Dawn - Near the Pit
The fire had long since burned to embers, casting faint orange light across the sleeping forms of Nyxia and Draj. Boo sat alone, cross-legged on a flat stone, the quiet of the pre-dawn hour wrapping around her like a cloak.
She'd woken early—earlier than usual. A bad habit when you'd spent most of your life expecting a knife to find your throat if you didn't. The air was colder here, sharper. It bit like a warning.
Boo stoked the fire gently, then turned her attention to the mess kit. She worked quietly, slicing dried meat, heating water, and steeping a strong herbal brew Nyxia liked. Something smoky and bitter with a touch of mint. It kept her grounded.
While it simmered, she reached for the worn leather-bound journal she used to write to Perseus.
Her handwriting flowed easily, but the words were heavy.
We were ambushed yesterday. Three on one turned to six on three. Getting closer to the pit is getting us closer to something else too—something foul.- B Boo sealed the note, tied it to the raven's leg.
The bird vanished into the sky just as the sun began to yawn over the cliffs.
A few minutes later, Nyxia stirred, face tucked into her arm, groggy and stiff. Draj padded over to Boo, quietly helping set out portions of their breakfast. He lingered beside her longer than necessary.
"You don't sleep," he murmured, offering her the first bite.
"Someone has to watch your pretty hair while you snore," she teased, but her voice was softer now. Tired. Weighted.
He met her eyes. "Are you alright?"
Boo looked out over the horizon, toward the Pit's rising fog. "Ask me that when we get out of there."
They ate quietly—Nyxia joining them with the gruff nod of someone who was too sore to speak but grateful for food. The wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of ash and magic.
They packed. They moved. East, again. Into shadow.
The final stretch of their journey was quiet, save for the crunch of boots on gravel and the whisper of wind through broken trees. The Pit loomed in the distance now—less a place and more a wound in the land, jagged and raw.
They'd cleaned up quickly after breakfast, Boo dousing the fire while Draj packed the last of their supplies. Nyxia said little, her movements taut with unease. Something in the air was wrong. Thick. Like a storm waiting to break.
They arrived just past midday.
The Pit was not what any of them had expected. Smoke curled from cracks in the earth, and jagged cliffs rose on either side, enclosing a wide basin of stone, moss, and shifting shadow. At its center were makeshift camps—shanties and tents, scattered like forgotten bones.
Trolls.
At least a dozen, maybe more, moved among the rubble. Their armor was patchwork, their weapons scavenged and deadly. Some bore tribal markings, others looked feral and displaced—refugees from a long-forgotten war.
Boo raised a hand to signal halt. "We go in slow," she murmured.
Nyxia nodded. "Too quiet."
They descended.
At first, they were unnoticed. The trio moved with practiced calm—no hands on weapons, no threats in their stride. Draj kept his head low. Boo kept hers high. Nyxia's tail twitched behind her, betraying the unease that burned through her spine.
Then—
"Oi! What you think you doin' 'ere, elf?" came a growl from the far side of the camp. A troll with a jagged scar across his face stormed forward, flanked by two others. His eyes locked on Boo.
"We're just passing through," Boo said easily, though her hand hovered near a blade.
"You walkin' through da Pit like you own it," the troll sneered. "You wit' dem void-walkers, eh? We seen what dey did to da rocks. To da people."
"We're not with anyone," Nyxia cut in, voice cool. "We don't even know what you're talking about."
"Liar," one of the trolls spat. "We seen her." He jabbed a finger toward Nyxia. "Seen her tail. She marked. She corrupted."
Boo blinked. "Oh, fuck."
And just like that—chaos erupted.
The troll lunged. Boo's dagger was out in a flash. Draj drew his curved blade with a growl, shielding Boo's flank. Nyxia moved like wind and smoke, already intercepting another blow aimed at her side.
Steel clashed with bone. Magic lit the air in flashes of blue and green. Trolls shouted in fury—more misunderstanding than malice now, but it was too late.
They were in it.
Nyxia's spear swept low, catching a leg and sending a troll sprawling. Boo ducked a warhammer swing and buried a blade in the attacker's thigh, twisting just enough to drop him before leaping backward. Draj whirled like a storm, defending them both, his eyes blazing gold.
"STOP!" Nyxia shouted—but her voice was swallowed by the roar of battle.
Too many. Too fast.
And beneath it all—something moved.
A pulse.
The ground trembled. A thick, black vein pulsed beneath the stone—just beneath the dirt where no one should've stepped.
Void.
It hissed up like smoke, curling toward Nyxia's feet.
