"Shut up." Marcus froze at Lucien's voice. The weight behind it could've cracked stone. Lucien stood over him, tall and cold, like judgment itself. "You're aware your ability went haywire last night, right?" Marcus blinked, confused. Out of control? He didn't remember a thing. He gave a slow shake of his head. "No clue. Did I... cause any trouble?" The calm in his tone made Lucien's eye twitch. He asked, "You don't lose control often, do you?" Marcus thought about it. "Not really. Maybe once or twice a month." Lucien's composure wavered for the first time. Once or twice a month? You're calling that 'not really'? That's a d*mn calendar event. With an ability like this, it's a miracle Frostveil's still standing—let alone its folks. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "What did Frostveil usually do when your ability blew up?" Marcus leaned back, his tone easy, as if he were reciting a daily routine. "I live near the edge of Frostveil, right next to Ashenfall. When I feel it coming, I head straight for the Pyraflow. The heat keeps the frost in check. I stay in the lava till it settles, then crawl out." He lifted his gaze, completely unfazed. "If it happens while I'm asleep, the people in Frostveil wake Drake and toss me into the Pyraflow themselves. The heat blocks the chill, keeps both territories safe." Lucien was stunned, with disbelief flickering in his eyes. Marcus frowned slightly, then realization dawned on him. "Recovery usually takes me a day or two. Why'd it end so fast this time? What did you do?" He thought, Lucien's the only Rank 11 here. He's the only one strong enough to hold back the cold leaking out of me… so how did it end that fast? Lucien folded his arms, his tone measured. "I didn't do anything. I only contained the frost you released. Emma's the one who comforted you." Marcus' head snapped up. "What?" He shot to his feet like the couch burned. "You let Ms. Tibarn enter my head? When I lose control, I'm dangerous—what if I hurt her?" Lucien's expression tightened. He hadn't planned any of it—by the time he arrived, Emma was already inside Marcus' mental consciousness. Interrupting her mid-process would've dragged them both down with him. Marcus stared, tension tightening his jaw. Then he moved. "I need to check on her." ... Meanwhile, Emma had already pulled herself together and headed downstairs. Her eyes narrowed as soon as she spotted him. "What are you planning now?" It had only been one night, yet she already found herself a little uneasy around this male. Marcus stopped in front of her, scanning her up and down like he needed proof she was alive. "Lucien told me you comforted me. I didn't hurt you, right?" The concern in his tone threw her off. "No," Emma replied. She hesitated, the image of those ice shards stabbing through his mind consciousness flashing behind her eyes.After a beat, she stated, "I'll give you mental comfort every two days." It wasn't pity driving her—just plain necessity. There was no way Frostveil would take Marcus back now, not after everything. If no one kept him in check, his mental power would spiral again. This time, they got lucky because Lucien had been there. Next time, who knew? What if Lucien were gone, pulled into some emergency? Right now, Marcus' stability hinged entirely on her. If she didn't keep him grounded, no one would. Marcus blinked. "Ms. Tibarn, you don't have to. I know my limits. If it's too much for you—" Emma's voice cut clean through his. "If I don't, and your power spirals again, what then? You'll turn the Central Planet into an ice tomb." Her tone was matter-of-fact, not cruel. She was tired of near-death experiences before breakfast. Marcus looked down, quiet for once. Emma folded her arms, tone firm. "Every two days—that's the rule. You're not crawling into my bed again unless I say so. Also, stop with the death stunts around the house—especially the hanging thing. That's nightmare material." Marcus hesitated, mulling it over. The rules are fine, except for one thing... He looked at her, eyes burning with impatience. "Ms. Tibarn, when do we bond?" He was in a rush, practically sprinting toward his own funeral. Emma drew a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I get that you're dying to die, but bonding isn't a race. My house, my rules. I already promised Edric—he's first." Marcus knew about Edric's situation. He's close to reaching Rank 10, but it will take some time. Guess I have to wait for my turn. He frowned, reluctant but accepting. "Fine. Then I'll bond with you after him." "Nope." Her arms crossed tighter. "Corvin's next. Silas after him." Marcus lifted a hand, counting silently. "So I'm fourth?" Emma met his gaze without blinking. "Fifth."