A Flicker Before the Storm

There was a weighty hush that descended upon the table, heavy and oppressive, as if the air itself had frozen.

Ronan's fingers clenched into hard fists, knuckles whitening, a whirlwind of frustration and hopelessness crossing his face. Nova's eyes softened, her bright green eyes reflecting concern and a touch of fear. Even the normally unyielding Captain Black cast down his eyes, guilt and annoyance struggling within him, the creases of his face hardening in silent recognition.

Leon didn't move, the dancing candlelight creating shadows on his rugged face. He held his head down for an instant, allowing the import of her admission to lay on him. Then, a soft sigh slipped out of him, one that was hardly audible, more like the breath of a man with loads too great to enumerate.

He knew. He'd known all along. Natasha had saved him more than once, putting herself at risk in ways no regular soldier would be foolish enough to do. She'd given more than any person could ever demand, more than any person could ever quantify. And yet… the possibility of her being bound, shackled by a blood contract, something inside him gnawed—a combination of outrage, pain, and harsh protectiveness.

At last, he raised his head, golden eyes slicing through the faint light, steady and piercing. "Don't worry," he said softly, calmly, with an unshakable conviction. "I know how to handle a blood contract. You won't die. Your sister won't suffer for it."

The others came to a halt, room holding its breath, arrested by the weight of his words.

Nova's eyes widened ever so slightly, disbelief racing across her face before giving way to something else—trust. She had witnessed him save Cassidy, fix her when the blood contract almost destroyed her life. If anyone was capable of defying fate's cruel shackles, it was him.

"Leon…" she spoke softly, her voice quivering just enough to betray hope in her heart. "You're saying… you can break it?

Leon didn't answer directly. His lips curved into a faint, confident smile, the kind that hinted at secrets he didn't need to explain. "Let's just say… I've broken worse." His voice was calm, almost teasing, but carried an edge that made it clear he had survived far more than anyone could imagine.

A shiver of shock ran through the room. Natasha's lips parted, a flash of incredulity sweeping across her face, but no words escaped. Her gaze locked on him, scanning the angles of a man swathed in stillness, a man who seemed to be in a different plane of existence from the world around them. She didn't move, her breath suspended somewhere between fear and wonder. She just stared, frozen, for a very long time. Then, still slowly, nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Trust you," she whispered, her voice a shade softer than normal, but stubborn enough to support the force of her belief. "If you say so… then I'll wait. Until that time arrives."

Leon nodded his head, a small but telling movement. "That's all I ask."

The table lapsed into silence once more, the sort that falls across a group when unsaid things hang heavy in the air. The only noises were the distant clinking of plates and the odd explosion of laughter from the far side of the tavern, muffled and irrelevant to the tension vibrating between them. For the moment, all let their thoughts drop to the same quiet comprehension: whatever lay ahead, there was no going back.

Their task was a knife's edge. It might engrave their names into history—or drive them into a grave of their own design.

Just as the weight of that reflection started to weigh, a soft, sweet voice wafted over, dispelling the tension like a gentle zephyr.

"Here we go~ fresh food for the travelers."

It was a monotonous noise, normal and homey, but it had a strange comfort about it, a distant reminder that the world still spun on outside of the darkness of threat that surrounded them. For a fleeting, tenuous instant, Leon let himself experience the barest glimmer of something approaching peace, the warmth that fell against his chest gently before the burden of the world bore down on him again.

The waitress from before walked back out to them, moving with a teasing crease to her lips. She had black hair pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping to enclose her face, and her top was tightly fitted to her body, moist with the slightest gleam of heat from the kitchen. In her wake, two younger waitresses moved behind her, each carrying pyramids of plates and pitchers, their steps cautious, almost choreographed.

Each dish, one after another, was placed on the table—the fried green fish glinting beneath the poor tavern lighting, its smell intermingling with the biting aroma of herbs. The grilled white rhino meat crackled softly as it went down, rich and juicy. Loaves of fresh multigrain bread steamed in inviting wisps, and mugs of golden beer foamed over the edges, holding out a bitter, warming flavor.

The waitress leaned forward, her eyes flicking toward them with a hint of mischief, and a smile curved her lips. "Enjoy your meal, travelers," she said, her voice soft but warm, carrying a flirtatious lilt. "You look like you've come a long way." She straightened and turned with a practiced sway of her hips, walking off toward another table, her laughter trailing behind her like a light thread in the air.

Leon's eyes stayed on the hot food before him, allowing the aroma of roasted meat and warm bread to seep into him. "Not bad," he said softly, almost to himself, his low voice barely above a whisper. He raised his fork, the metal tinkling against the plate, and simply stated, "Let's eat.

Nova and Natasha nodded, dropping their hoods low enough to see the food, their fingers moving with soft precision. Captain Black, Ronan, and the rest did the same, being cautious not to attract attention, the clink of the cutlery and soft murmur of the tavern filling the little, hanging area around them.

For a few minutes, the world contracted to this table, to the comfort of roasted meat and the piercing sweetness of ale. Smells and sounds enfolded them, earthy, close—a temporary bubble of normalcy before the tempest beyond these walls.

Leon spoke no further. There was no necessity. Their understanding was implicit but absolute, a silent recognition that once they left this sanctuary, everything would be different. Every decision ahead required blood and darkness. And yet, with no hesitation, each of them volunteered to walk that path alongside him.

The dinner was eaten in silence, every bite a tiny anchor to the world, the warmth of the tavern contrasting with the chill certitude on the other side of its doors. The wind outside was whispering through Vellore's streets, bringing rumors of storms yet to break, reminding them that even this tenuous peace could not endure.