The shelter's interior was silent save for the ambient creak of wood slowly reshaping under the pressure of the world's shifting.
The hearth, made from carved stones and Voidling bones, emitted gentle fire, retained a strange residual warmth from the last time Kivas used her halo to light it.
The two bedrolls, lined with stitched bark and all sorts of comfy plantations, lay on opposite sides of the space, though one had shifted closer.
Kivas lay there, stiff as a board, her limbs folded atop her chest while her wings—what remained of them spiritually—itched from phantom memory.
Her eyes flicked toward the ceiling, then toward the barely visible profile of Samael lying beside her.
Just right beside her, within arm length, Samael's gaze was fixed directly on her. Unblinking. Attentive.
The weight of it felt like a crushing wall of gravity. Kivas took a deep breath and cupped her mouth, attempting to hide her expression without looking away.
The memory of the earlier incident refused to vanish. Every shift of her breath reminded her of her lips being devoured. Every faint sound echoed with the low, amused voice that claimed her without shame.
"Can't sleep?" Samael asked, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the temperature.
Kivas turned her head slowly, uncertain whether the awkward churn in her chest was anxiety or something more embarrassing. "How about you?"
Samael shrank the lid of her gaze. "Occasionally, but not this time. I'm taking nightwatch. You don't have to worry."
Kivas let her head fall back against the bed, staring into the darkness again. "I wasn't worried about you falling asleep…!"
"Then?"
Kivas hesitated, tugging at the blanket's edge. "I just don't feel like sleeping. I mean… it's not because of what happened earlier. I'm not avoiding you. And it's not because you proposed out of nowhere either, and then pinned me down for an hour-long soul-stabilizing session…"
"I wasn't trying to stir your thoughts. Only your soul." Samael smirked. "It's not my fault that you enjoyed it."
Kivas coughed once, loudly. "Right. Yeah. Still. That's not it."
Samael waited.
"It's just… I'm scared." Kivas finally admitted. "When I lost consciousness during the apotheosis, I think… I think my mind was thrown into the dream layer, a brutal colosseum…"
Samael's expression sharpened with realization. "You encountered your Nightmare."
Kivas gave a slow, tired nod. "The Centipede Voidling. Massive. Multi-segmented. Screaming with immense hatred. The whole freak-show package."
"And?" Samael asked. "How did the fight go?"
"I died. Over and over." Kivas pulled her blanket up higher, tucking it beneath her chin. "It tore me apart, stomped me into a pulp, snapped my neck, crushed my skull, ate me alive… Every time, I'd just come back. No time to recover. No room to breathe. It was just me and it. Alone…
"Still, thanks to the 'tender' awakening," Kivas chuckled. "I woke up with my PTSD rewritten by a constant, intoxicating, full session of french kiss."
"So that's what happened on your side." Samael sat, arms folded. "Normally, when someone dies in a Nightmare dream, their consciousness returns to Fathomi. A wake-up reflex will happen, and they will just wake up to the land of the living…
"But since your apotheosis was active, you were locked in. You couldn't wake up. The only progression was to keep fighting."
"I think it got worse the longer I stayed," Kivas whispered. "Like… it learned. It got better. Stronger. Meanwhile, I just stayed the same."
Samael regarded her for a long moment before asking, "Do you feel different now?"
"I mean, I woke up without a halo or wings," Kivas muttered. "And with my mouth already being… occupied."
Samael's expression didn't shift. "Irrelevant details."
Kivas grumbled, covering her face with her hands. "Maybe not to you."
Samael straightened her posture. "In any case, if you're going to survive this Nightmare and claim its attributes, we need to plan." Samael sighed, and stood up. "It's grown stronger from repeated victories. You've returned to Fathomi with your soul intact, but that Nightmare is now a seasoned combatant within your spiritual layer."
Kivas shifted, her tone laced with disbelief, "You mean, you expected me to beat it the first time?" She also stood up and followed Samael.
"You were supposed to enter that realm prepared."
"What."
Samael unfolded her arms and reached for the rack beside her bedding. She withdrew the Remington 870, its sleek body shimmering faintly with residual mana. Then, with her other hand, she retrieved the cinquedea—its mysterious edge pulsing quietly in the dim shelter.
She placed both weapons into Kivas' hands.
"Equip them to your mind."
Kivas stared at her blankly. "How do I—what does that mean?"
"You'll feel the pull," Samael said. "Let your mind recognize the weapons. Let your Well of the Soul memorize them."
Before Kivas could ask again, she felt a strange tugging sensation in her chest, like invisible threads had latched onto the shotgun and dagger.
The weapons shivered in her grip, then glowed. Slowly, they faded, disappearing into golden outlines that sank into her palms.
She blinked rapidly, then looked down at her now-empty hands. "Okay. That was weird. But I think I get it."
"Good." Samael nodded. "Those weapons are now anchored to your spiritual self. You'll have access to them in the dream layer, as in, you will now enter the fight with your Nightmare with these weapons in hand."
Kivas exhaled through her teeth. "That would've been helpful to know three deaths ago."
"I didn't expect you to trigger apotheosis this soon. Or to get trapped in a Nightmare mid-process. Your timing has always been problematic." Samae; chuckled.
"No wonder the fight felt impossible. I was trying to bare-knuckle box a mythological centipede."
"You did better than most," Samael admitted, tilting her head. "In terms of resilience. One would usually get corrupted fast if they were forced to face their Nightmare again and again without a delay."
Kivas gave a dry laugh. "I took my words back, I still have PTSD and now I feel like you're arming me and giving me pat on the back like you're sending me to summer camp."
"Because I am."
Kivas blinked. "Wait, what?"
Samael stepped forward placing two fingers on the back of Kivas' neck.
"Wait, wait, wai—"
The pressure struck without warning. Kivas' body slackened, her breath caught mid-sentence, and her eyes dimmed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Samael watched the stillness return to the shelter.
"Dream well," she said softly. "And this time, don't hold back."