The Temple, Far to the East
It was the same morning as the one before. And the one before that.
The scent of incense hung heavy in the stone corridors of the temple, mingling with the faint floral notes of the herb garden beyond its white-marbled walls. Somewhere, bells chimed the hour. Perseus sat at the long table with the other residents—acolytes in pale robes, heads bowed in near silence, picking over an opulent breakfast of poached fruits, honeyed bread, and delicately carved cheeses.
He chewed slowly, not tasting a thing.
Afterward came the bath, pristine and steaming. The same marble floors, the same golden taps. He stood under the cascading water with his eyes closed, hair slicked back, the weight of peace pressing in like a dull ache. No laughter. No chaos. No Nyxia. A raven landed on a windowsill far from that backwater town, cawing irritably as it dropped a crumpled, slightly damp letter onto a cluttered desk. Perseus looked up, blinking. His fingers still bore nicks from cleaning his blades.
The seal was waxy but smeared. The handwriting looked like a drunk spider had roller-skated across it.
He unfolded it.
Purrshus— Are yu still aliv? We might be. Nyx says we are but i think she's juss tryin to be bossy wif facts.
We drank. A lot. Then a bigass cowman named Draj shaird sum bloodthissle wif us. He smokes it lik a poet. Said sumthin abowt da stars havin teeth?? I think I luv him. He scared of goblins wich is WILD coz he's huge n cud crush one like a bug on soup.
We fownd a pit. Not a hole. Like, a fyt place. Called THE PIT. Caps. We mite fyt. Mite bet. Mite kiss sumone's mom. IDK. No maps jus rocks in water. Red ones. Nyx says we follow em. I say we roll down em.
Nyx is funner than ppl think. She snorted beer. Like a lot. I saw her SMILE. thrice. She has this… laugh? lik a sunbeam curlin up in a hammock. I'm not cryin ur cryin. Mish ur dum face. Do NOT die wifout me or I'll come bak frum da ded n slap u wif my boot. Also u owe me noodles. An explenashun.
— B
As he read, his expression shifted from confusion to concern to something dangerously close to a grin. "She's high," he muttered to no one. "Drunk and high."
He folded the letter, slipping it into his coat pocket like it was something precious.
By the time lunch arrived—cold vegetables, warm bread, and mint tea—Perseus was half asleep on his feet.
When he returned to his chambers, he pulled out Boo's letter again, rereading the last line:
Do NOT die wifout me or I'll come bak frum da ded n slap u wif my boot.
He laughed to himself and shook his head. Then he found paper, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write, sharp and neat—so unlike hers it almost felt like blasphemy.
Boo—
I'm alive. Boringly so.
Breakfast was lavender bread, fig jam, and some kind of poached fruit with a name I can't pronounce. I'd trade all of it for half a burnt sausage and a look from Nyxia that doesn't feel like it could kill a man at thirty paces.
You wrote that she can really let loose. I believe you. I just never get to see it. I think part of her is afraid to breathe too loud, like the world might punish her for it. So if she's laughing now — even once — you protect that sound like it's sacred. Because it is.
You're lucky. And she's lucky to have someone like you dragging her into trouble.
Stay alive. Don't lose to banshees. Don't marry any unless they're rich.
And Boo?
I miss your ridiculous face too.
— P.
Back at the Tavern
The room had grown quiet again after the bath and hangover haze wore off. Nyxia stood at the door, dressed now in her cursed bodysuit—the sin-black material clinging to every inch of her body like ink made flesh. It shimmered faintly where the morning sun touched it, tracing every curve, muscle, and scar with ruthless precision.
She tightened her belt, grabbed her hood, and was halfway to the knob when—
"Sit yo ass down."
Nyxia blinked. Boo was behind her, holding a brush like it was a dagger, one hand on her hip. "What?"
"I said sit. Your hair looks like a damn tumbleweed fought a bird. You're not going into a shadow pit like that. It's a crime against style."
Before Nyxia could protest, Boo physically turned her and guided her down to sit on the edge of the bed. Nyxia knelt with a sigh, head tilted forward slightly.
"You're absurd," she muttered. "This is absurd."
"You love it," Boo said smugly, sliding her fingers into Nyxia's long, black-silver-streaked locks. "Now hush. Let me work."
