy with star-shaped pupils had crashed into her existence? Would she want them to?
Shiki studied her face, searching for something. Whatever he saw there caused him to sigh, shoulders slumping slightly.
"You've changed," he said quietly. "Since he arrived."
"That's ridiculous. I'm exactly the same."
"No." He shook his head. "You're not. And I don't think you've even noticed."
Before she could respond, he straightened, adjusting his glasses in that habitual way she'd once found endearing. "There's something else you should know. Your sister was looking for you."
Arcueid went still. "Altrouge? When?"
"Two days ago. She approached me after school, asked if I knew where you were." His expression grew troubled. "She seemed... concerned about your new friend. Said he might be dangerous to you."
"Altrouge doesn't concern herself with my welfare," Arcueid said sharply. "Whatever she's planning, it's not motivated by sisterly love."
"I figured as much. That's why I've been trying to find you." He hesitated. "She mentioned something about the 'balance being disrupted' and 'unwelcome attention' being drawn to this area. Does that mean anything to you?"
It did, and the implications were troubling. If Altrouge was concerned about balance, it suggested Kairos's presence was causing ripples beyond what Arcueid had detected—perhaps affecting the delicate equilibrium between supernatural forces that governed their world.
"Thank you for telling me," she said, her mind already racing through possibilities. "I'll handle it."
"Will you?" Shiki stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Or will your new friend handle it for you?"
The question held an edge that surprised her. Was that jealousy in his tone? Concern? Or something else entirely?
"This is my territory," she reminded him, a hint of her true nature bleeding into her voice. "My responsibility. I don't delegate my duties to anyone, no matter how powerful they might be."
Shiki held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw. "Just be careful, Arcueid. Whatever he is... he's changing things. Changing you."
With that parting statement, he turned and walked away, his silhouette gradually fading into the gathering dusk.
Arcueid remained where she was, troubled by the encounter in ways she couldn't fully articulate. Shiki's warning echoed in her mind, overlapping with Kairos's earlier words about compatibility and harmony between their powers.
Was she changing? And if so, was it for better or worse?
With no clear answer, she finally entered the building, ascending the stairs to her apartment with measured steps. She needed to confront Kairos about Altrouge's concerns, to determine if his presence was truly causing the disruption her sister claimed.
More importantly, she needed to understand what was happening between them—this strange affinity that defied explanation, that seemed to be altering something fundamental in her very nature.
The door to her apartment stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the dim hallway. From within came the soft sounds of movement, and beneath that, a barely audible humming—a melody she didn't recognize but that somehow reminded her of starlight and distant horizons.
Taking a deep breath, Arcueid pushed the door open fully, stepping into whatever awaited her inside.
Bloodlight & Starlight: Arcueid's Summoned Storm
Chapter Four: Eclipse (Final Part)
Inside the apartment, Arcueid found Kairos lounging on her couch, tossing what appeared to be a small ball of golden light from one hand to the other. The room had been transformed in subtle ways—her usually stark lamps now cast a warm, sunset-like glow, and the air smelled faintly of something she couldn't identify, like cinnamon mixed with ozone.
He looked up as she entered, his easy smile fading when he saw her expression. The golden light ball dissipated between his fingers.
"That bad, huh?" he asked, sitting up straight.
Arcueid closed the door behind her, leaning against it. "Altrouge approached Shiki. She's been looking for me."
"Ah, the scary sister makes her move." He stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders in a gesture that seemed oddly human for someone of his nature. "I was wondering when she'd show up again. What's her angle?"
"According to Shiki, she's concerned about 'balance being disrupted' and 'unwelcome attention' being drawn to this area." Arcueid crossed the room, stopping to stand in front of him. "Is she right? Is your presence causing problems I haven't detected?"
Kairos considered this, his star-pupiled eyes thoughtful rather than defensive. "It's possible," he admitted. "My existence tends to have... ripple effects. But nothing catastrophic that I've noticed."
