“STEEL, WEAPONS, AND ARMOR, BOUND BY OUR VERY BEST IN THE AURACANTHEUM!”

“Looking to mend a precious piece of clothing? Perhaps tailor something new! We have silk from the Jungles of Yth—unbreakable, strong, and exotic!”

“Trinkets! Machina! Strange and wonderful devices from far across the world! What do they do? Find out for yourself!”

The Aurifex, the grand commerce district of Onoria—the grandest in the world, no doubt. People from all over the kingdom came to peddle their wares here, though not everyone was lucky enough to get in. Most had to apply for merchant passes, a process far stricter for those who weren’t Onorion themselves. Only a select few foreigners—aside from those in the Amalgamate—were cautiously granted access to trade. Even with such rigid control, there were cracks in the system. Passes could be forged, and for most, telling a fake from a real one was near impossible. That made the Aurifex a haven for those who wished to hide in plain sight—whether to do business with the larger Onorion populace, or to pursue more nefarious ends.

The trio found themselves swept up in the rabbling crowd of merchants and solicitors, packed almost as tightly as Kiki’s bar at the height of the night. Everywhere they turned, there was something to spend money on. The scent of roasting meat, fried dough, and overripe fruit mingled in the air, wafting from peddlers eager to sell their goods before they spoiled. The rhythmic clanging of hammers on steel rang out from the dark corners of workshops, where forges worked tirelessly to keep the city's supply of weapons high. Voices layered over one another in a chaotic chorus—so many people, all trying to convince you that their wares were exactly what you needed.

Nyve wriggled excitedly, gripping tightly onto the red strands of Rowan’s hair, her small body hidden beneath his locks. “Oh, it’s wonderful! The chaos, the crowds! I wish I could just fly free and join in! I bet I could show these merchants how to gather a crowd!”

Callahan nudged Rowan, hoping he’d get the message to keep quiet across. Rowan, ever the cooperative one, gave a small shake of his head to pass it along to Nyve. Nyve scoffed. “Oh, it’s fine, you two! I’m a master of all sorts of tricks. I can bind my voice to your ears only!”

"That so?" Callahan kept his voice low. He wasn’t even sure if Nyve could hear him—but not a second later, she answered anyway.

"Oh yes! Not as impressive as a Break, but I can bend and Bind in certain ways too!"

Nyve rustled around in Rowan’s locks. He looked like he was doing his best to ignore an itch.

“So where to first, Cal?” Rowan asked, trying to sound casual. Callahan could tell he’d already made up his mind, but ever the thoughtful brother, he at least pretended to consider Callahan’s input. He exhaled, the stale scent of ale still clinging to him, Harmonia would be the ideal first stop.

Harmonia was a bathhouse run by scent binders—those who could alter the natural world through fragrance. in everyday life, their craft was highly sought after. Most became perfumers, peddling their wares in the streets, hoping to catch the favor of wealthy patrons. Some were luckier. If they had the gift to bind the accord and were of the female persuasion, they could become a Harmony—an attendant at Harmonia. Cleansing the body wasn’t the only thing a Harmony or other scent binder could do. Plenty of people came to Harmonia not just to wash away the musk and dirt clinging to their flesh, but to rid themselves of burdens far less tangible. With the right perfumes, a scent binder could arouse or calm, delight or unburden. A single breath could sway emotions, lifting worries like steam rising from hot water.

Harmonia could be expensive, though, and Callahan wasn’t sure how much he’d end up being pushed to spend. It might also be a good idea to test the passes they were given by Kiki somewhere with a little less scrutiny. Rowan had been to the market plenty of times, and although the pass never failed him, Callahan had this strange worry that this would be the time it might get caught as a forgery. “Maybe the Vocarium first?” He turned it over in his mind. That could also be a dangerous place—the Vocarium was almost a religious site to Onorions.

Like most buildings in the city, the Vocarium was massive, its walls etched with symbols representing its work—twinned notes, flowing lines, a mouth that could spread words to any corner of the world. The Vocarii, born in pairs, were capable of hearing each other across any distance. At first, their ability seemed narrow—but savvy minds saw its potential. So, the Onorions got to work. Any parents with these gifted twins would be set for life—if they allowed the state to take them. One twin would remain within the capital’s halls, while the other was sent far away, wherever Onoria needed their voices. In the early days, the Vocarii were used solely for war, diplomacy, and political affairs, allowing the ruling Hands of Onoria to communicate instantly across their vast empire. But as their power became undeniable, so too did the need to expand its reach beyond the battlefield.

Thus, the Grand Vocarium was established within the Auracantheum, a hallowed institution where only the most skilled Vocarii served the empire’s highest offices. But even those who lacked the talent to work in war and governance had value. A second station was built—one for the "less gifted" Vocarii—where their abilities could be sold to those with the coin to pay. Here, merchants, tradesmen, and foreigners could buy the right to have their words carried across vast distances—whether for business, personal affairs, or more secretive dealings. This expansion had transformed the Vocarium from a state-run institution into an essential service, one that touched almost every level of Onorian society.

"Yeah, we could do that." Rowan had been wanting to talk to their mother, and a hot soak would do him some good, but there was something he was missing and a part of himself felt naked without it.

"We could also check out the stalls, y’know. We’re already here, so might as well get it out of the way!" Without waiting for a response, Rowan pushed through the crowds, already set on his destination. He carved a path through the shifting sea of bodies, expecting Callahan to follow.

"Rowan, wait up!" Callahan and Nyve seemed to be the only ones who cared about the stale stench still clinging to him, though a few passersby shot him odd looks as they waded through the streets. Was it the smell? Rowan’s blunt way of shoving through people? Whatever it was, better not to think about it. Despite the packed streets, Callahan found himself breathing easier out here. The open sky, the flow of people, the movement—it all made the city feel less suffocating, even with the crowds pressing in. Everyone had their own business to contend with. No one cared what the three of them were up to. Rowan had led them far past the open-air stalls, deep into some forgotten corner of the district. The chaotic chorus of the market faded behind them, replaced by the steady rhythm of hammers swinging and steel crashing.

"Oryx! You in there? Oh, you’re going to love what I’ve got for you!"

With a careless thud, Rowan dropped his ruined armor onto the shop counter. It was already beyond saving—Callahan’s power had seen to that. From the shadowed depths of the workshop, an old Onorion man emerged, his face twisted into a scowl of pure disappointment.

