Hi there. Thank you for reaching this part of the story. After some deliberation with myself, I have decided there is no need to create two POVs for this part of the story unless the plot demands it since, from now on, Lucas and Kyle's paths are fully intertwined. So, the narration will still be primarily 3rd person, incorporating the thoughts and actions of the two characters.

Kyle and Lucas left the living room behind, stepping carefully over scattered debris and shards of glass. As they moved to Kyle's bedroom, the lingering scent of dust clung to the air. Inside, the space offered a calm reprieve—dim lighting softened the shadows, and a neat stack of books rested on the nightstand.

Kyle sat on the edge of the bed, his voice quiet as he spoke about his past with Lilith. Lucas eased down beside him, their shoulders lightly touching. The day's strain soon caught up with him; his eyes grew heavy, and before long, his head drifted onto Kyle's shoulder.

Kyle watched Lucas, his steady breathing reassuring after the day's chaos. A faint smile touched Kyle's lips as he adjusted the blanket around Lucas, careful not to wake him. Despite the peace at the moment, Kyle's thoughts were heavy—guilt over the risks Lucas had faced and a fragile sense of comfort in his presence. Finally, Kyle settled beside him, his mind lingering on Lucas as sleep gradually overtook him.

As Lucas drifted deeper into sleep, he immersed himself in Kyle's memories. He could feel the cold bite of the Styx River and the relentless weight of Kyle's burdens. In these dreams, Lucas admired Kyle's determination and sorrow for the tenderness towards Lilith and the children twisted by pain. The growing conflict between Heaven and the Underworld stirred fears for their future, especially for Kyle.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Lucas stirred, a cold shiver creeping up his spine. The remnants of his dream clung to him—fragments of Kyle's past with Lilith, a world he couldn't fully interact with. The images were vivid, the weight of the memories unsettling. Had he crossed a line by intruding into Kyle's mind? His fingers brushed the pendant Kyle had given him, grounding him in the reality of the world he'd just entered. Could he truly bear it?

Now that he understood more of Kyle's past, the strange pull toward him made more sense. The connection they shared—intense, almost mystical—wasn't just coincidence. But with that understanding came a deeper recognition of Kyle's burdens. His heart ached as he recalled the sorrowful look in Kyle's eyes when he left the cabin that night, just as he had when Lucas first discovered the truth about him. Kyle was willing to sacrifice his happiness for others, and Lucas couldn't let that happen again.

"You lost so much," Lucas murmured, his voice barely a whisper as his fingers lightly traced Kyle's hair. "Now I understand many things about you. How do you live with that?" Kyle hummed softly in his sleep, unaware of Lucas's quiet confession. But Lucas's mind raced—could he truly understand Kyle's world? Could he be the one to stand by him? Was his love and strength enough to bear the weight of everything Kyle had endured?

Lucas's strength wasn't much, but his grasp of magic—a flicker of his grandmother Isabela's legacy—offered a fragile sense of steadiness. Her stories of spirits and shamans once shared over afternoons of laughter and cooking now felt less like folklore and more like lessons he'd overlooked. Those potions for heartbreak she brewed? Perhaps more than mere soothing teas, after all.

He closed his eyes, summoning the memory of her warmth and strength. "Grandma, give me strength,"  he whispered internally. Her presence felt near, steadying his heart with echoes of her quiet resilience. Kyle lay beside him, his face peaceful in sleep. Lucas's lips curled into a faint smile as he brushed a hand lightly across Kyle's forehead, a silent vow forming within him: to stand by Kyle no matter what.

When Lucas drifted back to sleep, the icy tendrils of the Underworld crept into his dreams once more, chilling his skin and tightening his chest. But now, a thread of resolve anchored him, forged by his grandmother's wisdom and unwavering love. He was ready to face the terrifying world ahead—for Kyle and himself.

Morning sunlight streamed into the room, filling the air with warmth. Kyle stirred slowly, stretching, his muscles stiff from the night before. He winced, but the sunlight, so gentle after the harshness of the Underworld, felt like a brief sanctuary. His gaze shifted to Lucas beside him, and his heart softened, a smile tugging at his lips.

Kyle felt a fleeting sense of peace in Lucas's presence—something he hadn't known in years. Protecting Lilith's bloodline had once been his way of preserving the only happiness he had known. But now, as Lucas lay exposed in his arms, fragile yet resilient, Kyle whispered, "It wasn't in vain. I see her strength in you."