"Define 'catastrophic.'"
He grinned, but there was a hint of nervousness beneath it. "You know, the usual—reality fractures, dimensional bleeding, cosmic entities sending hitmen. Standard disaster stuff."
"And you've seen none of that here?"
"Not a hint," he assured her, then hesitated. "Though there is something... different about this world's reaction to me."
Arcueid sat beside him on the couch, close enough to study his face but maintaining a careful distance. "Different how?"
"It's like..." He gestured vaguely. "You know how when you drop a stone in water, it creates ripples? My presence usually causes ripples in reality—subtle distortions that build up over time. But here, it's like the water is absorbing the stone. Adapting around me instead of being disrupted by me."
"And you think that's because of our... compatibility? What you mentioned on the roof?"
"Maybe." He looked at her directly, his usual playfulness momentarily set aside. "Or maybe it's something else entirely. Your sister might know more than she's telling."
"Altrouge always knows more than she tells," Arcueid said grimly. "The question is what she plans to do with that knowledge."
Kairos leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. One hand came to rest just inches from her shoulder, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel the strange warmth that always radiated from him.
"So what's the plan, Princess? Confront sister dearest? Go into hiding? Throw me to the wolves as a peace offering?" He waggled his eyebrows at the last suggestion, but there was genuine curiosity beneath the joke.
"None of those," she decided. "For now, we watch and wait. Altrouge rarely moves without purpose. If she wanted to cause immediate trouble, she would have. The fact that she's sending warnings through Shiki suggests she's testing the waters, looking for information."
"Clever." He nodded approvingly. "We let her reveal her hand first."
"Exactly." Arcueid paused, struck by his casual use of 'we.' When had this become a partnership rather than a wary monitoring?
"In the meantime," Kairos continued, apparently oblivious to her momentary confusion, "we should probably accelerate our understanding of why I'm here in the first place. The summoning circle—do you think we could examine it again? Maybe there are clues we missed."
It was a reasonable suggestion. They hadn't returned to the hidden shrine since that first day, focusing instead on testing his abilities and establishing boundaries for his presence in her world.
"Tomorrow," she agreed. "We can go at dawn."
"Perfect!" His enthusiasm returned full force. "A mysterious shrine exploration! Maybe we'll discover ancient secrets, or trigger another dimensional event, or—"
"Or simply gather information without causing any new problems," she interrupted dryly.
He clutched his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, Princess. When have I ever caused problems?"
"Would you like the list alphabetically or chronologically?"
"Ouch! The princess has developed a sharp tongue." He laughed, the sound bright and careless. "Must be my bad influence."
"Must be," she agreed, finding herself smiling despite the concerns weighing on her mind.
There was something about Kairos that made gravity difficult to maintain—his perpetual amusement at the universe, his refusal to treat even cosmic threats with appropriate seriousness. It should have been infuriating. Instead, she often found it... refreshing. A counterbalance to her own tendency toward solemnity.
"So," he said, abruptly changing topics in his typical fashion, "what did Death-Eyes want? Besides warning you about your sister?"
Arcueid raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "His name is Shiki."
"I know his name. I'm being descriptive." Kairos examined his fingernails with exaggerated casualness. "He didn't seem particularly thrilled to see us together."
"He was concerned."
"Was that concern? Looked more like jealousy to me."
Arcueid frowned. "That's ridiculous. Shiki has no reason to be jealous."
"No?" Kairos turned to face her fully, his expression suddenly serious. "The girl he's interested in, who used to follow him around town, is now spending all her time with a devilishly handsome interdimensional traveler. And you don't think jealousy might be a factor?"
"I wasn't following him around town," she protested automatically, then caught herself. "And my relationship with Shiki is... complicated."
"Mmm. 'Complicated.' The universal word for 'I don't want to talk about my feelings.'" He leaned closer, those unsettling star-shaped pupils contracting slightly. "What are you afraid of, Princess?"
