By the time they got back to the apartment complex, night had settled properly over Paris. Eric was exhausted in the specific way that comes after a fight that was closer than it should have been — not just the body, but everything underneath it.
"Rest well," Max said at his door.
"You too."
Eric let himself into his apartment, set his keys down, and immediately caught the smell of something cooking. Ruby was at the kitchen counter with her back to him. She turned when she heard the door.
"Welcome home."
Something in him unwound slightly at the sight of her. "Thanks," he said. "What's cooking?"
"Beef Bourguignon."
He paused. "What's that?"
Ruby turned to look at him fully, crossing her arms with an expression of genuine disbelief. "You act smart all the time," she said, "and you don't know that?" She pointed at him. "The video said 'Rare Paris Foods Your Husband Will Love' and I thought it was a stretch, but here we are."
"It wasn't wrong," Eric said.
"I haven't told you what it is yet."
"But it smells good."
Ruby held the expression for another moment, then let it go. "It's beef stew cooked in red wine. Richer than regular stew."
Eric nodded with the gravity of a man absorbing important information. Ruby rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove.
He showered while she finished setting the table. The hot water did what it always does after a long day — by the time he stepped out and changed into something comfortable, the weight of the afternoon had mostly lifted. He sat down across from Ruby and took a bite.
"It's good."
Ruby looked immediately satisfied in the way she always did when a recipe worked, which she would never admit was the specific reaction she'd been waiting for.
They ate quietly for a few minutes before she spoke again, in a slightly different voice. "So... about what I said this morning."
Eric looked up. For a moment his expression was blank, then understanding settled in. "Oh. The children thing?"
Ruby's face went red. "Don't just say it like that!"
Eric laughed — a quiet, genuine laugh. "You don't actually dislike the idea, do you?"
She looked like she was seriously considering throwing something at him. "You're impossible."
He smiled and went back to eating. She composed herself, rested her cheek on her hand, and asked, "How was your first day?"
"You didn't ask whether we passed."
"You weren't going to fail," she said simply. "How was it?"
Eric considered. "Helped an old lady cross the road. Stopped some thugs. Pulled a child out of the way of a car."
Ruby stared at him.
"What?" he said.
"Your definition of 'nothing much' is genuinely worrying."
He smiled and said nothing.
After dinner they watched a film together, Ruby gradually migrating from her end of the sofa to leaning against his shoulder somewhere around the halfway point. When it ended she stretched, stood, wrapped her arms around him briefly and kissed him.
"Staying up again?"
"A little while. I need to think through a few things."
"Don't be too late."
"I won't."
He listened to her moving around the bedroom, then the apartment went quiet.
Eric stayed at the table and looked out through the balcony window. The night sky over Paris was clear, the full moon sitting high and unhurried, stars scattered across the dark in their usual indifferent way. He'd fallen into the habit of this without really deciding to — just sitting with the sky for a while before sleep. It settled him, the same way certain people settled him, and he'd long since stopped questioning it.
He turned the day over in his mind. The assassin. The trapper. The meeting on Friday. The organizations moving through the city, the ones he knew about and the ones he didn't yet. And the voice — that presence that didn't speak so much as make itself felt, sharpening his instincts at the edges, occasionally surfacing something more direct when it mattered. He still didn't fully understand what it was. He'd stopped pretending otherwise.
His premonition hit suddenly and hard.
Eric's eyes moved to the sofa. His body tensed, ready. Nothing was there — and then the lamp beside it flickered, dimmed, and went out. When it came back on a few seconds later, someone was sitting on the sofa.
A baby. Short raven-red hair that had only just started coming in properly. Eyes that were pitch-black and carried, despite everything about his size and appearance, a quality that made the room feel smaller.
They looked at each other.
The tension held for a moment and then, as it became clear neither of them was about to move, it slowly became something else. There was no other word for it — it was simply absurd. A man at a table and a baby on a sofa, regarding each other with the wariness of people who'd met across a negotiating table.
Eric broke first. "May I know your name?"
"Michael Voyage," the baby said, in a calm and perfectly composed voice. "You don't need to introduce yourself. I know a little about you already."
"May I ask what brings you here at this hour?" Eric said. "It isn't ideal for babies to be out alone. Or entering other people's homes without supervision." He paused. "Though I suppose your parents aren't available. I imagine that's your doing?"
Voyage looked at him steadily. "Your assumption is correct. But I didn't come here to exchange jokes, Third One."
"I apologize if the truth landed badly," Eric said. "Also — I don't know what Third One means."
