24. Whispers of Truth (part two)

Lucas's eyes were wide, his voice soft like velvet. He came forward, "Kyle, I need to know."

Kyle's eyes flicked to the floor, then to Lucas. "What if this is too much? " The thought gnawed at him, but Lucas's curiosity urged him forward. "It's a long story," he began softly.

"Try me." Lucas tilted his head, noticing Kyle's reluctance. His fingers drummed lightly against his leg before he crossed his arms, leaning forward slightly, then stopping. The faint rustle of fabric accompanied his movement."What's he hiding?"

Kyle caught the subtle movement, sensing the unease beneath Lucas's calm demeanor. "He doesn't trust me yet. I can't blame him." His gaze lingered on the pendant glinting around Lucas's neck, catching the morning light like a fragile thread of hope. He had trusted Lucas with his most treasured possession—indeed, he should tell him the truth. Kyle sighed, the weight of his decision pressing on his chest. His breath stirred a faint wisp of dust.

"It's... hard to explain," Kyle said. "Magic is tied to something ancient. Something called the primordial waters—the place where it all began."

Lucas shifted, his knee bouncing restlessly. The crunch of plaster underfoot punctuated his movements. The words "primordial waters" rattled in his mind, dredging up childhood memories of his grandmother's stories. Enchanting as a child, they now felt uncomfortably real. His chest tightened.

"Does he think I'm crazy?" Kyle wondered, forcing himself to hold Lucas's gaze. Kyle watched him closely, his sharp eyes catching the flicker of disbelief that gave way to something heavier. The gap between them felt vast, like the broken fragments of their occupied room.

"Wait... are you saying everything—everything—started there?" Lucas's voice wavered. The faint creak of the couch beneath him sounded louder in the thick silence. His grandmother's tales and even biblical stories suddenly felt less like metaphors and more like fragments of truth.

Lucas's turmoil made Kyle's stomach twist. He considered softening the truth momentarily, but what was the point in hiding now? Kyle nodded, his expression distant. "Something like that," he acknowledged, his voice low, almost drowned out by the faint rustling of the torn curtain.

Kyle's fingers traced absent patterns in the air. "My brothers and I... we dove into those waters once. We brought back the mud to shape life and the first forms of magic. Each element—fire, earth, air, water—is tied to that beginning, bound by rules. My fire, for instance, is tied to transformation."

Lucas stared, searching for a crack in Kyle's seriousness—a smirk, a glimmer of humor to unravel the impossibility of the story. But Kyle's face remained solemn, his eyes lost in memories too vast to explain. The faint groan of a loose floorboard under Kyle's shifting weight added an unsettling counterpoint to the heavy silence between them.

"He doesn't believe me. Or maybe he does, and that's worse." Kyle suppressed a bitter laugh, regret settling in his chest. He wanted to comfort Lucas, but the gap between them felt unbridgeable.

Lucas leaned back, pressing his hands against the couch as though bracing himself. His knee kept bouncing. "You're saying you helped make... everything?" His voice cracked. He forced a laugh, but it fell flat. "That chapter didn't make the final cut in the Bible, huh?"

Kyle's lips twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile. "The Bible leaves out a lot," he murmured, his tone edged with regret and amusement. "What can I say? That humanity's stories hold fragments of us—scattered, distorted, like light through broken glass?"

Lucas shifted uneasily, crossing and uncrossing his legs—the heaviness in Kyle's words pressed against his chest. A faint breeze stirred the curtain and brushed Lucas's face, scattering fine dust. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked, his voice wavering with a mix of hurt and curiosity.

Kyle's chest constricted, struck by Lucas's vulnerable tone. "He's scared—of me, or maybe what this means." He sat beside Lucas, regret shadowing his gaze. "I didn't want to overwhelm you," he said quietly. "I wanted you to see me as Kyle, not the monster I was made to be."

Lucas tilted his head, letting out a weak laugh. "It would've been helpful to add that in the apartment's disclosures. You know, next to the no-smoking rules."

