The coffee mug exploded.
Just... exploded. One second I was holding it, thinking about how Monday mornings were terrible even when you weren’t magically married to a demon, and the next second ceramic shards were flying everywhere and hot coffee was dripping down my shirt.
"What the hell?" I stared at my hands, which were completely unhard despite just detonating pottery with my bare palms.
This was Tuesday morning, three days after the poison incident, three days of steadily increasing weirdness.
It had started small. The bathroom light flickering when I walked in, my phone screen cracking for no reason, that weird mont when I swore my reflection in the mirror moved independently.
But this was the first ti I’d actually destroyed sothing.
"Riven?" Azryth’s voice from his office. "What just broke?"
"Nothing!" I called back, already grabbing paper towels. "Everything’s fine!"
Everything was not fine.
I cleaned up the ceramic shrapnel and coffee, trying not to think about the fact that I’d apparently developed spontaneous object-exploding powers. This was fine, totally normal, just another side effect of being bound to an infernal entity.
I was pouring a new cup of coffee, very carefully, with extre ntal focus on not exploding anything, when I noticed the problem.
The sugar container was floating.
Not a lot. Maybe three inches off the counter, just... hovering there like gravity was a suggestion rather than a law.
"Oh no," I whispered.
The sugar container bobbed slightly, like it was responding to my attention.
"No. Down, get down."
It rose another inch.
"I said DOWN."
The container shot across the kitchen, hit the wall, and exploded in a cloud of white powder.
Azryth appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene: covered in coffee, sugar coating half the kitchen like soone had detonated a snow globe.
"You’re having power flares," he said calmly.
"I’m having a breakdown!"
"Sa thing, in this context." He moved into the kitchen, completely unbothered by the disaster zone. "The fire extraction accelerated your power developnt, your body is trying to process infernal energy it’s not equipped to handle."
"So I’m going to keep exploding things?"
"Until you learn control, yes." He grabbed a kitchen towel, wiped sugar off the counter. "Which is why we’re starting training tonight."
"Training."
"Mandatory training sessions, every night until you can go twenty-four hours without destroying household objects." He looked at . "Or did you want to explain to your coworkers why their desks spontaneously combusted?"
***
Work was a nightmare.
I spent the entire day in a state of high alert, terrified that I might accidentally levitate soone’s stapler or explode their computer monitor.
The spirits didn’t help. They were everywhere now, drawn to my increasingly unstable energy signature like moths to a very anxious fla. They circled my cubicle in a constant rotation, reaching out with wispy hands, their attention only making my concentration worse.
"Stop touching ," I hissed at one that got too close.
"Riven?" Tom from IT was standing at my cubicle entrance, looking concerned. "Who are you talking to?"
"Myself. Very loudly." I forced a smile. "Helps focus."
"Right." He didn’t look convinced. "Well, Karen wants to see you in her office."
Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
Karen’s office was a shrine to corporate diocrity. Motivational posters, photos of her with various minor celebrities, a coffee mug that said "BOSS LADY" in aggressive pink letters.
"Riven!" She gestured to a chair. "Sit, sit. How are you adjusting? To married life?"
"Fine, great, never better."
"Wonderful! Because I wanted to talk to you about an opportunity." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "We’re pitching to Valek Industries next month, and major contract. And I thought, who better to give us the inside track than soone with direct access to the CEO?"
Oh no.
"I don’t think that would be appropriate," I said carefully.
"Nonsense! It’s just dinner. You, , a few key team mbers, and your husband." She said ’husband’ with way too much emphasis. "Very casual, a chance for us to present our proposal in a relaxed setting."
"Azryth doesn’t really do casual dinners."
"I’m sure he’d make an exception for his spouse’s colleagues." She smiled. Shark-like. "It would an so much to the team, and of course, your cooperation would be noted during performance reviews."
There it was, the threat wrapped in corporate-speak.
"I’ll ask him," I lied. "But I can’t make promises."
"That’s all I ask!" She stood, clearly dismissing . "Think about it, this could be very good for your career here."
I left her office feeling queasy, the idea of forcing Azryth to sit through a dinner with my colleagues so they could pitch business ideas was horrifying on multiple levels.
I was so distracted by the conversation that I didn’t notice my phone levitating out of my pocket until Sarah shrieked.
"RIVEN! Your phone!"
I grabbed it out of the air, shoving it back in my pocket. "Static electricity. Very dry in here."
"That’s not how static electricity works!"
"Science is weird!" I practically ran back to my cubicle.
Two more hours, I just needed to survive two more hours without causing a supernatural incident.
I made it ninety minutes before my computer monitor started glowing.
Not normal screen-glow, actual glowing, like sothing inside it was on fire.
I slapped the power button, the monitor shut off imdiately, but I could still see the glow behind the darkened screen getting brighter.
"No no no no no," I muttered, pressing buttons randomly.
The monitor exploded.
Not with fire, with light, pure white light that erupted from the screen, filled my cubicle, and sent everyone nearby diving for cover.
When the light faded, my monitor was a smoking husk and I was sitting there with my hands still on the keyboard, trying very hard to look like this was absolutely not my fault.
"Gas leak!" soone shouted.
"Everyone evacuate!"
"Call the fire departnt!"
In the chaos, I texted Azryth with shaking hands.
*I exploded my computer monitor at work.*
*Coming to get you.*
*No I can finish the day I’m fine*
*You just detonated office equipnt, you’re not finishing the day, I’m sending the car.*
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