Twigs snapped under Nyxia's bare feet as she ran, breath ragged, vision blurred. Her spectral tail dragged behind her, catching on roots, while her twitching ears strained toward phantom sounds—Perseus's voice, the echo of Ves's laughter, the hiss of voidlight clinging to her skin.
Keep going. Keep running. You don't deserve rest. You don't deserve mercy. You're what the Light should've purged.
"Shut up," she gasped, stumbling. "I can't—I can't—"
Loque'nahak bounded beside her, his glow dimmer now, more shadow than light. He didn't speak, but she felt the tension in every step. He was holding her together. Barely.
Then her knees gave out.
She hit the forest floor like a dropped weapon, arms flailing, breath knocked from her lungs.
"Loque—" she whimpered, reaching toward the blur of silver beside her—before her limbs seized once, violently, and then fell still.
Loque pressed his nose to her cheek. Her breath came shallow and staggered, barely present. He curled around her, protective, his form flickering like a dying star.
A low rumble escaped him—not just mourning, but dread.
The Temple Gates – Search Party Launch
Temple guards in silvery armor mounted their spirit-touched beasts, lanterns glowing with Elune's grace clutched in trembling hands. The air tasted like worry—charged, brittle.
"Split into groups of three," the High Priest commanded. "They can't have gone far. Use the beacon crystals—one flare if you find her, two if she's hurt."
A tall sentinel raised his spear. "And if it's too late?"
The priest's jaw tensed. "Then you bring them both home. No matter the cost."
The order dispersed like shards of moonlight—scouts scattering through the gloom, hunting ghosts.
The Ghost of the Huntress
The forest was too quiet.
Even the wind dared not stir.
Loque'nahak lay coiled around Nyxia's collapsed form, his head low, ears flat. Her breathing was still present—but wrong. Shallow. Inconsistent. Her tail barely flicked, her body cold.
He nuzzled her cheek. Gently. Desperately.
Come on, kitling. Fight. You always fight.
She didn't stir.
He licked her brow. Nipped her shoulder. Waited.
Still, nothing.
His glow began to sputter. His spirit-thread to hers grew faint, like sound fading in a dream.
Loque's eyes narrowed. He tipped back his head and loosed a long, guttural cry—a spirit-beast's call torn from an ancient place between worlds. It reverberated through bark and stone and memory.
Above, branches shifted. A silver lantern's light flickered between the leaves.
Search & Silence
Two riders broke into the clearing.
"There!" one shouted, dismounting in a blur of motion.
They dropped beside Nyxia's unmoving form. Loque growled—low, warning—but didn't rise. His gaze locked with theirs, silver eyes blazing with ancient judgment.
"She's alive," one whispered. "Barely. But alive."
"And the beast?"
The other dropped to a knee, bowing his head. "He's not the beast. He's her shield."
A flare shot into the sky—silver, brilliant, shaking the canopy. Within minutes, the forest stirred with the thunder of boots and whispered prayers.
Inside the Temple
Perseus lay in the dark, unconscious but twitching, muscles tense even in sleep. Healing spells flickered across his skin like candlelight over water.
Outside his room, three acolytes stood in anxious silence with the High Priestess.
"If she's gone…" one whispered. "What then?"
"We don't tell him," the elder murmured. "Not right away."
"We can't lie—"
"Not lie. Delay. You saw what he became just to keep her breathing. If she's dead, we lose him, too."
The youngest looked toward his door. "He doesn't just care for her. She balances him."
"And without her," the second said quietly, "he might burn the temple to the ground just to feel something."
They didn't speak again.
They just waited.
The Collapse – Hours Earlier
Nyxia hadn't counted the time. Only the feeling—the burn in her lungs, the sting of leaves against skin, the weight of her own name screaming through her blood.
She ran until her body said no.
Now she lay curled at the roots of a twisted tree, dirt in her mouth, dried blood flaking from her lip. Her hair tangled with leaves. Her ears drooped. Her body flickered like a light losing current.
Loque circled her again. Nudged her. Shoved her.
No response.
He snarled—deep, primal—and paced tight, frantic loops. He could feel her, but it was dim. Fractured. Fading.
Nyxia. You don't get to leave me.
Not after everything.
Still, no answer.
So he lay down beside her, his spectral form wrapping over her like a blanket of vanishing starlight.
And he waited.
The Hunt Continues
The search had widened. Twelve riders now, combing the forest with silver-blessed ribbons. They whispered prayers. Left offerings.
"She's a Beast Master," the commander muttered. "She taught Loque how to disappear."
"She doesn't want to be found," someone said.
"But if she collapses again—"
No one finished the sentence.
Above them, the moon bled through the canopy like light through gauze.
Perseus Awakens
Perseus screamed.
He tore at the sheets like they were shackles. Sweat poured down his face. The sedative—laced with dreamleaf and silverroot—should have kept him down for days. It hadn't lasted a few hours.
A lamp exploded. The basin cracked. Books burst into flame.
His body arched, golden tattoos burning like sunfire. The bedframe shattered beneath him.
Three acolytes and a priestess rushed in—then froze.
"By Elune…"
"He's rejecting the spells—"
A fourth ran in with a scroll, face pale.
"She's still missing."
"You weren't supposed to tell him—!"
"I didn't have to. He already knew."
Perseus's eyes snapped open, glowing too bright, too fierce.
"Where… is… she?"
Boo Wakes
Boo stirred beneath layers of woven fabric, her arms tangled, her shirt damp with sweat. The silence in the room felt too soft. Too far from war. Too far from Ves.
Then she heard it—distant magic. Shouting. Panic.
And his voice.
Perseus. Screaming.
She bolted upright, breath caught in her throat. Then staggered to her feet, half-blind with exhaustion and fear.
The door opened.
An acolyte stood with a tray—startled.
"What's going on?" Boo snapped.
"You—you shouldn't be—"
"Where is he?"
The girl hesitated.
"Where's Nyxia?"
The pause was too long.
"She ran."
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
"And no one stopped her?"
"She left during the night. Loque's with her, but she's been gone hours. Perseus—he… he felt it. They sedated him, but…"
That was enough.
"Show me," Boo hissed.
She didn't wait.
Reckoning
The hallways blurred. The walls bent. The whole temple seemed to tremble under the weight of its own tension.
By the time Boo reached Perseus's door—splintered and broken—the energy inside hit her like heat from a forge.
He was there.
In the wreckage.
Acolytes surrounded him, light dancing at their fingertips, sweat streaking their faces as they chanted spells to keep him from tearing himself apart.
Perseus looked… wrong. Burned-out. Wired. Fraying. His skin glowed with residual Light. His hands clawed at the ruined mattress.
Boo pushed past them.
"Move."
She knelt beside him, one hand on his arm.
"She's gone," he rasped.
"I know."
He flinched at her touch. His body rigid. His breath short.
"She's not dead," Boo said. "Don't say it."
He didn't answer.
"They're looking. She has Loque. She's strong."
"I should've stopped her," he whispered. "I felt her leave. I was too slow."
"You nearly died."
"I should've—"
"No," she snapped, grabbing his face. "You don't get to drown in guilt. You've done enough."
Perseus stared at her. Something behind his eyes cracked.
"What if she—"
"She won't." Boo's voice dropped to steel. "She knows we're waiting."
The tension ebbed. Slowly. Painfully.
He let her guide him back against the pillows.
"I'll stay," Boo murmured. "Right here. Until she walks through that door."
Perseus's lip trembled.
But he nodded.