The mission ends in chaos.
The extraction point collapsed, Aether currents buckled, and Kael had to drag you out at the last second when your spell misfired. By the time everyone reaches the safehouse, the team is silent, exhausted, and covered in dust.
Marcellus is the last to enter.
He slams the door harder than necessary.
Veyra stiffens. Seraphine looks between the two of you with raised eyebrows. Kael hovers protectively near your side.
Marcellus doesn’t say a word. He just stares at you — long, sharp, unreadable.
You try to speak first. “Marcellus, I—”
He snaps.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?”
The room freezes.
Seraphine’s lips part. Kael’s hand shifts toward you instinctively. Even the lights seem to dim under the weight of his voice.
You’ve seen him angry before — but never like this.
He steps forward, fast enough that Kael moves as if to block him. Marcellus doesn’t look at Kael, doesn’t look at anyone else.
Only you.
“You think this is a game now? Is that it?”
You feel heat rise in your chest. “I was trying to help—”
“Help?” he cuts in sharply. “You nearly destabilized the entire spell barrier!”
Seraphine murmurs, “Marcellus, that’s enough—” But he ignores her completely.
His voice drops lower, harsher.
“Do you understand what would’ve happened if Kael wasn’t faster than you?”
Kael steps in slightly. “Don’t put this on—”
Marcellus snaps toward him, eyes flaring.
“Stay out of this.”
Kael steps back, jaw tight.
Marcellus turns back to you — and this part hurts more because his voice cracks at the edge, barely noticeable but there.
“I told you to stay behind me.”
Your chest tightens. “You always say that—”
“Because I mean it!” It comes out louder than he intended. The team collectively flinches.
He inhales sharply as if dragging his own anger back into his lungs and locking it there.
His next words are dangerously quiet.
“You don’t get to risk yourself like that.”
A beat of silence.
“Not with me.”
Seraphine looks away pointedly. Veyra pretends she didn’t hear that. Kael’s expression darkens.
You whisper, “You’re overreacting.”
Marcellus laughs — a cold, humorless sound.
“Overreacting? I watched you almost get pulled into an Aether collapse, and you expect me to be calm?”
Another heavy silence.
Then he says the one thing that cuts through the room:
“You don’t get to scare me like that.”
You stare. The others stare. Even Marcellus seems to regret letting that slip.
His voice hardens again instantly.
“…Next time, you listen to me.”
He turns toward the door as if he can’t stand being in the same room right now — not because he’s angry at you, but because he’s angry at how much he cares.