Hours Later
Night had deepened. Perseus lay silent, sweat-soaked and pale, staring at the ceiling like if he blinked she'd vanish forever.
Boo sat beside him, cross-legged on the bed, running her fingers absently over a broken sliver of wood from the shattered nightstand.
"Hey," she murmured. "You gotta rest."
His eyes flicked to her, glassy with exhaustion.
"If you collapse again, I swear I'll knock you out myself. Elune's moon pools won't be enough to fix that kind of stubborn."
A beat passed.
"…you'd do it gently?" he rasped.
"Probably," she said, smiling faintly. "But no promises."
Another beat.
Then he sighed. His breathing finally began to slow, lashes lowering as sleep crept closer. Boo leaned back against the headboard, watching over him.
In the forest
A cry pierced the hush of the forest.
Loque'nahak stood over Nyxia's collapsed form, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. His tail lashed once—then again—as he paced in a tight circle, spectral fur bristling.
Get up, he urged silently. They're coming. I can feel them.
Nyxia didn't move.
She'd run until her legs gave out, until her lungs seized and her heart was a drumbeat in a broken cage.
Now she lay still.
Until—
A distant whistle.
Then: voices. Lantern light dancing through the trees.
"Over here!" someone called.
Loque snarled a warning at the darkness, not trusting the voices until a flash of silver robes appeared between the branches.
A rescue acolyte. Then another. Then four more.
One dropped to her knees beside Nyxia, casting light over her pale face. "She's alive!"
"She's alive!"
As hands lifted her gently from the earth, Loque walked beside them—silent, spectral, ever watchful.
I told you, he thought proudly. You're not done yet.
The temple gates opened with a cry—an acolyte's voice cracking through the courtyard.
"She's back! We found her!"
Boo jolted upright, barely awake, a half-formed prayer on her lips. Perseus stirred, confusion in his eyes, but her expression told him everything before the words ever did.
Nyxia.
They rushed outside—Perseus leaning heavily on Boo, one arm thrown over her shoulder as they stepped onto the marble stairs beneath the rising moon.
The scene below was chaos.
A pair of temple guards helped carry Nyxia's unconscious form on a wide cloth stretcher, flanked by acolytes chanting quietly, their hands glowing faintly with healing light. Loque'nahak padded alongside, ghostly and tall, his head lowered and eyes glowing with calm fury.
Her hair was wild, full of brambles and dirt. Her skin, once smooth and kissed by moonlight, was scraped, bruised, raw—but she breathed. She breathed.
Perseus crumpled at the sight of her, his knees buckling. Boo barely caught him.
"It's her," he whispered. "Gods, it's her."
They brought Nyxia straight to the temple's inner sanctum, bypassing the moon pools this time. There wasn't time—her soul was frayed, teetering on the edge between waking and sleep, haunted by things none of them could see.
As they laid her down on the fresh cot, Perseus knelt beside her. His hands hovered an inch from her face, afraid to touch, to break her further.
"I should've stopped you," he whispered. "I should've—"
He couldn't finish.
Loque stepped between them, pressing his massive head against Perseus's chest. A low growl thrummed through his spectral throat—a warning, and a comfort.
Boo crouched beside them, her voice thick. "She made it back. You both did."
Perseus reached out—finally—and brushed a strand of hair from Nyxia's temple.
"…welcome home."
Moonlight still clung faintly to the windows when Loque finally settled, curling his large spectral body near Nyxia's cot, his glowing eyes half-lidded but watchful. Boo sat beside Perseus on the edge of a cushioned bench, her hands clasped together, silent for once.
Perseus exhaled. A long, slow breath that seemed to drag the chaos of the past days out with it.
"She's safe," Boo murmured softly. "That's all that matters now."
Perseus nodded slowly, eyes heavy-lidded. He still looked like a war-torn shadow of himself, but some of the fury had ebbed from his expression, replaced by guilt—and beneath that, something quietly aching.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, voice hoarse. "For scaring everyone. For losing control. For… everything."
Loque huffed, a low chuffing sound that might've been approval. Boo offered a crooked little smile.
"Hey," she said. "You lost it because you care. That's not something to be sorry for."
She nudged him gently with her elbow. "But next time, try punching a pillow instead of your furniture, yeah?"
He chuckled—an actual, tired laugh—and finally leaned back against the wall behind him. "Noted."
Loque nuzzled Boo briefly, then turned and pressed his head gently to Perseus's side. The contact grounded him. For the first time in nights, he allowed himself to rest. Boo remained seated, cross-legged now, half-dozing against the wall while Loque stood guard over all three of them.
They didn't speak much at breakfast.