The question was too direct, too perceptive. Arcueid stood abruptly, crossing to the window to put space between them. Outside, the city lights were coming on as dusk deepened toward true night.
"I'm not afraid of anything," she said, the lie obvious even to her own ears.
Kairos didn't push, which surprised her. Instead, he changed tactics entirely. "You know what I think we need? Ice cream."
She turned, genuinely thrown by the non-sequitur. "What?"
"Ice cream." He was already on his feet, heading to the kitchen. "The universal solution to complicated conversations and impending supernatural crises. I bought some earlier—that salted caramel kind you pretend not to like but actually love."
"I never said I loved it," she protested.
"You didn't have to. Your eyes dilate slightly every time you take a bite. Dead giveaway." He was already rummaging in the freezer, retrieving the container and two spoons. "Come on, Princess. Ice cream first, apocalypse planning later."
Despite herself, Arcueid joined him at the small kitchen table. Something about Kairos made normal defiance feel pointless—he simply redirected, adapted, flowed around resistance like water around stone until suddenly you found yourself doing exactly what he'd suggested, somehow believing it had been your idea all along.
"We can't solve everything with dessert," she pointed out as he pushed a spoon toward her.
"Maybe not everything," he conceded, digging into the ice cream with enthusiasm. "But it's a surprisingly effective starting point for most problems."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the simple ritual of shared food somehow defusing the earlier tension. Arcueid found herself watching Kairos as he savored each bite with the uncomplicated joy he brought to all earthly pleasures, large and small.
"You're staring," he noted without looking up. "Am I eating it wrong? Is there a vampire princess approved method for ice cream consumption I should know about?"
"No," she said, then hesitated before admitting, "I was just thinking that you approach everything with the same intensity. As if each experience is simultaneously brand new and deeply meaningful."
He looked up then, unexpectedly serious. "Isn't it, though? Each moment, each sensation—it's unique, never to be repeated in exactly the same way. Why not give it your full attention?"
"Most beings can't maintain that level of awareness. It would be exhausting."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "Or maybe it's more exhausting to constantly filter experience, to decide what deserves attention and what doesn't. To miss the wonder that's happening every second because you've labeled it 'ordinary.'"
It was another glimpse of the depth that occasionally revealed itself beneath his frivolous exterior. These moments always caught Arcueid off-guard—the sudden wisdom from someone who typically acted like the universe's most powerful teenager.
"Is that how you see the world? As constant wonder?"
"Among other things." He smiled, but it was softer than his usual grin. "Wonder, terror, beauty, horror—it's all happening simultaneously, all the time. You just have to be willing to notice."
"And when the horror outweighs the wonder?"
His expression shifted, something flashing in those golden eyes that she couldn't quite identify. Not ancient pain, exactly, but perhaps a more youthful kind of hurt—the intensity of someone who felt everything at maximum volume without the buffer of centuries to dull the edges.
"Then you find wonder elsewhere," he said simply. "There's always more of it. The multiverse is generous that way."
The statement held a simple resilience that touched something in Arcueid. How many times had she retreated into sleep when the world became too much? How often had she distanced herself from experiences that threatened her careful equilibrium?
Kairos, for all his apparent chaos, possessed a certain emotional courage she hadn't fully appreciated until now.
"And if wonder fails entirely?" she asked softly.
"It won't." His certainty was absolute. "But if you're temporarily having trouble finding it, I'm happy to point it out until you can see for yourself again."
The offer was made lightly, but Arcueid sensed genuine intention behind it. Before she could respond, a flicker of movement outside the window caught her attention—a shadow passing too quickly to be human, too deliberately to be animal.
Kairos noticed her sudden alertness. "What is it?"
"We have company," she said, rising fluidly from her chair. "Upper rooftop, eastern corner."
He was beside her instantly, all playfulness gone. "Hostile?"
"Unknown. But definitely supernatural." She moved toward the door. "Stay here."
"Not a chance, Princess." He matched her stride for stride. "If it's your sister's minions, better to face them together."
