The world outside the archive seemed to grow darker, the orange inferno deepening into a bruised, smoky twilight. The flames roared stronger, consuming the endless shelves and sending black plumes high into a sickly sky. Inside, an exhausted quiet had fallen.
The four students had surrendered to sleep just down the stairs as it had seats and couches. The bald boy, sat stubbornly against a wall, his rusty sword lying on his side, muttering that he would keep watch. The dark-haired girl, slept with her head on his lap. It was a pathetic picture, but Lucid felt a faint flicker of admiration for their stubborn will to contribute.
Frederick stood by the tall shelves, arms crossed, looking out at the burning world. Lucid walked over to him.
"You holding up alright?" Lucid asked.
"We need to figure out our next move," Frederick said, his voice low and steady.
Lucid nodded. Before they could say more, a figure appeared at the staircase.
There should have been a sound. A door creaking, a step on the stone. But there was nothing. How did this figure eve pass all of the students, It was as if this figure had always been there, a part of the shadows that had just now decided to step into the light.
Lucid and Frederick turned, expecting a third-year student, an assassin, or an Unfaithful beast. Frederick's posture remained calm, a knight's readiness. Lucid was calm too, though a thread of surprise tightened in his chest. Across the room, The boy watching, was now fully alert, gently moving the black haired girl's head to rest on a folded book, his hand tightening on his sword hilt.
The figure stepped fully into view.
A long, dark cloak draped from her shoulders. Pale hands emerged to adjust the fabric, then slipped back into the depths of the sleeves. The hood was down, revealing a face of soft elegance. Her skin was pale and smooth, and a single, delicate horn curved from the left side of her forehead. Hair like polished black silk cascaded down her back. Her eyes were deep, dark pools, but her features were all softness, gentle skin, a plump, inviting fullness to her lips and chest. The cloak could not hide the soft, alluring curves beneath, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the subtle swell of her hips, a body that was both powerful and profoundly feminine, a blend of elegant strength and sensual grace.
Lucid's eyes widened.
Frederick muttered, "An Oni?"
Lucid took a step forward. He said her name, a breath lost in the sudden silence of the room. "Ayame."
A green light pulsed from within him, a violent surge of feeling that overwhelmed Alice's usual numbing blanket. It was raw, unfiltered emotion.
"Don't approach her," Alice's voice cut in sharply, laced with alarm. "It's dangerous, Lucid! Kill her."
He didn't care. He didn't listen to her.
Frederick stayed put, arms still crossed, watching intently but not interfering.
The distance between them vanished. Lucid closed it in two strides, his arms wrapping around her in a hug that felt like coming home after a long, cold journey. Her body was cold and solid against his. Her soft scent, a mix of clean sweat and the faint, sharp tang of metal like blood, washed over him. It was the exact smell he remembered from the cave in the mountains, a scent of survival, of shared, quiet hours in the dark.
They held each other, the silence between them thick and complete. Then, as if the weight of everything, the journey, the separation, the unspoken fear, finally pulled them down, they slowly sank to their knees together on the wooden floor.
Ayame still didn't speak. Words had never been her way. Instead, she raised both hands, her movements deliberate and gentle. She cupped Lucid's face, her palms warm against his skin. She didn't smile. Her expression was one of profound, quiet intensity. Her dark eyes, always so deep and observing, were glossy now, shimmering with unshed emotion. A single, clear tear broke free, tracing a perfect, silent path down the curve of her cheek. Her lips, usually set in a firm line, parted slightly, as if to let out a breath she'd been holding for days.
"Where have you been?" Lucid asked, his voice a hushed, ragged thing.
"Away," she stated simply.
Her hands moved down, brushing his neck, then draped over his shoulders as she leaned closer. She was moving in for something, a kiss, an embrace, something more. Her hands felt the muscles of his back and shoulders. Their lips were inches apart. Lucid could feel her cool breath. He didn't close the distance, but he didn't pull away either.
Ayame inched closer, her whisper a breath against his skin.
"Now… we are a whole."
