I Love You Now

It started as a ripple in the air, like heat rising from asphalt, except it didn’t drift upward. It snapped into focus—thin lines of light stitching themselves into a shape that didn’t belong in Los Angeles. The glow spread outward with a sound like glass singing, and then it tightened into a doorway where the darkness looked deeper than night should be.

Jazim went still. Her hand, which had been resting on her knee, curled slowly, protective and ready. “Taul,” she said, and his name came out carefully, like she was bracing him for impact.

His instincts tried to lead before his fear could catch up. "It's... not—" He couldn’t find the word. Not a prank. Not a portal like movies lied about. Not anything sane.

The light pulsed, bright enough to bleach the park’s shadows, then flared again. A gust of cold poured out, carrying a smell like wet stone and something metallic—like rain on old coins. Taul’s hoodie went clammy at his shoulders. The string lights above them flickered once, then steadied, as if the park couldn’t decide whether to witness what was happening.

Jazim scooted closer, shoulder pressing his. “We should run.”

Taul should’ve agreed immediately. He wanted to. His body did the math—danger, unknown, get her out first—but his mind snagged on one thought that felt wrong in the face of everything bright and impossible: if he left her, he’d never forgive himself. If he stayed, maybe he could pull her through whatever came next.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, and hated how true it felt even as the portal widened.

The doorway shuddered, then split open like a wound.

Armored figures stepped through.

They didn’t move like people who’d entered from somewhere else. They moved as if the portal had poured them out—precise and silent, their armor catching the light in sharp facets. Helmets covered their faces, but Taul could see the way they scanned the space: not panicked, not curious. Trained. Queen’s Guards, his brain supplied with a certainty that didn’t come from any book he’d ever read.

“Off the path,” one of them ordered. The voice was low, clipped, and edged with authority that made Taul’s skin tighten. “Now.”

Jazim stood taller than her fear, her chin lifted. “Who are you?”

The guard’s head tilted toward her as if measuring her by something Taul couldn’t see. “You are in breach of boundaries.”

Taul’s mouth went numb. “We didn’t do anything.”

The guard’s gaze snapped to him. “Your presence here is the breach.”

He opened his mouth to argue—because arguing was what he did when the world turned upside down, because if he could talk fast enough, maybe the universe would get embarrassed and reverse itself. But the second guard stepped forward and raised a hand. The air around it thickened, shimmering like the portal still breathed.

The cold deepened. Jazim’s fingers brushed Taul’s wrist, quick and firm. Not a question. A tether.

“Taul,” she said again, and this time there was urgency under the steadiness. “Get ready.”

He reached for her hand, squeezing once, grounding himself in the heat of her skin. “I’m here.”

The guards moved.

They didn’t grab at first. They closed the distance with the inevitability of a tide, and Taul realized too late that the space around them was changing—like the park was being rearranged to make room for something older. The ground under his shoes felt slightly wrong, as if the asphalt had turned to something softer, less willing to hold him.

Jazim backed toward the portal without taking her eyes off the guards. “We’re not going through.”

One guard’s arm rose, and the air around Jazim tightened—subtly, like pressure against her body from invisible hands. She hissed, a sound of anger more than pain. Taul lunged forward before he could think, reaching for her.

The pressure shifted, catching him too.

For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t even inhale properly. Panic flared—sharp and bright, the kind that made everything else feel distant.

Jazim’s eyes met his through the haze of impossible air. The fear was not for her. It was for him. "Don't—" she started.

But he was already fighting, already trying to break free with sheer will, and that was the moment the portal answered.

The doorway flared, swallowing the light from the string bulbs. Sound dropped out of the world as if someone had turned down the volume. Taul felt the air tear—felt his stomach lift—and then he was being pulled, not by hands but by gravity that had decided to aim itself at the shimmering threshold.

Jazim jerked with him, shoulder slamming against his as they were dragged toward the opening.

“Jazim!” he tried to shout, but the cold stole his voice.

Her hand found his, fingers locking hard. “Stay with me,” she said, and her words were suddenly the only solid thing in the universe.

They crossed the threshold together.

The park vanished behind them like it had never existed. The air changed—thick with moisture and the scent of crushed leaves, like a forest waking from sleep. Taul blinked hard, forcing his eyes to adjust. The ground beneath them wasn’t asphalt. It was pale stone, smooth but not cold—warm in a way that reminded him of sunlight on rock.

They staggered, pulled forward until they stumbled to a stop. Behind them, the portal continued to shimmer, its light dimming like a breath being held too long.