She wanted to argue but couldn't formulate a logical reason why. The truth was, having Kairos at her side in a potential confrontation felt right in a way she wasn't ready to examine too closely.
"Fine," she conceded. "But follow my lead. This is still my territory."
"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," he assured her with a quick grin that suggested he absolutely would if he thought it necessary.
They made their way to the rooftop in silence, moving with the unconscious coordination they'd developed during their morning battles. At the door to the roof, Arcueid paused, reaching out with her senses to catalog the presence above them.
"One entity," she murmured. "Powerful, but... contained. Deliberate."
"Not your sister?"
"No. Different signature entirely." She frowned. "But familiar somehow."
They emerged onto the rooftop cautiously, Arcueid slightly in the lead. The night air was crisp, carrying hints of the coming autumn beneath the city's perpetual scents of concrete and humanity. The figure standing at the far edge had his back to them—a tall man in an ornate coat, silver-white hair stirring slightly in the breeze.
"Zelretch," Arcueid said, surprise coloring her voice. "Why are you here?"
The man turned, revealing a face that appeared ageless rather than old, with eyes that held the weight of millennia. He studied them both with an expression that mixed curiosity and concern in equal measure.
"Arcueid Brunestud," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "And her... companion." His gaze lingered on Kairos, assessment clear in every line of his posture. "Fascinating."
Kairos returned the scrutiny without flinching. "Magical old dude with reality-bending powers. Equally fascinating. Don't think we've been introduced."
"Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg," Arcueid supplied. "Master of the Second True Magic. Manipulator of parallel worlds."
"Oh!" Kairos's eyes lit up with genuine interest. "A dimension hopper! Amateur division, I'm guessing?"
Zelretch's eyebrow rose fractionally. "Your new friend has an interesting perspective on cosmic hierarchies, Arcueid."
"He has an interesting perspective on everything," she replied dryly. "You haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"
"Observation." Zelretch clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze moving between them. "The summoning circle you activated has created ripples across multiple dimensions. I came to see the cause for myself."
Arcueid tensed. "Is there danger?"
"Not in the conventional sense." The ancient magician's attention fixed on Kairos. "Your visitor is not what the circle was designed to summon. Or rather, he is and isn't—a fascinating paradox."
"Big fan of paradoxes," Kairos said cheerfully. "Being one myself and all."
"Indeed." Something like amusement flickered in Zelretch's ageless eyes. "The circle was created to summon a counter to the Crimson Moon—a being of equal but opposite power. It was never meant to be activated in peacetime."
"So I've gathered," Kairos agreed. "But here I am anyway, thanks to the princess's curiosity. Cosmic oops."
"And yet, the dimensions haven't collapsed," Zelretch observed, studying them both with renewed interest. "In fact, they appear to be stabilizing around your presence rather than fracturing from it. Most unexpected."
"We've been discussing that exact phenomenon," Arcueid said. "Is it because of the summoning circle's parameters? Some kind of adaptation it forced upon him?"
Zelretch shook his head slowly. "The circle merely opens the door and defines broad parameters for what may enter. It doesn't fundamentally alter the nature of what comes through." His gaze moved between them, lingering on the space where they stood close together. "No, the stabilization comes from elsewhere."
"The harmony effect," Kairos murmured. "When our powers interact, they don't conflict—they complement."
"Precisely." Zelretch nodded, a teacher pleased with a student's insight. "A natural resonance between fundamentally different energy signatures—exceedingly rare and typically impossible between a being of order and one of chaos."
Arcueid frowned. "What are you suggesting?"
"I suggest nothing," Zelretch replied carefully. "I merely observe that what should be causing catastrophic reality distortions is instead creating a unique equilibrium. One that appears to be strengthening over time."
"Is this why Altrouge is suddenly interested in us?" Arcueid asked. "She senses this... equilibrium?"