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from Lucas's face, the silken texture stirring something profound within him. Could Lucas be the one he could protect, the one he could truly love without fear?

The soft hum of Lucas's breathing was enough of an answer. But as Kyle leaned in, his gaze fell on the bruises marring Lucas's skin. Guilt twisted in his chest. Lucas was hurt because Kyle had tried to shield him, yet his world dragged him deeper into its dangers.

Kyle's heart clenched. He couldn't keep hiding the darkness in his world. He had to confront the truth if he loved Lucas and truly wanted to protect him. His fears gnawed at him. "What if telling him pushes him further away?" But Lucas deserved to know everything, the light and the darkness.

His hand hovered over the bruises, a wave of magic flowing through him, easing some of Lucas's pain. But his mind raced, torn between his desire to shield Lucas and the nagging guilt he had caused so much of this. He still felt the sting of Lucas's tears because he interfered in the divorce. Kyle had promised to make things right, but was it enough? He didn't know, but he vowed silently to find a way.

Lucas stirred, blinking awake with a sleepy smile. The warmth of his smile was an invitation to closeness, and Kyle's breath caught. As Lucas reached out, his fingers brushing Kyle's shoulder, Kyle balked—torn between the tenderness of Lucas's touch and the weight of his guilt. But Lucas's smile pierced through his doubts. He couldn't let guilt overshadow what they shared.

Kyle met his gaze, his hand covering Lucas's, letting the warmth between them ground him. This—Lucas—was his chance to protect someone he could truly love again. The thought brought him a peace he hadn't felt in years.

"Morning," Lucas murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. "I dreamt about you, Lilith, and the Underworld."

Kyle shook his head with a soft chuckle. "It wasn't just a dream. You entered my memories."

Lucas groaned, leaning in slightly. "It felt too real—the darkness, that place. How did you survive it?"

Kyle smiled faintly, recalling his past struggles, but his resolve to protect Lucas strengthened. "I survived because I had to. I kept going for her kids, then their kids. Eventually, I just lived the best I could."

Kyle's gaze fell on Lucas's pendant as the morning light filtered in. The word eternity seemed to carry a new weight—his struggle to stop Armageddon, his divine connections, and his future with Lucas. Kyle leaned in, hesitant, but Lucas closed the distance, their bodies brushing.

Lucas settled closer, his grandmother's stories comforting him. He felt better today, the pain of the past night fading, but there were still wounds he hadn't faced.

"I'll show him how much I care about him," Kyle thought, but the road ahead was uncertain.

"You want coffee?" Kyle asked, breaking the silence.

Lucas smiled tiredly, his voice playful. "Sure, but I don't know if the machine survived."

Kyle paused, guilt flashing in his eyes. "Let me see what we've got."

He slowly rose, wincing as he moved to the kitchen. The sounds of rummaging echoed through the room. Lucas stayed in bed, savoring Kyle's cologne's warmth and faint scent.

Kyle's voice called back, slightly distressed. "We'll have to order something."

Lucas chuckled. "First chaos, now takeout? We're spoiled, huh?"

"Hey, a man's gotta have priorities," Kyle shot back, his tone resigned, making Lucas smile despite everything.

Lucas stood, the weight of their recent struggles still heavy in his mind. "I'm coming."

Kyle returned; his posture was heavy with responsibility. "You don't have to. I'll clean; you rest."

Lucas tilted his head, concern in his eyes. "I don't think that'll work. It's a war zone out there."

Kyle gently pushed him back to the bed, a caring gesture mixed with guilt. "I'll take care of it. You rest or help once you've showered and cleaned your wounds."

Lucas stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over him, washing away the lingering ache of the previous days. As the steam enveloped him, he traced his fingers over his skin. His brow furrowed when he noticed something odd—bruises that had been deep yesterday were now faint smudges, nearly gone. He paused, staring at his reflection in the fogged-up glass.

"This isn't normal," he thought unrelentingly. His mind flashed back to moments with Kyle—how he had placed a hand over Lilith's injuries in the dream and the strange sensation that followed. "Did Kyle do something to me?" The idea sent a ripple of unease through him, mingling with reluctant gratitude.