Taul’s head spun. He tasted metal. His ears rang with silence so complete it felt like pressure.

Jazim steadied herself first, shoulders squared, jaw set. Even now, even after the leap through impossible light, she looked like she’d rather fight the world than accept it. “Where are we?”

The guards didn’t answer her. They simply turned, leading, armor clinking softly against itself as they moved. Taul followed because his body had already decided that obeying might be safer than resisting. He hated that he could feel the instinct to trust them forming—and hated more that he wanted to trust Jazim even more.

As they walked, Taul’s eyes kept snagging on details that didn’t belong together. The sky above wasn’t the LA night. It had a different weight to it, a deeper blue threaded with faint gold. Trees rose around them like a cathedral, their trunks pale and spiraled, leaves shimmering as if lit from within. Far off, something massive shifted—mountain shadows moving like living things.

Then the air carried a whisper, so faint it could’ve been wind through branches.

Taul turned his head, heart tripping. “Did you hear that?”

Jazim’s gaze followed his. “Yeah.”

“Like… someone talking?”

She shook her head once, but the motion was tight. “More like the place is listening.”

They were still, and the guards were not. One of them stopped in a clearing that wasn’t there a moment ago—light bending around them, making space appear. In the center stood a low stone arch, carved with symbols that looked almost like letters and almost like roots.

A third guard stepped forward, and the others shifted as if making room for a truth that required ceremony.

This guard pulled back their helmet.

The face beneath was stern, dark-eyed, and older than Taul expected—sharp lines at the mouth, scars hidden under the skin’s smoothness. When they spoke, their voice didn’t echo; it carried, as if the air itself made space.

“Taul Simmon,” the guard said precisely. “Jazim Gonzales Alos.”

Taul’s pulse lurched. Hearing his name in a place like this—he didn’t have time to decide whether it was cruel or miraculous. “How do you know—"

The guard lifted a hand, silencing him without touching. “Your blood remembers what you do not.”

Jazim’s breath went shallow. “Blood is just… blood.”

“That is what the world told you,” the guard replied. “That centuries can pass without consequence.”

Taul stared at the guard’s eyes. Something about the way they spoke made his skin crawl, made him feel like his thoughts were being read. “What are you talking about?”

The guard’s gaze slid to Jazim. “Your powers were dormant. Not dead. Dormant—sleeping beneath generations of ordinary life. You were meant to remain unawakened. Until Darkar the Great tore the boundary.”

Darkar the Great.

The name didn’t sound like a rumor. It sounded like an alarm.

Taul’s mouth went dry. “Darkar… the Great is real?”

“Immortal,” the guard corrected, and there was no reverence in it—only certainty. “An invader from absolute darkness, where light is an insult. He does not conquer by sword alone. He conquers by stealing futures.”

Jazim’s fingers tightened around Taul’s. “Then stop talking and tell us what you want.”

The guard stepped closer to the stone arch. The symbols on it seemed to brighten, responding to something in the air. Taul felt it in his bones—like the arch was humming under his skin.

“We want you alive,” the guard said. “We want you ready. The Queen requires your presence at court.”

Taul’s stomach clenched. Court. Royalty. A life that wasn’t his—except it was, suddenly, in a way he couldn’t deny. He looked at Jazim, needing her expression to anchor him.

She didn’t look shocked. She looked angry in a way that made him want to be brave for her.

“You’re taking us to a palace,” she said. “Right now.”

“Yes.”

“And if we refuse?” Jazim asked.

The guard’s eyes flicked to her like a blade testing cloth. “Fear weakens what is waking.”

Jazim’s lips parted. Taul knew she understood what that meant, even if she didn’t have words for it. The portal’s cold had come when he panicked. The way the air had tightened—like the world had responded to the sharpness of his dread.

Taul forced himself to breathe slowly. “You said powers are dormant,” he said, voice rough. “But we’re not magic. We're—"

“Ordinary,” the guard finished, and there was bitterness in the word. “Ordinary is a costume. It can be worn for a time.”

Taul’s longing for a secret future with Jazim flared like a match struck in wind. He wanted to reach for that future and hold it tight. He wanted to believe they could keep it private, safe, and theirs.

But the guard’s next words pulled the floor out from under him.

“You will come to court together,” they said, “or you will be separated by forces you cannot see.”

Jazim’s grip on his hand went suddenly tense. “Separated?”

The guard’s head turned toward the portal behind them. The shimmer had thinned. It wasn’t closing yet, but it felt—Taul couldn’t explain it—less like a doorway and more like a memory of one.

“You came through a tear,” the guard said. “The tear will not remain open.”

