The night was cold and gray, the wind cutting through the ravine where we'd taken shelter. The overhang above us blocked the worst of it, but not the chill that sank into my bones and made my teeth chatter. I huddled under my blanket, the thin fabric doing little against the world's endless cold.
The xenophore girl sat apart from the group, small legs crossed, wings folded tight against her back. She stared at nothing, face blank in a way that made her look more Xenophore than human. The black roses in her eyes pulsed slowly, opening and closing like they were breathing.
Kael sat farther away, his back against the stone, cradling his splinted hand against his chest. Even from where I sat, I could see the swelling,the fingers purple-black beneath the wrappings, grotesquely swollen. His face was drawn, gray, pain etched into every line. He hadn't slept in days. Couldn't sleep. The agony wouldn't let him.
Lira stood watch at the edge of camp, knife in hand, scanning the darkness. The twins worked quietly over their samples, whispering observations I couldn't hear. Xeno sat alone, shovel across his lap, blindfolded face turned toward the horizon like he could see things the rest of us couldn't.
We were exhausted. Broken. Held together by nothing but desperation and the faint, stubborn hope that we might survive one more day.
Kai broke the silence first, voice low but steady. "We need to talk about what the girl said."
Everyone turned.
"Curse bearer," he continued, looking at me. "What does it mean? Why is Yona marked?"
Silence.
No one answered. Because no one knew.
Amie set down her notes, face serious. "The girl,said something about ancestors breaking a promise. That this generation suffers for it. But that's all we have."
Lira's jaw tightened. "My great-grandfather said the curse bearer carries the weight of the old world's sins. But he never explained what that meant. He died before..." She trailed off, grief flickering across her face.
"So we have nothing," Kael said quietly, bitterly. "A child marked by forces we don't understand, hunted by things we can't kill, walking toward a war we can't win."
"Kael—" Kai started.
"It's the truth," Kael snapped. Pain made his voice sharp, raw. "Look at us. We're broken. A crippled old man, a cursed child, a boy hiding god-knows-what, and a monster pretending to be human. What chance do we have against Lord Azael? Against any of this?"
The words hung heavy.
I looked down at my hands, small and dirty, and felt the weight of it,the symbol under my skin, the eyes watching me from shadows, the knowledge that I was marked by something I didn't understand and couldn't fight.
"I don't feel dangerous," I whispered.
Xeno's voice was flat, final. "Dangerous things rarely do."
His words sent a chill through me worse than the wind.
Lira crouched in front of me, her eyes fierce but kind. "Whatever you are, whatever that mark means, you're still Yona. You're still the girl who walked through hell and kept going. That doesn't change."
I nodded, but the fear didn't leave.
Because deep down, I wondered if she was right.
Or if the curse bearer wasn't me at all,just something wearing my face, waiting to emerge.
The xenophore girl stood suddenly, small frame tense, eyes blazing. "I'm tired of it."
Everyone looked at her.
"I'm tired of being 'the girl' or 'it' or 'that thing.' I'm tired of no name, no identity, nothing but what I was before I became this." She gestured at herself, at the human body she wore. "I want a name."
She turned to Xeno, rose eyes pleading. "Please. You. Name me."
Xeno didn't move, didn't look up. "No."
Her face fell, hurt flashing raw and real before she forced it away. "Why? We're alike. I know we are. I can feel it. Something hiding, something—"
"We are nothing alike," Xeno said, voice cold as stone.
She flinched like he'd struck her.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then she straightened, chin lifting, small hands curling into fists. "Fine. I'll do it myself."
Her voice was steady now, determined. "Nyx. My name is Nyx. It means night. Because I came from darkness, and I'm trying to find the light."
Kai smiled softly. "Nyx. It's perfect."
Amie nodded. "It suits you."
Even Lira's expression softened slightly, a flicker of respect in her eyes.
Xeno said nothing. But his silence felt different this time. Not refusal. Just... acceptance. Like he'd heard her, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it.