Kyle smiled faintly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. The warmth of their bodies, so close on the couch, seemed to shift the air between them. "Fair enough." He gulped, his hand hovering briefly before he reached for Lucas's. The light brush of skin sent a subtle jolt through him, grounding him in the here and now. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag this into our lives."

Lucas's posture softened slightly, though his arms stayed crossed over his chest. He shifted, and the faint rustle of fabric added texture to the stillness. "We survived; that's something, right?"

Kyle nodded. "Magic isn't limitless. Creation always involves destruction. There's no levitation—gravity still exists—but we use wind to move debris, water to clean, and fire to destroy waste. Magic is tied to those elements."

Lucas's stomach twisted. Even the comforting street noises seemed distant now, replaced by the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. The foundation of his world felt shaky. "The cradle of life," he murmured, his grandmother's stories echoing in his mind. "So it wasn't just a fable?"

Kyle nodded, his voice softening as he leaned back on the couch, eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling. "It's hard to explain. Imagine an infinite sea—no shores, no end. The surface shimmered with a golden light, like sunlight dancing on water, but... endless. Below, it was crystal-clear and impossibly deep, like staring into eternity."

His gaze returned to Lucas, small fires flickering in his eyes. "Being there... It felt like being part of something infinite, like the universe was alive and aware of you. Everything was shifting and changing, but somehow, it was perfect in its constant movement."

Lucas hesitated, the weight of Kyle's words pressing on him. But his disbelief cracked as the golden memories of his grandmother's voice surfaced—her tales of spirits and creation. He clenched his fists, the faint echo of a breeze brushing his lips, both a comfort and a challenge.

"So... you're saying it wasn't just one being, but angels and then spirits in the beginning?" He paused, memories of old Andean songs and golden grasslands grounding him. "There are traditions from my land, stories shared in front of the fireplace while preparing food: mountain spirits protect the earth, and rain spirits bring fertility. Does this connect?"

Kyle's gaze sharpened, his fingers brushing lightly against Lucas's hand again, a silent reassurance. "Not just them," he said reverently. "These spirits are echoes of the same magic, fragments of the same truth. When we shaped life, stories like those of the Andes became one way humans remembered."

"So grandma's stories were significant after all?" Lucas whispered, clenching his fists. A strong resentment sunk inside. "Why did I let him take it all away?"

Kyle nodded, "Different cultures interpret magic in unique but interconnected ways. Creation builds. Chaos destroys. That balance has always existed, whispered into the earth."

Lucas's breath caught. His gaze flickered to Kyle's hand still near his, the subtle heat of his touch anchoring him. "And you? You're part of that balance?"

Kyle hesitated; the question's weight mirrored his chest's steady rise and fall. "Yes," he said, steady but weighted. "But it's not just me. It's us—all of us. Every story, every belief ties back to that beginning."

He brushed his hand lightly against Lucas's, fingers curling briefly as if to hold on. "I had a dangerous job. Keep those monsters at bay in the Underworld while maintaining a good justice system and care of the souls there."

"That's a lot of work." Lucas chuckled. "So humble of you saying I created my own turf."

"That's what I told you our first time in the pub." Kyle couldn't help but smile, warmth easing the previous tension. "At least you can't say I was making it up to impress you."

"So? The thing in the living room came from the Underworld?" Lucas grimaced, the memory of Teufel and the hospital flashing vividly. He glanced around the room, half-expecting another monster to emerge.

Kyle tensed and slowly nodded. He gestured toward the charred remains. "That's pure chaos; its primary desire is to destroy everything." He then returned his gaze to Lucas, his chest constricted when he noticed Lucas's distress. "Lucas, if you ever encounter them, just run. They will attack you on sight, and the more magic you have, the more they want to rip you into pieces. We've been dealing with them for eons since our banishment, and sometimes we lose."

Lucas's hands tensed as his thoughts whirled. How could humans ever stand against such beings? If those things could hurt fallen angels, what chance did humans have? His frown deepened, overwhelmed by the enormity of Kyle's words. He exhaled sharply, trying to mask the tremor in his hands. He glanced at the charred remains. "How did that monster get in here—and the one at the hospital?"

