The fire had burned low by the time the forest settled, soft orange flickers casting uneven shadows across the clearing. Perseus sat with his back against a moss-covered log, arms crossed tight as if holding himself together by force, his hammer resting near his foot. Every time he blinked, sleep dragged at him like a weight he couldn't afford to bear. He told himself he wouldn't let it win. She needed him awake. She needed him steady. His gaze kept drifting back to Nyxia, curled beneath his cloak, breath shallow but finally even. Loque lay beside her, massive and still except for the slight movement of his tail curled protectively around her legs.
Perseus tried to stretch his legs and Loque's head snapped up, teeth parting in a low warning. Perseus raised both hands. "Easy," he whispered. "It's just me." Loque didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched him with an intensity that sat cold in Perseus's gut. This wasn't the usual quiet sentinel calm. Something in the beast was raw, frayed at the edges. Perseus rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the ache behind them. "He's scared," he murmured, almost to himself. Maybe that made two of them. His limbs had grown heavier by the second, exhaustion dragging him down like invisible hands.
He tried to resist it, kept one hand near his hammer, kept telling himself he would rest later. Just a minute, he told himself. Maybe two. His head dipped. His breathing slowed. The crackling fire dimmed to a blur. His last thought was of her lying broken in his arms. Then sleep took him before he could fight it.
Morning came without warmth. A pale and washed-out gray filtered through the trees. Perseus woke with a start, joints aching from the cold. He pushed himself upright too fast, heart kicking hard as he checked on Nyxia. Her eyes were open, barely, glinting at him through stray strands of hair. She didn't speak. Loque towered over her, tense as a bowstring. When Perseus moved closer, the beast bared his teeth again, a soft hiss curling from his throat. Perseus lowered himself slowly. "Loque. Please. I'm here for her. Same as you." It took a long moment before Loque eased back enough for Perseus to kneel. The tail stayed looped around her like a shield the world couldn't breach.
"You kept her safe," Perseus murmured, voice cracking with something he didn't want to name. His limbs still felt too heavy, his breath too slow. He offered Nyxia water. She drank in small gulps, then coughed, then shot him a faint smile that hurt to see. "You're lagging," she said softly. Perseus let out a hoarse laugh. "Don't get used to it." He brushed hair from her brow, thumb lingering longer than he meant to. "I thought we lost you," he said. She didn't answer right away. Instead she looked at the sky through broken branches, something haunted flickering in her eyes. "She was in my head," Nyxia whispered. "Not just the power. Her voice. She wanted me to submit. And she knew exactly how to pull me apart."
Loque pressed his head into her ribs gently, a grounding weight. Nyxia swallowed, throat trembling. "She remembered everything," she said softly. "Even the ruins. Even that night we kissed and pretended we weren't terrified of what came next." Perseus let out a breath that was half a laugh, half an ache. "You dragged me into a temple with no clothes and dared me to kiss you," he said quietly. "You were a menace." Nyxia smiled, thin and fragile. "You were fifteen. And in love with a storm." Loque huffed once like he agreed, and the moment softened just enough to breathe.
Later that day they followed the old hunter's road east. Perseus walked ahead, steps steady, though his arm was bound beneath layers of linen. Nyxia followed close, her ribs aching each time she inhaled, Loque shadowing her like vengeance given form. Serath'Kai rose before them in jagged silhouettes, a fallen elven city clinging to cliffside ruins. Every stone glistened with rot. Fungal blooms bulged from the cracks like tumors. Even Loque's ears flattened as they passed through the shattered gate. Perseus scanned the ruins. "If Ves came here, someone will remember her." Nyxia smirked without humor. "Let's hope someone here is still human enough to speak."
The tunnel beyond the slums hummed faintly as they entered, lined with glowing panels and runes that should not have survived the centuries. Something old and mechanical breathed beneath the stone, filling the air with machine-oil and stale heat. A faint song drifted from above them, jazzy and strangely cheerful, like a broken world trying to pretend it wasn't dying. Nyxia's fingers curled tighter around the spare wrap Perseus had placed on her shoulders. Her ribs throbbed with each step. She didn't let him see how close the vines still felt on her skin.
The tunnel opened into a cavern of false sunlight. A whole city built underground—leaves made of painted cloth, trees of metal frames, fans turning a stale breeze into the pretense of wind. Mutated elves, goblins in patched coats, masked wanderers drifted through the artificial daylight. Neon vines curled along the walls like veins beneath skin. Ads flickered overhead promising fresh air and sunlight in glowing script. Perseus paused under a synthetic tree and pulled out a bundle: her repaired armor and polished bow. Nyxia blinked at them, surprised. "You fixed everything," she whispered. Perseus coughed as if caught. "You were bleeding out. I didn't want to go through your things. I just—did what I could." She tilted her head. "So you stripped me." He nearly choked. "You were dying." Nyxia let the moment stretch, then smirked. "I'll allow it."
Before Perseus could answer, a shrill crack tore through the street. Cobblestone split beneath their boots, pieces scattering in bursts of dust. Nyxia's bow leapt into her hands, even though her arms trembled. Dark limbs clawed up from below, pulling malformed elves into the light. Their bodies slick with rot. Eyes sewn shut with vein-thin cords. Mouths dripping black matter through broken stitches. Loque roared, charging first. His claws tore one apart, entrails spilling across metal roots. Perseus drove his hammer into another, force exploding through ribs in a spray of bone and gore. Nyxia fired through the throat of one creature, ichor splashing warm against her cheek.
They moved together, the rhythm familiar even through pain, even with fear heavy in their lungs. Perseus crushed skulls with each strike, his breath ragged. Loque shredded through tendons and rot, ignoring the sting of void-touched blood. Nyxia dodged a swipe and sent an arrow through a creature's spine, dropping it instantly. One of them slashed Perseus across the shoulder, splitting muscle and cloth. He grunted but did not fall. He swung again, hammer caving the creature's skull.
When the last one collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs, the street fell silent but for their breathing. Blood steamed on the stones. Nyxia leaned into Loque, catching air in shallow bursts. Perseus fell to one knee, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. Nyxia wiped ichor from her cheek. "She's sending them," she whispered. "This was a message." Perseus nodded once, breath sharp. "Then we answer it."