Taul’s chest tightened so fast it hurt. “So we can’t go back?”

The guard didn’t answer directly. “There are rules here. The realm responds.”

Jazim swallowed. Her eyes flicked to Taul’s face, searching. “Are you scared?”

He could lie. He’d lied before—about how much he wanted her, about how often he pictured their lives together beyond school and late-night conversations and the ache of almosts.

But the way the guard said fear weakened the waking part of them didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like physics. Like the world had already decided how it worked.

“I’m scared,” Taul admitted, and the word tasted like metal too. “But I’m more scared of leaving you alone in whatever this is.”

Jazim’s expression shifted—something softening, something fierce under the softness. “Then don’t let go.”

The guard stepped back from the arch. “Good. Hold that.”

Taul blinked. “Hold what?”

“Love,” the guard said, as if it were a tool. “It strengthens. It steadies. In Eastern North, emotion is not decoration.”

Jazim let out a breath that sounded like a laugh without humor. “That’s convenient.”

The guard’s gaze sharpened. “Convenient is not the same as safe.”

A tremor ran through the stone beneath their feet. Taul felt it in his teeth. Somewhere in the distance, a low rumble rolled over the crystal forests, though there were no crystals in sight—yet. The sound reminded him of thunder held back, restrained by something ancient.

The guards began moving again, faster now. The arch’s symbols flared brighter, and for a moment the light inside it looked like a corridor—like a hallway opening through the air. Taul could almost see a different world behind it, pale walls and towering heights, the kind of grandeur that made you feel small even when you weren’t afraid.

Jazim stepped closer to the arch, and Taul followed, their joined hands pulling them forward.

“What if we get separated?” Jazim asked under her breath, like the question was only for him.

Taul squeezed her hand harder, trying to pour certainty into his grip. “We won’t.”

“But what if they tell us we have to—" She stopped, jaw tightening on the rest. The next words didn’t come, as if speaking them would summon them.

Taul’s throat went tight. He imagined it: court, strangers, guards who didn’t care about secrets. He imagined Jazim walking away because someone in authority decided it was necessary. He imagined himself standing there with nothing to do but watch.

He didn’t let himself think too long. He couldn’t afford it.

Still, the fear rose anyway, uninvited.

The air around the arch flickered, the light stuttering as if the realm were confused about whether to respond to their hope or their dread.

Taul forced his eyes to Jazim’s. “Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly at first, then fully. Her irises caught the arch’s glow, making them look brighter, almost luminous. "Taul—"

“I want you,” he said, the words breaking out of him before he could shape them into something safer. “Not later. Not after I figure out what this is. Now.”

Jazim’s breath hitched. The tension between them—wanting, fear, everything they’d been refusing to name—shifted like a door finally unlocking.

Her thumb brushed his knuckles, and the touch grounded him so hard his eyes stung. “Then don’t make me beg,” she whispered.

Taul’s laugh came out shaky. “I’m not good at begging.”

“I am,” she said, and the honesty in it made his chest ache. “But I don’t want to beg you to stay.”

The arch flared, responding to their closeness—lightly smoothing, steadying. The sound of distant rumbling sharpened into something like footsteps, though no one approached from the forest.

The guards moved through the arch’s light.

Taul and Jazim followed, stepping into brightness that swallowed their shadows.

And as soon as their feet crossed the threshold, Taul felt it—the way the air changed direction, the way the world decided to protect itself. Behind them, the portal shimmered once more, then thinned to a thread, fading like ink in water.

Taul turned his head instinctively, desperate to see the Los Angeles park one last time.

There was only light. Only the corridor stretching forward. Only the sense that the door back home had become something they’d lost without being allowed to grieve it.

His heart lurched, and for a fraction of a second fear slammed into him so hard it stole his breath.

Then Jazim tightened her hand around his, and the arch’s glow steadied, warmth rushing through him instead of cold.

“We’re going,” Jazim said, voice firm, as if she could command the world with the same certainty she used when she fought back. “We’re not broken.”

Taul swallowed around the ache in his throat. “I know.”

But even as he said it, a new thought carved itself into him like a blade: court would mean answers, and answers would mean rules, and rules would decide whether their secret future together was something they got to choose.

He’d wanted to keep Jazim safe long enough to understand the portal.

Now Eastern North had answered—loudly, violently—by placing them inside a path that looked like it would swallow their ordinary lives whole.

And somewhere ahead, the Queen waited, along with whatever reckoned them as royal property instead of two people who’d been brave enough to want each other.

End of chapter one. 7 more chapters and about 24,641 words in the full book.