Cel stared at the words, absorbing their meaning.
"The Ledger will serve you well," Selina said, her voice carrying quiet approval. "Though I would advise you to examine it when you return to the physical world."
The reminder struck like cold water. He'd been so focused on examining his new gifts that he'd forgotten - his physical form was still slumped in those ruins, bleeding and defenseless.
"How long have I been here?"
"Minutes only. But minutes can be enough for predators to find prey." Her tone remained gentle, but the warning was clear. "You should return. Examine the Ledger when you are safe - or as safe as one can be in such a place."
Cel nodded, the wisdom obvious once stated. "Thank you."
"There is no need for thanks." Selina's smile deepened. "Go now. And may the Moon Goddess light your path."
The familiar words wrapped around him like a benediction as he closed his eyes and reached for the world beyond.
Pain crashed over him like a wave.
Cel gasped, his awareness slamming back into his physical body with brutal force. Every wound announced itself at once - the claw marks across his back, the burns on his left arm, the countless smaller injuries that painted his skin in blood and ash.
He was still in the ruins, sitting against the wall where he'd left. The storm had passed completely now, leaving only settling ash that drifted through gaps in the broken stone like gray snow.
A sound broke the silence. Soft. Wet. The unmistakable noise of tearing flesh.
Cel's eyes snapped to the corpse.
It lay where he'd left it - serpentine body coiled in death, dark ichor pooled beneath it in the ash.
Something was perched on its chest.
A bird.
But calling it a bird felt wrong. Obscene, even.
The thing was roughly the size of a craw, but there the resemblance ended. Black feathers covered its body - sleek and dark as obsidian, their tips bleeding to crimson red. The proportions were all wrong - body was too long, legs too thin, neck too flexible, wings that folded at angles wings shouldn't fold.
When it tore another strip of flesh from the corpse, Cel glimpsed rows of tiny teeth lining the inside of that beak - serrated, designed for more than just pecking.
'That's not a normal bird.'
The thought arrived with crystalline clarity. Normal birds didn't exist in the Hollow Realms. Couldn't exist. This place had been dead long before any normal animal could have found its way here.
Which meant this thing, with its blood-dipped feathers, was a rift-creature.
His left hand moved, reaching for the bond with Silent Moon. Pain lanced through his shoulder, his back, his arm - but he ignored it.
Moonlight threaded through the air as the chokutō materialized in his grip. Six crescents ignited along its length, casting pale radiance across the ruined space.
The bird-thing's head snapped toward him - neck bending at an angle that should have broken bone. A single crimson eye fixed on him, unblinking and bright against the black feathers.
Cinderward came next.
The armor manifested instantly, moonlight wrapping around him in silver threads. The mantle settled across his shoulders, the cloak falling behind him. Weight distributed itself across his body as bracers formed on his forearms and boots encased his legs.
The transformation took perhaps two heartbeats.
When it finished, Cel stood in full divine regalia, blade raised, every muscle coiled despite the exhaustion weighing on him.
The bird-thing regarded him for a moment. Then it took another bite of the corpse, tearing away flesh with those serrated teeth hidden in its beak.
It was... ignoring him?
Cel's grip tightened on Silent Moon's hilt. The creature showed no aggression, no interest in him at all. Just methodical feeding, as if he were no more threatening than another piece of the landscape.
Should he attack? The thing was clearly unnatural, clearly wrong—
Footsteps.
The sound came from outside the ruins. Steady. Deliberate. The crunch of boots on ash-covered stone.
Cel's head tilted toward the entrance gap, every sense suddenly focused on that new sound.
Someone was approaching.
The bird-thing didn't react. It simply continued its meal, pecking at exposed organs with clinical precision.
The footsteps grew closer. Not running. Not cautious. Just walking with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going - or the carelessness of someone who didn't understand danger at all.
A silhouette appeared in the gap between broken walls.
Tall. Lean. Moving with a grace that spoke of training and deadly purpose.
The figure stepped into the dim light filtering through the ruins.
Cel's breath caught for the second time in as many minutes.
A young man. Perhaps eighteen, maybe twenty. Dark hair fell across sharp features that carried a weight far beyond their years.
Relief crashed through Cel's chest before he could stop it.
'A human.'
The thought arrived with desperate force. After what felt like eternity alone in this nightmare, fighting for every breath, surrounded by nothing but monsters and ash…
Another human being stood before him.
Then the stranger's gaze met his, and the relief shattered like glass.
Those eyes.
Crimson iris set against black where white should be, holding depths that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it.
Wrong. Fundamentally wrong in a way that made his instincts scream.
'What if it's not human at all?'
The thought sent ice through his veins. The cult had taught him that appearances meant nothing - that the cruelest monsters often wore the most familiar masks. His own father had smiled while arranging his torture. His mother had looked loving even though she abandoned him in the end.
Trust was a weapon that had been used against him too many times. A weakness he couldn't afford.
But beneath the fear and suspicion, that desperate hope still pulsed. Weak. Pathetic. The part of him that wanted so badly to believe he wasn't completely alone in this dead world.
He hated that weakness. But he couldn't quite kill it either.
The stranger wore practical clothing in dark tones with blue-grey accents. A cloak draped across his shoulders, shifting with his movement. Everything about him spoke of someone who lived by blade and shadow.
But it was the way he carried himself that made Cel's instincts scream danger. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just... present. Like death itself had learned to walk on two legs and dress in mortal clothing.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The bird-thing continued pecking at the corpse, the only sound in the sudden, heavy silence.
Cel's grip on Silent Moon remained steady despite the pain lancing through his wounded shoulder. Six crescents pulsed along the blade's length, casting pale light across the ruined space.
