Morning settled gently over Eurydice's home, golden sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains. In the master room, Nyxia stirred—slowly, as though emerging from deep waters. Her body ached less. Her mind… still felt fogged and sore. But the cold, pressing darkness that had sat on her chest was now a little lighter.
She blinked against the sunlight, struggling to remember where she was.
Then a soft knock came. The door creaked open.
Eurydice entered like a dream, clothed in soft white linen, her long, moonlit hair tumbling around her shoulders like silk. She carried a tray—fresh bread, warm eggs, slices of fruit, and a steaming cup of herbal tea. A crystal glass of water rested beside the plate, already dewed from the chill.
Nyxia tried to sit up.
"No," Eurydice said gently, her voice a balm. "Stay. You need rest."
She knelt beside the bed and set the tray on the nearby table, then helped Nyxia sit just enough to sip the water. Her hands were warm. Steady. She looked at Nyxia with deep, understanding eyes—like she could see every frayed edge of her soul and chose not to flinch.
Nyxia drank, and for a moment, said nothing.
But Eurydice lingered.
There was a pause. A small hesitation, delicate as glass.
"I didn't want to tell you yet," Eurydice said softly. "But… your friends came looking for you."
Nyxia's breath hitched.
Eurydice reached forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind Nyxia's ear. "They're still here. They arrived in the night. I made up rooms for them."
Nyxia's hands clenched in the blankets. Her throat burned.
"I can send them away," Eurydice added, her tone still calm. "If you want me to."
But she didn't press.
She simply stood again, her eyes never leaving Nyxia's. "Eat what you can. I'll be nearby."
She turned and padded out of the room like a spirit—quiet, graceful, protective.
Nyxia sat in stunned silence. The room smelled of lavender and fresh bread. But her heart thundered with a storm of emotion she hadn't yet found the words for.
They were here. They'd come for her.
Even after everything.
The scent of warm bread and fresh herbs drifted through Eurydice's home like a gentle call. Morning sunlight poured through the kitchen windows, gilding the countertops in soft gold. Birds chirped somewhere beyond the open shutters, and the mare nickered faintly in the paddock, answered by the low, resonant trill of the gryphon.
Boo was the first to stir.
She emerged from her room with her silver hair tied messily back, dark circles under her eyes but a spark of sharp alertness returning. She wore a loose tunic that draped off one shoulder and leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing at the air.
"You cook like a goddess," she mumbled, half to Eurydice, half to the universe itself.
Eurydice offered no more than a cool glance, nodding to the table. "There's food. Eat."
Boo gave a crooked grin and helped herself, sliding into a chair, eyeing the quiet house between bites. "She still asleep?"
Eurydice's expression didn't change. "She's resting."
Darj was next—slow, stiff, and quiet. He gave Boo a gruff nod and offered Eurydice a polite, quiet "Thank you." He moved like his body still carried the weight of the previous nights, his usually aloof demeanor now tinged with guilt and pensiveness.
They ate in near-silence for a while.
It wasn't until the eggs were cold and the tea had long stopped steaming that Perseus finally appeared in the hallway. He looked rough. His hair was still damp from a quick rinse, his shirt hastily thrown on, and his expression was hollow.
He hovered in the doorway, gaze flicking between them all before landing briefly on Eurydice—who met his eyes with calm wariness.
"There's still some food," she said, voice cool.
Perseus didn't respond immediately. He stepped into the room slowly, almost like he wasn't sure he belonged there, and took the seat across from Boo. She didn't speak. Neither did Darj. They just… sat.
The silence stretched.
"I fed the mare and the gryphon," Perseus muttered eventually, eyes on his plate. "They're settled."
"Good," Darj said quietly.
More silence.
"I shouldn't have…" Perseus started, then shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. "I should've just listened."
Boo leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest. "No shit."
Darj gave her a look, but she only shrugged, biting into a piece of bread like it had wronged her.
It was awkward. Uncomfortable. But they were all there. Still trying.
Upstairs, Nyxia sat curled in bed, her untouched food cooling beside her. The voices downstairs were muffled, but the weight of their presence sat heavy on her chest. She'd heard them all.
She didn't know how to feel.
Part of her wanted to remain in this room—wrapped in the white linen gown Eurydice had given her, surrounded by the scent of flowers and soft light and quiet. But another part, a deeper part, knew she couldn't hide here forever.
They'd come for her.
They'd waited.
Her fingers trembled as she slid from the bed, bare feet touching the cool wood floor. Her knees ached faintly, her body still weak, but she was steadier now. More than before.
She stood slowly, moving to the door.
Downstairs, the three of them sat in quiet remorse, the clink of silverware and soft creak of chairs the only sounds between them.
Then the floorboard at the top of the stairs creaked.
All three turned.
Nyxia descended slowly, the long white sleep dress flowing around her like mist, her silver hair damp and loose around her shoulders. Her face was pale, eyes hollow, but she was standing. Moving.
Eurydice emerged from the kitchen just as she reached the bottom step, her gaze flicking briefly between them all before resting on Nyxia. She said nothing, but nodded once.
Nyxia looked at them—truly looked.
And then, in a voice quiet but steady, she said:
"…Can we talk?"
