Chapter 34: Ember Hills and Morning Heat

The morning sun slipped through the gaps in the window shutters, casting golden lines across the kitchen table. The scent of onions, chiles, and meat danced in the air—spicy, bold, and wholly unlike anything the girls had ever experienced before.

Kai stood at the stove, slowly stirring a cast-iron pot set over a gentle flame. His sleeves were rolled up, one hand gripping the wooden spoon, the other sprinkling pinches of seasoning from memory—no measuring spoons, no recipes, just rhythm. The way his brow pinched, the subtle downturn of his mouth, the small, absent nods to himself… it wasn’t just cooking. It was remembering.

“What is that smell?” Skye whispered, nose twitching as she peeked around the corner.

Fara leaned over the counter, fanning the air toward her. “It smells... dangerous. Like it’s got a bite.”

“It smells amazing,” Revoli chirped, already perched on a stool, fork in hand and legs swinging excitedly. “If this kills me, I’ll die happy.”

Kai didn’t respond. He just turned off the flame and began ladling the contents into thick clay bowls. The stew inside was a deep red—glossy, rich, with soft chunks of pork swimming beneath the surface.

He placed a stack of warm tortillas at the center of the table, then handed out bowls one by one.

“It’s something from my old world,” he said, voice low and even. “A plate I grew up with. I still make it when I need to remember who I was.”

Fara took a cautious sniff of hers. “Looks intense.”

Kai didn’t answer. He grabbed his own bowl and leaned against the counter to eat—standing, like he always did.

Revoli dug in first. “Oooh! This isn’t spicy at a—”

She didn’t finish the sentence before coughing twice. Her eyes widened, then glimmered with delight. “Okay. It is spicy. But I love it.”

Fara tried a spoonful next. At first, she nodded. “Not bad. A little heat, but—”

Then she choked. Her face flushed deep red, and her tails burst open behind her in alarm. “By the gods, my tongue! What is this infernal fire?!”

She flailed toward the water pitcher.

Skye tried to play it cool. She blew on her bite delicately and lifted it to her lips like a noblewoman pretending not to sweat. Her eyes began to water immediately. Her lips twitched. “I-It’s fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just... has a presence.”

Kai smirked into his bowl but said nothing.

Fara wiped her brow. “How can you eat this?”

Kai shrugged. “Red chile pods. A lot of them. That’s how it’s supposed to taste.”

“But aren’t you going to join us at the table?” she asked, catching her breath.

Kai shook his head. “I’m used to standing.”

Skye looked up, voice softer. “You don’t have to.”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “Back then, every time I sat down, someone would ask me to get back up. ‘Can you grab this?’ ‘I need that.’ If I sat, it meant I was on call. So I stopped sitting.”

He gave a weak smile, but it didn’t hold.

The girls went quiet after that. No one pushed. They finished their food slowly, chewing thoughtfully, eyes occasionally flicking in Kai’s direction.

Then Revoli hopped off her stool and walked over. She tugged at his sleeve.

Kai looked down. “What now?”

She pointed toward the old cushioned chair near the fireplace. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

She crossed her arms. “Sit or I start throwing plates.”

Kai blinked. “You wouldn’t—”

A plate clinked threateningly in her hand.

He sighed and relented. The chair creaked slightly as he lowered himself into it, bowl still in hand.

Revoli immediately climbed onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, her fork in one hand, tail lazily curling around his thigh.

“You can’t move until I do,” she declared.

“That’s not how this works,” Kai muttered.

“It is now.”

Behind them, Fara approached silently. She knelt at the side of the chair and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. Her palms were warm, steady. She began to rub in slow, deliberate circles.

“Just relax,” she said quietly. “Let us take care of you, for once.”

Kai stilled.

The fire crackled gently beside them. The warmth of the food, the room, the moment—it settled into his bones in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Across the room, Skye sat with her empty bowl in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, staring down at her hands. Her ears drooped slightly, but she didn’t move. Something in her heart pulled and twisted, soft and uncertain.

So she stayed seated.

And watched.