She brushed with surprising tenderness—parting the strands, untangling small snarls, and humming something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a pirate shanty. Her nails grazed Nyxia's scalp as she worked, coaxing the tension from her.
"You know," Boo murmured, separating a section for a braid, "you're a lot more fun when you're not growling or scowling. You've got that… soft thing goin' on under all the murder vibes."
Nyxia gave a dry laugh. "You're lucky Loque tolerates you."
Boo winked. "He adores me."
Nyxia didn't argue.
When Boo finished, she braided one long rope down Nyxia's back, weaving in a crimson ribbon she'd swiped from a tablecloth downstairs. She tied it off with a flourish, then tilted her head.
"Perfect," she declared. "Elegant menace with a dash of outlaw flair."
Loque'nahak, silent until now, padded over and sat beside Nyxia. He blinked at her slowly, then tilted his head.
"She sees you, my little cub." His voice was only for her—quiet and old and warm. "You're still afraid to be loved like this. To be cared for in sunlight, not just shadow."
Nyxia looked down at her clawed hands, flexed them once.
"She's reckless," she answered in her mind. "And loud. And annoying."
"Yes," Loque replied, tail curling beside her. "And somehow… good for you."
He leaned in, spectral nose touching her temple.
"You always were my favorite little storm."
The sun broke gently over the craggy hills, casting a soft gold wash over the crooked rooftops of the outpost town. Nyxia returned the heavy iron key to the goblin barkeep, who grunted his approval without looking up from scrubbing a suspicious stain on the counter. Without a word, she turned and vanished through the backdoor.
Ten minutes later, she emerged from the tavern's side alley, triumphant, a bundle of food tucked beneath her cloak. She had a knack for appearing unseen — even when she was carrying stolen breakfast.
Boo was already hitching their mare to the wagon, rubbing sleep from one eye, hair still damp from her earlier shower. "Gods bless your morally flexible soul," she said, grabbing a warm bundle from Nyxia and immediately tearing into the greasy flatbread filled with eggs and thick-cut spiced meat.
Nyxia slid into the back of the wagon, letting Loque leap up beside her in his silent, shimmering way. The big cat gave a pleased grunt and curled protectively around her boots. Nyxia leaned back against a bale of musty hay and ate slowly, savoring the quiet before the road swallowed them again.
A steady clop-clop of hooves approached from the edge of town. Boo squinted into the morning haze.
"Don't tell me that's—"
"It's me," Draj called, riding into view on a thickly muscled dun horse. His braids were tied back neatly today, and he looked far too smug for someone who'd definitely smoked half the tavern's bloodthistle stock the night before. "Figured you two might need a proper guide."
"We've got a map," Boo lied.
"No you don't," Nyxia called from the back.
Draj grinned. "Thought so. You'll never find The Pit without someone who knows the riverbed. You want it? It's east and hidden, and you follow red stones until the trees start lying to you."
Boo raised an eyebrow. "That's not ominous at all."
He leaned slightly forward on his horse. "Besides… figured I owed you a parting gift."
"Oh?" Boo's tone curled like smoke.
"I'll lead you there myself."
He didn't ask permission, just turned his mount toward the path and started off. Boo clicked her tongue and climbed up to the wagon's front seat, reins in one hand and half a breakfast sandwich in the other. She gave the mare a nudge, and the wagon creaked into motion.
Draj kept a slow pace ahead, glancing back now and then with a smirk that said he enjoyed being watched. Boo made sure to do exactly that.
"Is this you being noble?" she called to him after a while.
"This is me being helpful."
"Shame. You wear 'mysterious rogue' better."
Draj chuckled. "You want mystery, ask me about the scar on my thigh."
"Oh, I will. Eventually." Boo kicked her boots up on the edge of the wagon, grinning like a devil.
Behind them, Nyxia stretched out across the hay. Loque's massive head rested beside her hip, and the spirit beast huffed warm air through his nose before letting out a soft chuff of amusement.
"You're getting reckless again," he said in that low, mind-touching voice only Nyxia could hear.
Nyxia smiled faintly, watching Boo toss her head back in laughter. "Maybe. But it feels good."
Loque purred, low and bone-deep. "You're allowed to feel good, little cub. Just don't forget the claws when it counts."