She felt it.
Felt it like a memory. Like a curse.
Pain came fast and unforgiving.
A club cracked across Boo's ribs, and she hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs. Draj roared and surged forward, slicing a jagged arc through the troll's weapon arm, forcing him back—but the damage was done.
Nyxia, breath coming in ragged bursts, blocked a jagged spear with her forearm. Blood welled, crimson against alabaster skin, but she didn't flinch. Her spear spun like liquid wrath, striking her attacker in the shoulder. He fell with a grunt.
They were winning—but it wasn't clean. It wasn't easy.
Draj took a hit to the jaw, staggering back. Boo spat blood onto the ground and rose again, eyes burning. A troll caught Nyxia's tail—just for a second—and the sound that tore from her throat was half-snarl, half-scream. Her knee drove into his gut, and her elbow snapped his jaw sideways.
The fight was ugly. Personal.
And when it ended, the air was thick with groans and panting. Trolls littered the pit floor—some unconscious, others retreating, bruised and limping.
The trio stood in the wreckage, bloodied and breathless.
Boo clutched her side. "I think that one cracked a rib," she wheezed.
Nyxia glanced down at her bleeding arm, then at Draj, whose lip was split and still oozing. "We need to get out of here."
"Yeah, well, too late for quiet exits," Boo muttered.
That's when they noticed him.
A figure on the ridge above. Hooded. Robed. Watching.
Nyxia's eyes narrowed.
"Stay here," she snapped, already moving.
The robed figure turned to run, but Nyxia was faster. In moments, she'd slammed him into the cliffside with her forearm across his throat.
The hood fell back.
A young night elf. Barely more than a novice. Temple robes, stained with dust and travel.
"Who sent you?" Nyxia growled.
His eyes widened in terror. "I—I'm just following orders! I didn't mean harm—"
"You've been spying on us?"
"I was told to keep an eye on the rogue. And you," he added, trembling. "They said the void's taken root near the Pit. That… you might already be tainted."
Nyxia's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in her cheek. "So they sent a fucking rat instead of talking to me?"
"I—I only send reports back. I swear—"
Her grip tightened. Her arm throbbed from the fight. Her blood boiled from the accusation.
Then she shoved him away.
"Get out of my sight before I forget who I used to be."
The acolyte scrambled to his feet and ran.
Draj approached cautiously. "You okay?"
"No."
Nyxia's gaze turned toward the deep pit ahead—toward the roaring sounds coming from beyond the next ridge. Cheering. Combat. Blood sport.
A ring.
A fighting ring.
She could see it from here—brutal and makeshift. Warriors entering one at a time. Winning coin. Reputation. Pain.
Something in her snapped.
"I'm going in," she muttered.
Boo blinked. "The hell you are."
"I need to hit something that deserves it."
"You just bled in a brawl. That wasn't enough?"
"It wasn't mine."
Boo stepped in front of her. "Nyx—don't do this. You're not thinking straight. You're angry. And you're rattled."
"I'm focused." Nyxia's voice cut like a blade. "I'm done being hunted. Done being spied on. If they think I'm some cursed weapon—fine. Let's see what I really am."
"Fighting in a pit isn't going to prove anything."
"Yes, it is," Nyxia said, eyes flashing. "It'll prove I'm still in control. That I choose my violence. Not the void. Me."
Boo looked at her like she was already slipping. "And what happens when you lose yourself in there?"
Nyxia paused. Not long. Just enough to make the silence heavy.
"Then they'll get exactly what they came looking for."
She turned and walked toward the arena.
Boo cursed under her breath and exchanged a grim look with Draj.
"This is gonna go sideways," Boo muttered.
Draj nodded once. "Let's be ready to catch her."
The arena was nothing like Nyxia expected.
It wasn't lawless.
It was hungry.
Stone walls slick with blood. Sand darkened by old wounds. A crowd drunk on violence and smoke. And above all, that pulsing thrum beneath the ground—like a heartbeat out of sync with the world.
Void energy.
It seeped through the cracked earth like poison, whispering sweet madness.
Boo gripped the edge of her seat high in the stands, jaw clenched. "This is a death pit. Not a sparring ring."
"She knows that," Draj muttered. "She just doesn't care."
Across the stands, hidden beneath cloaking magic, a mysterious man leaned forward in the shadows. His lips curled into something between amusement and fascination.
"There you are," he murmured. "Little nightfang. Drowning in a tide you don't yet understand."
He could feel it in her—void and rage, clashing like swords in a hurricane.