"Host have mercy, Rowan—what in the rotten mire have you done to my armor?"

Oryx ran a calloused hand over the wreckage, tracing the jagged holes where the kraken’s limbs had torn through Rowan’s body. Slowly, he curled his fingers into one of the punctures—then shoved his whole fist through it.

He blinked. Looked at Rowan. Blinked again.

"Boy, how are you even still alive? Did you stand in front of a cannon volley?"

Rowan leaned on the counter, almost proud of the devastation before him. He looked at his battered gear and saw a testament to his survival—and to his brother’s abilities. The armor was ruined, but he was perfectly fine. "Can you keep a secret?" Rowan grinned, leaning in close to Oryx, eager to spill the story.

Oryx mirrored his movement, curiosity piqued. The armor in front of him should’ve been stuck to a corpse, not worn by a man standing and grinning like it was just another day. He was about to press for details when—

YANK.

Rowan winced, his head jerking back as Nyve tugged hard on his hair.

"You’re quite the jabbering jaw, Rowan! Did you even ask our sweet Callahan if he wanted you blabbing about his bind to everyone!”

Callahan, just a few steps behind them, heard her voice sharp and clear—like she was right next to him, rather than tangled in Rowan’s hair. He sighed as he reached the counter, already exhausted by whatever Rowan was about to say. Rowan waved off the concern.

"Cal, it’s fine! Oryx is a good guy, keeps quiet. You know he does plenty of business with the Dregs—even without forgeries! He wouldn’t tell a soul."

Oryx nodded toward Callahan. "So, this is your brother, then? Rowan talks a lot about you."

Callahan raised a brow. "Oh yeah? And what has he told you so far?"

He was really questioning Rowan’s ability to keep a secret now, surprised the whole crew didn’t already know? Maybe they’re just really good actors and faked being surprised?

"I haven’t told him what you can do yet—don’t give me that look!"

Oryx’s eyes drifted back to the armor. He still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to it, but he could put together that Callahan had something to do with it.

"Well, this is going to take me a day or so. Gonna cost you too." Oryx picked up the battered remains of what he now considered scrap metal.

"Hey, wait—can we check out the backroom? Y'know, the good stuff!" Rowan mimed hammer swings, grinning like a kid in a toy shop. He wasn’t done shopping yet.

Oryx squinted at him. "Yeah, I suppose. You sure you’re gonna be able to afford it?"

Rowan clapped his hands together, full of confidence. "Oh, you better believe we will! Soon, at least. We’re Kraken Callers now!"

Oryx scoffed. "Soon? What am I supposed to do with soon? I can’t buy food with soon."

Rowan hopped to Oryx’s side, throwing a heavy arm over his shoulder and pulling the old smith close. "Look here!" He jingled his purse in front of him—weighty, full. "This? Is just from one job! You fix up my armor, let me buy something big to hit monsters with, and whatever I can’t pay now—I’ll give you 40% interest!"

Oryx grumbled, eyeing Rowan like he smelled something rotten. "Damn, you’re rancid, Rowan."

But Rowan kept going, talking up his deal, haggling, turning on that thick, reckless charm to squeeze something out of the old smith. Their voices faded into the dimly lit hall as Oryx reluctantly led him toward the backroom. Callahan, meanwhile, stayed behind. He wasn’t interested in weapons—whatever was on the Kraken Caller’s ship would be good enough for him. He leaned against the counter, watching the people outside as the muffled sounds of negotiation faded behind him. Then—Nyve’s voice, as loud in his ear as if she was fluttering right in front of his face rang out.

"Oi, you idiot! Watch what you’re doing—you almost took that one to the head!"

Callahan smirked. They seemed to be doing well. Though the streets weren’t as crowded in this secluded corner, it was still lively—proof of just how packed the Aurifex could get. Clusters of people moved past, merchants guiding mules stacked high with goods, heading toward their stalls. Families navigated the streets, children darting every which way, while exhausted parents struggled to keep them in line. Callahan didn’t mind people-watching. He did it often from his window, wondering where they were going, what had brought them here in the first place. Faces blurred together, strangers passing without becoming familiars. But then—something strange caught his eye. An Aurelan man sat against the wall, one knee pulled tight to his chest, his fingers fiddling with something in his palm. Callahan couldn’t quite see what it was. Then his gaze drifted to the man’s face.

"Ollie?" Callahan lifted a hand in greeting, then called out again. "Ollie! Hey!"

He saw the man twitch at the sound of his name, but Ollie didn’t look up. Callahan hadn’t expected to see him this deep in the higher districts. There was a dock in the Dregs—if he’d really wanted to leave, he could have been long gone by now. Yet here he was. Taking a step forward, Callahan thought to greet him. Ollie looked as down as ever, and maybe this time—just this once—Callahan could find the right words to lift his spirits. Then— "Hey, Cal! Look at this!"

Before Callahan could even close the distance, Rowan came bursting out of the front door, grinning wide, a shiny new weapon in hand. A hammer. Ornate—far more extravagant than Rowan usually cared for. But that wasn’t the strangest thing about it. As Rowan raised it, the head of the hammer detached from the shaft, swinging wildly on a long, heavy chain. "Look at it go!" He twirled it overhead, faster and faster, until the whipping wind howled like it could cut through steel.

“A second round, he raises the stakes,

where will the hammer find its place!

Spinning faster and faster till winds break,

how funny it will be when head meets face.”

Callahan wasn’t sure if Nyve was warning him or egging him on—either way, she was having fun. Rowan, too, might’ve been enjoying himself a little too much. His wild weapon demonstration was starting to draw eyes. "Why’d you pick that one? Also, you should probably stop… you’re gonna get the guards called on us."

Rowan gradually slowed his swings, letting the flail’s head lose momentum until he caught it mid-air. It slapped thickly against his palm—the impact sounded painful, but Rowan didn’t even flinch. Then, with a twist of the shaft, the chain retracted into the handle, the head locking into place at the tip. No longer a flail—now a sturdy, two-handed maul.

"Thought I could use some more range, y’know? In case we ever run into some bastard that can scream my head off again."

He shook the hammer lightly, admiring it.

"If that ever happens again, they’re gonna catch this monster right in the teeth."

Rowan was clearly pleased with his purchase, but after a beat, he tilted his head, curious.

"Why didn’t you get anything? There’s a lot of good stuff back there, Cal. And Oryx would give you a good deal—brothers share a discount!"

