> This world is no safer than Earth. - Baal Berith

Nord's eyes blinked open. The first things she saw were the sterile lines of medical equipment and a labyrinth of tubes. A chilly sensation radiated from her arm, and she could see a band-aid slapped hastily over an IV line. Her gaze moved, finding Baal's hand tenderly brushing strands of hair from her forehead.

"Hey, Morningstar," Baal murmured, his voice a comforting cadence that seemed to rise above the antiseptic air around them.

"Did I hurt you?" The question sprang from her lips before any other thought could form.

"Nah, I've seen worse days," Baal assured her.

"Where am I?" Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, words slurring like they would after too many drinks.

"You're in the clinic. Sirona is taking care of you. They're filtering your blood. You're holding up," he whispered, his lips almost brushing her ear as he spoke, "Doing good."

"How long have I been passed out?" Nord asked, struggling to make her voice sound as clear as possible.

"Three days. You were in bad, bad shape, but here you are, talking and everything." Baal's smile seemed to brighten the otherwise sterile room, "Atua’s miracle!"

"And Adamastor? Did I hurt him?" The image of Adamastor, his red eyes, his voice, broke through the fog, shrouding her mind. "Is he okay?"

"You're something else... You're too damn kind, you know that? It will be your death someday," Baal chuckled, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "He's fine. Or at least as fine as can be expected. He's back at home, cleaning up his own blood from the floor. I might have destroyed a couple of chairs and a table in the process, but hey, sorry, but not sorry."

Nord's eyes held Baal's, his words swirling around her like a complex melody—part relief, part unanswered questions—that seemed to anchor her fractured world. Why did she feel so empty, desolated and cold, like she was stripped from the most benevolent embrace?

"Why's it so cold in here?" she managed to ask, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Tears broke free, carving wet trails down her cheeks as she shivered, "Baal, why is it so cold?"

"Nord, you've got three blankets on you already. You're still cold?" Baal's brow furrowed in concern.

"I don't know why, but it's like ice in here. And it feels like something's...missing. Like there's a void inside of me." Her voice quivered, reflecting her inner turmoil. "A hollow..."

Without another word, Baal kicked off his shoes and stripped off his cardigan and shirt. He climbed into the narrow hospital bed beside her.

"What are you doing? This bed's not built for two!" She tried to protest, but her words were feeble, unconvincing and he was warm.

"Shh, we'll make it work," Baal hushed her as he gathered her into his arms. Almost instantly, her tremors subsided, replaced by the warmth radiating from his skin - demons' skin was known to be warmer than any other.

She could feel his breath on her cheek, each exhale a soft whisper that seemed to say, 'You're not alone.'

And in that small, sterile room, surrounded by the quiet rustle of hospital sheets, Nord found a slice of something that almost tasted like home.

"What is happening to me?" Nord's voice cracked as she spoke, the weight of her own confusion becoming too much to bear. She tried to sit up, but Baal's hand pressed gently yet firmly on her shoulder, guiding her back down onto the bed.

"No, you're staying right here with me," Baal tightened his arms around her, his eyes meeting hers with a seriousness she couldn't dismiss. "You need to get all that 'vampire shit venom' flushed out of your system first."

"Then what happened? Did he tell you anything?" Nord asked, her eyes scanning Baal's for clues for some semblance of reason. "Did he say why he disappeared?"

"Adamastor talked, alright. I can be very... persuasive when I need to be," Baal replied, a playful edge to his voice aimed at lightening the mood. "Look, there's something you need to understand about vampires. They're addicts, which makes them incredibly dangerous. Some are addicted to blood in general, some to a specific type, and some to a specific person. Nord, Adamastor is an addict."

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Nord said nothing, simply letting Baal's words sink in. She lay there, her head cradled against his chest, taking in the steady thump of his heartbeat, letting it lull her into a fragile sense of security. And for that brief moment, enveloped in his warmth, she felt as if the missing pieces inside her were a little less gaping, a little less cold.

"You never told me Adamastor bit you the first day you met him," Baal said, his eyes searching hers.

"It was an accident," Nord's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "He didn't mean to."

"Adamastor told me that was a game-changer for him. He lost his taste for hunting after that. So, instead, he went to Mme Bougie's and..." Baal's voice trailed off, and he swallowed as though the next words were difficult to say. "There's this woman, Ursula, who works there. She's not, you know, traditionally attractive and—"

"You know her?" Nord interrupted, curiosity overtaking her.

