The palanquin's wheels rolled smoothly over the dirt road, the craftsmanship so precise that Regulus barely felt the bumps. He tilted his head, examining the intricate joinery—interlocking wooden pieces, reinforced with what looked like lacquered spider silk. This kind of engineering would've been cutting-edge back on Earth.
Above him, unfamiliar constellations sprawled across the night sky. The moon hung full and heavy, its silver light painting the world in monochrome. He squinted, searching for any familiar patterns. A faint band of stars—something like the Milky Way—streaked across the heavens, but the longer he stared, the less certain he became. Maybe it's not even the same galaxy.
Inside the palanquin, Nyx slept like a contented cat, limbs tangled in silks and furs. Her usual calculated elegance had given way to something messier, more real—a sleeve slipped off one shoulder, hair fanned out in disarray, the curve of her waist visible where the blankets had shifted. Regulus averted his eyes before his thoughts could wander.
For the first time in months, there was no training, no audience, no immediate threat. Just the road, the stars, and the quiet.
What am I even doing here?
The question settled over him like the night's chill. He'd been reacting—to the dragon, to the maids, to Nyx's whims. Training out of fear, surviving out of habit. But now, beneath an alien sky, the momentum had finally stalled.
His original goals floated back to him, half-formed and childish.
Power, enough to never be helpless again.
Wealth, enough to never be desperate again.
Women, a fantasy that now felt absurd, given how badly he'd accidentally stumbled into one.
They'd been a joke, a placeholder. But now?
The wind rustled through the grass. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.
Do I want to go home?
The thought was a dull ache. Earth felt like a dream now—the internet, the cities, the normalcy. But even if he found a way back, what waited for him? That life filled with pain?
Or—
He glanced at the palanquin. At Nyx's sleeping form. At the road ahead, leading to Vespera, to whatever fresh chaos awaited.
Do I want to stay?
The wheels creaked. The stars watched, indifferent.
Regulus pushed forward.
The wheels turned, steady and unrelenting, as Regulus walked through the night. His body moved with the ease of hard-won training—muscles that once would have burned with fatigue now carried the weight without complaint. The road stretched ahead, an endless ribbon of dirt and moonlight, and he followed it without hesitation.
Inside the palanquin, Nyx slept soundly, her breathing slow and even, her form half-buried in a nest of stolen silks and furs. The occasional shift of fabric, the soft sigh of her breath—these were the only signs that she was even there at all.
Regulus' thoughts, however, were anything but quiet.
He missed home.
Not the place itself, not really—the crowded streets, the fluorescent glow of screens, the endless hum of civilization. That life had been suffocating in its own way, a cage he hadn't even realized he'd been rattling against until it was gone.
No, what he missed was the certainty of it. The simplicity of knowing what came next.
But he was glad to be rid of it, too.
Here, in this world of gods and monsters, of dragons and deadly maids, he had been forced to become something more than what he had been. Stronger. Sharper. Alive in a way he never had been before.
And yet—
If I had never come here…
The thought slithered through his mind, unwelcome but persistent.
I would be free by now.
Free of fear. Free of obligation. Free of the gnawing doubt that whispered he was only surviving, not living.
His grip on the palanquin's poles tightened.
No.
I am not a coward.
He had chosen to leave his old life behind long before this world had taken him. The decision had been made—not out of fear, but out of defiance. Out of the refusal to settle for a life half-lived.
And if he had stayed?
He would have been free, yes.
But he would have been less.
The stars above watched in silence as Regulus walked on, the palanquin rolling forward, Nyx sleeping soundly within.
And for the first time in a long time, he did not look back.
A soft snore came from within the palanquin. Nyx had kicked off another blanket, revealing a bare foot adorned with golden anklets that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
Regulus sighed.
For now, he had responsibilities.
He adjusted the slipping silks to cover her properly, fingers careful not to linger. The woman who'd toppled nations slept like a child who didn't know how blankets worked. Crazy, he thought. A goddess who can't even take care of herself.
She'd claimed she "never had time to learn." An obvious lie. But he'd stopped questioning it weeks ago.
"Mm...five more minutes, Sister..." Nyx murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
He froze. "...What?"
Nyx's eyes fluttered open, golden and unfocused. "Hm? Oh." She blinked slowly. "Was dreaming of Tenkai." A yawn. "You'd hate it there. All that...shining."
Before Regulus could process this, she'd already curled back into the blankets, one hand absently patting his shoulder. "Keep walking, little moth. Your existential crisis can wait for sunrise."
And just like that, she was asleep again.
Regulus stared ahead at the empty road.
Right.
Walk now. Panic about divine family dynamics later.