The sun shone high. Its rays slid across the floor and touched the edge of the bed. The room smelled faintly of herbal infusions.
Roxy lay motionless; bandages covered her chest and shoulders. It was clear the skin beneath them moved unevenly, each breath coming with effort. Patches of dried sweat clung to her temples. Tangled blue hair stuck to her skin.
The room held silence. Only breathing could be heard.
"Khah!"
The silence broke. A thin sound tore from Roxy's throat. Her body twitched, her hands tugging at the bandages.
She breathed louder now. Each inhale carried a tremor.
A second later the wind strengthened. The fabric on the window thrashed, striking the ledge. Light on the wall shifted. Yellow stripes flickered, darkened, then filled with red. A bloody glow crawled across the room.
Roxy drew in a shaking breath. Her body trembled, shoulders arching. A flash struck the glass. For a heartbeat everything went violet.
The light went out. For a moment the walls dimmed. Then flared again.
Her pupils shrank from the harsh brightness. She jerked upright, fingers digging into the sheets. Blood surged to her face. A moment later everything stopped. The curtain stilled. Ordinary shadows lay on the floor. The wind died. The room returned to normal, as if it had always been that way.
"Oh? You woke up?" a voice asked calmly, without surprise.
Zenith held a small vial, the light passing through the glass tinting her fingers a faint bluish color.
Roxy blinked. She tried to speak, but only a rasp escaped.
Zenith tilted her head slightly, studying her.
"Don't talk… Not yet."
In a swift motion she was at the bed. Roxy drank the vial, winced a little, and turned her head with effort. Her lips trembled, her voice rasping but holding a familiar note.
"Of course I'm alive. How else would I be sitting?"
Zenith looked at her without a smile.
"You weren't just lying here. That state doesn't leave chances. But you crawled back out. Lucky, huh?"
She set the bottle at the edge of the table.
"I don't understand how you even survived what happened to you."
Zenith bent toward the table. Traces of the infusion darkened the skin near her nails. She took a flask, lifted it to the light, turned it. The liquid inside slid slowly down the walls, leaving a dull track. She brought it closer to her eyes, examined it, then set it down and picked up another.
Roxy watched without lifting her head. Her brows twitched slightly, her lips trying to shape a smile.
"Checking if I'm really alive," she breathed hoarsely. "Or afraid I'll get up and run?"
Zenith didn't reply. She opened a stopper, sniffed it, then dripped a bit onto the bandage.
"If you run, I won't go looking," she said calmly. "I'm not chasing a corpse."
Zenith turned slightly and smiled.
Roxy smirked, but it turned into a cough. Zenith poured something, handed her a cup, then returned to the flasks.
"At least warn me if you decide to die today," she added. "I'll write it in the log and use your body."
"?.."
Roxy drank a sip, confused. Her throat burned, her eyes narrowed.
"You're as kind as ever," she said. "Almost felt cared for."
"Don't confuse it with pity," Zenith replied. "I just don't like wasted patients."
"What are you even talking about?"
But Zenith stayed silent.
Roxy lowered her gaze. Warmth slipped through her fingers, and with it came fragments. Noise, a flash, a rumble. Then darkness and a voice, torn and stumbling.
"If not for him…" she whispered. "I wouldn't be here."
Zenith lifted her eyes from the table. A nod. No emotion, only confirmation.
"He pulled you out," she said. "Carried you home himself. And healed you so well I didn't believe at first he did it."
Roxy frowned, trying to recall.
"He… used healing?"
Zenith nodded.
"Yes. I taught him myself. The Church would burn me for that, but at the time there was no choice."
Roxy raised a brow slightly. A faint hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
"So you broke the law and saved two people at once. Practically a saint."
Zenith didn't answer, only glanced at her.
"If not for that," Roxy continued, "you'd be fussing over two corpses. So you did the right thing."
Zenith looked away slightly.
Roxy watched her. For a moment it seemed her features trembled. Zenith bit her lip, though her gaze stayed steady.
Roxy frowned.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
No answer.
"Zenith?" she repeated more quietly. "Did I say too much?"
Silence. Only the faint scrape of glass as Zenith set a flask onto the table.
"Hey…" Roxy's voice grew tense. "Where's Rudy?"
Zenith turned to her, movements calm.
"He's here."
Roxy blinked, then exhaled, shoulders dropping.
"Don't scare me like that," she said. "After everything, I don't need a heart attack too."