And Nyx,finally, truly Nyx,smiled. Real and soft and almost human.
"Thank you," she whispered, to no one and everyone at once.
Morning came gray and cold, the wind carrying dust that stung my eyes. We packed quickly, movements stiff from exhaustion and cold. Nyx helped without being asked, small hands surprisingly strong as she lifted packs and secured straps.
"Where's the training place again?" she asked suddenly, tilting her head.
Amie paused, frowning. "North. Three days. In the hills. We talked about it last night, remember?"
Nyx's face went blank. Then confused. "We... did?"
"Yes," Kai said gently. "Right after we made camp. You were there. You asked questions."
Nyx touched her temples, fingers trembling. "I don't... that's not... I remember sitting down, and then..." Her eyes widened, fear blooming like the black roses in her pupils. "It's gone. That whole conversation. Just... gone."
Silence fell heavy.
"How long?" Amie asked quietly.
"Until what?" I whispered.
"Until I'm just her," Nyx said, voice breaking. "Until there's nothing left of what I was. Weeks? Days?" She looked at her hands like they were strangers. "Every time I sleep, I lose a little more. Soon I won't remember being Xenophore at all. I'll just be... the girl whose body I took. And I won't even know I was ever anything else."
No one knew what to say to that.
Because there was nothing to say.
She was dying. Slowly. Piece by piece. Not her body, but her self.
And none of us could stop it.
We walked north in tense silence, the landscape shifting from broken plain to rolling hills scarred with cracks and dead vegetation. My legs burned, stomach hollow, but I kept moving because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant feeling the weight of everything pressing down.
Kael limped behind us, face gray with pain, each step a visible struggle. His broken hand hung useless at his side, fingers swollen to twice their normal size, skin stretched tight and shiny. I saw him wince with every breath, every movement, pain stealing the color from his face.
That evening, as we made camp in a shallow depression between hills, I saw him sitting apart from the group, staring at something in his good hand.
The bottle.
Clear liquid swirling inside, glowing faintly like captured starlight. It looked innocent. Beautiful, even. But I remembered where it came from,vomited from a Xenophore's stomach, offered by a monster who was forgetting herself.
Kael's face was drawn, haggard, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something darker. Desperation.
Just one sip, I imagined him thinking. One sip and the pain stops.
"Still thinking about it?"
Nyx appeared beside him, silent as shadow. Her small form seemed almost fragile in the dim light, wings folded tight.
Kael jerked, nearly dropping the bottle. "No," he said quickly. Too quickly.
She tilted her head, black-rose eyes blooming wide. "Liar. You're thinking about it every second. Pain does that. Makes you... flexible. About principles."
"I won't," Kael said, voice strained.
"Not yet," Nyx corrected. Her smile was knowing, almost sad. "But pain has a way of changing 'won't' to 'will.' I've seen it before. In others. In myself, when I was still..." She trailed off, touching her temple. "When I was still me."
Kael looked at the bottle, then at his hand,the grotesque swelling, the purple-black fingers that hadn't moved in days. "What if it doesn't work? What if it just... corrupts me? Turns me into something like Vesper?"
Nyx shrugged. "Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. But pain is a cost too. And sometimes..." She looked away. "Sometimes being something else is better than being nothing at all."
She walked away, leaving him alone with the bottle.
And the pain.
And the choice that was slowly eating him alive.
The next day, Nyx kept drifting toward Xeno. Like gravity pulled her, like she couldn't help it. Every time the group paused to rest or adjust packs, she'd end up near him, watching with those rose eyes that saw too much.
"Why do you hide?" she asked, voice soft, curious.
"None of your concern," Xeno replied, not looking at her.
"But we're alike. I can feel it. Something under your—"
Xeno stopped walking. Turned. His voice was ice. "We are nothing alike."