"I’m sure the ship has something I can use."

Callahan glanced back, but Ollie was gone—slipped away when he wasn’t looking. Damn. He’d gotten distracted by Rowan.

"Ah, you’re too cheap!" Rowan shook his purse, coins clinking inside. "Look, I still have plenty! And what we buy now will help us make more later!"

He grinned.

"You know what? Harmonia’s on me! And after that, you’re getting yourself something nice!"

"Oh, what about Nyve!?"

Nyve rolled around on Rowan’s head "You boys should buy me something! I’d love something sweet—or maybe some perfume! That would be wonderful!"

"Sure! How much could a little thing like you even eat?"

Nyve’s eyes gleamed. "Oh, don’t tempt me, Rowan. You don’t want the answer to that question!"

Rowan laughed, stuffing his coin pouch deep into his clothes.

"Alright then—let’s get cleaned up, maybe grab something to eat. Then it’s off to call Ma, fresh and clean!"

The trek to Harmonia was hardly the most pleasant as the day dragged on. The sun hung high in a cloudless sky, its heat pressing down on the streets—but it wasn’t just the sun. Bodies packed the roads, their breath thick in the air, clinging to everything like damp cloth. The heat only made the stench worse. But finally, there it was. Harmonia. People spilled in and out, their movements a constant churn of motion. At the entrance, attendants stood poised, half-dressed and inviting, their charming smiles and practiced grace designed to lure in customers with the promise of comfort. Inside, they were hit with a wave of floral scents. The air was thick with screams, laughter, and sharp arguments echoing from the baths, punctuated by the splash of water and the wet slap of bare feet against stone. The aroma was pleasant—but the prices?

Steep.

If you wanted privacy, you’d have to pay for it. Callahan dug through his coins nervously. The cost made his stomach tighten, but the alternative? Public baths. Naked. Defenseless. The thought choked him.

"Hey, what’cha doing with your money? I said my treat!"

Rowan smacked some coins onto the counter.

"I need one of your girls to watch our stuff. Real valuable—don’t wanna lose it. We’ll need these clothes cleaned too!"

"Mmhmm."

The attendant’s voice was smooth as honey. Golden veins traced her face—starting at her forehead, dipping past her eyes, curling like ink along her cheek before trailing down her neck. She leaned forward, her eyes fluttering.

"Is there anything else I can get you, honey?"

Rowan waved her off,

"Nah, too expensive for my tastes! Right, Cal? Unless you really want some private time—"

"Oi."

Rowan winced as tiny fingers dug into his skull.

"Don’t you go corrupting your sweet little brother!" Nyve’s voice hissed in his ear. Rowan tried to shake it off, scratching at the irritation, but he wasn’t about to start talking to himself in front of the attendant. The Onorion woman leaned toward Callahan, her perfume wrapping around him before she even spoke.

"Hm. You’re cute."

Her fingers almost caressed his hand.

"Would you like to come with me, honey? Trust me I’m worth it, I’ll clean you right up."

Callahan’s face burned hot. He ducked his head, fingers anxiously flicking coins inside his pouch.

"Uh, I think I’m gonna sit this one out."

In his mind, he had already resigned himself to fate. He would stink of booze forever. That was fine. That was his destiny. Rowan, meanwhile, was giggling to himself, utterly delighted by his brother’s flustered reaction. "The chamber’s this way!" Before Callahan could muster another excuse, Rowan grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him along toward the dressing chambers. Everything blurred together—from the counter, to the changing room, to Rowan’s iron grip hauling him forward. He barely had time to register what was happening before—

SPLASH.

Headfirst. Straight into the warm water. Underneath, sound was muffled and warped—distant laughter and the low thud of feet slapping wet stone. Then—another splash.

Rowan.

Callahan felt the waves ripple around him, water sloshing against the edge of the bath as Rowan landed beside him.

"Ahhh, that’s good. Really good."

He sank deeper, dunking his head beneath the water, fully at ease.

Nyve sank below with him, her dress and hair soaking through, the warm, scented waters clinging to her like silk.

"Finally, the stench—it’s bearable. Smells like home, almost!"

She nestled herself deeper into Rowan’s drenched hair, doing her best to stay hidden. Callahan barely surfaced, his face hovering just above the water, nostrils peeking out like a gator waiting for prey. He drifted toward the farthest corner of the bath, the one Rowan had picked out for them. It was quieter than the rest, offering at least some small mercy. He let himself sink as deep as possible, submerged enough to enjoy the warmth, the cleansing feeling of the water—without being too exposed.

Then Rowan’s voice broke through.

"So, what are we gonna talk to Ma about? You know those Vocari—they’re probably not the best at keepin’ secrets. Might not be a good idea to bring up, y’know..."

His eyes flicked upward. A clear nod to Nyve.

"And what about your lips, Rowan?"

Nyve’s voice snapped from above, sharp and smug.

"They seem easier to spread than a Harmony’s legs!"

Callahan half-sank again, sighing into the water.

"So judgmental, Nyve. They’re just hardworkin’ girls!"

"Oh, I’m sure their hips do plenty of hard work!" Nyve huffed, "They won’t be spoiling my one good boy if I can help it."

"Hey, I’m innocent! I wouldn’t spend money on that!"

Rowan grinned, elbowing Callahan.

"Who knows what Cal might turn me into if I did something like that!"

Then, he poked Callahan again, trying to drag him into the conversation.

"C’mon, tell her I’m not like that!"

"Slug."

Callahan mumbled the word beneath the water. Nyve burst into giggles.

"Oh, I like that! A slug—perfect for someone who’d waste their money and spoil their soul like that!"

Rowan considered it for a moment, rubbing at his beard.

"Yeah, definitely wouldn’t like that. Slow, slimy… also, you ever poke one of their eyes? Just sinks right back into their head. Bet that doesn’t feel good."

He cupped some water in his hands, scrubbing his face and hair. With his eyes closed, the image grew more vivid. His own eye stretching out of its socket. Nyve poking it.

A shiver ran up his spine.

"Eugh."

He shook it off, sinking further into the warmth.

"But hey—this is nice, right? Relaxing, getting clean? Might be a long time before we get this again once we’re back onboard the Caller!"

Callahan rose slightly, just enough to get his voice out clearly.

"We’re supposed to be landlocked for a while, though."

Rowan shook his head.