Roxy looked around. The room seemed different.
"Did you renovate?" she asked, slowly shifting her gaze to Zenith.
Zenith shrugged. No explanation, just a movement, as if the question wasn't worth answering.
Roxy frowned. Unease crept in.
"Rudy is here?" she asked after a pause. "In the house?"
Zenith shook her head.
Roxy's heart clenched. Her fingers trembled against the blanket.
"He's here," Zenith said. Her voice was flat, emotionless.
Roxy flinched.
"What do you mean 'here'?" She looked around the room, her gaze darting to every corner. Table, bed, wardrobe. Empty. "There's no one here!"
Zenith shook her head. She bent down and pulled out a small box from under the table. The wood had darkened with age, a thin crack running across the lid.
"Right here," she said calmly.
Roxy froze. For several seconds she simply stared at Zenith, then at the box.
"This… is a joke, right?" she asked slowly. "Tell me it's a joke."
Zenith didn't reply. She just ran her palm over the lid.
"This isn't funny!" Roxy said. "You're scaring me."
Zenith stayed silent. She set the box on the bed so it sat right in front of Roxy.
"Open it," she said quietly.
Roxy didn't move. Her fingers shook.
"I'm not going to," she breathed.
Zenith didn't look away.
"Open it."
"What are y—"
"Open it."
Roxy pressed her lips together. She sat still for a few seconds, then slowly reached for the lid.
Click.
The lid rose.
"Fuck!"
She screamed. The lid slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
Inside the box—flesh, uneven pieces of tissue, and among them a head.
Rudy.
Eyes open but lifeless. Sclera bloodshot. Skin gray and pale, lips parted.
Roxy recoiled, gripping the blanket.
"What the hell is this?!" she shouted.
The head slowly turned. The lips twitched. A hoarse, dry voice crawled out:
"Don't… leave…"
"A—aaah!"
Roxy jerked back, pressing against the wall. Her heart pounded, breath breaking. She couldn't look away.
"Zenith…" her voice trembled. "What is… what did you do?"
Zenith stood beside her, unmoving. Her face blank.
The head stirred in the box. Muscles in the neck jerked, a thin line of dark fluid trailing down the temple.
"Roxy…" it whispered. "I didn't… make it…"
Roxy gripped the bedframe. Tears welled but wouldn't fall.
"Shut up," she breathed. "This isn't real."
The lips moved again. Teeth scraped, as if someone forced words through agony.
"I'm… alive… help me…"
Roxy shook her head.
"No…" she whispered. "That's not him! That can't be him!"
Zenith stepped closer, placing her palm on the lid.
"What's wrong?" she said softly. "He's alive. Right here."
Roxy stared at her.
"You're insane!"
"I preserved what I could."
Roxy stopped. The words wouldn't form meaning. Zenith stood closer now. No warmth, no familiar tiredness. Only strange calm.
"What do you mean 'preserved'?" Roxy whispered. "What are you saying?"
Zenith leaned down and pulled a knife from behind her back. The blade glimmered dully.
"We were fragmented," she said. "Each alone. Pain, death, mistakes. Now it ends. We'll become one."
Roxy shook her head.
"You're… not well." Her voice trembled, hands gripping the blanket. "Zenith, put the knife down."
Roxy scrambled back, but there was nowhere to go.
"Don't come closer…"
Zenith stepped forward.
"You don't need to be afraid," she said softly. "We've been apart too long. It ends when we become one body."
A chill ran down Roxy's spine. The knife reflected violet light. The blade moved slowly, with precise certainty.
Zenith advanced without a sound. Metal flashed. The blade pierced her abdomen.
"A-aaah!"
Pain surged. Everything flared. Tightened. Her stomach tore open.
Bang!
Roxy bolted upright. But her legs tangled in the sheets, her body tipping forward. The room blurred and she fell with a loud thud.
Her breath scattered, her ears rang. Her gaze darted around, but everything was a smear.
Roxy blinked several times, trying to grasp where she was.
"It's… a dream! Creator damn it… fuck…"
The words escaped on their own. Roxy clung to the bedframe. Her heart raced.
The world slowly reassembled. The room became real. Roxy sat for several seconds without moving. The ringing lingered. A tight ache pressed at her temples.
She looked around.