A blade formed in her hand, a solid, cruel length of red, like crystallized blood. In one smooth, terrible motion, she drove it forward. It pierced clean through Lucid's back and out through her own stomach, pinning them together in a grotesque, intimate stitch.
"Die with me..."
"LUCID!" Frederick yelled, finally breaking his stillness.
Lucid coughed, a mouthful of bright blood splattering onto the floor between them and across Ayame's pale cheek. He threw a hand back, a silent, pained signal for Frederick to stay where he was.
The bald boy, was utterly frozen, his sword forgotten.
"Look into my eyes, Lucid," Ayame said, more blood spilling from the corner of her mouth. "I'm here with you. We are together as always... even in death. Shhh…"
She took his chin again with her left hand weakly to his side as if to support herself, then leaned in and bit deeply into the side of his throat.
"This is delightful," she murmured against his skin, her voice thick. "I… I forgot how."
She spoke in the middle of drinking his vitality, her body shuddering against his.
Frederick watched the entire horrific scene, a hint of sheer absurdity crossing his face before it hardened back into grim focus.
Lucid, his own body screaming in agony, reached up and brushed a strand of her dark hair from her face. His voice was a wet, strained rasp.
"You do know… that I can't die, right?"
As he spoke, the green light within him flared violently. The red blade pinning them together dissolved, melting into a puddle of blood on the floor. The grievous wounds in his back and to knit shut with impossible speed, flesh weaving back together under the emerald glow.
Ayame looked down at her own bleeding body, then back at him. Something registered in her dark eyes, shock, confusion. Why wouldn't he die.
A new blade materialized in her left hand. She aimed it at Lucid's neck.
He intercepted her wrist just before it struck. Her strength was immense. It hurt. 'She's so strong,' he thought, his muscles trembling with the effort.
"You are probably thinking," he gritted out, "that if you separate my head from my body, you could kill me."
He met her gaze, his own eyes hard.
"You are probably right."
He shoved against her, gaining an inch of space. "But… what do you hope to gain from all this, Ayame?"
Her face contorted. Red veins bulged under her skin like angry worms. The black cloak slid from her shoulders, revealing her full, soft form. With terrifying, relentless force, she overpowered him, her hands finding his throat. She pinned him to the ground, her fangs fully visible, her eyes now a bloodshot, glowing red.
Frederick took a half-step forward, but stopped. He watched. No one interfered. Maybe it was because she was an Oni, a creature of legend and danger. Or maybe it was out of respect for whatever twisted bond existed between the two people on the floor. Neither Frederick nor the stunned students could tell.
Ayame strangled Lucid, her long fingers digging into his throat.
He managed a bloody, pained grin.
"Ayame…" he struggled to breathe. "I am okay with dying today… or tomorrow… if it means .... I could follow my goal. My vengeance."
He gasped, his vision spotting. "But what about you?" he forced out. "Is .... dying with me your... dream? .... Your goal?"
*-Cough*
He was fading, his words slurring. "Aren't you angry at it or them...? Why should the world deny your wish… your desire for your goal? Your tranquility!" he yelled with his last air before his vision tunneled and his consciousness began to slip.
Ayame struggled internally. He was right. She had a goal. She had something to do. But she couldn't. Not if achieving it meant the only person she had ever felt fondness for had to die. It would be worthless. And if her home world burned just for his sake… she couldn't live with that.
But if both of them died… it would be a stalemate. The Chapeu would be satisfied. Her home would be untouched. There would be no reason to pursue anything anymore.
She let go.
She looked down at the mess below her. Lucid was struggling to breathe, blood bubbling at his lips even as the green light worked furiously to repair the damage. But he was… so beautiful in that moment. A terrible art piece of her own creation. She wanted to embrace it. Her eyes returned to their normal dark pools. Her face softened. Her lips parted, forming a delicate 'o' of something like sorrow, or longing.
She leaned down.
A kick connected with her side, knocking her off of Lucid.
Frederick had finally intervened. He stood between them now, his expression unreadable. He crouched next to Lucid, his voice steady.
"Are you okay, Lucid?"