It was enough to make the air shift—heavy and expectant. Boo straightened in her seat, Darj set his cup down carefully, and Perseus's eyes finally lifted from his plate, full of quiet sorrow.
The past still lingered. The pain hadn't vanished.
But this… this was the beginning of something new.
Nyxia moved with quiet purpose, each step toward the table weighted with the memory of her absence. The white fabric of her gown caught the morning light like dew, her silver hair hanging in soft waves past her shoulders, still a little damp from the bath Eurydice had so lovingly prepared.
She didn't sit right away. Her hands hovered at the back of a chair, knuckles white from how tightly she gripped it—grounding herself. Boo watched her carefully, unreadable but alert. Darj simply nodded in silent acknowledgment, giving her room.
Perseus stood up halfway—words already on his tongue.
"Nyx—"
A sharp thump beneath the table cut him off. Perseus jerked slightly and glanced down to see Boo retracting her boot, her sharp glare unmistakable even in silence.
Not now. Let her speak.
He sat back, sheepish, but didn't look away from Nyxia. She finally slid into the seat across from them, curling in on herself slightly as if unsure whether she deserved to take up space in the room at all.
Her voice, when it came, was fragile. Like glass carried too long.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I… I ran again."
The words dropped like stones into the center of the room. Boo's arms slowly lowered from where they had been crossed, fingers tapping softly against the table now. Darj remained still.
Nyxia looked down at her lap, unable to meet their eyes. "I didn't mean to… not really. I wasn't thinking—not like a person does. It was like…"
Her brow furrowed.
"…like someone else had taken over. My thoughts didn't feel like mine. My body didn't either. I could see what I was doing—what he was making me do—but I couldn't stop it. Couldn't scream. Couldn't move. And then when it was over…"
She swallowed thickly.
"I didn't want to be in my skin anymore."
Perseus flinched. Boo's face softened, but her jaw remained clenched, eyes flicking toward Perseus with something more protective than angry now.
Nyxia finally looked up—just for a moment—and her gaze moved between them, wounded but raw with honesty.
"I let him get to me. Again. I told myself I was stronger than that. That I'd learned from Ves, from the past… but I froze. And when it was over… I didn't want to be around anyone who saw me like that. Not again."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she shook her head.
"I don't expect you to forgive me. Or understand. But I just… I needed you to know I wasn't choosing to be weak."
A beat of silence followed.
Then Boo's voice—low, rough with emotion—cut through the stillness.
"Nyx, the only one who saw you as weak… was you."
Nyxia blinked, startled.
"You think I don't get it?" Boo continued, leaning forward on her elbows. "You think I haven't had my mind twisted to hell and back by someone who thought they could own me? You think Darj hasn't stared down his own demons with nothing but a rusted blade and his stubborn will? Or that this idiot—" she gestured at Perseus, "—hasn't lashed out when his heart's breaking just 'cause he's too prideful to admit it?"
Perseus opened his mouth to argue, but Boo raised a finger without looking. "Don't."
He closed it again.
"You're not broken, Nyx," Boo said gently now, softer. "But you are hurting. And yeah, you ran. But we came for you. And if you need to fall apart a thousand more times, we'll still come."
Darj finally cleared his throat, voice gravelly and quiet. "What he did to you… what you endured… there's no shame in the scars. Seen or unseen."
There was another long pause.
Nyxia finally whispered, "You don't hate me?"
"No," Perseus said hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of it.
"We never did," Boo added. "We just forgot how damn fragile even the strongest people can be."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy like before—it was… still. Sacred.
For the first time in days, Nyxia exhaled like her lungs could finally hold air again.
And for now, that was enough.
The door eased open on well-oiled hinges, and in stepped Eurydice—serene, radiant, and holding a plate in her graceful hands. The aroma of something warm and fresh drifted in with her, comforting as a hearth in winter. Her white robes flowed like morning mist around her curvy, maternal figure, and the soft glow of holy magic clung faintly to her skin, as though the Light itself refused to leave her side.
She made no sound as she walked—only the quiet click of porcelain as she set the plate before Nyxia, careful, gentle. The food was simple but nourishing: soft bread still warm from the oven, a bowl of seasoned lentils and root vegetables, and a cup of cool spring water with a few mint leaves floating at the surface.
"You need to eat, darling," Eurydice said softly, brushing a silver strand of hair from Nyxia's face with the backs of her fingers. "You've lost more than just weight. If you don't care for your body, it will fall ill. And then your spirit will follow."
Nyxia blinked up at her, cheeks already pink with the weight of everything. But she didn't pull away. The gentle touch had landed like a balm, not a burden.
Eurydice's gaze, though kind, was sharp with wisdom. She knelt just enough to be at Nyxia's eye level and cupped her chin lightly, not holding her there—just offering a tether.
"You will have to face your demons head on, my love," she murmured, the words sinking into Nyxia's chest like seeds finding fertile ground. "But don't be afraid if you get lost along the way."
Her thumb brushed a tear from Nyxia's cheek with the tenderness only a mother could manage.
"The people who care for you most will be right by your side. Even when you can't see them… they'll be there. That's the kind of love you've earned."
Nyxia didn't speak—couldn't. But she slowly reached for the bread and tore off a small piece.
She was still trembling. Still scared.
But for the first time in what felt like ages… she wasn't alone.