"Your sister senses power shifts with animal instinct," Zelretch confirmed. "And what's happening between you two represents a significant shift indeed. Neither of you alone would concern her greatly—she understands your nature, Arcueid, and chaos entities like your friend are typically transient. But together..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
"Together we're a threat," Kairos finished, unusually subdued.
"A potential one, yes. Or perhaps an opportunity, depending on her perspective." Zelretch turned his gaze to the city spread below them. "The Crimson Moon's influence may be dormant, but it is not gone. Your sister has always aligned herself with its echo."
"And she thinks I've found a weapon against it," Arcueid said slowly. "A counter-force she didn't anticipate."
"Which explains why she approached Shiki instead of confronting us directly," Kairos added. "She's gathering intelligence, trying to understand what we are to each other before making a move."
Zelretch smiled slightly. "Your friend is perceptive, Arcueid."
"He has his moments," she acknowledged, ignoring Kairos's theatrical bow beside her. "The question is, what should we do about it?"
"That," Zelretch said, turning back to face them fully, "depends on what you want the outcome to be."
The simple question carried weighty implications. What did she want? The answer had seemed clear when she first summoned Kairos—contain him, understand him, eventually return him to wherever he came from. But now...
She glanced at him standing beside her, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight, his usual smirk softened into something more thoughtful as he considered Zelretch's words. The idea of returning to her solitary existence after he departed felt increasingly hollow.
"I want to understand what's happening," she said finally. "Why we create this 'harmony' when we should be in opposition. And I want to know what Altrouge truly intends."
Zelretch nodded, as if her answer confirmed something he'd already suspected. "Then I suggest you return to the beginning. The shrine where you found the summoning circle contains more than just that single artifact. It was a research facility of sorts, created by True Ancestors who feared the Crimson Moon's return long before your birth."
"There are other summoning circles?" Kairos asked, perking up with interest.
"Not exactly." Zelretch's expression grew more serious. "But there are records, theories, experiments documented in ways only those of Brunestud blood can access. Your answers may lie there, hidden in plain sight."
"And you're telling us this because...?" Arcueid's tone was suspicious. Zelretch rarely offered information without purpose, and never without cost.
"Balance has always been my concern, across all dimensions." He smiled enigmatically. "Sometimes maintaining balance requires introducing a calculated instability. Everything evolves, Arcueid, even cosmic equilibriums."
With that cryptic statement, he gave them a formal bow. "I've satisfied my curiosity for now. I look forward to seeing what you discover—and what you become in the process."
Before either could respond, reality seemed to fold around him, and he was simply gone—not teleported, but shifted sideways into some adjacent dimension, leaving only a brief distortion in the air where he had stood.
"Well," Kairos said after a moment of silence, "he seems fun at parties."
Despite the tension of the encounter, Arcueid found herself smiling. "Zelretch doesn't attend parties. He observes them from parallel dimensions and judges everyone's fashion choices."
"Rude," Kairos declared. "Also, definitely missing out. I throw excellent interdimensional parties. Or I would, if I wasn't constantly being chased by cosmic authorities for minor reality infractions."
His casual return to humor was so typically Kairos that Arcueid felt something in her chest ease. For all the weight of Zelretch's revelations and the implied threat from Altrouge, having this golden-eyed chaos entity beside her made everything feel somehow more manageable.
"So," he continued, rocking back on his heels. "Secret True Ancestor research facility, hidden knowledge, mysterious harmonies between fundamentally opposed forces, and a potentially jealous vampire sister planning who-knows-what." He clapped his hands together. "Just another Tuesday night, am I right?"
"It's Friday," she corrected automatically.
"Details, details." He waved a dismissive hand. "The important question is: are we still on for dawn exploration of said mysterious shrine, or would you prefer to process the whole 'calculated instability in the cosmic balance' thing first? I'm flexible."
The question was asked lightly, but Arcueid could see genuine concern beneath it—he was offering her space if she needed it. The consideration touched her more than she wanted to admit.