"Ah, it won’t be that long. Never knew Galvos to stay put for too long. If he can’t get an Onorion job, we might be sailing somewhere more exotic!"

Nyve hummed in delight.

"The wide, wide world! So many places to see, wonders to explore! Who knows what you two might find out there!"

A small plip sounded behind Rowan—Nyve had slid down his hair, slipping into the bath behind his arm, soaking in the warmth.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Ahh, this is much better!"

Callahan hesitated, his voice dipping into something more uncertain.

"How long do you think we’d be out there for?"

Rowan paused, thinking.

"Well," he mused, leaning back against the stone, "when I was out here alone, running jobs for other Dreg crews, the longest I was at sea was a few months."

Rowan could see it in Callahan’s face, that longing look—homesick already, even though they hadn’t been gone long. Rowan knew the feeling. He’d felt it too, back when he was scraping by on his own. But now, Callahan was here. His brother, helping him through this journey together that was nice he felt closer to home With Callahan around.

"Cal." He splashed water his brother's way,

"Don’t want to get your hopes up too high, but—there’s something I haven’t told you yet."

Callahan immediately tensed, he began to worry. Rowan waved him off.

"Hey, it’s a good thing!"

He thumped a hand against his chest.

"Well? What is it?"

"Okay, see—Galvos, The Kraken Callers. There’s a reason I wanted to join their crew specifically. And why I knew I had to butter him up in case we messed up! Which—thanks to you—we didn’t!, Galvos knows people. Really high up. All the way in the Auracantheum."

Callahan’s eyes widened. The Auracantheum. The heart of Onoria’s elite. The best smiths, healers, binders of every kind.

"Why would you keep that a secret? How did you keep that a secret?"

The excitement crept into his voice.

"That’s really good, Rowan!"

Getting the money was one thing. But finding a healer willing to accept it? One who could actually help their mother? That was the real challenge.

"I know you don’t handle pressure well."

Rowan’s voice was gentle but firm.

"And it was our first job. Got a little hairy—but you pulled through, Cal. We keep this up, it won’t even matter if we have the money. If we get on the Captain’s good side, he’ll get us what we need."

He smiled, nudging Callahan’s arm.

"So, y’know. Just hold out a little longer."

Callahan knew what he meant but he didn’t want to admit it. Being away from home was hard—but at least he wasn’t alone.

"I’ll be okay."

He clenched his fist, raising it slightly.

"We’re gonna do this. We’ve got a path now. A real one. Not just money—but a healer too."

Rowan met his elbow with his own, their fists slammed together like hammers.

"Don’t tell Ma or Brig yet, though."

Rowan exhaled, sinking deeper into the bath.

"Don’t wanna get them too excited just yet."

The water rippled around them. It was warm. Callahan had finally started to enjoy it. Even the crowds weren’t bothering him as much anymore. Nyve floated on the surface, humming her little tunes. She stayed close to the edge, using Rowan’s body as a shield from prying eyes. Callahan was a little jealous. It’d be nice to hide away that easily. His gaze wandered across the bath. People talked, told jokes, argued, laughed. But their attention? It wasn’t on him. He could steal a glimpse at any one of them, and they wouldn’t even notice. His eyes kept moving, picking up on little things he hadn’t noticed before—the floral etchings carved into the stone, the statue of Onorus standing tall, Harmonies draped around its form, their bare legs swinging as they chatted. Petals drifted across the water, carried along by the gentle current.

Then— A pair of piercing eyes staring right at him. At first, he thought it was just a quick, shared glance. An accident. He looked away, swiftly, embarrassed.

But the feeling didn’t fade he could still feel them digging into him. He glanced back they were still staring. They were slender, wrapped tight in white bandages, long black hair floating on the water’s surface. Their face was half-covered by a mask that hid everything below the nose. Callahan didn’t recognize them.

Should I wave? Maybe that’ll make them stop looking. The idea didn’t sit right with him. Neither did calling Rowan or Nyve. It’s nothing. I’m sure plenty of people have stared at me when I wasn’t looking. This guy’s just weird. He tried to push it down. Pretend it wasn’t bothering him. But something about it wouldn’t let go.

"Excuse me, hon? Your clothes are ready."

The attendant called out to Rowan, arms full, their clothes wrapped up neatly, like a gift. Rowan called for the girl to come to him and as the attendant stepped closer, The one staring at Callahan sank below the water, like they had never been there at all.

Did they get scared? Maybe they snuck in? Maybe they didn’t want to get kicked out?

"Hey, Cal, you wanna soak for a bit more, or you ready to leave?"

Callahan’s eyes were still locked on the spot where the person had sunk, he waited to see if they’d come back up.

"Cal? Oi, Cal!"

Rowan’s voice barely registered. Callahan didn’t respond. He could see a familiar glow, a flash beneath the water. That same emerald light he had only ever seen in a mirror.

There’s no way—how? I— I ugh Rowaugh I—

His thoughts spilled out of his mouth in a stuttering, half-formed mess. His breath hitched, caught waterlogged in his throat. Suddenly, he couldn’t inhale.

"Rowuugh—" His hand shot out toward Rowan, fingers twitching.

Then he convulsed.

"Rowan! Callahan’s choking! Get him out, ya idiot!"

Nyve’s voice rang in his ears, but Rowan was already moving.

"HOLD ON, CAL, I’M COMIN’!"

A splash. Strong hands yanked Callahan out of the bath.

"Shit, Cal—breathe, brother! Calm down and breathe!"

Easy words, impossible action. Callahan’s body jerked violently on the bathhouse floor, every breathe was a struggle the water was somehow still flowing into his lungs even now as he lay on the stones. An attendant rushed over, dropping to his side.

"Hold on, hon."

Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to force the water out. It poured from his mouth like an endless fountain.

"Godsdamn it!" Rowan whipped his head around, searching for—something, anything—but he didn’t even know what he was looking for.

"Oh, this isn’t normal."

Nyve’s voice was low, sharp.

"Rowan—there’s a binder somewhere. Someone’s doing this."

She popped her head out of Rowan’s tangled hair, searching, scanning.

"Where are ya, you bloody sneak? Oh, when I find you—there will be a mighty price to pay."

Rowan barely registered her words. His focus was on Callahan. His brother’s gasps were getting weaker.

"Give me something Cal, what do I need to do?!"