The room was the same. No blood, no knife. Everything in its place. Roxy exhaled deeper. Her ribs ached but she could breathe. She looked down—the bandages were intact, the skin beneath warm, uncut. Her fingers brushed her belly. No wounds. Only firm wrappings.
Then she turned to the table. Her gaze lowered beneath it. Where the box should be—nothing.
She stared without blinking.
"Haaah… So just a dream…"
Roxy collapsed onto her back. For a moment she couldn't believe it was over. Her heart still raced, her thoughts scattering. Slowly she steadied her breath. The fear ebbed, leaving exhaustion.
Creaaak.
The door creaked, sound rippling through the room. Roxy moved, then lifted her head from the pillow. Her vision still foggy, but the movement of the door snapped her alert.
Zenith appeared in the doorway.
She froze, holding the doorframe. Surprise flickered across her face, then vanished.
"Oh? You… woke up?" she said quietly.
"…looks like it?.."
Zenith stepped closer. Bottles clinked on the tray in her hands, one knocking against another.
Roxy still felt the tremor in her body, as if the dream clung to her, refusing to release her fully. She watched Zenith carefully, searching for any trace of the nightmare. But before her stood the usual Zenith.
"Don't stare," Zenith said, cutting off her gaze. She set the tray on the table and took a dark bottle. "You were out almost two days. Your condition was… let's say hopeless. It's a miracle you're breathing."
"It's not letting go," Roxy exhaled. "Dreams like that make you want to hang yourself."
She lifted the bottle, sniffed it. A sour smell hit her nose. She didn't like it.
"What's this?" Roxy asked, examining the murky liquid.
"Medicine," Zenith answered simply. "It'll help you recover faster."
Roxy narrowed her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching.
"Or maybe you're trying to finish me off? Free up some space?"
Zenith frowned.
"Very funny." No hint of a smile in her voice. "Drink while it's warm."
Roxy sighed and took a gulp. Her face twisted, jaw clenched, eyes watered.
"Creator," she gasped, "couldn't make it any sourer?"
Zenith shrugged.
"But it works… You could at least say thank you," Zenith said, moving bottles back to the tray. "People treat you like a duke's daughter. If not for Rudy, you'd be gone. He's the one who pulled you out."
Roxy froze as a fragment of the dream flashed—blood, a flash, a box. She shook her head, driving it off.
"Where is he?.." she asked softly. "Is he alright?"
Zenith looked up. For several seconds she just stared, unblinking.
"…why are you silent?!"
The pause stretched, panic rising inside Roxy.
"Of course," Zenith finally said. "He's strong. What could be wrong with him?"
Roxy exhaled loudly, shoulders relaxing.
"Where is he now?" she asked more calmly. "In the house? Or by the tree again?"
Zenith didn't answer. She only turned slightly and stared at Roxy's abdomen, at the tight bandages.
The silence thickened. Roxy opened her mouth to ask what she was staring at—but didn't have time.
Something moved beneath the skin.
A wave rippled from the center of her belly to her side.
Her body trembled. Words stuck in her throat. Roxy slowly lowered her gaze. The bandages shifted as if something beneath them was moving.
"Undo them," Zenith said quietly.
A faint uneven wheeze came from beneath the bandages as if something foreign had opened inside her. Her chest went cold.
Inhale. Exhale.
She froze. Her eyes locked on her belly. The bandages rose slightly, as if something under them was breathing. Roxy whimpered, but no sound came.
Her fingers twitched. Then again. And then began to move—slow, guided by a will not her own. Roxy tried to pull them back, but her muscles wouldn't obey.
Her nails hooked the edge of the cloth. The knot tightened. The fabric yielded, darkening with moisture.
Inhale. Exhale.
Roxy's breaths turned rapid. She had no air. She watched the bandages slide down, exposing skin. Something moved beneath it, pulsing, breathing harder.
The wheeze repeated. Roxy tried to speak, but her lips wouldn't move. All she could do was drag in air and force it out.
The last bandage slipped off.
"Here's our Rudy," Zenith said. Her voice calm, almost gentle. "See? He's just fine."
Roxy looked down.
On her stomach—a face.
Human.
The skin stretched, blood seeping along the seams. Where a nose should be—a hollow. Green eyes darted beneath a thin membrane, unblinking. The mouth opened and moved, silently, like a fish. Then a faint moan broke through, shifting into frantic murmuring.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Roxy couldn't control her breathing anymore, gasping in ragged bursts.