Kyle's expression darkened, a crease forming between his brows. "Right now, I only have theories since those things shouldn't be allowed to cross into the human realm. Here? It might be an assassination attempt or to drag me to hell."

Kyle paused; he gauged Lucas's reactions. The sight of the monster visibly shook him. Let alone the memory of the torture. He pressed their hands, "The hospital is a Hell's Gate; it has accumulated so much pain and suffering from all the people that went tortured there that a portal to the Underworld opened there by itself," he admitted, his voice tense. "It seems the Underworld's current managers are up to something."

"Are you planning to face them alone?" Lucas quivered, his worry evident in his leaned-forward posture. His hand gripped the edge of the couch.

"No," Kyle countered firmly, his voice steady. "They seem more interested in spreading chaos magic."

"Chaos magic?" Lucas pressed. "Is that part of the balance you mentioned?"

Kyle nodded. "Before creation, there was chaos—an amorphous void without structure. My father brought order, but fragments of chaos became these monsters. They thrive on destroying creation."

Lucas frowned, the idea overwhelming. "And the balance?"

"Creation is a cycle," Kyle explained. "Everything returns to its elements to be remade. Chaos monsters exist to unravel order and creation itself."

Lucas looked at the ceiling. "I can't imagine it. The void."

Kyle approached and tried to comfort him. "I can't either, to be honest. Uriel and the others might go monster hunting soon. They won't attack this apartment again."

"I can hold them off," Kyle admitted, his voice softer now. "But even I can't keep everything out forever. That's why we need stronger defenses."

"So, can we have some monster protection or something?" Lucas pleaded, his voice tinged with both fear and frustration.

Kyle nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "The windows and doors are warded," Kyle explained, his tone firm. "But to shield the whole building, I'll need something stronger magic that even chaos can't breach."

"So, magic has its limits?" Lucas pressed; his curiosity piqued.

Lucas leaned forward, watching Kyle conjure a flickering flame in his hand. "Is it always fire with you?" he asked, his voice wavering between awe and curiosity.

Kyle chuckled softly. "It's my element, after all. But every magic has limits," he added, his tone sobering as the flame dimmed.

"How do you replenish your magic?" Lucas inquired, his eyes fixed on the flame in Kyle's hand.

"Magic needs a source," Kyle said, his voice firm. "The strongest comes from primordial forces—but using them is risky. It attracts dangerous beings and can unravel reality itself."

"And does something like that exist?" Lucas scratched his head, his voice tinged with both awe and apprehension.

"Yes," Kyle affirmed, the fireball hovering above his palm casting a warm, orange glow across his face. "Each element has its type of magic, with specific rules and limitations. Water magic, for instance, is connected to emotions and healing, while fire magic is tied to transformation and destruction."

"And you're fire," Lucas confirmed, his voice almost a whisper as he absorbed the gravity of Kyle's power.

Kyle grinned, raising his hand. A small fireball flickered to life, its light casting intricate shadows across the room as it crackled softly, filling the air with a gentle warmth. "I was once called the Light bringer for a reason."

Lucas felt a shiver run down his spine. The casual way Kyle revealed such power left him torn between awe and unease. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his thoughts tangled. His gaze shifted to the flame Kyle conjured, its comforting and unsettling warmth. "Wait," Lucas said, narrowing his eyes. "The smoking thing—is that really about magic or just an excuse?"

Kyle glanced at the ceiling and smirked. "For the record, smoking's not just a habit—it keeps the fire in me from getting out of control. And as anger management crutch."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "So, nicotine therapy for the literal devil. Makes sense."

Kyle laughed, the tension in the room easing. "Hey, I've heard worse excuses." He hesitated before adding, quieter this time, "Even as a fallen angel, I have more power than most magical beings. So I can get us larger protection arrays with a small boost."

Lucas met Kyle's gaze, determination hardening his features. 'You're not doing this alone. There has to be something I can do. Those monsters are dangerous."

Kyle's expression softened as he saw Lucas's trembling hands. "They're dangerous, yes. But I'll ensure nothing gets close to you." He placed a hand over Lucas's, grounding him. "We'll strengthen the protections around this building. We will find our way together."