The young man's gaze swept the ruins in a single, assessing glance. Took in the dead creature, the ash-covered floor, the storm damage.
Then those crimson eyes fell back to Cel's face.
"You're human." The words came flat, carrying neither surprise nor emotion.
"So are you." Cel's response was equally neutral, though his mind raced in disbelief. 'A human. In the Hollow Realms. How—?'
The stranger's gaze swept over him again - lingering briefly on the blood seeping through the new armor's fabric, the way Cel's right arm hung slightly wrong at his side.
"You're injured." Still that same flat tone, neither offering help nor threatening attack.
"I'll live."
A slight tilt of the head. "Will you?"
The question held no malice. Just genuine curiosity, as if the stranger were genuinely uncertain whether Cel would survive his wounds.
Cel's jaw tightened. "Long enough."
Something flickered in those red eyes - not quite amusement, but close. "Confident."
The bird-thing chose that moment to tear away another strip of flesh, the wet sound obscenely loud in the tense quiet. Neither of them looked at it. Neither dared break eye contact.
The stranger moved.
Cel's entire body tensed - but the motion was just a step to the side, away from the entrance, giving himself a better angle to observe both Cel and the feeding creature.
Not aggressive. But not careless either.
"That yours?" The stranger gestured toward the corpse with a slight nod.
"I killed it."
"Hmm." The sound carried something that might have been approval. "Ash-crawler. Nasty when cornered."
The casual knowledge in those words made Cel's instincts scream. 'He knows what it is. That means he'd encountered them before. At least once.'
"How long?" Cel asked before he could stop himself.
The stranger's gaze narrowed slightly. "How long what?"
"How long have you been trapped here?"
For the first time, something resembling emotion crossed that pale face. Not quite a smile, but a subtle shift at the corner of his mouth that suggested bitter humor.
"Trapped." The word hung between them. "Seems like that."
Cel waited, watching the stranger's posture. Relaxed but ready - the stance of someone who'd learned to be comfortable with danger.
The silence stretched again. The bird-thing pecked at exposed organs with clinical precision.
"What's your name?" Cel finally asked.
Those crimson eyes studied him with unsettling intensity. As if the stranger were looking through him rather than at him, measuring something Cel couldn't identify.
"Raven."
Raven's gaze remained fixed on him, expectant.
"And yours?"
Cel hesitated. The question was simple enough, but his mind raced. 'How did he get here? Why is he here?'
His father's face flashed through his mind. If Lord Aldric had somehow learned he survived, then the Children of the Voidmother would come for him again. This stranger could be one of them.
But refusing would accomplish nothing. If Raven meant him harm, a name wouldn't change that. And if he didn't... Cel might need an ally more than he needed secrets right now.
"Celvian," he said finally.
"Celvian." Raven repeated the name once, testing it. Then his attention shifted - quick as mercury - to the entrance gap. "You alone?"
"Yes."
"No companions? No escort?"
"I said I'm alone."
Raven's eyes came back to him, sharp and assessing. "Moon Chosen."
It wasn't a question. Cel's hand tightened on Silent Moon's hilt.
"How did you—"
"Your weapon." Raven's gaze flicked to the chokutō. "Moon phases etched in the blade. And the way moonlight clings to you even when you're not manifesting power." A slight pause. "Distinctive."
Cel's chest tightened. He'd thought his divine gifts were his own secret, his own advantage. To have them identified so casually—
"Don't worry." Raven's tone remained neutral. "I'm not here to fight you."
"Then why are you here?"
Those red eyes held his for a long moment. When Raven spoke again, his voice carried something that might have been weariness.
"Does it matter how I got here?" A slight pause. "I'm here. That's what counts."
The statement hung in the air between them. Two humans, standing in the ruins of a dead world, both wary, both armed, both trying to decide if the other was threat or friend.
The bird-thing finished its meal and took flight - wings unfolding at wrong angles before it vanished through a gap in the ceiling. Neither Cel nor Raven tracked its departure.
"Fine." Cel resigned. "But you didn't answer my other question. How long have you been here?"
This time, Raven actually answered.
"Long enough." His eyes grew distant. "Maybe a year."
The number hit like a physical blow. 'A whole year. Alone. In this place.'
Cel stared at the young man before him, truly seeing him now. The dark circles under his eyes. The weight in his posture. The way he moved like danger had become as natural as breathing.
"How?" The word escaped before Cel could stop it. "How did you survive that long?"
Something flickered across Raven's face - there and gone so quickly Cel almost missed it. Pain, perhaps. Or memory.
"You learn." The words came quiet, distant. "Or you die."
The bird-thing's cry echoed from somewhere outside, harsh and alien.
Raven's head tilted slightly, tracking the sound with practiced ease. When his attention returned to Cel, those crimson eyes carried a weight that made Cel's chest constrict.
"Your wounds. They'll fester in this place. Faster than you'd expect." The statement came flat, matter-of-fact.
Cel's fingers tightened on Silent Moon's hilt. "I'll manage."
"With what?" Raven's tone didn't change, but something sharp entered it. "Ash and hope?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Cel had no answer. His divine gifts could create ice, could grant him strength under moonlight, could even bring him back from death under the right circumstances. But healing? He had nothing for that.
Raven seemed to read his silence accurately, eyes narrowing.
"Stay here." Not a suggestion. A command, delivered with the casual authority of someone used to being obeyed. "Don't leave this ruin."
Cel blinked. "What?"
"I'll be back." Raven was already moving through the gap.
"Wait—where are you—"
But Raven had already vanished into the ash-covered wasteland, his dark form swallowed by gray and shadow.