Nyxia's eyes flicked to the horizon, where the riverbed shimmered with flecks of red. Her fingers brushed over the cursed suit beneath her cloak. Already, it clung tighter, humming faintly.
But today — just for today — she would breathe freely.
The wagon creaked along the uneven path, its wheels crunching old pine needles and the occasional red stone that marked the strange, hidden route to The Pit. Mist curled around the trees, curling like breath over a grave. But for now, the mood wasn't grim.
Boo leaned back against the seat, arms casually draped over the sides like she owned the world. "So, Draj," she called to the Tauren ahead, "if you're our guide now, does that make you responsible for our safety?"
Draj didn't even turn around. "Only if I'm getting hazard pay."
"Oh, you'll get paid." Boo smirked. "Eventually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Maybe physically."
Nyxia groaned from the back of the wagon. "You two have the sexual tension of a tavern knife fight."
Loque let out a sound that might've been a chuckle — low, deep, and amused. He padded forward and flopped beside Nyxia, resting his massive, spectral head in her lap with a soft whuff. The spirit beast's misty mane tickled her thighs.
"I like this," he murmured, his voice like the wind through ice-covered trees. "You're laughing more. Less brooding. It suits you."
"Don't get used to it," Nyxia muttered, fingers drifting through his smoky fur. But she didn't mean it.
Boo twisted halfway around in her seat, grinning like a troublemaker caught mid-theft. "Hey! Don't brood back there without me. C'mon, Nyx — tell Draj about the time we accidentally burned down that food stall in Silvermoon."
Nyxia's eyes narrowed, realizing she was making up a story to prove a point... again. "You burned it down. I was just trying to save the vendor's cat."
Boo grinned wider. "Which you did. Gloriously. After drop-kicking me into a vat of soup."
"You deserved it. You stole a tomato right in front of him!"
"I was hungry, and it looked smug!"
Draj laughed, finally glancing over his shoulder. "You two are chaos."
"We're effective chaos," Boo replied, mock-prim. "There's a difference."
"Effective until the Watch arrives," Nyxia added dryly.
Loque purred again. "She's opening up," he said softly, just to Nyxia. "You're letting yourself be. I've missed this version of you, cub."
Nyxia lowered her gaze to his glowing, wolf-like eyes. "So have I."
Up front, Boo was tossing questions at Draj like daggers. "So, where's a charming Tauren like you learn to ride like that? Don't say 'birthright' — I want something with drama. Give me a heartbreak. A stolen kiss. A long-lost sibling you only speak to through coded campfire songs."
Draj turned in the saddle just enough to smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"I would! That's why I asked."
"You'll have to get me drunk again."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Before the banter could escalate into something hotter than the sunlight, a sharp caw echoed overhead.
All three looked up as a sleek black raven dove from the sky in a tight spiral. It landed gracefully on the wagon's front rail, clutching a scroll in its talons, sealed with a familiar pressed wax emblem — Perseus's.
Boo blinked. "Oh no. He got the letter?"
Nyxia raised an eyebrow. "You forgot you sent it?"
"I was extremely intoxicated, okay?"
She untied the scroll carefully, fingers smudging the ink before she could stop herself. Boo read the message aloud, pausing now and then to snort.
No Nyxia, and Boo
Temple life is exactly the same. Same tea. Same scrolls. Same acolytes pretending they understand metaphysics before noon.
Stay alive. Don't lose to banshees. Don't marry any unless they're rich.
And Boo? I miss your ridiculous face too.
-P.
Nyxia tried not to smile. She failed.
Boo let out a long, happy sigh. "He does miss me."
Nyxia leaned over the wagon's edge. "He said he misses my name first."
"Semantics," Boo sniffed. "He's clearly suffering without me."
Loque rumbled from Nyxia's lap. "You're both ridiculous."
"Correct," Boo said without missing a beat. "But lovable."
Draj rolled his eyes. "You're going to get me arrested just by association, aren't you?"
Boo tossed him a wink. "Only if you're lucky."
The wagon rolled on, the red stones growing thicker in the riverbed beside them. The air was warmer now, heavier. Tension threaded the horizon like a storm waiting to break.
But for the moment, laughter echoed through the trees, and Nyxia — tucked between spirit and shadow — allowed herself to feel light.