Chapter 7: A Promise to Break

As Bloom's footsteps faded into the distance, Lucas felt the weight of their promise settle on his shoulders. Meeting her friends, stepping into the light of her world, was a risk he hadn't fully considered. His mind raced with the potential implications, the carefully constructed walls between his two lives suddenly feeling all too flimsy.

Stella, in particular, gave him pause. As a member of the royal family, she likely had access to information about him, perhaps even an outdated picture that could unravel the persona he had so meticulously crafted. It was a danger he couldn't afford to ignore, but one he now had no choice but to face head-on.

Sighing, Lucas ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a rare outward sign of his inner turmoil. But even as he grappled with the logistics of his impending introduction, a far more pressing concern pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

The Burned Ones. The mere thought of them sent a chill down his spine, a fear he had long since learned to master threatening to break free of its confines. He had read the reports, seen the evidence of their inexplicable attraction to Bloom. And now, with the memory of that unnaturally fast figure in the woods still fresh, the reality of the danger she faced crashed over him like a frigid wave.

He had underestimated the threat, foolishly dismissing it as something he could handle alone, without any of his usual tools nonetheless. But Lucas was no fool. Prodigy or not, he was all too aware of his own limitations. Taking on a Burned One single-handedly was a risk he couldn't afford without the proper preperations, not with so much at stake.

With a growing sense of urgency, Lucas pulled out his phone, his eyes immediately drawn to the messages waiting for him. The first, sent five hours ago, was a simple acknowledgment of his earlier warning: "We're sending out a team to investigate." The second, timestamped just two hours prior, made his blood run cold.

'The team stopped reporting back, the last report was about something hunting them down'

Lucas felt the sweat on his back appear nearly instantly. This was basically the confirmation he needed. Sure, his teams on the First World were not as great as those from the Otherworld, but they would not simply lose to a single opponent, unless the opponent was simply far stronger, faster... stranger...

Although there could also be more than one Burned One, a thought that made his stomach churn with dread.

Without wasting another second, Lucas typed out a quick message: 'Meet me at the Diner with my things. Bring uniform, my daggers... and a gun too...'

His fingers flew over the screen, the urgency of the situation lending speed to his movements. He couldn't afford to wait, not with the knowledge that his team had gone silent, that the Burned Ones were out there, closing in on their prey.

Hitting send, Lucas took a deep, steadying breath. He had faced danger before, stared down enemies that would make lesser men quake in their boots. But this, the threat of the Burned Ones, the risk to Bloom and everything she held dear, felt different. Personal in a way that few things in his life ever had.

But he couldn't let the fear consume him. Fear was a luxury he couldn't afford, not now, not with so much at stake. He had to be strong, to push past the terror that threatened to paralyze him and focus on the task at hand.

With a final glance at the warehouse, the place that had become a sanctuary for him and Bloom, Lucas steeled himself for what was to come. He had a role to play, a mask to wear. The carefree wanderer, the charming rogue, would have to be set aside. In his place, the soldier, the strategist, the leader, would emerge.

As he made his way through the streets of Gardenia, the first stirrings of life beginning to emerge from the sleepy town, Lucas felt the weight of his responsibilities settle on his shoulders. He had a team to lead, a hunt to coordinate, and a promise to keep.

But beneath it all, driving him forward with a fierce determination, was the image of Bloom's face. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought. The way she made him feel like he could be something more than the sum of his parts, more than the roles he played and the masks he wore.

She had unowning become something he deemed as his own, and no one could touch what was his.

Lucas arrived at the diner, where the "Closed" sign hung on the door, an unusual occurrence, but one that signaled his team was already inside, awaiting his arrival.

Pushing the door open, the bell chimed as all eyes turned towards him. In a synchronized motion, the well-trained team raised their right arms across their chests, fists clenched in a formal greeting.

"Stand down," Lucas ordered, and they returned to their relaxed stances, or as relaxed as on-duty soldiers could be.

He approached a dining table with a military-grade chest and opened it, revealing a black, special ops suit designed for mobility rather than bulletproofing. Lightweight and sleek, the suit featured guards for the knees and elbows. Nestled within the box were two daggers, treasured heirlooms that once belonged to his father and now to him.

Lucas laid the suit across the table and reached back into the chest, retrieving a brand new pistol and a stack of magazines, which he quickly placed beside the suit.

Taking a seat, he weighed his options. As important as meeting Bloom's friends was, the presence of a Burned One posed a significant risk, not only to Bloom but to himself as well. If the Otherworld discovered a Burned One in the First World, they would undoubtedly send a team to investigate, potentially exposing his true identity.

Moreover, avoiding the meeting meant minimizing the risk of Stella recognizing him, a win-win situation. However, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for breaking his promise to Bloom.

"We will set out at night," Lucas began, addressing his team. "I don't want to draw attention. Our enemy this time appears to be a Burned One. So far, I'm assuming there is only one, but there could be more."

He continued, "This isn't an exercise, nor will it be easy. When we reach the forest, we will split up. I will move alone, and you all will stay together. Explore slowly and remain close to one another. If you see anything, instantly report over the radio."

"We have one night to do this. If it's still in the forest, we must end this quickly and swiftly. If it escapes, even I'm unsure if we would be able to track it down." Lucas concluded, omitting the fact that using Bloom as bait would make tracking the creature much simpler.

The team of five responded in unison, "Understood."

As Lucas glanced out the window, he absentmindedly played with one of the daggers, his mind racing with the impending mission and the risks that lay ahead.

The hours ticked by, the sun slowly sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. As the last light faded, Lucas stood, his eyes hardening with resolve. He donned the black ops suit, the material molding to his body like a second skin. The daggers, now secured in their sheaths, felt like an extension of himself, a reminder of the legacy he carried.

With a final check of his gear, Lucas turned to his team. "Remember, our goal is to neutralize the threat. Engage only if success is certain. If things go south, your priority is to evacuate and regroup at the rendezvous point."

The team nodded, their expressions grim but determined. They knew the stakes, knew the danger that lurked in the shadows of the forest.

As they filed out of the diner, blending into the night, Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would change everything. The Burned One, the secrets he kept, the delicate balance he had maintained for so long - it all hung in the balance.

But he pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the task at hand. He had a job to do, a promise to break, and he would see it through, no matter the cost.

With a final glance at the diner, now dark and silent, Lucas melted into the shadows, his team fanning out behind him. The hunt was on, and failure was not an option.

He was too close to achieving his current goal, nothing and no one could stand between him and the finish line he was nearing. After all, once he crossed the line, wouldn't Bloom be waiting for him?