Coffee or Tea (Artskaf)

[Nora Saint-Clair]

She slipped outside like she was breaking out of a cage.

The cold hit her first, sharp and bracing, but it was nothing compared to the heat still coiled in her chest. She grabbed Claude’s sleeve, pulling him close, her expression stripped of all pretense. No smiles. No charm. Just Nora, raw-edged and tense.

Her arms folded tight across her chest, jaw clenched, lips a thin line. She started pacing, one step, two—then stopped, like the words had caught her by the throat. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, barely above a whisper. A confession meant for one set of ears only.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you. But you have to swear—swear—you won’t say a word. And don’t freak out.”

She exhaled through her nose, sharp and shaky. “I found Grym,” she said. “But I was desperate. I needed her help and didn’t know where else to go.”

A pause.

Then: “I’m one of the channeling gods.”

She bit the words out like they tasted wrong, like admitting them made it more real. Her jaw tensed, her teeth grinding together before she turned away, scrubbing a hand over her face with a muttered curse. “There’s a whole story, too much to unload out here, but now you know. That’s what I am.”

She looked back at him, eyes dark and unflinching. “I’m an abomination.”