Nyxia stood by her window, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.
She hadn't said a word since her breakdown, since Loque had pried her open.
She wasn't crying now.
She was… empty. Hollowed.
A soft knock broke the silence.
She didn't answer, but the door creaked open regardless—quietly, reverently. A priestess stepped inside, her robes whispering against the floor, eyes downcast. She carried a bundle wrapped in a square of deep blue velvet.
"I'm sorry to intrude," the priestess said gently. "These… were all we could recover."
She placed the bundle carefully on the edge of the bed, her hands lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"We weren't sure if you would want them," she continued, softer now. "But they were important. We felt that."
Nyxia didn't speak. She barely moved. But after the priestess left, closing the door with a respectful click, she crossed the room and unwrapped the velvet slowly.
Inside was the charred remnant of her chest piece—its leather warped and blackened, the stitching frayed but intact. And nestled in its hollow, wrapped in a chain of silver now dulled by ash, lay the moonstone necklace.
The stone was cracked.
But it still glowed.
Nyxia sank to her knees beside it.
She didn't touch the armor. But her fingers closed around the necklace, lifting it free. The chain was cold. The pendant heavy.
The only pieces of Ves she had left.
The sob didn't come. The tears didn't return.
Just silence.
And breath.
Uneven. Shallow. But still hers.
She stood, slipping the necklace over her head. It settled against her collarbone with a finality that made her skin itch. Then, without ceremony, she left the armor behind and crossed the room to dress.
She pulled on the simplest clothes she could find—a loose tunic, trousers, no shoes. Her ears twitched, brushing her hair, and she ignored them. Her tail dragged behind her, refusing to vanish, even when she whispered for it to go.
Loque stirred in the shadows, sensing her intent.
"Where are you going, cub?"
"I need to go. I can't— I can't stay in here. I need to run."
"You're not healed."
"I'm not meant to be."
She slipped out through the door without another word, padding down the dim halls, each step too soft for the guards to hear. The moonlight beckoned, cold and silent.
Nyxia followed it.
She didn't know where she was going.
Only that she couldn't stay.
Carefully, Nyxia slipped past the guards. Loque was at her side, silent, a haunting presence of silver light.
They didn't speak.
They just ran.
Through corridors. Past moonlit courtyards. Out into the deep woods beyond the temple's reach.
The further she got, the more the silence bled into her skin.
And finally—beneath a gnarled tree, where moonlight dappled the earth—she collapsed.
Her knees hit the dirt, hands curling into the moss. Loque stood behind her, his eyes glowing faintly, watching her shake.
She tried to breathe. She couldn't.
"I'm a monster," she choked.
Loque stepped forward, but she flinched away.
"I let it in—I felt it crawl into me, and I didn't fight hard enough—I wanted it to end—" Her voice cracked as sobs burst from her throat. "I wanted him to kill me."
She buried her face into her arms, her tail limp against the ground, ears twitching with every shudder.
Loque pressed his head to hers, wrapping around her protectively.
"You're still mine, cub. Even in pieces."
She didn't respond. Just wept.
Inside Perseus' Room
The silence in Perseus's room stretched too long—too tight. It was the kind that clawed at the lungs and made the soul feel heavy.
He sat on the floor now, knees pulled to his chest, surrounded by ruin.
The nightstand had only been the beginning.
Now, the ornate mirror lay in shards across the polished stone, its silvered surface reflecting fractured images of him. A nearby chair had been ripped apart, stuffing littering the corners. Decorative scrolls hung in tatters, the once sacred words now torn and bleeding ink.
His breath came in ragged bursts. His hands were bleeding, raw and sticky with cuts from the mirror.
"She looked at me with fear."
"She begged me to kill her."
"And some part of me—some twisted, monstrous piece—liked the way she submitted."
He doubled over, gasping like he was drowning. The memories hit harder than any weapon ever could.
"You're disgusting."
"You're no better than the monsters you swore to fight."
"What kind of protector are you?"
With a strangled cry, he grabbed the decorative bowl from the corner table and hurled it. It hit the wall, exploding into shards that rained down like knives.
The healers rushed in—robes swishing, panic stark in their eyes.
"Perseus!"
"Light preserve us, what happened?!"
"He's bleeding—gods, the whole room—!"
He didn't look at them. He couldn't.
He pressed his forehead to the cold floor and whispered, "I couldn't protect her…"
Perseus barely registered the hands that reached for him—soft fingers, gentle voices murmuring sacred words—but all he felt was cold. Deep, soul-numbing cold that not even the Light could thaw.
"Perseus, please—breathe."
"You're hurt. Let us help—"
He shoved one away, staggering to his feet amidst the chaos he had created, his chest heaving, golden eyes wide and burning.
"There's nothing you can do," he growled. "She begged me to kill her and I almost did."
One of the older temple priests stepped forward cautiously, hands open in peace. "You did not. You held back."
"I hesitated," Perseus snapped. "You think that makes me better than the Void?" He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes wild. "You don't understand what I saw in her eyes. I'll never—"
The door burst open.
A young acolyte stood breathless in the doorway, cheeks flushed from running.
"Nyxia's gone."
Silence.
For a moment, the world just stopped.
"Gone?" Perseus echoed, his voice hollow.
"She and the spirit beast—Loque'nahak—they slipped past the guards during the commotion. No one's seen them since."
Perseus's knees almost buckled again.
"No. No, no—she's not ready—she's not strong enough to be out there alone—!" He turned sharply, panic overtaking logic. "She could be—she could—she could hurt herself! Or worse!"
"We'll send search parties—" the head priest said, but Perseus didn't hear him. He was already halfway to the door before someone grabbed his arm.
"You're still bleeding," the healer whispered fiercely. "If you tear your wounds open again, you'll die before you take ten steps!"
"I don't care," he growled, voice cracking. "I have to find her—!"
Another acolyte stepped forward quickly, her voice urgent. "We need someone stationed outside Boo's room."
Heads turned.
"What?" the high priest asked.
The girl's eyes darted between the chaos. "She's close to Nyxia. If Nyxia ran, there's a chance Boo will try too. She's… she's not okay either. None of them are."
A tense silence followed before the head priest nodded grimly. "Send two wardens to watch her door. Quietly. Gently."
Perseus was still trembling, sweat clinging to his brow as he turned, haunted.
"What if I already lost her?"
"What if that look in her eyes was her goodbye?"
Perseus thrashed against the hands trying to hold him down. "Let me GO—she's out there!" His golden eyes were wild with fear and fury, burning brighter with each ragged breath.
"I have to find her—please—don't you understand?" His voice cracked. "She's alone—she thinks she deserves it—"
One of the elder healers stepped forward, her face drawn tight with sorrow and necessity. With a practiced motion, she drew a silk cloth from her robes—steeped in sleeproot and silverbloom oils, mixed for cases just like this. She pressed it gently to his mouth and nose.
"No—NO—" Perseus struggled, shoving and kicking weakly. "Don't—you don't—I have to—"
They chanted quietly around him, golden threads of light weaving through the air, wrapping around his limbs as the sedative worked its way into his system.
His struggles slowed.
His voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "I was supposed to protect her…"
Then, his body went slack.
Boo's Room
The door was cracked open just slightly.
Two acolytes stood just outside, silent and watchful, but within—Boo was untouched by the chaos. Curled tightly beneath thick blankets, her face stained with dried tears, her breath came in slow, even waves. She didn't stir, didn't twitch, didn't dream.
Just sleep.