The soft clink of coin against wood was the only sound that broke the silence.
Nyxia slid another few silver pieces under the door with trembling fingers, her hand retreating just as quickly. She didn't speak. She hadn't in days.
It had become a ritual. A silent transaction. She didn't want to see anyone. Especially not the kind-eyed innkeeper who gave her too much pity with her meals and asked too many questions. Questions she couldn't answer. Questions that reminded her she was still alive.
And she was so, so tired of being alive.
She pulled her hand back under the blanket and lay still, her body aching from disuse, her mind ringing with the voices she couldn't silence.
"You left us to die."
"You let him in."
"You're just like her now."
Ves's voice. Her own voice. Arioch's voice. Sometimes she didn't know who was speaking anymore.
She buried her face in the pillow.
They were probably gone by now. Boo. Perseus. Draj. Loque. Why wouldn't they be? She'd scared them. Lied to them. Ignored their voices when they tried to reach her.
They must hate her.
She deserved it.
"She's paid for four nights," the innkeeper said, looking at the ledger with a frown. "Slips the coin under the door same time every day. I assumed she just needed rest."
Boo looked like she was about to throw something. "She hasn't eaten, has she?"
"No. She refused the food yesterday. And the day before." The innkeeper's voice dropped. "I'm starting to worry. I know the look of someone falling out of themselves."
Loque growled softly, pacing again.
"She's in room eight," the woman added, reluctantly. "I shouldn't let you up there, but… I think she needs something more than silence."
Perseus was already halfway up the stairs before the words left her mouth.
Draj hesitated only a second before following.
They stopped at her door. The air felt heavy here. Still.
Loque sat in front of it, nose twitching, tail low. He let out a low, whining growl and pawed at the wood.
"Nyxia?" Boo knocked, softly first, then again—harder. "Nyx, open up. Please."
No answer.
"She's in there," Perseus muttered. "I can hear her breathing. Barely."
Loque scratched at the door again, then suddenly shoved against it with his shoulder. The frame groaned.
"She's not going to open it," Draj said gently.
"She can't," Perseus snapped.
Boo looked back toward the stairs. No footsteps. No protests.
"Then we open it ourselves."
The room smelled faintly of mildew and old wood. A single streak of sunlight cut through the closed shutters, striping the floor like a wound that never healed.
Nyxia hadn't moved in hours.
Four days.
She wasn't counting, but her body was.
Her bones ached, her throat was dry, and the muscles in her back screamed from lying on the cold floor. Yet she didn't move—not even to curl tighter around herself.
Her polearm lay against the far wall, untouched since the night she'd dragged it in behind her. She hadn't looked at it. Couldn't.
The floor beneath her cheek was gritty with sand tracked in from the pit.
That stupid pit.
That stupid crowd. That stupid grin on his face.
Arioch's voice still whispered in the corners of her mind, a phantom more persistent than breath.
"You were magnificent."
"You were made for this."
"They'll never understand you like I do."
She hated him.
She hated herself more.
Her ribs still throbbed where the cleaver had struck. Her lip was split, and one eye was nearly swollen shut. Not from the fight—but from the dreams. The visions. The memories.
Ves.
His eyes haunted her every time she blinked. She saw him gasping for air, broken on the temple floor, blood pooling faster than her hands could hold.
Her magic hadn't come.
Her strength had left.
And she'd run.
Just like she always did.
A fresh wave of shame pulled tears from her eyes, but she made no sound. She just stared blankly at the bed's wooden leg, unable to feel the trail they left across her cheek.
They must hate me now.
Even Boo. Even Loque.
Especially Perseus. I'm just like Ves—no… worse. I watched him die, and then I let the same thing happen to me.
She remembered how Loque had screamed when she'd collapsed, how Perseus had screamed her name like it meant something. But that was before. Before they saw what she'd become. A killer.
What if they'd seen her smile?
What if… for just a second… she'd enjoyed it?
The thought hollowed her out from the inside. Her fingers twitched against the wooden floor, but she still didn't move. She didn't deserve comfort. Not after what she'd done. Not after what she'd let happen.
Even her breath was slow now. Shallow.
Her last coin had slid under the door hours ago, a silent payment to the innkeeper who never asked questions. She was grateful for that.
She didn't want anyone to see her like this.
Unmade.
Alone.
She closed her eyes, lips barely moving.
"I'm sorry."
Then—
CRACK.
The door burst open.
Wood splintered. Dust danced in the shaft of light.
And the silence shattered.
The moment the door gave way, Loque surged forward like a flash of silver fury.
He skidded to Nyxia's side in a shimmer of spectral energy, letting out a broken whine as he nosed her limp, unmoving form. His tail lashed, ears pinned back. Desperation radiated off him.
Boo was close behind, dropping to her knees.
"Nyx…? Hey, talk to me." Her voice trembled as her fingers hovered over Nyxia's shoulder. "You with me?"
Nyxia didn't answer. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. Her breath shallow. Skin pale. She looked like a shadow of herself—flesh wrapped around exhaustion and emptiness.
Perseus stood in the shattered doorway, arms crossed, fists clenching at his sides.
He didn't move.
Just looked at her—jaw clenched, eyes hard.
"I told you this would happen," he muttered, voice low and sharp. "You just couldn't listen, could you?"
Boo's head jerked toward him, fury blooming instantly in her expression.
"Don't start," she hissed. "Don't."
But he pressed on.
"We warned her. We begged her not to go. And what does she do? She disappears. She almost dies. And now we're supposed to just act like it's fine?"
"She's lying on the floor like a corpse, Perseus!" Boo barked. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"She made her choice."
"No," Boo snarled, storming up to him now, getting right in his face. "She didn't. That's the whole godsdamned point. You think this is just about pride? You think she chose this? Her mind is not her own anymore, and you know it."
He stared back at her, unmoving.
"You're acting like she betrayed us," Boo spat. "But she's the one who needs saving. And instead of helping her, you're throwing her deeper into that pit."
Behind them, Nyxia stirred.
Slowly. Painfully. Every movement was a struggle. She pushed herself up, limbs trembling like she hadn't used them in weeks.
She didn't look at them.
Not even once.
She staggered to her feet, brushing past Loque and Boo—then past Perseus, her shoulder just grazing his arm.
No words.
Just footsteps.
She wandered off, like a ghost drifting away from her grave.
Boo didn't move at first—just glared at Perseus with something scathing and raw in her eyes.
"You said we needed to be patient," she whispered. "You said we'd wait. But the second she showed weakness, you shoved her."
Perseus didn't answer. Couldn't.
"She was already bleeding," Boo finished. "You didn't have to twist the knife."