CHAPTER 49: BROTHERS’ STRATEGY

  “Hello Suryel.”

  The voice slid into the dream like honey poured over ice.

  Smooth enough to invite trust.

  Cold enough to burn beneath it.

  Suryel recoiled on instinct, one foot sliding back as her breath snagged.

  Her awareness reached outward, grasping for the familiar edge of herself, the practiced pull toward waking.

  Nothing gave.

  The dream did not blur.

  Did not thin.

  It held.

  Too well.

  That alone set her teeth on edge.

  Her heels dug in as she planted her stance, shoulders squaring while she threw an extra line of support around the dreamspace.

  The response was immediate, muscle memory snapping into place with Raphael’s drills echoing clean and sharp through her mind.

  Anchor.

  Boundary.

  Refusal.

  The structure locked.

  Only then did she turn toward the source of the voice.

  Recognition burned hot and immediate.

  Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as she stared.

  “YOU.”

  Her jaw tightened as she took another step back, weight balanced and ready.

  “You’re Samael.”

  The name cracked like a struck match, sharp and volatile.

  “What do you want?”

  The word want didn’t echo.

  It cut.

  Samael stood at the far edge of the constructed space.

  Posture loose.

  Shoulders relaxed.

  As though he had wandered into a conversation halfway through and decided to stay.

  His boots didn’t quite touch the ground where the boundary line shimmered.

  The surface beneath them warped subtly, the fabric of the dream stretching just enough to show strain.

  Behind him, shadows shifted.

  Not figures.

  Presences.

  Waiting.

  “We only wanted to talk.” Samael replied mildly, lifting both hands with deliberate slowness, palms open, fingers spread in a placating gesture.

  His tone was careful.

  Polite.

  Almost courteous.

  Convincing.

  The smile he wore was familiar in the worst way.

  The kind that crawled under skin and settled somewhere it didn’t belong.

  It reached his eyes, softening just enough to feel genuine.

  Suryel felt a flicker of something dangerous stir in her chest.

  Memory.

  She tightened her jaw.

  He tilted his head, studying her like a constant he found mildly fascinating.

  Then sighed as if conceding to an inconvenience. “May we come in?”

  “NO.” She shoved the word forward, will flaring hot in her chest as her chin lifted. “You can’t! Never!”

  The boundary responded, thickening, its shimmer sharpening into something stubborn and absolute.

  Did he have any idea what she had seen?

  What still clung behind her eyes when she closed them?

  The audacity of him, asking permission.

  As if she would ever allow him near her again.

  Suryel focused harder, reinforcing the line Raphael had burned into her muscle memory.

  She felt the reinforcement lock, refusal etched deep and sure.

  Someone awake would notice the strain.

  A healer.

  One of her brothers.

  She held the line.

  She would wait.

  Someone would wake her up.

  Samael’s expression softened, brows drawing together in carefully performed disappointment.

  His shoulders dipped just enough to sell it.

  Hope flickered despite herself.

  She almost believed it.

  Then he laughed.

  The sound peeled the moment open.

  Her skin prickled and she shivered.

  Another laugh answered him.

  Too close.

  Inside the boundary.

  Behind her.

  Suryel’s heart skipped violently as the sound slid down her spine and settled beneath her skin, intimate and wrong, like it had always lived there.

  A warm breath brushed the side of her neck.

  “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

  She spun with an offended cry, arm already swinging on instinct.

  Belial ducked easily, the motion lazy and fluid, blinking more in surprise than alarm.

  He straightened with a grin, eyes bright and curious, like she was a mechanism that had just clicked into place.

  “Woah there…” Belial laughed, stepping just out of her reach and lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Samael wasn’t kidding. He told me to remember to dodge.”

  “How—” Suryel staggered back a step, pulse roaring in her ears as she reoriented.

  Her gaze flicked to the boundary, still shimmering, still intact. “How did you get in?”

  She had followed every step.

  Every rule. “I didn’t allow you in!”

  Belial tilted his head, studying her with open fascination before answering. “When did the lawless ever follow the rules?”

  He glanced past her shoulder at the boundary, smile widening as he rocked back on his heels. “Your brothers have been busy. My, you are a fast learner.”

