The sun climbed higher as breakfast dwindled, the courtyard warmed into that soft, golden hush that only happens when laughter has just faded and the world is catching its breath. Perseus leaned back with a pleased sigh, his plate picked clean, the last curl of steam rising from his tea. At their feet Loque had sprawled out like some smug guardian idol, tail twitching in small, lazy bursts as if even his dreams were content for once. Nyxia stretched until her joints popped, arms lifting over her head, ribs tugging in a faint ache that reminded her she was still healing. "I missed this," she said, half to herself. "The normal. The calm." Perseus tipped her a sly smile. "What, getting ambushed by ancient rot dragons wasn't relaxing enough?" She snorted, shoulders loosening. "Not quite. But this," she glanced at the table, at him, at the Sanctuary glowing quietly around them, "sharing food, sitting still longer than a minute… yeah. I missed it more than I thought."
Her grin turned mischievous in that way he knew meant trouble. "Remember the ruined temple north of Darnassus? The one buried under the silver birches." Perseus froze for a heartbeat, a slow bloom of color rising into his cheeks. "Oh. That temple." Nyxia laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. "I can't believe we thought lighting incense would make it feel more sacred." He covered his face with his hand. "I was trying to impress you. You told me you liked rituals and my brain just… emptied." She leaned her elbow on the table, eyes sparkling. "You brought candles. And a feather pillow. To a half-collapsed ruin." He groaned into his palm. "Once. It was one time. You are never letting that go, are you." "No chance," she said, but her voice softened. "You were sweet. Nervous. We had no idea what we were doing." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly younger. "None at all. I thought if I just kissed you, it would fix whatever tension sat between us." Nyxia huffed a little laugh. "And instead we made it worse."
Their shared laughter spiraled up and bounced against the courtyard walls, then slowly thinned into a quieter stillness. Perseus watched her for a moment, thumb stroking the rim of his cup. "I always thought we might have had something," he admitted, almost shy. "Once. Before she came." Nyxia's smile dimmed, eyes dropping to her hands. "Ves'Sariel." He nodded. "She slipped into our little circle so easily. Clever. Quiet. She saw things others didn't." Nyxia's fingers curled slightly, remembering. "I didn't mean for it to happen," she said, voice low. "It just… did. One night after you left early she stayed behind to help me rewrap my bowstring. Our hands touched. She looked at me like she'd known that moment was coming for years." Perseus's gaze softened rather than sharpened. "I figured it out eventually. You were always with her. And she watched you like the stars had all fallen just to rest in your hair."
A pained smile tugged at Nyxia's mouth. "She was magnetic. And she was already unraveling, and I chose not to see it because I didn't want to lose the way she made me feel." Perseus's tone gentled further. "She loved you. Still does, I think, somewhere inside whatever the Void has turned her into." Nyxia swallowed, throat tight. "That's what terrifies me. That she's still there. Watching from behind her own eyes, waiting for… something." Her knuckles whitened where she gripped the table. Perseus reached across the space and laid his hand over hers, warm and steady. "Then we find her," he said. "We go to the root of this and we get her back or we lay her to rest. Together." Sunlight slid across their joined hands, catching old scars and faint runes, and at their feet Loque lifted his head, watching them with that slow, knowing look that felt older than any temple.
Later that afternoon, when the dishes were rinsed and Loque had reluctantly surrendered his sunny patch on the floor, Perseus led Nyxia into one of the Sanctuary's quieter wings. The air changed as they walked; cooler, hushed, scented with parchment and cooled candlewax and that almost metallic tang of concentrated magic. Shelves climbed the walls in uneven rows, crammed with scrolls and relics, bits of broken statuary wrapped in linen, carefully boxed shards of crystal etched with long-forgotten symbols. "This room was sealed before I ever arrived," Perseus said, running his fingers over a dusty tabletop until clean marble appeared beneath. "Most of this was taken from ruined sites. Fallen temples. Old battlegrounds. One of the scribes here, Yuren, mentioned something he thought might connect to your Ves." Nyxia trailed her fingertips along a scroll labeled in faded Elvish. "What exactly are we looking for." He unrolled a thicker parchment, its edges singed, a crimson sigil painted at the center like a wound: tendrils curling around a diamond-shaped eye. "Her corruption didn't start at Ash'myra," he said quietly. "This might be the source. An older place, buried under the Shattered Gloomglade. A prison, or a vault. Maybe both."
