Chapter 1 – The Warden’s Burden

I’m a tutor at a prison for interdimensional monsters.

Sounds insane, right? Because it totally is. These things are crazy powerful, the kind of entities that could level cities if they sneezed wrong. My job is keeping track of what they can do, what they can’t do, and making sure the “can’t” list stays longer than the “can” list. The kicker? I’m immune to all of them. Every single reality-warping, mind-melting trick they’ve got bounces off me like water off glass.

That immunity came from my dad.

He was patient zero, the first “prisoner” we ever had. I use quotes because calling him a prisoner is like calling the ocean damp. He turned himself in out of pure boredom, showed up at the facility one day and asked if we had a cell with a view. Now he does whatever he wants, goes wherever he wants, and the higher-ups pretend they’re in control. They gave him privileges because what else could they do?

I inherited his powers, which made me the perfect candidate for this job.

The only guard who can actually handle the inmates without getting vaporized or driven mad. Lucky me. So here I am, walking down Cellblock Seven at the end of another shift, ready to close up shop on the most obsessive prisoner in the entire facility.

Her name is Thalia.

At least that’s what she calls herself now. Her real name has like forty-seven syllables and makes your ears bleed if you hear it spoken aloud. Thalia works better anyway. Easier to remember, easier to say, and it doesn’t make the walls crack when I call her for checkup.

I stopped outside her cell and felt that familiar pressure against my skull.

The kind of psychic weight that would crush a normal person’s mind into paste. For me it’s just uncomfortable, like wearing a too-tight hat. Her cell isn’t like the others. We built it special, all reinforced titanium and reality anchors drilled into every surface. The door has seventeen different locking mechanisms, each one layered with wards that could contain a minor god.

None of that actually keeps her inside though.

What keeps Thalia in her cell is me. Or more specifically, her obsession with me. She could break out whenever she wanted, tear through those walls like tissue paper. But she stays because leaving means I’d have to chase her down, and chasing means less time visiting. She did the math and decided voluntary containment was the better deal.

Obsessive doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You’re late.”

Her voice drifted through the reinforced door, smooth and rich like honey over broken glass. I checked my watch. Two minutes past usual rounds. Of course she noticed.

“Traffic was bad.”

“We’re in an underground facility in the middle of nowhere.”

I smiled despite myself.

“Metaphorical traffic.”

The locks disengaged one by one, heavy chunks of metal sliding back with mechanical precision. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cell was bigger than most, decorated like some kind of twisted luxury apartment. She’d requisitioned furniture, books, even plants that probably shouldn’t exist in this dimension. Pale blue flowers with too many petals grew from pots in the corner, their leaves moving independent of any breeze.

Thalia stood in the center of the room, waiting.

She looked human mostly, if you didn’t look too close. Tall, easily six feet, with curves that seemed designed to draw your eye and keep it there. Her skin had this faint luminescent quality, like moonlight on deep water. Long black hair fell past her waist in waves that moved wrong, each strand shifting and curling like it was alive. Her eyes were the real giveaway though. Emerald green with flecks of gold, sure, but if you stared too long you’d see things in those eyes. Vast things. Ancient things. The kind of cosmic horror that made people go mad.

She wore a black dress that hugged every curve, the fabric some material I couldn’t identify.

It shifted between solid and semi-transparent depending on the angle, showing glimpses of pale skin beneath. The neckline plunged low enough to be dangerous, and the hem ended high on her thighs. She knew exactly what she looked like and wielded it like a weapon.

“Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds late.”

She moved closer, her bare feet silent on the floor. Each step was deliberate, hips swaying in a way that seemed almost hypnotic. I’d built up immunity to her psychic influence but she still tried physical tactics.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you?”

She stopped inches away, close enough that I could feel the unnatural cold radiating from her skin. Her hand reached up to trace my jaw, fingers trailing along my cheek. Contact with her always felt strange, like touching ice that somehow burned.

“I always do.”

“You could make it up to me by staying longer tonight.”

I stepped back gently, putting distance between us.

“You know the rules.”

Her expression shifted, that perfect face showing something almost like hurt. Almost. With Thalia you could never be completely sure what was real emotion and what was calculated manipulation. She’d been playing mind games since before human civilization existed.

“I hate the rules.”

“The rules keep everyone safe.”

“I don’t want everyone safe. I want you here.”

She moved to her couch, a ridiculous velvet thing she’d somehow convinced the warden to approve. When she sat down, the dress rode up even higher on her thighs. Definitely deliberate. Everything with Thalia was deliberate.

“You had me here for the last hour. Standard checkup, remember?”

“An hour isn’t enough. It’s never enough.”

I’d heard this argument before, probably a hundred times.

“Tomorrow I’ll be back.”

“Tomorrow is eternities away for someone who’s existed as long as I have. Every second without you feels like drowning in the void.”

