Caleb eventually drifted into an exhausted sleep on one of the café's couches, wrapped in a blanket Faye conjured with a flick of her wrist.
Ren locked the doors early. "No more customers tonight," he said. "This isn't a normal case."
Jace leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "So what happens now?"
"You tell us," Ren replied. "You connected to a Seeker in a way no barista ever has. We need to know what you saw."
Jace hesitated. The images still clung to him like fog."The bridge. The cold. His phone blowing up with messages he didn't read. And a decision that felt final."
Faye exhaled. "It was a death fate."
Jace nodded. "Yeah."
Ren rubbed his temples. "And you pulled him off it. Without a drink. Without a ritual. Just by speaking."
Jace frowned. "Isn't that good?"
"It's unprecedented," Faye said. "The café gives us rules. Structure. We guide, we don't interfere. But you—Jace, you altered the trajectory entirely."
He didn't know whether to feel proud or terrified.
Ren paced. "It means one of two things. Either the café is breaking—"
"Or Jace is," Faye finished.
Jace's stomach twisted."What does that even mean?"
Faye approached him calmly, placing her hand gently over his. "The café amplifies what's inside you. You've been carrying everyone's fates, visions, emotions. That's more weight than any human can handle."
Ren added, "If you keep doing this, you'll burn out. Or worse."
Jace swallowed. "But Caleb needed me."
"And you helped," Faye said softly. "But you can't save everyone by absorbing them."
Jace opened his mouth—then flinched.
A sharp pulse ran through the café.Lights flickered. Cups rattled. The menu board glitched, symbols rearranging themselves into patterns that looked almost like warnings.
Ren froze. "It's reacting again."
Jace felt something tugging at him—like threads wrapping around his ribs, pulling tight.He staggered.
Faye caught him. "Jace? What did you just feel?"
He pressed a hand to his chest. "Like… the café is trying to breathe through me."
Ren swore under his breath. "We're reaching a threshold. The café doesn't choose baristas at random—it chooses vessels. If it's pushing its power into you, that means—"
Faye shot him a glare. Don't say it.
But Jace heard it anyway.
"It wants me to stay forever," he whispered.
Faye shook her head. "No. You're not bound. Not yet."
"Yet," Ren muttered.
Jace lowered himself onto a chair, suddenly exhausted."So what do I do?"
Faye sat across from him. "You need to choose. Do you want to keep being part of this? Guiding fates, carrying visions, risking yourself? Or…"
She looked at Caleb sleeping peacefully.
"…do you want to walk away before this place claims you?"
Jace stared at his hands.
He remembered his first day—the strange comfort, the warmth, the sense of purpose he never had before.
He remembered every customer whose life changed because of him.
He remembered the visions, the pain, the cost.
And he remembered Caleb saying, I don't want to die.
Jace took a slow breath."I can't quit. Not yet."
Faye closed her eyes—sad, knowing."And when the time comes that you have to?"
Jace didn't answer.
But the café did.
The lights pulsed once—soft, almost grateful.
And outside, the neon sign brightened like a heartbeat.