The Temple, Far to the East
It was the same morning as the one before. And the one before that.
The scent of incense hung heavy in the stone corridors of the temple, mingling with faint floral notes from the herb garden beyond its white-marbled walls. Somewhere, bells chimed the hour. Perseus sat at the long table with the other residents—acolytes in pale robes, heads bowed in near silence, picking over an opulent breakfast of poached fruits, honeyed bread, and delicately carved cheeses.
He chewed slowly, not tasting a thing.
Afterward came the bath—pristine, steaming. Same marble floors. Same golden taps. He stood under the cascading water, eyes closed, hair slicked back, the weight of peace pressing in like a dull ache. No laughter. No chaos. No Nyxia.
A raven landed on the windowsill, cawing irritably as it dropped a crumpled, slightly damp letter onto his cluttered desk.
Perseus blinked, water still dripping from his jaw. His fingers bore small nicks—fresh from blade maintenance, though the temple discouraged it.
The seal was waxy but smeared. The handwriting looked like a drunk spider had roller-skated across the parchment.
He unfolded it.
Purrshus—Are yu still aliv? We might be. Nyx says we are but i think she's juss tryin to be bossy wif facts.We drank. A lot. Then a bigass cowman named Draj shaird sum bloodthissle wif us. He smokes it lik a poet. Said sumthin abowt da stars havin teeth?? I think I luv him. He scared of goblins wich is WILD coz he's huge n cud crush one like a bug on soup.We fownd a pit. Not a hole. Like, a fyt place. Called THE PIT. Caps. We mite fyt. Mite bet. Mite kiss sumone's mom. IDK. No maps jus rocks in water. Red ones. Nyx says we follow em. I say we roll down em.Nyx is funner than ppl think. She snorted beer. Like a lot. I saw her SMILE. thrice. She has this… laugh? lik a sunbeam curlin up in a hammock. I'm not cryin ur cryin. Mish ur dum face.Do NOT die wifout me or I'll come bak frum da ded n slap u wif my boot. Also u owe me noodles. An explenashun.— B
As he read, his expression shifted from confusion to concern to something dangerously close to a grin.
"She's high," he muttered to no one. "Drunk and high."
He folded the letter and tucked it into his coat like it was something sacred.
By lunch—cold vegetables, warm bread, and mint tea—he was half asleep on his feet.
Back in his chambers, he reread the last line.
Do NOT die wifout me or I'll come bak frum da ded n slap u wif my boot.
Perseus chuckled softly and reached for his ink.
Boo—I'm alive. Boringly so.Breakfast was lavender bread, fig jam, and some kind of poached fruit with a name I can't pronounce. I'd trade all of it for half a burnt sausage and a look from Nyxia that doesn't feel like it could kill a man at thirty paces.You wrote that she can really let loose. I believe you. I just never get to see it. I think part of her is afraid to breathe too loud, like the world might punish her for it. So if she's laughing now — even once — you protect that sound like it's sacred. Because it is.You're lucky. And she's lucky to have someone like you dragging her into trouble.Stay alive. Don't lose to banshees. Don't marry any unless they're rich.And Boo?I miss your ridiculous face too.—P.
Back at the Tavern
The room had quieted. Boo's hangover had faded into a manageable throb. Nyxia stood by the door, wrapped once again in her cursed bodysuit—the sin-black material clinging like ink made flesh. It shimmered faintly where light touched it, tracing her shape with ruthless precision.
She reached for her hood, when—
"Sit your ass down."
Nyxia blinked. Boo stood behind her with a brush in hand like a dagger. "What?"
"I said sit. Your hair looks like a tumbleweed fought a bird. You're not walking into a shadow pit looking like that."
Before Nyxia could protest, Boo gently—but firmly—steered her to the bed. Nyxia obeyed with a sigh.
"This is absurd," she muttered.
"You love it," Boo said, already brushing. "Now hush. Let me work."
She was surprisingly gentle—deft fingers untangling knots, smoothing strands. Her humming was soft and shamelessly off-key. A pirate shanty, probably. Nyxia sat still, the tension slowly bleeding from her shoulders.
"You know," Boo said, separating a section for a braid, "you've got this... soft thing under all the murder vibes. It's weirdly charming."
Nyxia gave a dry laugh. "You're lucky Loque tolerates you."
"He adores me," Boo replied without hesitation.
Nyxia didn't argue.
Boo braided one long rope down Nyxia's back, tying it off with a crimson ribbon she'd definitely stolen. She stepped back and nodded.
"Elegant menace with a dash of outlaw flair."
Loque'nahak padded silently to Nyxia's side.
"She sees you, little cub," his voice whispered in Nyxia's thoughts. "And you're still afraid to be loved like this. In light. Not just shadow."
Nyxia stared at her clawed hands. "She's reckless. And loud."
"And good for you," Loque replied warmly."You always were my favorite storm."
On the Road
Nyxia returned the key to the barkeep without a word. Ten minutes later, she reappeared from the alley with stolen breakfast tucked under her cloak.
Boo was already hitching their mare. "Gods bless your morally flexible soul," she muttered, taking a flatbread stuffed with egg and spice.
Nyxia climbed into the wagon. Loque followed, curling beside her boots.
Then: hoofbeats.
"Don't tell me that's—"
"It's me," Draj called, trotting into view atop a dun-colored horse.
"You two need a guide. The Pit's east. Follow the red stones 'til the trees start lying."
Boo narrowed her eyes. "That's not ominous at all."
"I'll lead you there myself," Draj said, already turning his mount.
They followed. Wagon creaking. Boo at the reins. Nyxia nestled in the hay, Loque's head in her lap.
"You're getting reckless again," Loque murmured.
"It feels good," Nyxia admitted.
"You're allowed to feel good, cub. Just don't forget the claws when it counts."
As they traveled, Boo heckled Draj from the wagon's seat.
"So if you're our guide, does that mean you're responsible for our safety?"
"Only if I'm getting hazard pay," Draj deadpanned.
"You'll get paid. Eventually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Maybe physically."
From the back, Nyxia groaned. "You two have the sexual tension of a tavern knife fight."
Loque made a sound dangerously close to a chuckle.
Later, Boo turned around. "Nyx, tell him about the food stall we accidentally burned down."
"You burned it down. I saved the vendor's cat."
"You drop-kicked me into a soup pot."
"You stole a tomato."
"It looked smug!"
They laughed. Even Nyxia.
"She's opening up," Loque said gently."You're letting yourself be. I've missed this version of you."
"So have I," Nyxia whispered.
A sharp caw split the sky.
A raven spiraled down, scroll in its talons.
Boo stared. "Oh no. He got the letter?"
"You forgot you sent it?"
"I was extremely intoxicated, okay?"
She unrolled the scroll and read aloud.
No Nyxia, and Boo—Temple life is exactly the same. Same tea. Same scrolls. Same acolytes pretending they understand metaphysics before noon.Stay alive. Don't lose to banshees. Don't marry any unless they're rich.And Boo? I miss your ridiculous face too.—P.
Nyxia tried not to smile. She failed.
Boo sighed. "He does miss me."
"He said my name first," Nyxia noted.
"Semantics," Boo sniffed. "He's clearly suffering without me."
"You're both ridiculous," Loque added.
"Lovable," Boo corrected.
The road ahead shimmered with flecks of red stone. Mist curled between the trees. The air was heavier now, charged with something waiting.
But for the moment, the wagon rolled on.
There was laughter.
And Nyxia—tucked between shadow, spirit, and outlaw chaos—allowed herself to feel light.