Their room was small but warm. Draj had pushed the bed against the wall to make space for a bedroll on the floor. Boo sat at the table, scrubbing Nyxia's armor with a rag soaked in strong spirits, muttering under her breath with every bloodstain that refused to lift.
Nyxia lay in the bed, shirtless, bandages wrapped tight around her ribs and shoulder. She held an ice pack to her temple, glaring at the cracked ceiling.
Loque had refused to leave her side, now curled like a gargoyle at the foot of the bed, still purring faintly, eyes on the door as if daring anyone to enter uninvited.
"Next time," Boo muttered, "you fight a gnome in a bar brawl or something. Not a six-hundred-pound berserker from Zul'Farrak hopped up on void juice."
Nyxia smirked. "Then it wouldn't be fair. For the gnome."
Draj chuckled from the corner, folding their cloaks. "You really scared us, Nyx."
Her expression softened for a heartbeat. "I know. I didn't mean to."
A heavy knock thundered against the door.
They all froze.
Boo was halfway to her bow when it slammed open with the force of a hurricane.
Perseus stood in the doorway—wild-eyed, panting, covered in soot and windburn. His gaze locked instantly on Nyxia.
Her eyes widened, stunned. "Perseus?"
He crossed the room in three strides, falling to his knees beside the bed. His hands hovered like he didn't know where to touch, afraid of hurting her, but desperate to feel she was real.
"You're alive," he breathed, voice cracking. "You're really alive."
She blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice, his face.
"I've been through worse," she whispered, weakly.
"I saw you." His voice was a rasp. "Saw them watching. Saw that bastard—whispering to you while you bled out on the sand."
Boo stepped forward, jaw tight. "You what?"
Perseus didn't look away from Nyxia, even as his voice dropped. "The temple. They had someone tracking you. Feeding them visions of what you were doing. They were watching her fight like it was some show."
Nyxia's brows furrowed. "The acolyte…"
"They didn't warn anyone," Perseus seethed. "They used you. And now some void-marked freak has his eyes on you."
Loque growled low in his throat.
"You think I don't know that?" Nyxia's voice was sharper now, sitting up with a wince. "I felt him. The void sings like a curse around him."
"I came as fast as I could," Perseus said, softer now, shaking his head like he still didn't believe she was there. "I thought—I thought I was going to lose you."
There was a long pause.
Then Nyxia reached forward and poked his chest with her bandaged finger. "You still owe me lunch."
Perseus laughed—wet and broken—but real.
"Fine," he said, pulling her hand into both of his. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight again."
The storm outside had quieted. Inside, the room was filled with the clatter of utensils, the warm flicker of candlelight, and the low murmur of conversation. A meal had been brought up—nothing fancy, just spiced stew, bread, and hard cider—but it tasted like a feast after the chaos of the pit.
Nyxia sat up in bed, draped in a linen robe, her polearm propped beside her like a loyal guard dog. Her bandages had been redone, fresh salve cooling the angry bruises beneath.
Perseus sat across from her, arms resting on the small table, still recovering from the sheer adrenaline of his wild gryphon flight and what he'd witnessed. He was calmer now, though his eyes never wandered far from hers.
"You must be Draj," Perseus said, breaking the quiet. His tone was wary, but not unfriendly.
Draj lifted a brow. "Perseus, right? Temple boy?"
"Was," Perseus corrected. "Not anymore."
"Good," Draj grunted. "You were too pretty to be locked up in there."
Nyxia nearly choked on her stew. "Draj!"
Perseus cracked a rare smile.
Boo sat on the windowsill, one leg curled beneath her. She watched the exchange with a content but tired smirk, sipping cider and tossing crumbs to Loque, who, for some reason, insisted on trying to catch them midair like a dog.
Eventually, Boo rose, brushing crumbs off her leggings.
"I'm gonna go collect your winnings before someone else tries to."
"Yeah?" Nyxia tilted her head. "You sure you're up for dealing with Pit politics?"
Boo rolled her eyes. "Please. I've got more knives than patience."
"Take my token." Nyxia reached beneath her pillow and tossed a blood-smeared coin to her. "They'll know what it means."
"Anything else you want me to say?"
Nyxia winked. "Tell them I said I want interest if they were thinking of skimming."
The air back in the Pit was heavier now, thick with dried blood, mead stench, and smoke. Most of the crowds had dispersed, leaving only the crews, gamblers, and bruised fighters who couldn't afford a room upstairs.
Boo walked with her shoulders squared and her bow strapped loosely across her back. She followed the torchlit corridor behind the arena until she reached a curtained door guarded by two large orcs. They glanced at her, then down at the token she held up.
"Go on in," one grunted.
The room beyond was unexpectedly quiet—lavishly furnished compared to the rest of the Pit. Silks draped from the walls, and a golden brazier filled the space with the scent of cloves and something darker.
A man stood waiting at the desk. He was tall, with slicked-back silver hair and a faint smirk. He wore a simple black tunic with gloves, no visible weapons. His face was sharp but forgettable in the way Boo instinctively didn't like.
"Name?" he asked.
"Nyxia," Boo replied, stepping up to the desk.
"Ah. The brave little hunter." He reached beneath the desk and pulled out a pouch, letting it drop onto the counter with a heavy clink. "Her winnings. And… a bit extra. For the show."
Boo narrowed her eyes, sliding the pouch toward her but not pocketing it yet. "You don't sound like the usual bookie."
The man leaned forward slightly and grinned. "I'm not."
Then his eyes flickered.
Void-black. Infinite. Familiar. A name etched itself into her mind.
Arioch.
Boo's mouth went dry.
"She's magnificent, isn't she?" he said, voice a whisper just for her. "The way the void dances through her—reckless, beautiful, hungry."
Boo didn't respond. Her fingers slid down toward the dagger strapped at her hip.
"But I'll admit… you surprised me too." His smile widened. "A shame you weren't the one in the ring. I'd have enjoyed that."
"I'm gonna walk out of here now," Boo said coolly, grabbing the pouch, "and if you follow me, I swear to Elune I'll put an bullet through your throat."
He chuckled. "Oh, I won't follow."
She backed toward the curtain slowly, never taking her eyes off him.
"But Boo…" he called after her, just as she turned to go. "Tell Nyxia… she has my heart."
The words slithered behind her as she broke into a run down the hall, not daring to slow until she burst into the inn's doorway, panting and white-knuckled, clutching the pouch like it might protect her from what she'd just seen.
The fire cracked low in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the modest room. As Boo disappeared down the hallway, the energy within settled into something quieter—heavier.
Draj cleared his throat, awkwardly wiping his hands on his trousers before standing up. He looked at Perseus, who hadn't stopped watching him since he sat down.
"Uh, name's Draj," he said, offering a hand. "Travelin' with them for a few weeks now. Guess I'm… family, in a way. Not by blood. Just… bond."
Perseus eyed the hand before accepting it with a firm shake. "Perseus."
There was a pause—long enough to feel. Draj didn't miss it. He scratched the back of his neck.
"I helped keep her alive back there. For what it's worth."
Perseus gave a short nod, but his gaze lingered a second too long on Draj's bracers, the faint outline of hidden blades at his hips. "I saw."
Draj tilted his head, smiling just slightly. "You don't trust me."
"I don't know you," Perseus said flatly, not unkindly.
Nyxia let out a low groan from the bed. "If he wanted me dead, he had plenty of chances to let me bleed out, Percy. Ease up."
Perseus's lips twitched at the nickname, but he glanced once more at Draj before settling back into his seat. "Fair enough."