Blood.
Too much.
She couldn't breathe.
It was everywhere—thick, suffocating, endless. It clung to her skin, filled her lungs, drowned her thoughts.
Why was there so much—
Blood.
Blood.
BLOOD—
---
Nyx jerked upright with a ragged, broken scream.
It tore out of her like something feral, something wounded—rising into the night with a desperation that made the very air feel sharp. The sound lingered, echoing faintly across the пуст desert before dissolving into silence.
Her body trembled.
Sweat soaked through her robe, the thin fabric clinging tightly to her skin. Her breath came in uneven gasps, shallow and frantic, and her eyes darted wildly as though the nightmare still lingered just beyond her sight.
For a few moments, she couldn't tell where she was.
The fire.
The desert.
The night.
Slowly—painfully—reality began to settle back into place.
Just a dream.
Just a memory.
An omen long passed.
Yet the fear did not leave.
It clung to her ribs like claws, tight and suffocating. Beneath it, something deeper stirred—grief, raw and violent, as though her heart had been torn open and left to bleed unseen.
Nyx drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them as her body continued to shiver despite the towering bonfire nearby.
"That was…" she exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper.
"Rough night?"
Nezra's voice cut through the silence.
Nyx flinched.
Wait—
Her breath hitched.
When did I fall asleep?
How could I have allowed that… in front of him?
The thought unsettled her more than the dream itself.
But the truth was simpler.
She was exhausted.
The past days had taken more from her than she was willing to admit—even to herself.
"What?" she snapped, her voice sharper than intended. "Am I not allowed to have nightmares now?"
Nezra didn't answer immediately.
The easy amusement he carried before was gone.
His gaze lingered on her—quiet, steady.
He saw the trembling.
The way her shoulders remained tense, ready to recoil.
The lingering, instinctive terror in her eyes.
And for a brief moment—
he saw himself.
"Ah," he said softly. "That feeling…"
A pause.
"How familiar."
Nyx shot him a brief, searching glance—but said nothing.
Something in his tone told her not to press.
"Let's move," he added after a moment. "It's dawn."
---
They left the dying embers of the fire behind.
The sky had begun to pale at the horizon, the deep blues of night slowly surrendering to a faint, cold light. The desert stretched endlessly before them, quiet and indifferent, as though nothing had happened beneath its stars.
Nyx walked beside him, her body still tense, her senses sharpened. Every faint sound, every shift in the wind made her feel like something unseen was watching—waiting.
Nezra returned to his horse, running a hand along its neck as he prepared it for the journey.
Nyx watched him in silence.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked at last, though she had already begun to follow.
Nezra didn't look at her immediately.
"That's a good question," he said.
Then, after a brief pause, he added, almost casually—
"Where do you plan to go, now that you've run away from home?"
Nyx stiffened.
Silence answered him.
He glanced back at her, one brow lifting slightly.
"Don't tell me you fled without a plan."
His deadpan tone scraped against her nerves.
Of course I had a plan, she thought, irritation flickering through her exhaustion.
It just… didn't include a destination.
Nezra sighed, as though he already knew.
"I'm heading to Eralon," he said. "A free nation. Even demons can live openly there."
He adjusted the reins, then finally looked at her.
"We'll travel together until then," he continued. "After that… we part ways. Fair?"