The warmth of the fire and the quiet clinking of cutlery wrapped the room in a fragile peace.
Nyxia lay in the bed, wrapped in blankets, her leg bruised and elevated. Every breath strained against cracked ribs. Draj sat near the hearth, slowly honing a blade on a whetstone, while Perseus nursed a bowl of half-eaten stew, perched uneasily on a wooden chair.
Then—
SLAM.
The door crashed open.
Boo stumbled in, breath ragged, hair tangled from wind and flight. Her eyes were wide, wild. She bolted the door behind her, then staggered back like she expected something to reach through it.
"Gods—fuck—he was there," she gasped.
Perseus and Draj were up instantly. Nyxia lurched upright with a wince, hand over her ribs.
"Boo?" she snapped. "What—"
Boo spun, breathless. "It was him. The man who handed me your winnings. It was Arioch. He was at the counter. Plain as daylight."
The room chilled.
Perseus frowned. "Who the hell is Arioch?"
Nyxia paled. Her voice dropped. "Void-touched. And worse than that. He doesn't chase people—he ensnares them."
Boo kept pacing, coin pouch clenched like a cursed object. "He said your name. Told me to tell you he was proud. That you'd done 'so, so well.'"
Nyxia's stomach twisted. "He was watching."
"He felt it," Boo said. "Said the pit wasn't enough. Offered you a permanent place. Full-time fights. Fame. Adoration."
Draj swore quietly.
Perseus crossed his arms, voice low. "He's not just watching. He's building something. And you're at the center."
Loque paced the room, spectral hackles raised, snarling toward every shadow.
Nyxia exhaled slowly, a threadbare laugh escaping her lips. "If I knew I was applying for a career in void-fueled bloodsports, I'd have at least demanded better rates."
Draj chuckled. No one else did.
The fire snapped in the hearth. The walls felt closer.
Boo dropped the coin pouch onto the table. "He knew everything. What you did, what you used. I don't think it was just a scrying link. I think he felt it."
Nyxia had gone still.
Too still.
Her expression slackened into something distant, unfocused. Her black-sheened eyes stared at nothing.
Loque growled sharply and bumped his head against her shoulder.
No response.
"She's not here," Perseus said. "Something's got her."
A ripple of cold passed through the room.
Nyxia's fingers clenched the blanket. Her jaw trembled.
Inside her mind, the world shifted.
"It's not their choice, little shadow. But yours. You heard them roar for you. You felt their hunger. And yours."
Arioch's voice slithered like smoke, curling around her ribs.
"The pain, the applause, the clarity—you were never more alive."
Loque's voice—rough, frantic—cut in: "Nyxia. Wake up. Focus."
She flinched. Groaned. "Stop talking all at once," she muttered aloud.
Everyone froze.
"Who's talking?" Boo asked.
Nyxia's eyes met hers—blurry, unfocused. "He's… in my head."
Perseus stepped closer. "Arioch."
The wind outside answered with a howl.
She looked toward a patch of shadow in the corner, barely touched by the firelight.
"I can feel him."
"You know where to find me," Arioch whispered. "Say the word, and they'll chant your name until the stars fall."
Nyxia's chest heaved. A flush of something electric surged in her—half thrill, half dread.
"Get out," she hissed.
"You'll come back. They always do."
And then—nothing.
The pressure vanished.
She sagged, gasping like she'd been underwater.
Loque pressed against her side, rumbling.
"Are you with us?" Draj asked.
Nyxia nodded faintly. "Yeah. He's gone."
"For now," Perseus muttered.
Nyxia tried to laugh. "Good thing we got paid. Gonna need it for exorcists and therapy."
This time, no one even smiled.
⎯⎯⎯
The fire had burned to glowing embers. Boo curled on a cot, her bow within arm's reach. Draj lay beside his pack, breathing deep and steady. Perseus sat cross-legged near the door, half-dozing with a hand on his blade.
Loque lay curled beneath Nyxia's bed.
And Nyxia?
She was wide awake.
The pit. The void. Arioch's voice still echoed through her bones.
Then—
The air changed.
A chill spilled through the room like ink, coiling around her spine. She sat up fast, breath sharp.
Above her bed, space twisted.
It didn't shimmer. It didn't glow.
It cracked—as though reality itself split open like glass under stress.
A vertical seam tore open the air.
And through it… he stepped.
Arioch.
His presence bent the room around him. No theatrics. No fanfare. Just raw, suffocating presence. He wore no armor. No weapons. Only a dark robe shot through with silver lines like constellations. His inky hair drifted in unseen currents.
His eyes—those twin spirals of ancient void—locked on her.
She couldn't scream.
Couldn't even breathe.
He sat beside her like a friend. Brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"You poor thing," he murmured. "So full of fire. And no one to burn for you."
Nyxia's hands shook under the blankets.
"You shine so brightly, and yet they treat you like a patient. Like a bomb." His tone darkened. "They fear you."
"They should," she croaked.
He smiled. "Yes. But not me. I see you."
Loque lunged—but stopped mid-pounce, frozen by invisible chains.
Nyxia looked to him, panicked—but couldn't move.
"You want to know what I want?" Arioch whispered. "Tomorrow, you fight. Someone important will be watching. Someone who opens doors no one else can. Impress them, and you rise."
He stood again. The seam behind him widened.
"Don't let them dim you. Don't let them tame you. Be the storm you were born to be."
He leaned close.
"And when the time comes to choose…" His hand touched her chest, over her heart. "Remember who saw you first."
The void yawned open.
And he was gone.
⎯⎯⎯
The room snapped back to normal. Loque crashed into the floor, snarling and scrambling upright. Nyxia shook like a leaf in a gale.
She clutched Loque's fur, heart racing. Tears she hadn't realized were there blurred her vision.
And even through her terror…
Even as she shook in the dark…
She whispered to no one:
"I want to fight again."