Dramatic much? Yeah, that was Thalia in a nutshell. Every conversation felt like a scene from some tragic romance. Except the romance was entirely one-sided and the tragedy was my headache from dealing with her.

“You’re being dramatic again.”

She laughed, the sound rolling through the cell like distant thunder.

“I’m always dramatic, darling. It’s part of my charm.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“You like my charm. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Honestly? Sometimes I did. Thalia was exhausting but never boring. Every conversation was a verbal chess match, every interaction loaded with subtext and hidden meanings. It kept me sharp at least.

“I like when you behave and follow protocol.”

“Liar.”

She stood again, crossing the room to a bookshelf. Her fingers traced the spines, each one a tome of forbidden knowledge or ancient text. She pulled one down, some massive leather-bound thing with symbols that hurt to look at.

“I’ve been reading about human courtship rituals. Fascinating stuff.”

Oh no.

“Thalia.”

“Did you know humans give each other flowers? How quaint. Should I manifest some for you?”

“Please don’t manifest anything.”

“What about chocolates? I could create chocolates. Mine would be better than human ones obviously. Infused with just a touch of cosmic essence.”

“That sounds like a health code violation.”

She turned to face me, hugging the book to her chest. The movement pressed her breasts together in a way that was absolutely intentional. Her smile was pure mischief.

“You’re no fun sometimes.”

“I’m plenty fun. Just not that kind of fun.”

“We could change that.”

I shook my head, fighting back a smile.

“Not happening.”

“You say that now, but I’m patient. I’ve waited eons before. I can wait for you.”

That was the thing about Thalia. Her obsession wasn’t some passing fancy. She’d literally wait forever if she thought it would work. Something about me had caught her attention when I first started working here, some quality she found irresistible. She’d explained it once using metaphors about cosmic resonance and compatible frequencies. I’d nodded along while understanding maybe ten percent.

“You should save your energy for tomorrow’s session.”

“Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“Evaluation day. The board wants updated reports on all prisoners.”

Her expression darkened, eyes flashing with something dangerous.

“They’re not evaluating me. They’re looking for excuses to separate us.”

“Nobody’s separating anyone.”

“They think I’m too attached. I’ve heard them talking.”

I didn’t bother asking how she’d heard them. Thalia had ways of knowing things she shouldn’t. Probably some kind of cosmic awareness thing that let her eavesdrop across dimensions.

“You are too attached. That’s literally the problem.”

“It’s not a problem for me.”

“It’s a problem for the facility guidelines.”

She set the book down hard enough to make the shelf rattle.

“I don’t care about their guidelines. I care about you.”

“Thalia.”

“Don’t. Don’t use that voice like you’re trying to calm a child. I’m older than your entire species.”

Fair point actually.

“Then act like it.”

“I am acting exactly as I should. You’re mine. I claimed you the moment we met.”

“You can’t claim people.”

“I just did.”

We’d hit the circular argument part of the conversation. This was usually where I started wrapping things up before she escalated from possessive to potentially dangerous. Not dangerous to me specifically, but dangerous to the facility integrity.

“I need to finish rounds.”

“Of course you do. Off to see the others.”

The jealousy in her voice was thick enough to cut.

“It’s my job.”

“Your job. Right. Tell me, do you spend this long talking to the others?”

“Depends on the day.”

“Do you smile at them the way you smile at me?”

I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling.

“Thalia, this isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t care about healthy. I care about you.”

She was in front of me again, moving faster than physics should allow. Her hands pressed against my chest, fingers splaying over my heart. I could feel the cold seeping through my uniform.

“One more minute. Give me one more minute.”

“You’ve had your time for today.”

“Please.”

That word sounded wrong coming from her. Ancient cosmic entities didn’t beg. They didn’t plead. But Thalia’s obsession made her do things that went against her nature. Made her vulnerable in ways that were probably dangerous for something that powerful.

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

She leaned in close, lips nearly brushing my ear.

“I’ll hold you to that promise. And one day you’ll understand. One day you’ll feel the same way I do.”

“We both know that’s not happening.”

“Never say never, darling.”

I stepped back toward the door. She didn’t follow, just stood there looking gorgeous and dangerous and completely unhinged. The perfect summary of Thalia in one image.

“Behave yourself tonight.”

“No promises.”

I pulled the door closed, listening to the seventeen locks engage one by one. Through the reinforced metal, I heard her voice, soft and carrying.

“I love you.”

I didn’t respond. Never did. Encouraging her would only make things worse.

The hallway felt warmer after leaving her cell, less oppressive. I rolled my shoulders, working out the tension that always built up during Thalia visits. One down, several more to go. The day wasn’t over yet.

My next stop was Loki’s containment area.

The goddess of mischief was a completely different kind of problem.