More Harmonies poured into the bathhouse. Voices rising, guests whispering, the room shifting into chaos. Not again. Feels like the Mire. Too hard to breathe. Too hard to move, the sounds in the room muffling into a distant hum. His arm reached out. Eyes locked onto Rowan. Rowan. You gotta blind them, you gotta stop them, come on, figure it out. His chest seized. His limbs numbed. Rowan—just do it. Rowan. Figure it out. Rowan just do it Rowan.

Then—A pulse. Callahan’s eyes lit. Faint. But enough. There wasn’t much time left.

In his mind, dark shadows clouded around him, a thousand silvery eyes all peered into his soul, their horrid screams, the fetid mire rotting away his insides, all of that came washing over him, like a reoccurring nightmare come to life. He didn’t want to do something like this again, it wasn’t right, those creatures, those horrid creatures—he knew this was going to hurt, but it was all that ran through his mind. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Hot flesh began to bubble around Rowan’s neck. “Ooh, I can really feel this one,” that pulse again radiated throughout his body. “Oh, not good, Cal, it’s not good when you do this.”

Nyve was quiet, her eyes locked onto something in the water. “Rowan, brace yourself, I see where our quarry hides. Deep in the waters, those shining eyes lie.”

“Hrgh, yeah, well get ready to point me in the right direction if you can, don’t know how well this is going to go…” Rowan’s eyes started to widen, his hair falling out of his head. “Uh oh, I do hope that grows back...”

Nyve was slowly losing her hiding spot as Rowan’s locks scattered to the floor, the Harmonies began to take notice. “Oh, Holy Host, protect us.”

“Rowan, you’re looking a wee bit pale.” Nyve floated right in front of his face. With this whole spectacle going on—well, she was sure a fairy would be the last thing on people’s minds when things really started to go wrong.

"Oh, I recognize those eyes. tsk, Callahan, that’s not a good look for him at all. He’s gonna be hard to control!"

Rowan wasn’t speaking anymore. His mouth split open. His body bent at unnatural angles, twisting against itself on the floor. His neck stretched, engorging with air.Callahan, too still jerking, still gasping, fighting to keep a focus on Rowan, to not pass into the dark, then Rowan rose. half a man, half a twisted amalgamation of the creature they once had to fight. “What the hell is that thing!?” Gasps and screams ripped through the bathhouse. The Harmonies who had been tending to Callahan stumbled backward, then fled, screaming for their lives. "IT’S A MONSTER! A MONSTER FROM THE MIRE!" They ran. Slipping, falling, crashing into the water, scrambling to get out. Even through the panic, the chaos, one thing remained the same. The enemy’s eyes were still locked on Callahan.

Rowan’s mind was breaking.

A million instincts, all warring for control— Kill. Kill. Kill. Scream. Devour. Release. Pain. Fresh. Hurts. Fresh. Relief. Feed.

“Ooooh, hello, knock knock.” Nyve’s voice cut through the madness. Rowan’s deformed face twitched toward her, he was horrible to look at. Half his face pale, skin stretched tight over his skull. His chin split, forming a new horrific wailer maw, one eye warped, stretched out and silvery like a mirror, his throat sagged, ready and worn to bloat, to fill with agony, to release upon others. Nyve, completely unfazed, gestured toward the bathwater.

"Look at that, Rowan. Look into the waters."

Rowan’s eyes locked on, he followed her words, even with all the crashing urges in his mind, her words seemed to be clear, they got through to him.

"You see that?" Nyve grinned. "They need a good scream."

His neck ballooned. His legs locked, then—he let go.

A wail, monstrous and piercing, ripped through the air.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HEAD!"

"MAKE IT STOP!"

"I CAN’T—UGUAAAUUGH!"

The entire bathhouse was drowning in agony. The wail ripped through the air, splitting the water in two. A sonic force tore through the bath, sending tidal waves crashing against the walls. Guests were dragged under, helpless against the force. The ones still standing clutched their heads, writhing in pain, unable to move. Nyve stood atop Rowan’s stretched, pale skull, watching the destruction below. "Good boy, Rowan." Her sharp eyes flickered, searching—there. The target was on their knees, head bowed, arms limp. The wail had battered them like it had once battered Rowan.

Nyve turned back. Callahan was able to start catching his breath, barely steady.

But Rowan?

Rowan was moving.

His muscles tensed, twitched. Nyve could see it, feel it. That desperate need—not just to kill, but to feed. His body was half monstrous now—long, spindly wailer limbs barely in sync with the thick human muscle of his own. His legs twitched and shuddered as if his body couldn’t decide what shape it wanted to be.

Then—he lunged.

His movement was a mess of limbs. Clumsy, stumbling, more like a puppet yanked by tangled strings than a man in control.

"Hold on, Rowan, you don’t want to do this!" Nyve’s voice cut through the air.

Rowan didn’t listen. His instincts were stronger than her words.

Then—the water snapped back. The bath, now receding, dragged Rowan under. His clumsy, unbalanced body was swept up in the tide. His target floated to the surface, face just barely visible beneath the water. Unconscious. Or pretending to be. Callahan dragged himself upright, gasping. His body ached, his throat raw from near-drowning. He looked around, and for the first time, he really saw the disaster. Water poured over the floor, flowing back into the bath. The tiled walls were cracked. Guests lay sprawled in every direction, some still groaning, some too stunned to move. And Rowan—Rowan was still underwater.

Damn it, damn it.

Without a second thought, Callahan dove in.

The water wasn’t deep, but Rowan was big—bigger than him, even in this twisted form. His wild, thrashing limbs made every movement dangerous. His mismatched muscles and instincts weren’t built for swimming. Wailers were terrible in the water, Rowan was drowning.

"Look at them run!" Nyve cackled at the sight of their attacker fleeing, still flitting above Rowan’s skull. "Guess they weren’t dead after all!"

"Nyve—who cares?! We gotta get Rowan out of here!" Callahan kicked forward, pushing through the sloshing bath. He was so close now, just needed to get a grip. Rowan’s limbs jerked wildly, his grotesque Wailer legs lashing out in a blind panic. Callahan lunged to try to get a hold of him—

Slash.

A sharp pain tore up his forearm.

"Shit!" Callahan recoiled, blood spilling into the water. The cut wasn’t deep, but it bled fast, a red cloud dissolving around him. Rowan’s Wailer limb twitched again, ready to strike.