Perseus had washed and dressed quietly, still emotionally bruised but steady. Boo looked a little more herself, even managing to flirt with the acolyte who brought out trays of bread, cheese, and fruit.
The awkwardness lingered like fog, clinging to the edges of every glance, every unspoken thought.
Perseus finally cleared his throat as they sat around a low table in the sunlight-filled common room. "I owe you both more than an apology," he said, eyes fixed on the polished wood instead of their faces. "The things I said. The way I acted. That's not who I want to be."
Boo was quiet for a moment, then gave him a lopsided shrug. "You were grieving. Afraid. Doesn't excuse it—but doesn't make you a monster either."
He nodded, grateful, but the weight still sat in his chest like unburned coal.
Later, Nyxia stirred awake to the warmth of midday sun. Her body ached, but she was whole. Loque rested beside her, glowing dimly, and when she blinked groggily toward him, he rumbled with soft affection. "You scared me, little shadow", the voice whispered into her thoughts—telepathic, loving, grounding.
"I scared myself," she whispered back, stunned she could reply at all.
With gentle coaxing and help from a pair of temple attendants, she was led—bundled in a thick shawl—toward the courtyard dining space. Her tail curled instinctively beneath her, half-real, half-spirit. Her new ears twitched at every sound, adjusting to life in the open again.
Perseus stood when he saw her, stiff but unreadable. Boo crossed the room in a heartbeat and yanked her into a crushing hug.
"You little idiot," she hissed, voice cracking. "Running into the woods like some tragic ghost—what the hell were you thinking?"
Nyxia blinked. Then managed a faint, sheepish smile. "I wasn't."
"Well, next time—think," Boo muttered, hugging her tighter. "But… thank the stars you're here."
They settled together again at the table. Nyxia's appetite was small, but she nibbled at warm bread and fruit. Heavier fare made her stomach churn. They ate in silence for a while, the kind that wasn't awkward now—just healing.
Finally, Nyxia spoke.
"Perseus."
He looked up, and she met his gaze without flinching.
"I'm sorry. For everything. For pushing you away. For losing control. For making you worry."
She lowered her voice. "Thank you for not giving up on me… even when I gave up on myself."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, simply, "There's nowhere you could go that I wouldn't follow."
Her ears flicked once, barely noticeable, but the shimmer at the corners of her eyes said the rest.
They finished the meal in a fragile peace.
That evening, the three of them gathered on the temple's upper terrace beneath silver starlight. The breeze was cool against the marble tiles, rustling through the leaves of sacred trees beyond the balcony.
Loque dozed beside Nyxia, one paw resting on her foot like a living vow. Boo leaned against the balcony rail, bottle of plum wine in hand, robe half-undone and hair wild in the moonlight.
Perseus joined them quietly. Clean, calm, wrapped in soft temple linen. He lowered himself beside Nyxia, arms resting on his knees, not needing to speak right away.
Boo finally broke the silence, swirling wine in her cup. "Didn't think I'd be laughing with either of you again."
"You almost didn't," Nyxia murmured.
Loque gave a soft huff, pressing his side into hers.
"I'm glad I was wrong," Boo added. "And I'm glad we're still standing. Somehow."
Nyxia looked between them. "I think… we kept each other from falling apart."
Perseus reached out—hesitant, but sure—and placed his hand gently over both of theirs. "You're family now. Both of you."
Nyxia turned her hand over, laced her fingers with his. Boo set her cup aside and did the same.
Loque rumbled softly, the sound low and reverent.
And for the first time in a long, long while… none of them felt alone.
—
A week passed.
Golden light bathed the courtyard, dappling it in gold and green. Boo stood with a satchel at her hip, weapons belted in place, clothes snug and familiar. She flexed her fingers like a woman ready to be dangerous again.
Nyxia waited at her side, dressed in soft greens and deeper browns. Her spectral tail flicked slowly. Loque loomed quietly beside her, ever watchful.
Perseus was still in the doorway, surrounded by a half-dozen fussing acolytes.
"I'm fine," he muttered. "It's been a week."
"You overexerted your body," one priest huffed. "You need another week, at least."
Over their shoulders, Perseus met Nyxia's gaze. "Wait for me?"
She nodded. "Always."
Boo approached and placed a hand firmly over his chest. "If you don't come back in one piece," she said, "I will drag your ass here myself."
Perseus chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."
Nyxia stepped forward, brushed her lips softly to his cheek, and whispered, "Thank you."
Then she turned.
And with Boo and Loque beside her, they left the temple gates behind, walking down the forest path as the wind stirred the trees around them—onward, toward what came next.