Chapter 6: Strangers
1101 Words
Rain lashed against the windows of the seaside café.
The storm had rolled in from the Aegean an hour earlier, turning the sky into a sheet of dark gray clouds and driving tourists from the waterfront. Waves crashed violently against the cliffs below, sending white spray into the air.
Nikolai Verkhane sat alone by the window.
A steaming cup of coffee rested untouched beside him.
An old leather-bound book lay open in his hands.
The pages were yellowed with age.
Far older than anyone in this century would believe.
Nikolai turned another page slowly.
Outside, lightning flashed.
The brief light reflected in his pale eyes.
For most people, storms were temporary inconveniences.
For Nikolai, they were reminders.
He had seen thousands of them.
Storms over frozen battlefields.
Storms over burning cities.
Storms over kingdoms that no longer existed.
Storms over graves.
Especially graves.
His gaze drifted toward the sea.
Five years.
Five years since Elara died.
The pain should have faded.
Human pain always faded eventually.
That was one of the few mercies granted to mortals.
But immortality was different.
Immortality remembered everything.
Every smile.
Every laugh.
Every mistake.
Every loss.
He remembered the exact shade of Elara's eyes.
The sound of her laughter.
The way she always stole food from his plate and insisted it tasted better there.
And he remembered the fire.
Most of all, he remembered the fire.
The smell of smoke.
The distant scream of sirens.
The moment he hesitated.
One second.
One fatal second.
The memory never loosened its grip.
Never softened.
Never dulled.
A chair scraped across the floor.
Nikolai looked up.
A man stood beside his table.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Dark hair.
Simple clothes.
A hood partially concealed his face.
"Mind if I sit here?" the stranger asked.
Nikolai glanced around.
Every other table was occupied.
The storm had trapped everyone inside.
"It's not my café."
The stranger blinked.
Then laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Nikolai found himself oddly surprised.
Most people were nervous around him.
Even if they couldn't explain why.
This one wasn't.
The stranger sat down.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Rain hammered against the glass.
The café buzzed with quiet conversations.
Nikolai returned to his book.
The stranger stared out at the sea.
Neither seemed uncomfortable with the silence.
Eventually the stranger nodded toward the book.
"Looks old."
"It is."
"How old?"
Nikolai considered answering honestly.
Instead he said, "Older than your country."
The stranger laughed again.
"That's impossible."
"Probably."
Something about the answer amused him.
Nikolai wasn't sure why.
Perhaps because it wasn't entirely a lie.
The stranger extended a hand.
"Rhys."
Nikolai looked at it briefly.
Then shook it.
"Nik."
The lie came automatically.
He hadn't introduced himself as Nikolai in decades.
Rhys leaned back in his chair.
"You come here often?"
"Frequently."
"Good coffee?"
"No."
Rhys smiled.
"Then why keep coming?"
Nikolai looked out toward the sea.
"The view."
That answer seemed to satisfy him.
For a while they discussed meaningless things.
Travel.
Weather.
History.
The sort of conversation strangers had when they expected never to meet again.
Yet somehow the conversation kept continuing.
It felt easy.
Natural.
Strange.
Nikolai couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to someone for this long.
Not since Elara.
The realization bothered him.
Across the table, Rhys appeared equally surprised by how comfortable he felt.
Most conversations these days were exhausting.
People expected things from him.
Admiration.
Inspiration.
Reassurance.
They looked at him and saw an idea rather than a person.
But Nik seemed different.
Older somehow.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
As if he carried invisible centuries behind his eyes.
Rhys found himself asking questions he normally wouldn't.
"Do you ever regret things?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
For a moment Nikolai froze.
Then Elara appeared in his mind.
The fire.
The smoke.
The choice.
The hesitation.
"Every day."
The answer came instantly.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Rhys looked away.
He understood that tone.
People only answered that quickly when the regret was real.
Heavy.
Permanent.
"Yeah," Rhys said quietly.
"I know that feeling."
Nikolai studied him.
For the first time, he noticed the sadness hiding behind the stranger's easy smile.
Interesting.
Pain recognized pain.
"What happened?" Nikolai asked.
Rhys laughed softly.
"That's a long story."
"I have time."
The irony nearly made Nikolai smile.
Rhys stared at the rain.
"Have you ever had to make a choice where every outcome was wrong?"
Nikolai's expression darkened slightly.
"Yes."
"What did you do?"
"Made it anyway."
The answer hung between them.
Rhys nodded slowly.
"Sometimes you do everything you can and people still get hurt."
Nikolai looked directly at him.
"Then perhaps it wasn't the right choice."
Rhys frowned.
"Even if it saved others?"
The question felt oddly specific.
Nikolai noticed.
"So long as one person is abandoned, the choice remains wrong."
For a moment silence filled the space between them.
Neither realized how much that conversation mattered.
Neither understood they were discussing the exact belief that would eventually place them on opposite sides of a war.
Then a voice suddenly shouted from across the café.
"Apex!"
Everything stopped.
Rhys closed his eyes.
Not again.
A young girl stood near the counter.
Her face was lit with excitement.
"It's him!"
Instantly every head turned.
Phones appeared.
People began whispering.
Then shouting.
"Apex!"
"The hero!"
"Oh my God!"
Rhys sighed.
Across the table, Nikolai watched with mild curiosity.
Apex.
The name sounded familiar.
Where had he heard—
Then memory clicked into place.
News reports.
Television broadcasts.
Mercer Street.
The building collapse.
The hero who saved dozens.
The hero who lost one.
Apex.
Nikolai looked back at Rhys.
For the first time, he truly saw him.
Not a stranger.
Not a traveler.
A symbol.
One of the world's beloved heroes.
The embodiment of hope itself.
How fascinating.
And how unfortunate.
People crowded around Rhys.
Asking for pictures.
Autographs.
Questions.
Rhys stood reluctantly.
Before leaving, he glanced back.
For some reason, he found himself disappointed.
The conversation had been nice.
Rarely did he meet someone who spoke honestly.
His eyes met Nikolai's one final time.
Something lingered there.
Recognition.
Curiosity.
Perhaps even respect.
Then the moment passed.
The crowd carried Rhys away.
Nikolai remained seated by the window.
Watching the storm.
Watching the sea.
Watching the place where Apex had sat only moments earlier.
A strange feeling settled inside him.
Disappointment.
Because he had liked the man.
And that , that is the reason why Apex was suddenly decided to be more dangerous in his mind.
The fact he liked someone he was supposed to hate became far more troubling than it seemed.
- Writer
