Daughter of None

16

Lio

She was gone.

The moment I saw her bed empty—sheets cold, no note, no sign—something snapped. Not a thought. Not a question. Just instinct. Ancient and brutal and absolute.

I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Sleep was for people who didn’t lose things. Who didn’t fail.

Now I moved through the forest like a curse, branches whipping my face, the cold damp clinging to me like guilt. My boots barely touched the ground. I didn’t need direction—I was following something deeper. Animal-deep.

Her scent clung to the air: ash, ozone, skin. No blood. My jaw eased a fraction.

But something had happened here.

The clearing was scorched. Blackened earth. A tree split straight down the middle, still smoking at the roots. Magic buzzed like static in the air, sharp and sour.

She did this.

I stopped in the middle of it, chest heaving, trying to think past the rage clawing at the inside of my ribs.

Cas emerged a beat later, brushing twigs off his shirt like we were on a nature walk.

“She didn’t go far,” he said, calm as ever. “This happened recently.”

“No blood,” I muttered. “But the trail ends here.” My eyes scanned the tree line, searching for anything—movement, noise, a flicker of warmth.

Cas crouched beside the ashes, dragging his fingers through the debris. They lit with faint blue fire.

“Teleportation,” he said. “Uncontrolled.”

I stared at him. “She can’t do that.”

“She couldn’t. Until now.” He rose to his full height. “She probably didn’t mean to. That kind of discharge—it’s reflexive.”

I turned in a tight, angry circle, hands fisting and unfisting at my sides.

“She’s a damn liability,” I growled. “She disappears in the middle of the night, leaves a crater behind, and doesn’t tell anyone? That’s not magic—it’s a detonation.”

Cas didn’t flinch. “So you’re saying she’s dangerous.”

“I’m saying she’s reckless,” I snapped. “People like her get themselves killed. Or worse—get others killed trying to clean up their mess.”

He watched me for a moment, then smiled—slow and sharp.

“Uh huh. And yet, here you are. Panting like a bloodhound with separation anxiety.”

I stopped. Glared. He wasn’t wrong, which only made it worse.

“Don’t start.”

“Too late. You’re pacing like a man who just lost his favorite toy.” He tilted his head. “Didn’t peg you for the clingy type.”

I stepped in closer. “I’m not.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

We stood in silence. Wind whispering through the trees. The crackle of a dying fire behind us. My pulse still hadn’t come down.

“She’s going to destroy herself,” I muttered. “Power like that, without control—she’s walking into her own grave.”

“Or someone else’s,” Cas said, too quietly.

The words landed like a stone in my gut.

We didn’t speak after that. Nothing left to say.

Then Cas straightened, like he’d solved something.

“She went somewhere safe.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Think about it. If it was instinctual, unconscious—then it wasn’t tactical. It was emotional. She went somewhere her body remembers feeling safe. Not here. Not with us.”

“Her apartment,” I said, already turning.

“Bingo.”

I started moving before he could say anything else.

“Wait,” Cas called. “If she landed in the city, alone, unstable—”

“I know.”

And I did. Every second she was unaccounted for was another second something could find her. Or she could become something worse.

Then, like mold, Calypso appeared—leaning against a tree, an apple in one hand, amusement dripping from her grin.

“I could’ve told you she went home,” she said, taking a bite. Crunch.

I stared. “You knew?”

She shrugged. “I guessed. But the panic spiral you two had going? Adorable. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Cas gave her a long, exhausted look. “You’re the worst.”

“I do try.” She winked, all teeth. “Shall we?”

I didn’t answer. I was already gone.