"Neither do I, fully," Voyage said. "You'll understand eventually. Or you won't. Either way." He shifted slightly, settling into the cushion with the unselfconscious ease of a child who had never learned to be embarrassed. "The trapper who captured the Second One invited you to a meeting. Yes?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll be direct." Voyage folded his small hands together in a way that looked oddly deliberate. "You have no organization behind you. No protection, no support structure, no one watching your back in this city. You're exposed. I came to offer cooperation."
"Meaning join you, or work alongside you."
"Correct."
Eric tilted his head. "Which organization?"
"You want disclosure before trust."
"That seems reasonable."
Voyage nodded. "Fair." He placed one small hand against his chest with a gravity that didn't belong on a baby's face. "Michael Voyage. Birth Pathway. Rank Four, Lysi Nova. I represent Divine Karma." He looked directly at Eric. "And on their behalf, I'm inviting you to cooperate with us."
Eric was quiet for a moment. "What exactly does Divine Karma offer?" He let a faint smile show. "As I recall, among the Four Great Bodies you're considered the weakest. Your leader has been gone for over a thousand years."
Voyage didn't flinch. "Both true. And yet we're still one of the Four Great Bodies after a thousand years, which says something." His voice was even, unhurried. "We have resources, information, and reach that most organizations couldn't match. And unlike anyone else in this city right now —" he paused slightly — "we came to you first."
He let that sit for a moment, then continued. "The Truth Seekers are occupied with their own agenda. The trapper captured your companion and arranged a meeting on his own terms without caring about yours. Another organization already sent someone to kill you." His black eyes didn't move. "If the assassin today had been Hypernova instead of Lysi Nova, would this conversation be happening?"
Eric said nothing.
"Of the Four Great Bodies," Voyage said, "we're the only ones extending a hand."
Eric folded his hands on the table. "I appreciate it. But the real reason is obvious." He watched Voyage. "You're short on people. Every major organization is moving assets into Paris, which means whatever's here matters enormously. Divine Karma has the smallest force among the four, so you want to supplement with unaffiliated Aura users." His gaze sharpened slightly. "Which makes us, in practical terms, cannon fodder."
Voyage held his gaze for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yes."
The honesty landed unexpectedly. Even Max, still hidden, registered it.
"But," Voyage continued, "relationships are exchanges. We provide support, protection, information, resources. You assist our operation. Whether you think of yourself as an ally or cannon fodder is up to you."
Silence. Then Eric smiled slightly. "Did you bring anything? A gift, to mark the occasion?"
"I didn't know what you wanted."
"Unfortunate." Eric paused. "But I can tell you now."
Voyage gestured for him to continue.
Eric thought for a moment — Divine Karma's membership ran heavily toward the Overseeing, Evil, and Justice Pathways, which meant their relic inventory would reflect that. An Overseeing Pathway divination relic would be genuinely useful right now despite the risks.
Before he could speak, the voice moved through the back of his mind. Quiet, unhurried, the way it always was.
Ask for a favor. Beyond Earth.
Eric's chest tightened for a fraction of a second. His face didn't change.
"I'll form a temporary alliance," he said.
Voyage nodded. "Your conditions."
"Two things. One from your organization, one from you personally." Eric's voice was calm. "From Divine Karma — a Rank Five relic, Overseeing Pathway, divination-oriented, manageable side effects."
"Understood. And the second?"
"From you, personally — a promise." Eric met his eyes. "No matter what happens after Paris is resolved, regardless of what we become to each other afterward, you owe either me or one of my companions one favor. Once. That's all."
Voyage was quiet for a while. Then: "Agreed."
A brief pause.
"Are we allies?" he asked.
"Temporary allies," Eric said immediately.
Voyage sighed — a small, tired sound that belonged more to a much older person. "Yes. Temporary."
His gaze shifted sideways to the empty space beside the sofa. "The Second One can stop glaring at me now."
The dark bubble surfaced and Max stepped out of it, eyes fixed on Voyage with barely concealed hostility. He'd been ready the entire time. One signal from Eric and that would have gone differently.
Voyage looked at him without concern. "When do we meet again?"
"Friday," Eric said. "Bring whoever's backing you. The trapper will be there."
Voyage nodded. "Done."
They exchanged contacts the way Aura users do — golden liquid released into the air, thousands of glowing strings spreading outward in every direction, each one a connection to something or someone. They found each other's threads and linked them, and the telepathic channel settled quietly into place.
Voyage stood, bowed with a politeness that was somehow entirely unironic, and then golden flames wrapped around him and he was gone.
He reappeared in his cradle at the hospital nursery. He tried reaching his father to report. No answer. He tried once more, got nothing, and decided it could wait until morning.
He yawned, turned onto his side, and went to sleep.