"Nyve," Callahan gritted his teeth, clutching his wound, "we gotta knock him out somehow—"

Rowan tried to bloat his throat again, his panicked body desperately attempting to wail underwater. The water rushed into the sack instead, choking the sound, cutting off the attack.

Nyve’s eyes widened. Then—"I got such a fun idea!"

She darted off. Callahan’s stomach sank.

"Nyve—damn it, what are you doing?!"

Damn it, damn it.

They had to get out. If the guards caught them, it was over. Why did that bastard attack. I swear if I find them…

He pushed forward, looking for another way to pull Rowan out—then he heard Nyve’s wings fluttering back.

"I did warn you, Rowan! twice in one day, that hammer was fated to meet your face in some way!"

Callahan barely had time to process what she was saying before he saw it—Rowan’s hammer, Nyve's tiny hands wrapped tightly around the handle.

"Nyve, don't you'll!—"

She dropped it. Flat onto Rowan’s skull.

Direct hit.

"Nyve!" Callahan’s stomach lurched as Rowan’s limbs froze—then collapsed. His body went completely limp.

"what the hell are you doing? what if you killed him?!"

"Oh, he’ll be fine!" Nyve chirped, shaking out her hands. "Just make sure he doesn’t drown! He’s a bit too heavy for me!"

Callahan dove underneath, pressing his shoulder up under Rowan’s weight, keeping his head above water. But he was heavy, and now half transformed, his weight was awkwardly distributed, between his human and Wailer limbs, it was like trying to drag a damn sack of boulders.

"Damn, Rowan—You… need… to… drink… less…"

Each step was pure strain, every inch forwards a battle. The weight of the water, Rowan himself—it was just barely too much. But Callahan kept going. He reached the edge of the bath, with barely an ounce of strength left. He tried to lower Rowan carefully onto the stone floor, but his grip slipped.

Thud.

"Damn it—sorry."

Callahan dropped to his knees beside him, panting. He pressed an ear to Rowan’s chest. Through the lingering chaos, the screams, the crashing water—he listened.

There. A heartbeat. Rowan was alive. Nyve’s ridiculous plan had worked. But it wasn’t over. They still had to escape. Callahan exhaled hard, trying to force his shaking hands to move.

"Nyve..." His voice was rough, still catching his breath.

"Go get the hammer."

Nyve scoffed. "You’d think I’d done enough, I practically saved him all by myself!"

"Nyve, just do it."

Callahan tore into the wrapped package of their clothes, yanking them on as fast as he could. Then, he moved to force Rowan’s pants on—a ridiculous struggle considering the sheer dead weight of his unconscious, soaking-wet body. The chaos in the bathhouse was only growing. More people were screaming, scrambling, trying to escape.

If they moved fast enough, they could blend into the fleeing crowd—pretend to be victims, disappear into the city. Nyve groaned,

"Oh, fine! I guess it’ll be funnier if he wakes up stuck with the hammer that knocked him out!"

With Rowan half-dressed and all their belongings in tow, Callahan slapped his face and braced for the next trial—dragging his unconscious brother out. He threw the rest of Rowan’s clothing over the parts of his body that were still affected by the bind. It would wear off soon, but the last thing they needed was unwanted attention.

"Nyve, hurry up!" Callahan gritted his teeth, digging his hands under Rowan’s shoulders and heaving with everything he had.

Nyve splashed out of the bath, the hammer clenched tightly in her tiny arms. "Hmph, so demanding." Without a hint of hesitation, she dropped it straight onto Rowan’s stomach. The hammer hit with a dull thud, and Rowan grumbled in unconscious pain.

Callahan had no words left for her. Every bit of energy was focused on getting Rowan out of here as fast possible.

"Heave ho, Callahan! You’re almost there!" Nyve’s voice was mockingly cheery as she disappeared under Rowan’s clothes, keeping herself hidden like she promised.

With one last, agonizing pull, Callahan finally made it to the bathhouse entrance. The chaos outside was still in full swing—people were running, screaming, stumbling over themselves. It was perfect. They could blend right in—just two more victims caught in the madness.

He felt Rowan’s body shift against him—his arm had fully returned to normal, and red hair began spilling back out from his clothes. The bind was fading fast.

"Come—on—Rowan—just—need—you—to—wake—up." Callahan’s words strained between breaths, each pull on his brother’s dead weight making his muscles burn.

He could see them now—guards, lots of them, storming into Harmonia to check on the chaos. They had just barely made it, slipping away into a shadowed alley, far enough from the bathhouse to avoid being spotted.

"Just in time, Callahan! Good job! I’m so proud of you!" Nyve popped her head out from Rowan’s clothes, flashing Callahan a bright smile.

He barely acknowledged her, his focus locked onto the bathhouse. Maybe he’d catch a glimpse of their attacker. A clue. A sign. Anything. But there was nothing. No piercing eyes. No masked figure. just countless guards filling the streets that were once teeming with civilians A low groan stirred beneath the pile of clothes.

"Guuhh… ugh… what a hangover this is…" Rowan’s voice was groggy, slurred.

"Rowan!" Callahan dropped to his side, hands gripping his brother’s shoulder. "Damn it, I’m so sorry… are you okay?"

Rowan blinked up at him, dazed, confused, but breathing. "Ah, I’ve been worse." He shifted, testing his balance, then stumbled and caught himself against the wall. "Let’s… let’s not do any more mire monsters ever again, eh? Twice is enough for a lifetime." That guilt stabbed deep, Callahan had to push it down.

"Yeah… let’s just get out of here."

"Hold on, gotta at least put on a shirt and my boots first," Rowan grumbled, rubbing his temples as he clumsily pulled himself together. Callahan watched him. That easygoing tone, that casual smirk—was it real? Or just something Rowan did to protect him? He wasn’t sure.

"Oh! Thank the gods—my hammer!" As soon as his boots were laced, Rowan’s hands snatched up his new weapon. He held it like it was a lost child, sighing with exaggerated relief.

"All thanks to your lovely Nyve!" She fluttered in front of him, hands on her hips, chin raised proudly. "Protector of Rowan’s mighty hammer!"

Rowan snatched her out of the air, his grip firm but careful. He let out a weak chuckle, voice still hoarse.

"You’re supposed to be hiding," he muttered, slipping Nyve into his hair with a rough but gentle ruffle.

"Ooh, good snatch, Rowan! Quick as your brother that time," she teased, nestling into his curls.