"Dawn," she confirmed. "The sooner we understand what's happening, the better prepared we'll be for whatever Altrouge is planning."
"Excellent!" He stretched dramatically. "In that case, I should probably attempt that restorative state I mentioned. Even cosmic anomalies need beauty rest." He paused, looking at her more seriously. "Will you sleep too?"
The question held unexpected intimacy, though there was nothing inappropriate in the words themselves. It was simply that no one had asked about her sleeping habits in... centuries, perhaps.
"For a few hours," she said. "I don't require much rest."
"Of course not. Terrifying vampire princess and all that." His smile softened. "Sweet dreams, Arcueid."
The use of her name instead of his usual "Princess" caught her off-guard. Before she could respond, he'd slipped past her toward the rooftop door, whistling a tune that sounded impossibly complex, with notes that shouldn't quite exist in earthly music.
Alone on the rooftop, Arcueid turned her gaze to the stars, wondering if they were indeed watching back as Kairos had claimed. If so, what did they see when they looked at her now? The same solitary guardian who had roamed this territory for centuries? Or something new emerging, reshaped by the presence of a boy with star-shaped pupils and a laugh that somehow contained echoes of cosmic music?
The answer, like so many things since Kairos's arrival, remained frustratingly, intriguingly unclear.
Chapter Five: Resonance
Dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of pink and gold as Arcueid and Kairos made their way through the quiet streets of Misaki Town. Most humans were still asleep, leaving the world in that liminal space between night and day where the supernatural felt less separate from the mundane.
Kairos walked beside her with unusual quietness. Normally full of chatter and observations, this morning he seemed content with silence, his golden eyes occasionally scanning their surroundings with surprisingly sharp attention.
"You're different today," Arcueid noted as they turned onto the narrow street where the hidden shrine waited.
He glanced at her, a flicker of his usual smile returning. "Just focused. Mysterious ancient knowledge tends to have that effect on me. One of my few serious subjects."
"You? Serious?" She raised an eyebrow. "I thought chaos entities were allergic to solemnity."
"Common misconception." He tucked his hands into the pockets of the jacket she'd reluctantly purchased for him after his complaints about autumn's approaching chill. "We can be extremely serious about specific things. Cosmic jokes. Probability manipulation. Excellent desserts. And occasionally, ancient secrets that might explain why I'm not causing reality earthquakes just by existing here."
There was something in his tone—not quite vulnerability, but perhaps a hint of genuine concern beneath the usual flippant exterior.
"Are you worried?" she asked, surprising herself with the directness of the question.
Kairos was silent for several steps before answering. "Let's just say I've never been stable anywhere before. It's... new territory. And in my experience, new territory usually comes with unexpected predators."
The admission revealed more than perhaps he intended. For all his power and bravado, Kairos lived a life of perpetual displacement—always moving, always adjusting, never belonging. The idea that he might be able to exist somewhere without causing destruction must be as unsettling as it was appealing.
"We'll figure it out," she said, not quite sure why she felt the need to reassure him.
His smile returned, brighter now. "Of course we will! Between your terrifying vampire princess powers and my chaotic brilliance, we're practically unstoppable. Cosmic mystery-solving duo extraordinaire."
The shrine looked exactly as it had the day Arcueid had first discovered it—weathered stone, moss-covered steps, wooden structure seemingly on the verge of collapse. Yet now, with Zelretch's revelations fresh in her mind, she could sense the subtle layering of ancient protections around it—magic designed not to repel, but to divert attention, to make the human mind simply slide away in disinterest.
"Clever," Kairos murmured, apparently sensing the same thing. "Not a hard barrier, but a perpetual suggestion to be elsewhere. Like psychic white noise."
They descended the stone steps into the chamber where she had originally found the summoning circle. The crater from Kairos's arrival remained, the stone floor cracked and displaced around the central point of impact.
"Dramatic entrance," he commented, examining the damage with a mixture of amusement and pride. "I really should work on my landing technique."