"Everyone knows her," Baal shot back.

"Do you know her?" Nord pressed, her eyes narrowing into playful slits.

"Okay, fine, I've seen her around. Is this your way of asking if I've ever hired a prostitute? Because I'd find that mildly offensive," he replied, half-smirking, half-defensive.

"So, have you?" Nord continued a mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes.

"No," Baal emphasized as if the word alone could ward off further questions.

"Is it because you're a married man?" Nord laughed, a touch of irony in her voice.

"Yes," Baal played along, a grin spreading across his face.

"You're such a liar," Nord giggled, her laughter brightening the sterile air of the room. It was as if her laughter had the power to push away, however briefly, the weight of the hospital walls around them.

"Jeez, you never let anything slide, do you?" Baal sighed, his eyes meeting hers again, but this time filled with warmth and a sense of comfort that spoke louder than any words could.

"I am just teasing you because you act like Mr. Know-It-All," Nord said, the corners of her mouth pulling into a more serious line. "Married? Yeah, right."

Baal exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "Alright, back on track. Ursula has a unique skill set. She's a 'Mesmer,' meaning she can create illusions that make her appear as whoever her clients desire. Adamastor used her services to—well, to see you, in a way. It helped him manage his cravings when he was around you."

"So he had her impersonate me?" Nord's eyes squinted, grappling with this new layer of complexity. "Did I get it right?"

"Yes," Baal confirmed, relieved that the conversation had veered away from any more probing questions about Ursula's line of work.

"I don't get it. I'm not even that special," Nord muttered.

Baal locked eyes with her. In that silence, his gaze said what words couldn't—that she was more special than she realized.

"Then why did he disappear? Did something happen to Ursula?" The concern in Nord's voice was palpable.

"He didn't hurt her, not in a way that wasn't agreed upon," Baal assured her quickly. "Things spiralled when two hunters appeared at Mme Bougie's place."

"The same hunters came to the Manor? Han and Leelo, remember? And by the time you told them about Mme Bougie, Adamastor had already been missing," Nord pointed out, her voice cutting through her previous fog of confusion.

"Yeah, those two... People lie, Nord," Baal said gravely, taking her hand in his own. "They were on a hunt... You need to stop assuming that everyone here is benign. This world is no safer than Earth."

"So why didn't he come back?" Nord's voice was tinged with a vulnerability that begged for an answer.

"He said he was scared, Nord. And ashamed enough to hide in the one place nobody would think to look." Baal's eyes met hers earnestly. "Turns out he didn't give Nord Morningstar enough credit for persistence and brightness."

"So he was hiding in the shrine all along? Practically in our backyard?" Nord's tone was tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," Baal nodded, "and starving the entire time."

"So what's our next move?" Nord asked, her eyes searching Baal's for guidance.

"That's for you to decide," he replied softly, leaning in and running his fingers gently through her hair. "You need to determine what's right for you."

"And if you were in my shoes?"

"I'm not you, Nord. If I were, I'd probably take a path you wouldn't even consider. I'm not the forgiving type. I don't offer second chances," he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "And Adamastor's already used up his one get-out-of-jail-free card."

"So what are my options?" she queried, settling comfortably into his touch.

"First off, we could just kill him. I mean, come on, Nord. I can handle a vampire."

Nord looked up, a wry smile on his lips. "You forget, you've got no magic."

Baal leaned in, eyes intense. "Magic isn't the end-all, be-all, you know. I've got strength and speed. I'm a demon; I could disassemble that vampire limb by limb."

Nord stared at him, unimpressed. "No, you wouldn't."

Baal's eyebrows arched his expression, a mix of incredulity and slight offence. "Excuse me? I am a demon. Are you doubting my capabilities?"

"I'm doubting your intent. You're not a cold-blooded killer. If you were, we wouldn't be having this discussion. You'd have already sorted it out." Nord's eyes met Baal's, steady and certain.

Baal looked down, a soft, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "Maybe being around someone has softened some of my edges."

Nord nodded. "So, the kill option is off the table. What's your Plan B?"

Baal straightened up, clearing his throat. "We could banish him. Kick him out of the Morningstar estate."

Nord's eyes widened, "Absolutely not. He's been good to me, Baal. He knows that estate inside out more than I do. It's his home, too."

With a heavy sigh, Baal leaned back, letting his eyes wander to the ceiling tiles. "I had a feeling you'd push for the third option."

Nord's smile was tinged with fatigue, "Well, then maybe it's the right one."