"Heh! let’s get home"

They moved fast, taking back streets where they could, dodging patrols, keeping their heads low. Every alley they passed was full of people—runners, stragglers, some still fleeing from Harmonia. But as they drew closer to the heart of the Aurifex, it became clear—this panic wasn’t just about the bathhouse anymore. The streets were filling again.

"What now…" Callahan groaned.

A massive crowd had formed ahead, blocking their path back to the Dregs. People were packed shoulder to shoulder, their voices overlapping in panicked murmurs and frantic whispers. Something was happening.

"Just stay right here," Callahan decided he’d be the one to take charge this time. "Let me see what’s going on." His brother had done enough today.

Before either of them could object, he was already moving. Rowan reached for him, but his legs were still heavy, his body still sluggish. He missed.

"Cal! Wait up!"

Rowan pushed forward, still unsteady, trying to catch up.

"OI, CAL, WHERE ARE YA?!" Then just as quickly, Nyve darted off to follow Callahan, flying low between the legs of the onlookers

“Nyve, wait—!” Rowan sighed.

"Oh don't worry! I'll keep an eye on him!"

"Damn…" He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the soreness that still lingered. “That really did beat the hell out of me.”

He flexed his hand, opening and closing his fingers. He could almost still feel the Wailer’s claw, the way it tore through his flesh. His grip tightened, nails digging into his palm.

“Just like with Dad…”

Rowan clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to push through the crowd. Wanted to be at Callahan’s side. But his body was weak, recovering. He had to sit this one out. Callahan pushed through the mass of bodies, shoving past merchants, customers, and gawkers. They were packed together like cattle, their gazes locked onto something beyond his sight. He still couldn’t see what had them so entranced. But he could hear it, a familiar voice. Pained, trembling, filled with sorrow.

"I… I didn’t want to do this… My heart… it’s not one made for slaughter… You forced me. I can’t forgive myself. I can’t forgive YOU for what you have done."

That voice—“OLLIE!” Callahan shouted, but his call was swallowed up by the sea of people.

Gasps, whispers, oohs and awes.

The crowd watched like it was a stage play. A tragedy unfolding before them, entertainment for the hungry eyes of the Aurifex. Callahan’s chest tightened. He shoved forward, harder now, desperation fueling his steps. He didn’t know what, but he felt something terrible coming.

“Uh-oh, this is not one to play out nicely…” A rush of déjà vu hit Nyve. She could see the path ahead, just barely, like a haze of twisting fractals. She knew, she had to stop him.

Callahan was so close now. He could almost make out Ollie’s figure. The Aurelan man swung something wildly in his hands. A machine. That machine. The one from Bimos—the one he had lugged around everywhere, never leaving it even for a minute, It almost looked like he was mourning over it back on Bimos, when that door in the fort closed behind Callahan.

Nyve had had no luck, finding her little giant among this forest of legs, she would have to break the rules, to fly high to find him in this crowd. Surely, with the spectacle at play no one would care to look at a little butterfly like her. She flew high, a birds eye view, she needed to find Callahan. “Ollie! What are you doing?!” Callahan’s voice cracked through the crowd, but Ollie didnt react the words never reaching his ear. Nyve caught the tremor in his voice though, her eyes darting over the crowd, searching—there. She spotted Callahan’s head pushing through the masses.

“Oh, you bloody idiot—CALLAHAN! Don’t go after him!” She shot forward, wings buzzing, trying to stop him. Callahan wasn’t listening. He was fighting harder now, pushing, shoving, clawing forward. And then—Ollie’s voice rang out.

"I had a son—like you! I couldn’t even fetch his damn BODY because of what you did to my home! My wife! My family! My father! NONE of them can even rest with Aureha! YOU TOOK THAT FROM US TOO!" Callahan’s stomach plummeted. That heavy grief Ollie always carried with him, it was being laid out in front of everyone. Callahan could feel his pain, he understood it now, why it was always so thick on his voice, it should’ve been obvious, Ollie, a victim of Onoria’s conquest, the man who pulled him out of the mire, even when he saved Callahan’s life, he did it like one who didn’t care whether he lived or died.

Nyve pinched Callahan’s cheek. “We have to leave. Right now. No ifs, ands, or butts. LET’S GO.”

“Nyve, no! That machine—it’s full of stagnant anima. If he releases it…It’ll kill everyone here.”

Nyve scowled, squeezing his cheek harder. “Yes, and that’s exactly why I’m telling you to leave.”

Callahan swiped her away, still shoving through the crowd. “What do you mean? You know what’s going to happen?! If you know, then help me! Push me through! Help me get to him! Maybe—maybe I can talk him down!”

Nyve’s wings flared, her face twisting with frustration. “IDIOT. Silly little giant.” Her voice dropped, laced with something rare, something close to fear.

"Why do you think he would listen to you? What words are you going to offer him, Callahan? Are you going to tell him how to bring his son back? Do you hear him? He’s a man standing at the abyss."

Callahan broke her chatter. “So what? You want me to just run? Do nothing?!”

His hands trembled as he forced his way forward. “That man—he came for me. He didn’t know a damn thing about me, but he risked himself anyway. He dragged me out of that rotting Mire. And you want me to just leave him here? To his fate? Without even trying?"

Nyve pulled at his hair, hard, yanking his head back.

"CALLAHAN." She hissed into his ear.

"I told you. I push when you are lost." Her fingers tightened in his hair.

"You are lost right now, Stop. Let’s go! Before things get really bad.”

Callahan ripped forward, shaking her off. The crowd was yelling at him now.

"Hey! Watch it, little prick!"

"Oi! Asshole!"

"Shithead!"

He didn’t care. He was getting closer. Nyve was getting desperate now, her grip stronger, her voice a raw whisper of urgency.

"You don’t make it!"

Callahan felt a cold shiver. “Why! Why don’t I make it?!”

“I’m Olesk Meddvezhsk. You’re gonna remember that name. The name of my town. All of you golden cunts are.”

Nyve knew this was no time for jokes or tricks. She had to plead—to make Callahan see.

“Callahan, you won’t stop him. Your words won’t get through, even if you were a poet. You can’t stop a man whose heart is petrified like his.”

Callahan took a moment to think… Then, he heard another voice, cold and sinister. An Onorion was speaking down to Ollie. He could feel it—the malice in that almost monotone voice.

“Nyve…” Callahan did his best to think it all through in the moments he had to spare. “I have to do this. I have to try. Lughren… you… Why show me such horrors, place these expectations on me… and then not even trust me to save a single man? Or more, All these people...”

