The fire crackled low in the ruined shelter. Wood hissed, smoke twisted, dragging shadows along the collapsed stone and broken roof. Snow piled in soft drifts outside, cold creeping in with every breath of wind.
Chi sat in silence, back against the crumbling wall, one hand on her black scabbard. Her horns, symmetrical and obsidian-smooth, caught faint gleams from the fire. The red in her eyes never flickered—not even when the green-haired stranger settled across from her.
Hinata.
That was the name the girl had offered. No family, no origin. Just Hinata. Fine. Chi hadn't offered anything at all.
They hadn't spoken for some time. Chi preferred it that way.
"You're not the first demon I've met out here," Hinata said suddenly. Her voice was soft, conversational, as if they were just two travelers sharing warmth, not two horned weapons circling each other.
Chi didn't reply.
"I've met the blood-drunk ones. The kind who snarl and forget words. Met a few who tried to blend in too—shave their horns, suppress their Pulse. Never lasts." Hinata leaned forward. "But you... you're different."
Still no reply.
Hinata's lips curved in a faint smirk as she drew one knee up. "You're Riftborn, aren't you?"
Chi gave her a single, slow look. Her voice was like a blade drawn across stone. "Is that a question or an accusation?"
"Both."
Chi didn't confirm it. She didn't need to. The answer was in her silence.
Hinata nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I'm Riftborn too. Well, not exactly. Not like you. My mother was a demon—a real one. Crimson-clan, from beyond Oniheya. My father..." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
That caught Chi's attention. A flicker of something—curiosity, maybe. Almost a question. But it passed quickly.
Hinata let the quiet settle before continuing. "Have you ever been to Oniheya?"
Chi didn't answer.
"Didn't think so. You don't carry their stench."
Chi raised an eyebrow—just barely. "You think all demons smell the same?"
"No. But demons who serve the Queen certainly do."
That earned Hinata a longer look. Still not approval. Just... assessment.
Hinata didn't flinch. She pulled a strip of dried meat from her pouch and chewed slowly. "I fled Oniheya when I was a child. Before the Queen could mark me. Before she could decide what kind of monster I'd grow up to be." Her gaze drifted toward the flickering flames. "I made that choice myself."
The silence stretched again. Chi didn't speak. She didn't probe. She didn't ask what drove Hinata to flee the demon realm, or how a half-blood survived the Riftlands alone.
She told herself she didn't care.
People who spoke about their past usually wanted something. Forgiveness. Pity. Purpose.
Chi had long since stopped offering any of the three. She had her sword. Her Pulse. Her scars. That was enough.
"Do you ever actually talk," Hinata said, "or am I just rambling to fill the silence?"
Chi closed her eyes. "You're filling space."
"I could fill it with something worse."
Chi didn't argue.
Hinata gave a soft snort of laughter. "You're delightful company."
"No, I'm not."
"Not even a little entertaining?"
Chi opened her eyes and studied her. The firelight made her horns glow faint red at the base, as if heated from within. "I don't do entertaining," she said. "I do what's necessary."
Hinata studied her for a long moment, her expression growing more serious. "I figured as much."
A wind curled through the ruin, making the fire hiss lower.
Chi rose without a word. She walked to the small pile of salvaged wood, selected another log, and dropped it into the flames. The embers flared bright orange.
"Didn't think you'd bother keeping it going," Hinata observed.
"I don't like the cold," Chi said simply, settling back.
"Practical."
Hinata's gaze drifted to the katana at Chi's side. "That blade of yours—it's demon-forged, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Does it have a name?"
Chi didn't answer.
Hinata chuckled softly. "Of course it does."
In the distance, a shriek echoed through the night. Not high-pitched. Not human. It came from somewhere beyond the tree line—too far to pinpoint, but close enough they might encounter whatever made it by sunrise.
Chi didn't look up from the fire. Hinata did.
"That's the second one I've heard since sunset," she murmured. "Maskborn?"
"Yes."
"You've fought them before?"
Chi nodded once.
"Enjoyable experience?"
"No."
Hinata stretched, but her eyes remained fixed on the dark horizon. "They came through the southern Rift about two weeks ago. An entire pack. Stalked a merchant caravan for three days. When the wagons hit black ice and couldn't move, they struck." She paused, her voice growing quieter. "Left no Pulse signatures. No real traces. Just bone masks nailed to trees and spines cracked open like kindling."
Chi remained silent.
"I hate them," Hinata said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Good, Chi thought. You should.
"They're not just weapons," Hinata continued, her tone colder. "They're broken memories given form and blade. Tools crafted by the Queen herself." She glanced back at Chi. "You know that, don't you?"
Chi nodded.
"So what does that make us, then?"
Chi looked up at the falling snow.
"Unclaimed," she said.
That single word carried weight between them.
Hinata didn't respond immediately. She seemed to chew on the concept—like it tasted both bitter and familiar.
Unclaimed.
A demon without allegiance. A bloodline bound by no oaths. A Pulse unbranded by any master.
In a world ruled by ancient hierarchies and blood loyalties, being Unclaimed meant being utterly alone.
Eventually, Hinata lay down, using her pack as a pillow. She didn't sleep—Chi could tell from her breathing—but she closed her eyes and tried to rest.
Chi remained upright, motionless as stone.
The fire continued to burn.
Beneath her stillness, her Netherpulse stirred like something awakening from deep slumber. A slow, rhythmic hum. A memory of violence waiting for blood to fully rouse it.
She wasn't afraid of whatever lurked in the darkness beyond the trees.
But something out there had recognized the presence of her blade.
And it was waiting for her to make the first move.