  Then the warmth drained from his face, expression flattening into cold indifference.

  “Invite the rest of the Abyss crew in…” He said casually, staring her down. “And do not try to run.”

  Suryel did the exact opposite.

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  She ran.

  Belial didn’t chase.

  He watched her retreat, head cocked, delight curling at the edges of his grin.

  “Oh?” He called after her. “You’re a command breaker too? FUN.”

  He shrugged and turned back toward Samael, who remained beyond the boundary, hands folded neatly at his front, amusement flickering in his gaze.

  Run where?

  Samael thought, observing calmly.

  Belial was already inside.

  A test passed.

  Checkmate.

  Everything was unfolding as planned.

  “Get her.” Samael said, voice carrying effortlessly. “Leave no marks. Or do. It doesn’t really matter.”

  Belial moved.

  Not fast.

  Certain.

  “No! Stay back!” Suryel flung miasma and sparks like pin drops, energy tearing loose from her hands as she backed.

  They scattered uselessly against Belial.

  He laughed, closing the distance with measured steps, unbothered.

  She dropped to one knee, palms scraping heat as she forced a circle into existence between them.

  The boundary shimmered thin and trembling.

  For one heartbeat, it held.

  Then the pins shattered.

  The circle collapsed with them.

  Hope broke sharp and bright as glass, dissipating into nothingness.

  Belial caught her arm as she cried out, trying to land a punch.

  His grip was firm but not cruel, almost affectionate, like restraining a sibling who didn’t know when to stop.

  “You really do try.” He said, tilting his head as he examined her grip on his wrist, tone edging approval. “But you have so much to learn.”

  She kept clawing at his hold as he pulled her toward Samael, who had begun laughing openly now, the sound echoing.

  “Come.” Belial continued conversationally, tightening his grip just enough to make the point. “We shall teach you.”

  “NO!” The scream tore out of her chest, raw and wrong as she broke free.

  The dream shattered around it.

  —

  Suryel woke up punching.

  She snapped upright in the infirmary bed, hands clawing at the sheets.

  The book she’d fallen asleep reading launched into the air.

  It struck the ceiling with a sharp smack, then dropped back down, landing on her head with a hollow thump she didn’t register.

  Her breath came in at jagged bursts as residual energy surged outward.

  The anomaly rang through the ward.

  Glass chimed.

  Instruments rattled.

  Ward glyphs flickered violently before burning out, dark and useless.

  A junior healer froze in the doorway, tray vibrating in their hands.

  They adjusted a vial with exaggerated care, muttered, “Not my jurisdiction,” and retreated without looking.

  Helel was already moving, he kicked his blanket aside and vaulted from his bed, crossing the distance in two strides.

  Yael rolled too fast, tumbled off his own bed, and scrambled upright.

  Both brothers dropping into a crouch beside her.

  Hands lifted.

  Stopped.

  Hovered.

  Too fast and she’d bolt.

  Too slow and she’d sink.

  “Suryel!” Helel yelled, leaning close enough that his shadow fell over her. “You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

  Her eyes flew open, unfocused.

  She squeezed them shut again against the dim Infirmary light.

  Panic surged for one heartbeat.

  Then recognition.

  Starlight through the windows.

  Curtains shifting.

  Familiar voices.

  “Helel… Yael…” She rasped, dragging a hand down her face, ears burning red with embarrassment for screaming. “I thought—”

  “Yeah, nightmare.” Helel cut in quickly, crouching lower so he was level with her, forcing a grin that didn’t quite land. “You’re here. You’re safe. You’re not with him.”

  Yael nodded beside him, one hand resting on the bedframe and drawing circles on her back, steady as stone.

  Her shoulders sagged.

  She dragged in a breath and waved one hand weakly, like she could physically shoo the dream away.

  The infirmary resumed its quiet rhythm.

  Somewhere two beds over, instructions were murmured.

  Care did not stop for terror.

  Raphael appeared without sound.

  His eyes moved in precise increments.

  Checking breath.

  Pulse.

  Glyph coherence.

  Her heart thudding hard at her sternum.