"Focus," Arcueid reminded him, kneeling to examine the summoning circle more carefully. Now that she knew to look beyond it, she could see subtle differences in the chamber walls—sections where the stone was slightly newer, covering something behind.
"There," she said, pointing to the far wall. "That section doesn't match the rest."
Kairos crossed to it, running his fingers over the surface with surprising delicacy. "You're right. This was added later. And there's something behind it—I can feel the energy signature."
Together they examined the wall, looking for any mechanism or trigger that might open it. Arcueid traced the edges where newer stone met old, searching for irregularities or hidden switches.
"Maybe it responds to blood," Kairos suggested. "Lots of ancient magic does. Very dramatic, very vampire-aesthetic."
"We are not blood magic users," Arcueid said firmly. "That's Dead Apostle methodology, not True Ancestor."
"Fair enough." He stepped back, studying the wall with narrowed eyes. "What about resonance? If it's meant to be accessed only by Brunestud bloodline, maybe it responds to your specific energy signature."
It was a reasonable suggestion. Arcueid placed her palm flat against the center of the wall section, allowing a small pulse of her power to flow through her hand. At first, nothing happened. Then, as she was about to pull away, the stone beneath her palm warmed slightly.
"Something's happening," she murmured.
"More power," Kairos encouraged. "Not a blast, but a steady flow. Like you're introducing yourself."
Arcueid nodded, increasing the energy she channeled while keeping it controlled and focused. The stone grew warmer, then began to glow faintly from within, silvery light tracing patterns that had been invisible moments before—runes similar to those in the summoning circle, but oriented differently, more defensive than invocative.
"It's working," Kairos said softly, watching as the patterns spread across the entire wall section. "Keep going."
The runes glowed brighter, then suddenly flared with blinding intensity. When the light faded, the wall section had simply... vanished, revealing a narrow passage beyond.
"Secret vampire research tunnel," Kairos declared with evident delight. "I knew it! Ancient civilizations are so predictable with their hidden chambers. Though I was half-expecting giant rolling boulders or poison darts."
"This was created by True Ancestors, not humans with action movie complexes," Arcueid reminded him, though she couldn't entirely suppress her own excitement at the discovery.
The passage was short, opening into a smaller chamber that showed none of the wear or damage of the outer room. Here, everything was pristine, as if time had simply stopped within its boundaries. The walls were covered in writing—not just in the runic language of the summoning circle, but in multiple scripts, some of which even Arcueid couldn't identify.
In the center stood a pedestal of white stone, upon which rested a single book bound in material that seemed to shift colors as they watched—silver to gold to deeper hues beyond conventional spectrum.
"Okay, that's legitimately incredible," Kairos whispered, his usual flippancy momentarily abandoned in the face of genuine wonder. "Do you know what that is?"
Arcueid approached the pedestal cautiously. "It appears to be a record book of some kind. The binding material... I've never seen anything like it."
"I have," Kairos said, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "It's conceptual matter—something that exists simultaneously as physical object and pure idea. Extremely rare, even in the spaces between dimensions."
"Can I touch it?"
"If it's keyed to your bloodline, yes. If not..." He shrugged. "Probably instant disintegration or maybe just a really bad paper cut. Fifty-fifty, really."
Despite his attempt at humor, Arcueid could see he was genuinely concerned. She approached the book carefully, extending her senses before her physical hand. The object radiated power, but not threat—at least not toward her. It felt almost... familiar, like something she should recognize but couldn't quite place.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out and touched the cover.
Nothing catastrophic happened. Instead, the shifting colors seemed to pause momentarily, settling into a silvery hue that matched her own energy signature before resuming their fluid movement.
"I think it's acknowledging me," she said, carefully lifting the book from the pedestal.
As soon as it was in her hands, the writing on the walls began to glow, each script illuminating in sequence until the entire chamber was bathed in multicolored light. The effect was beautiful but disorienting, like being inside a living kaleidoscope.
