Psylocke Vol 2 Ch 14: The Next Day, The Look Of Fear!

The sunlight spilled into the room like a golden flood, pooling across the floor and climbing up the walls to illuminate the towering ceiling. Tristan lay on the pillow, his body sinking slightly into the soft fabric. To anyone who might've glanced at him, he was a fragile, emaciated figure, more shadow than substance. He stared up at the impossibly high ceiling, wondering how he had made it through the night.

"D-dang," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. "I didn't think I'd survive."

He turned his head, his eyes landing on Grace's face. Even in sleep, her features were serene, her lips slightly parted, her dark lashes resting gently against her cheeks. To him, she was a goddess—an enormous, breathtaking goddess. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, each inhale and exhale reminding him just how small and fragile he was in comparison.

Tristan's thoughts wandered back to their childhood. Grace had been different back then—smaller, of course, and much more emotional. Man, she used to cry over everything, he thought with a chuckle. He could vividly remember the time she bawled her eyes out when she dropped her ice cream cone or how she sniffled for hours after getting a single splinter.

"Who would've thought she'd grow into... this?" he whispered, his gaze tracing her jawline. Grace wasn't just physically unrecognizable; she was responsible, composed, and... elegant. But there was another side to her—a side he remembered well.

Tristan shivered slightly as he recalled her terrifying glare. It wasn't something she showed often, but when someone pushed her buttons, it was like staring into the eyes of a predator. He didn't understand it back then, but now he wondered, What could give a person such a look?

"What look?"

Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he flinched, his eyes snapping to her half-lidded gaze. Grace was awake, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.

"G-good morning!" Tristan stammered, his heart racing as he tried to mask his shock with a forced grin.

Grace arched a brow and smirked. "Hey, don't change the subject." She reached over and gently poked him on the head with her fingertip, the gesture playful yet powerful enough to make him stagger.

Tristan scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "It's nothing! Seriously." The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was scared of her.

Grace pouted, sticking out her bottom lip in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "Come on... tell me," she whined, her tone dripping with mock hurt.

Before Tristan could answer, Grace sat up, her sudden movement sending ripples through the mattress. Tristan yelped as the shift in weight launched him a few inches into the air. He landed back on the pillow with a soft thump, thankfully unharmed.

"Geez, warn me next time!" he said, brushing himself off.

Grace giggled, brushing her hair out of her face as she leaned down closer to him. But before she could press him further, a thunderous boom boom boom echoed through the room, each knock rattling the walls and floor like a miniature earthquake.

Tristan turned his head toward the massive door at the far end of the room, miles away by his reckoning. His heart skipped a beat as the door creaked open, revealing a towering figure peeking in.

"Hello? Are you guys up?"

The voice was deep yet feminine, smooth as silk and accompanied by a gust of wind that rustled Tristan's hair. Zuri Brooks stepped into the room, her immense form blocking out a significant portion of the sunlight streaming through the window. Her brown skin seemed to glow in the morning light, and her long, dark hair framed her striking face.

Tristan could only gape as the Brob entered, her footsteps shaking the floor with every step. The sheer scale of her was overwhelming, and even though he'd seen Brobs before, it was always a reminder of how small he truly was.

Grace's expression remained calm, a soft smile gracing her lips as she reached down to scoop Tristan up. Her fingers wrapped gently around him, her touch steady and comforting. Tristan clung to her thumb as she lifted him to her shoulder, allowing him to grab hold of a strand of her hair for balance.

As Zuri approached the bed, she dropped to her knees, the impact sending another shockwave through the room. Her enormous knees landed just a few hundred yards away from the bed's edge—at least, that's how it felt to Tristan.

"Good morning," Zuri said, her voice warm but commanding. Her dark eyes scanned the room before settling on Grace.

Grace stood up, her posture confident and composed. "Good morning," she replied, her voice steady. Tristan marveled at her poise. She didn't flinch, didn't waver, even in the presence of someone as imposing as Zuri.

Tristan, on the other hand, wasn't so sure Zuri even knew he was there. He doubted she could see him from her vantage point. To her, he was probably no more than a speck.

Zuri smiled, her towering presence somehow less intimidating as her expression softened. "I was sent to bring you to the dining room," she said, her tone polite but firm. "It's time to discuss Tristan's training."

Grace nodded, glancing briefly at Tristan on her shoulder. "Of course."

Tristan groaned internally, gripping her hair a little tighter. "Oh boy," he muttered under his breath. Training. That word never sounded fun. Whatever was waiting for him in that dining room, he had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to be easy.