  “How long have I slept?” Suryel asked hoarsely, lifting her head when he sighed.

  “Three hours.” Raphael replied gently. “I’ll replace and add more glyphs.”

  His fingers hovered. “Or we could stop letting you dream entirely.”

  “We tried that…” She scrubbed her face with both hands. “Dreamless sleep makes me feel hollow.”

  “You were holding the line.” Raphael said, adjusting her regulatory field, voice steady. “Then you relaxed.”

  “You told me I could relax.” She peeked at him through her fingers.

  “I said you could.” He confirmed, then corrected calmly. “Relax does not mean forgetting.”

  His fingers paused at a thin red line on her wrist and frowned.

  He shifted his body slightly, healing it discreetly, shielding the motion from her brothers.

  “Was it just Samael?” He asked quietly.

  “No.” She turned toward the wall. “Belial… And the line didn’t stop him.”

  “Because lawless hellions don’t follow rules.” Yael said grimly, jaw tightening.

  His hands gripped the railing as his gaze tracked the uneven settling of her energy, too bright, too abrupt.

  “Maybe I should ask to be reassigned as dream sentinel…” He murmured, too softly to be heard.

  The Throne said she no longer needed him.

  He wondered if volunteering again anyway would be allowed.

  “Did he touch you?” Helel demanded, fists clenching as he leaned forward.

  “Back to bed, both of you.” Raphael snapped, straightening. “And Suryel, I’ve decided. No more dreams.”

  “I should’ve run faster.” She muttered into the pillow. “I didn’t even land a punch!”

  Helel waited for a joke.

  None came.

  He and Yael exchanged a look.

  An agreement.

  The nights settled into a rhythm.

  They rotated without speaking.

  One slept.

  One watched.

  Then they switched.

  They watched Suryel.

  The edge of the protective wards for signs of burn.

  Raphael’s quiet movements.

  By night four, they stopped pretending not to notice.

  Raphael returned to the infirmary and froze mid-step.

  He was supposed to be resting.

  Suryel slept peacefully, layered containment intact.

  Helel sat beside her bed, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

  Yael stood near the window, reflection sharpening his gaze.

  They were waiting.

  “You should both be resting.” Raphael said.

  “So should you.” Helel pointed at him, then gestured at the room with a smile. “Yet here you are.”

  “We need to talk.” Yael said, stepping away from the window.

  Raphael exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is not simple.”

  “When has she ever been?” Helel leaned forward onto the bedframe. “That’s why you should stop holding back.”

  “... She fractures.” Raphael said quietly. “Then snaps back. Faster each time. Stronger.”

  “The risks?” Yael prompted.

  “That she learns to do it on purpose...” Raphael answered. “Faster than she can recover.”

  Silence.

  “My goal is stabilization.” Raphael continued. “Not restraint. That’s not working. She has to want to stay.”

  Suryel shifted in her sleep.

  They paused.

  “She’s holding the boundary too.” Yael observed softly.

  “Yes.” Raphael said. “That’s new.”

  Later, Gabriel noticed.

  Helel and Yael’s glances received by Raphael.

  “They’re watching her.” Gabriel murmured to Michael during a ledger run.

  “All of them?” Michael didn’t look up from his desk.

  “Yes.”

  That was enough.

  They gathered while she slept.

  They observed the glyphs.

  The threading.

  The obvious testing.

  There were restrained fury.

  Then a plan formed clean and ruthless.

  Stabilize.

  Observe.

  Support.

  Learn what she reaches for.

  Feed it.

  “All to stop Samael.” Michael concluded.

  Elsewhere, at the edge of the Dream Realm.

  Samael hovered at a boundary she unknowingly built beside the layered protection placed by Raphael.

  “Rejected…” Samael muttered.

  He smiled anyway, humming a lullaby from a time she could not remember remembering when she was so much younger, sleeping in his arms before a cradle.

  “You won’t be able to keep me out forever…” He whispered. “Sleep well, little star.”

  And somewhere deep within Suryel’s core while she slept, between one heartbeat and the next, a question stirred.

  Not if the wall would hold.

  But whether it would learn to move.

  Author’s Note:

  0w0 Courtside huddle time!