The Echo's hooked talons descended in a blurring arc.
Philippa raised her knife to meet the strike, but Sylcath was faster. He slammed his crimson-powered palm into the creature's descending arm, diverting the blow at the last second. The talons gouged deep into the pavement instead of her chest, sending shards of concrete flying. The impact jarred Philippa's injured ribs, sending a fresh spike of pain through her side.
She didn't hesitate. While the Echo was off-balance, she drove her serrated knife into its exposed flank. The blade sank in with a wet, resistant squelch, tearing through shifting flesh that felt both solid and insubstantial. Violet-tinged blood sprayed out in erratic bursts, some droplets glitching and vanishing mid-air only to reappear on the ground with a hiss. The burning acid-like fluid splattered across her arms and chest, raising painful welts where it touched bare skin. The stench of ozone and rotting meat filled her nostrils, making her eyes water.
Sylcath kept pressure on the other side. His crimson energy flared brighter as he ripped another chunk of essence from the Echo's torso. The tearing sound was louder this time — a prolonged, sickening rip like reality being forcibly split. Strands of shadowy tissue and flickering blood trailed the glowing essence before it dissolved into his hand. The creature howled, its body glitching violently, parts of it fading in and out of existence.
Philippa twisted the knife deeper, feeling the blade scrape against something that wasn't quite bone. More burning violet blood gushed over her hands, the fluid hissing as it hit the ground. She yanked the blade free with a grotesque sucking noise and immediately stabbed again, aiming for the joint of its remaining arm. The knife punched through with a juicy crunch, severing tendons and releasing another spray of acidic blood that splattered her face and neck. Some of it landed on her lips. The bitter, electric taste made her tongue go numb.
The Echo staggered, one arm hanging uselessly, oily blood pouring from multiple wounds in heavy, glitching pulses. But it wasn't finished. It reared back, the remaining talons sweeping in a wide, desperate arc toward both of them.
Sylcath grabbed Philippa's uninjured arm and yanked her backward with surprising strength. They stumbled together, their bodies colliding for a brief moment. The Echo Ripple surged between them at the contact. Philippa felt it hit Sylcath harder than ever — the hollow silence where her laughter had been, the burning pain from her multiple wounds, the fading warmth of sacrificed memories. He flinched visibly, his grip tightening on her arm as he absorbed the phantom sensations.
"Damn it," he growled through gritted teeth, voice rough. "Every time you sacrifice something, it bleeds straight into me when we're this close. I can feel the emptiness. The pain. The things you're throwing away like they're nothing."
Philippa pulled her arm free, but the contact lingered in her mind. Blood continued to flow freely from her wounds — the deep gash in her side, the tear on her shoulder, the cuts on her thigh and forearm. Warm rivulets ran down her skin, making her clothes heavy and her movements sluggish. She could see the toll the ripples were taking on Sylcath too. His breathing was heavier, his usual arrogant posture slightly slumped as he fought against the borrowed pain.
"I didn't ask you to stand so close," she said, voice hoarse. But there was less anger in it now, replaced by reluctant acknowledgment. "You could have stayed back and stolen from the corpses like you usually do."
Sylcath wiped blood from his face, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made the air feel thicker. "And let you die? Then who would keep leaking all this power for me to take?" The words were mocking, but the edge was softer, almost teasing. He glanced at the weakening Echo, then back at her. "Besides… watching you carve yourself apart is starting to piss me off."
The Echo recovered enough to charge again, its glitching body flickering between solid and shadow. Philippa prepared her next sacrifice — something heavier, something that scared her. She thought of the sound of rain on the apartment window, the small comfort she had clung to during bad nights. The memory felt fragile, but she pushed it forward anyway.
Before she could offer it to the System, Sylcath moved first. He stepped in front of her slightly, crimson energy surging as he met the Echo's charge. His hand slammed into the creature's chest, ripping out another large piece of essence with a violent, wet tearing sound. The Echo screamed, its body convulsing as shadowy blood sprayed in erratic, glitching bursts.
Philippa used the opening to strike from the side. Her knife sank into the Echo's neck with a deep, crunching thrust. More violet blood poured out, burning where it touched her. She twisted the blade, feeling the resistance of shifting flesh give way.
The creature was dying, but its final thrash was brutal. One hooked talon caught Philippa across the calf, tearing a deep gash. Fresh blood gushed out in a hot rush, soaking her jeans and making her leg buckle. She stumbled, catching herself against Sylcath's shoulder for balance. The contact sent another strong ripple through him. He grunted, absorbing the new wave of pain without pulling away.
The Echo collapsed in a final, glitching heap, its body slowly dissolving into flickering shadows and oily blood that pooled on the ground.
For a moment, the street was almost quiet — only the distant screams and the crackle of new rifts breaking the silence.
Sylcath looked down at her, his hand still steadying her arm. "You're bleeding too much," he said quietly, the mocking tone gone for once. "If you keep this up, you won't make it back to your brother."
Philippa met his gaze, the hollow ache inside her chest feeling heavier. She could feel the next sacrifice burning on her tongue, something even more personal, as a new, larger rift began to tear open further down the street with a deafening glassy crack. Something massive was pushing through — bigger than anything they had faced tonight.
She tightened her grip on the bloody knife, heart pounding, blood still flowing freely from her wounds, as the new threat started to emerge and Sylcath stayed close beside her, their shoulders brushing, the tension between them shifting into something neither of them was ready to name