"What's happening?" Kairos asked, moving closer to her side.
"I think it's activating the rest of the chamber," Arcueid said, cradling the book carefully. "Responding to the removal of the central artifact."
The illumination continued for several more seconds, then stabilized into a steady glow. Now they could see that what had appeared to be writing was actually a complex diagram spread across all surfaces of the room—walls, floor, ceiling—depicting what looked like a map of realities, with lines connecting different points in patterns too complex to immediately comprehend.
"It's a dimensional chart," Kairos breathed, turning in place to take it all in. "The most comprehensive I've ever seen. Look—this central point must be your world, and these radiating lines are connected dimensions, with thickness indicating proximity or accessibility."
He pointed to a section where the lines grew distorted, bending around a patch of emptiness. "And that—that's a void space. The kind of non-place entities like me sometimes emerge from."
Arcueid opened the book carefully, its pages feeling surprisingly normal despite the extraordinary binding. Inside, the text was written in the ancient language of the True Ancestors—a script few living beings could still read, but one she knew intimately through her bloodline memory.
"'Records of the Dimensional Resonance Project,'" she translated aloud. "'Compiled by the Harmonic Research Coven of the Third Lunar Dynasty.' That dates this to well before my creation—nearly ten thousand years ago."
"What else does it say?" Kairos asked, his attention divided between the book and the glowing diagram surrounding them.
Arcueid turned pages slowly, scanning the dense text. "It appears to be research on interdimensional entities and forces. They were studying the concept of cosmic balance—specifically, how to counter the Crimson Moon's influence should it ever fully manifest in this world."
She continued reading, her expression growing increasingly surprised. "They theorized that conventional opposition—meeting like with like—would only result in mutual destruction. Instead, they sought a different approach: harmonic opposition. A force that would complement rather than directly confront, creating a new equilibrium rather than simply canceling out."
"Like wave interference patterns," Kairos said, suddenly animated. "When two waves meet, they don't always cancel each other. Sometimes they combine to create something stronger or entirely new."
"Yes, exactly." Arcueid looked up from the book, her golden eyes meeting his. "They believed the Crimson Moon's power, being fundamentally ordered and absolute, could be countered not by similar order but by its conceptual opposite—"
"Chaos," Kairos finished, his star-pupiled eyes widening with understanding. "Creative, generative chaos rather than destructive force."
"They spent centuries developing the theory," Arcueid continued, turning more pages. "Testing smaller resonances between opposed energies, learning to create stable harmonies rather than destructive interference." Her voice grew softer as she continued reading. "And ultimately designing a summoning circle that would call forth not a weapon of equal power, but a complementary force—one that could, in theory, create a new balance rather than simply opposing the old one."
"That's why the circle found me," Kairos said slowly. "Not because I'm a perfect counter to the Crimson Moon, but because I'm its conceptual complement. Order versus chaos, stability versus possibility, absolute versus infinite."
"And that's why our powers harmonize instead of conflict," Arcueid realized. "We're not natural enemies—we're designed to be natural partners."
The word hung in the air between them, laden with implications neither was quite ready to address directly.
"But the circle was never meant to be activated outside of crisis," Arcueid continued, returning to the text. "It was created as a last resort, to be used only if the Crimson Moon's return was imminent."
"Yet you activated it anyway," Kairos pointed out. "During peacetime, with no immediate threat."
"Out of curiosity," she acknowledged, a hint of guilt in her tone. "I didn't understand what it was."
"Lucky accident, then." He grinned suddenly. "Or perhaps not accident at all. Maybe the universe has a sense of humor. Or timing."
"What do you mean?"
His expression grew more serious. "Just because there wasn't an active crisis doesn't mean one wasn't coming. Your sister's sudden interest, Zelretch's appearance—those suggest something's shifting. The circle may have activated now because it needed to, not simply because you triggered it."
It was a disquieting thought. Arcueid had long sensed that the peace she maintained was fragile, a temporary equilibrium rather