She recoiled, but the wall stopped her. Her lips trembled. Terror pressed into every limb.
"…Ze-nith…" she whispered.
Panic hit like a blow. She shook her head, unable to tear her gaze from the face on her belly.
A shriek.
The mouth tore wide, splitting to the cheeks, the skin cracking. A sharp, scraping sound ripped out, like a fork dragged across a plate. The room trembled. Bottles clattered on the table, one falling and shattering.
"A-AAAH!"
Roxy screamed with it, but heard nothing of her own voice. Everything melded into one howl. She tried to cover her ears, but her hands didn't obey, her fingers shaking as if something inside pulled them back toward the face.
***
I set the tray on the table. A few vials of tinctures, a handful of dried herbs, bandages, scissors—everything I put out for this idiot every single day. Two weeks now she's been lying here without moving, and I keep wasting strength, time, and medicine on her, medicine that costs more than this whole house.
Funny. Saving someone only to watch them rot slowly, beautifully, and uselessly.
I gripped the edge of the tray so I wouldn't start swearing out loud. Stupid creature. Annoying as hell. Healing magic drains you; it makes your bones ache and your head go hollow. Creator, how I wait for the moment she finally wakes up… I'd strangle her myself.
I exhaled, checked the stoppers on the vials. Everything ready. All that remained was for this squeezed-out husk to decide she'd slept enough.
I sighed, picked up the tray, and headed upstairs. The stairs creaked under my feet, dust clung to the railing even though Lili had wiped it yesterday. I stopped at the door to the room, knocked out of habit, and pushed it open. Silence, only the faint smell of herbs and medicine soaked into the walls.
Roxy lay on the bed, as always. Wrapped in bandages. Hard to tell if she was breathing at all, only an occasional twitch of her shoulder. I sighed again. Probably from habit more than exhaustion. I approached the table and set the tray down. Glass clinked, a couple of bottles swayed.
Roxy jerked. At first barely, then harder. The sheet crumpled beneath her, the bandages tightened, her body arched. Sweat beaded on her neck, slid across her collarbone. Her breathing broke, tearing in ragged bursts like a drowned woman missing her final gulps of air.
"What now!" I exhaled sharply, turning around.
I stepped toward her, ready to shake her awake, but in that moment—I saw it. In the corner where a sunbeam touched the wall, something flickered. First just a glint, then an outline. A ghostly figure, almost transparent, like a reflection on water. You could miss it entirely if you didn't know where to look.
But I knew.
Years of temple training weren't for nothing.
I straightened slowly. My lips curled into a smile on their own. Cold, spreading wider.
Then the smile turned into a grin.
"Redi ad nihilum, umbra vana!"
(Return to nothing, empty shade.)
The words tore from my mouth. My fingers flared with white fire, like living sparks. I swung my hands and beams of light shot forward, slicing through the air and striking toward Roxy.
A shriek ripped through the room.
The figure became fully visible. Its body stretched, bent like a bow. Thin, translucent skin; beneath it muscles writhed, ribs gleamed, black sludge pulsed. The head had no eyes or nose—only a mouth, too wide, lined with sharp teeth. Long limbs like metal spokes reached toward the ceiling, claws scraping at nothing.
Shrieking, the creature jerked and tried to slip toward the window, but the light burned through it, stopping it. Its body arched and white fire spread across it, consuming it to ash.
Roxy went still. Her body stopped twitching, her breath steadied. I stood there, feeling the tremor still lingering in my fingers after the spell.
"Damn ghosts," I muttered. "Good thing I once learned exorcism."
These last two weeks there were too many of them. They'd swarmed to the vortex like flies to carrion. It had appeared suddenly—swept through, destroyed a dozen villages, then vanished as if it never existed. Only the aftermath remained—these creatures wandering the region, clinging to the living. Twisting nightmares, feeding on fear.
I brushed ash off the table and looked at Roxy. Her forehead glistened with sweat, but she was breathing calmly. She probably wouldn't need fresh herbs yet.
I turned toward the door; I needed to call Lili to clean up the ashes. But before I took a step—
Roxy screamed. Her body snapped upward, she sat on the bed, eyes wild, mouth open.
"A-AAAH!"
"Why are you screaming?!" I barked, feeling my ears ring.
She froze for a heartbeat, shifting her gaze. Our eyes met. Her pupils were huge, almost black, and then—
"A-AAAH!"
—another scream.