She flinched. Actually flinched, hurt flashing across her face before the wicked grin tried to cover it. But it didn't quite work this time. The mask slipped.
"You say that," she said quietly. "But your body disagrees. I can sense corruption, you know. It calls to me. Like... like a song I used to know the words to. And you..." She leaned closer, rose eyes blooming fully. "You're screaming."
Xeno's hand tightened on the shovel. For a second, I thought he might swing it at her. The air went tight, dangerous.
But he just turned and walked faster, shovel over his shoulder, putting distance between them.
Nyx watched him go, small face unreadable. Then she whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear: "Interesting."
Lira appeared beside her, knife still in hand. "Leave him alone."
"Why?" Nyx asked innocently. "I'm just curious. He's hiding something big. Something that makes him like me. Corrupted. Changed. I can feel it."
"I don't care what you feel," Lira said, voice hard. "He's part of this group. You push him too far, you answer to me."
Nyx's grin returned, sharp and dangerous. "Protective. I like that. But you can't protect him from what he is. None of you can."
She skipped ahead, humming something tuneless, leaving Lira and me standing there with unease crawling under our skin.
On the third day, the hills grew steeper, rockier, the terrain forcing us to climb more than walk. My hands were scraped and raw from grabbing stone, legs trembling with exhaustion. Kael fell twice, crying out when his broken hand hit the ground, face twisting in agony. Kai and Amie had to help him the last stretch, supporting him between them.
Finally, as the gray sky began to darken into something even bleaker, Amie pointed ahead. "There."
A structure emerged from the hillside,half-buried in rock and earth, pre-fall concrete and steel still standing despite the years. Reinforced walls, narrow windows like watchful eyes, a single door half-hidden by rubble. It looked abandoned, forgotten, but solid. Defensible.
"Old Enclave outpost," Kai said, pride in his voice. "Built before the fall by people who saw it coming. Stocked with supplies, weapons, training equipment. We've used it before for research. It's safe."
"Safe," Kael muttered bitterly. "Nothing's safe."
But we approached anyway, because we had nowhere else to go.
The door was locked, but Amie produced a key from somewhere in her coat. The lock resisted, rusted and stiff, but finally turned with a grinding screech that echoed too loud in the silence.
Inside was darkness.
Kai pulled out a small light, the beam cutting through the gloom. Dust hung thick in the air, undisturbed for months, maybe years. Rows of bunks lined one wall, a weapons rack another,empty now, stripped long ago. But past that, through a doorway, I saw equipment: weights, mats, training dummies, racks for sparring weapons.
And in the back, behind reinforced glass, shelves lined with supplies. Food. Water purifiers. Medical kits. Ammunition.
Enough to last a month. Maybe more.
"Home sweet home," Kai said, grin returning despite everything.
Amie set down her pack. "We rest tonight. Tomorrow, training begins."
Lira looked around, jaw tight. "One month. To prepare for something that killed Vesper in seconds. Think it's enough?"
No one answered.
Because we all knew the truth.
It probably wasn't.
But it was all we had.
That night, as we settled into the cold bunks and tried to find warmth in thin blankets, I heard Nyx whisper from across the room.
"I forgot something else today."
"What?" I asked quietly.
"I don't remember." Her voice was small, scared. "But I know I did. There's a hole where something used to be. I can feel it. Empty space where a memory should live."
Silence.
"I'm running out of time," she whispered. "Faster than I thought."
I wanted to comfort her, to say something hopeful. But I didn't know how.
Because we were all running out of time.
Kael lay awake in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, cradling his broken hand. The pain was a living thing now,constant, grinding, stealing thought and sleep and hope.
In his pack, carefully hidden, the bottle glowed faintly.
Waiting.
Patient.
Because Nyx had been right.
Pain had a way of changing *won't* to *will.*
And Kael was so, so tired of hurting.
Morning would bring training. Discipline. Preparation.
But it would also bring choices.
And not all of us would make the right ones.