His throat tightened—anger, doubt, guilt—twisting inside him like a knot he couldn’t untangle. His breath came short, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Let me try to reach him. Please help me, Nyve.”

Nyve’s wings hesitated mid-flutter. She wasn’t quick with a jest or a sharp retort. Her voice came softer, broken at the edges, like something fragile about to split in two.

“My sweet little giant…” She swallowed hard. “There’s only four people who make it out of this. Trust me, it’d be better for us all if we just left now.”

The crowd was beginning to fracture, the first real signs of panic setting in. They knew. Even those who stayed, transfixed by the unfolding horror, could feel it—that something terrible, was about to happen. Yet too many lingered. Ollie’s voice cut through the air, raw with grief, shaking with rage.

“There’s no redemption for me. Nor for you. Not for the Grand Auric. Not for the children. The women. The men. You’ll all die here, trapped endlessly in a mire—crawling, gasping, starving for release… And you’ll find none. The mire will take you all. And it’ll spread. And your golden city... it will fall.”

Callahan could hear Nyve’s breath hitch.

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn't run. With one final push, he shoved past the last of the onlookers, bursting into the open space where Ollie stood. And there he was—the Crucible hoisted high above his head, the Onorion man lunging forward to stop him.

“Ollie, DON’T DO THIS!”

For the briefest flicker of a moment, Ollie’s gaze shifted. His eyes locked onto Callahan’s, and in that fleeting moment, something passed between them. A look that carried unspoken words."I’m sorry." That’s what Callahan thought they said.

Then—“CALLAHAN, YOU IDIOT, I. SAID. NO!”

The air stopped. The flash igniting on the Crucible hung still, an ember frozen in time—never growing, never fading. The Onorion man was stuck mid-lunge, both feet suspended in the air. Ollie’s eyes remained locked on Callahan, his tears, frozen mid-fall, like painted rivers down his face.

Callahan stumbled. His foot caught on the stone, and he crashed forward, slamming into Ollie’s petrified body. He felt like he had struck a pillar—Ollie didn’t even budge.

“Shit,” Callahan gasped, his hands scrambling against the frozen man’s chest as he picked himself up. His breathing was sharp, erratic. “Ollie, stop this… please.”

He climbed off him, steadying himself, fingers gripping onto something solid, something immovable.

“Hey, come on…” His voice broke. “We’re mates now, yeah? Full Kraken Callers. I know you left, but this… this isn’t the answer to anything.”

His words hit nothing. Just silence. Just stillness. The event was going to happen, no matter what. Nyve was right. It was too late.

And this trick she pulled—the same as Lughren’s—it forced him to fully absorb how pathetic his attempt was.

His fingers curled into fists. "Why... why stop time now? Why not earlier?"

A small flutter of wings. A voice, almost hesitant.

“Callahan… fate is a fickle thing, I—”

“No. Shut up.” His voice was shaking now, his fury burned hot.

"Godsdamn it… why?!" His chest rose and fell in quick, sharp breaths.

"When I was drowning, why didn’t you use one of your breaks then?! If you helped us there, maybe we would’ve had more time here! Maybe I could’ve made it to Ollie before he even got here!"

His foot struck the stone beneath him with a sharp crack.

“FUCK!” He kicked again, and then again, his whole body trembling with rage.

“Why, Nyve?! It’s always tricks and jokes ever since I met you! Then you hoist me up as some hero, and NOW—fucking NOW, of all times—you stop me?! I took the initiative, I tried to be something I know I’m not, and YOU GODSDAMN STOPPED ME!”

His hands tore at his hair, yanking with a force that made his scalp scream in pain.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

Nyve floated toward him, tried to land on his shoulder—like she always had. Then, quicker than he’d ever moved before, Callahan struck her from the air.

“Ca—”

She didn’t even finish before she hit the ground hard, her wings limp at her back.

“Get the hell away from me.” Callahan’s voice shook, the anger and grief mixing a quivered tone. "I don’t want you anywhere near me anymore."

Nyve pulled herself up, stunned, but he wasn’t done.

“You think I should be grateful to you for saving me?” His fists clenched. “You’ve trapped me here. Left me stuck, staring at my own failure, frozen in time—” His voice wavered, but he wouldn’t let his grief spill out, not again. Not in front of her.

“This is who I am,” he whispered. “A failure.”

“Callahan…” Nyve rose to her feet, rubbing her arm. The slap, the fall—it didn’t hurt. Physically, she was tougher than that. But Callahan… Her defeated, broken little giant. That was eating her up inside.

“This journey, it’s hard fought,” she said, voice gentler than it had ever been. “In many turns, you fall. If I say too much, we will never be on the right path. I need you to trust me.”

Nyve didn’t move closer. Not because she was afraid of another hit—but because she didn’t want to break his heart any further. “Trust you?” Callahan laughed, hollow and empty. “A trickster. A liar. A fool.”

He rolled his shoulders back, tilted his head toward the frozen sky above. The birds were still. The smoke from chimneys hung like ghosts in the air. Then, his gaze dropped back to Nyve, his expression unreadable.

"I hate you, Nyve… I don’t think I’ve ever grown to hate someone as much as I hate you.”

Nyve flinched at the words. Not that Callahan was looking at her long enough to notice. He turned away, his steps heavy, the weight of hundreds of souls dragging at his feet.

“I don’t need your love, Callahan but,” Nyve whispered, but before she could finish, Callahan cut her off.

“If you don’t bring my brother back to Kiki’s safely,” his voice was low, measured, “I’m going to smash this eye into a million pieces.”

Nyve’s wings twitched.

“I don’t even know what it’ll do,” Callahan continued. “But I’ll make sure.”

Then he pushed forward, squeezing past the frozen onlookers—the dead men, trapped seconds before the end. Nyve watched him disappear into those frozen corpses to be.

"I knew this was going to happen..."

She clutched a tiny hand to her chest, eyes burning.

"I didn’t think it would hurt this much, though."

Her wings flickered to life, and she took off into the sky, flying back toward Rowan. She had to get him to safety. Below her, fractal flowers bloomed in the stillness. Not much time left before the break would fade.

“Surely, he won’t hate me forever…” she murmured.

"I hope that isn’t the fated path ahead."

Behind her, the Aurifex stood still on the edge of its final moment. A gilded grave of frozen fools.