Summary:

I never imagined asking for help would feel like admitting defeat. It was late afternoon, the light through the living-room curtains was the colour of weak tea, and my hands were still a little shaky from unlocking the front door. I sat down on the sofa and called each of them in turn — Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne — and when their voices answered, steady and familiar, I felt myself untangle a little.

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