Nyxia's posture straightened, hunter's focus sharpening her features. "Why would she go there." Perseus's gaze never left the ink. "Because it speaks to those already touched. Offers power if they submit." Nyxia's mouth set, fire kindling in her eyes. "Then we find it and burn it out of the world." Perseus glanced at her, torn between agreement and caution. "We don't know what it holds." "Doesn't matter," she said, voice quiet but hard. "If it's the root, it has to go." He hesitated, then gave a small nod. "We'd have to cut through the Rotfang Thickets. The wilds are worse now with void beasts prowling. I know someone in Dreadpetal Grove, a botanist of sorts. Knows the forest like it grew from his veins. He can guide us." One corner of her mouth lifted. "Charming." Perseus huffed a laugh. "Insufferable. But he owes me." Loque nudged Nyxia's hip, rumbling. She stroked his head and answered the unspoken question. "If Ves's soul is tangled up in whatever lies under that glade," she said, "I'm going to reach her." Perseus's eyes darkened. "And if she's gone." Nyxia didn't look away. "Then I tear the monster wearing her skin apart." A silence dropped between them, not empty, just heavy. Perseus squeezed her shoulder once. "Then we should start packing."
Evening poured through the Sanctuary in lavender and gold, light catching on crystal spires and turning them into quiet fires. Nyxia's chamber felt smaller with her gear spread across the bed: scarred leathers, buckles polished more from habit than vanity, straps repaired a dozen times. She moved slowly, methodically, laying out a whetstone, flint and steel, dried berries, a horn flask that still smelled faintly of bitter tonic. Her hand brushed a pale feather tucked among the rest, curved and fragile. Ves'Sariel's. For a moment she just stared at it, feeling that old ache rise from the place she kept carefully sealed. Then she tucked it inside the inner pocket of her bracer, over her pulse. Across the room Loque sat with regal patience while Perseus fussed with saddlebags along his flanks, the spirit beast's tail flicking in clear annoyance. "These straps were not designed for moonlit titans," Perseus muttered. "He's more spirit-lord than panther." Nyxia stepped closer with a soft chuckle. "He's carried my gear since Northrend. You're just not used to companions who don't salute the Light when you call."
Loque snorted as if that settled something. Perseus smoothed a hand down his side, eyes bright with honest admiration. "He's incredible," he said. "I still don't know how you survived long enough to earn him." Nyxia slid a small satchel into place. "He nearly killed me," she answered plainly. "We fought in the Basin. I refused to back down even when I should have. When the dust cleared he looked at me like I'd done something worth noticing." Perseus smiled faintly. "He respects your rage." She nodded once. "It respects him back." Nearby, Perseus arranged his own supplies with almost ritual precision: maps, tightly stoppered vials, tools for sensing void-taint. His armor waited on its stand, polished runes catching the last of the light. "Anything besides the bow," he asked. Nyxia pulled a bone knife from her boot, letting it spin once between her fingers. "This. And Loque." Perseus winced in mock fear. "I'd rather not end up on the wrong side of either. The temple was enough proof."
She looked toward the window where evening deepened into early night. "Do you think we're ready." Perseus was quiet just long enough for honesty. "No," he admitted. That pulled a small, helpless laugh from her, sharp at the edges then soft. "At least you're consistent." He stepped closer, the distance between them closing in a way that felt deliberate. "But we have each other," he said. His eyes flicked to Loque, who rumbled low in agreement. "And him." Nyxia pressed her forehead briefly to Loque's fur, inhaling the familiar, strange blend of wild and otherworld. "We move at first light," she murmured. "You carry the satchels. Keep your claws ready." His eyes glowed in quiet promise. Perseus clapped his hands once, more to break the tension than anything. "Then we sleep. Short night, but we'll need whatever rest we can steal." Nyxia shot him a sideways look, the corner of her mouth curling. "Just don't snore." He grinned, warmth reaching his eyes. "No promises."