As he dried off, his hands brushed the necklace still hanging around his neck. The cool metal against his fingertips brought a moment of clarity. It wasn't the gift that unnerved him—it was the unspoken depth of what it might signify. Had Kyle given it to him as a gesture of trust, or was it something else? Lucas's eyes lingered on its faint glow, suspicion intertwining with curiosity.

The questions weighed on him now, louder than before. "What else hasn't he told me?"

Determined, Lucas squared his shoulders and headed to the living room. The faint sound of rustling greeted him as he stepped in. Kyle knelt amidst the wreckage, his movements methodical but strained. He picked up torn fragments of what once seemed like a book and then shifted to a broken lamp, his fingers lingering briefly on its jagged edge before setting it aside.

Lucas lingered in the doorway, watching. Kyle's posture carried a heavy weight—a tension etched into the line of his shoulders and the slight droop of his head. The scene was quiet, save for the soft clatter of debris. For a moment, Lucas didn't know whether to speak or let the silence stretch. Kyle didn't look up, his focus on the task, but something about his movements—an undercurrent of guilt and restlessness—made Lucas's chest tighten.

Taking a step closer, Lucas finally broke the silence. "You don't have to do all of this alone."

Kyle stilled, his hand mid-reach, before glancing over his shoulder. His eyes met Lucas's, a flicker of relief and uncertainty passing through them.

Lucas frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "Don't we have a magic broom or something? Is scrubbing our grand next step?" His voice carried a mix of curiosity and frustration, his eyes sweeping over the debris-strewn floor.

Kyle crouched near the remnants of a shattered ceramic mug and glanced up briefly. The faint smell of smoke from the previous day still hung in the air, adding to the room's disarray. "If I could wave my hand and fix this, believe me, I would," he said, straightening with a tired smile. "But magic doesn't work like that. Not for this kind of mess, anyway."

Lucas tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "What about teleportation? You know, poof—the trash disappears?"

Kyle chuckled softly, tossing the shards into a small box. "That's just passing the problem to someone else. Teleportation spells burn a lot of power, and honestly? They're overrated for cleanup duty."

Lucas frowned, his brow furrowing as he weighed Kyle's words. A memory of his grandmother's stories surfaced—tales of mountain spirits, shape-shifting foxes, and the whispers of the wind carrying messages across the Andean peaks. There was power in those folktales, raw and unexplainable, but none of them involved objects flying through the air or people vanishing in a puff of smoke. The magic she spoke of had been subtler, woven into the earth, the rivers, and the skies. He crossed his arms again, his tone curious but skeptical.

Lucas leaned against the wall, his arms dropping to his sides. "So no telekinesis either?" His tone was lighter now, more teasing than frustrated, though his eyes stayed fixed on Kyle. His mind was already dismissing the idea. It didn't fit the kind of magic he'd grown up hearing about, the type that was more about harmony and connection than flashy tricks. Still, something in Kyle's smirk made him want to push a little further.

Kyle shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint. Unless you're okay with me burning everything in sight, technically, it'd be clean..." He trailed off with a smirk, but his gaze lingered on Lucas, gauging his reaction.

Lucas rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. "Fine, no fire. I'll just grab a broom like a mortal, then."

Kyle picked up a bag from the counter and held it out. "Food came. Ham or tuna?"

Lucas blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the abrupt shift in conversation. "Ham, thanks," he replied, taking the offered sandwich. He sat down on the couch, nibbling thoughtfully as Kyle returned to cleaning.

Silence settled between them for a while, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of debris. Lucas's gaze wandered to the charred remains of a bookshelf in the corner. "You know," he began slowly, his voice more reflective, "for someone who can snap their fingers and summon fire, you don't talk much about how it all works."

Kyle paused mid-motion, a faint tension creeping into his posture. "Magic isn't always the answer," he said carefully, straightening to meet Lucas's gaze. "Sometimes, it's better to let things be."

Lucas set his sandwich aside, his expression growing serious. "That's not what I asked, Kyle. I'm not talking about shortcuts, just about magic in general. Where does it come from? How does it... work?"

Kyle chewed on his sandwich, his gaze distant as he sifted through his thoughts for the right words. A faint crunch echoed as he shifted his weight, the debris on the apartment floor fracturing beneath his step. He wasn't sure if his complicated past would cause Lucas' rejection, with so many stories about him being responsible for many of the world's evils that he was terrified. He clenched his fists. Maybe Lucas would leave him after all.