"There above! Look, look!" one of the soldiers shouted, pointing at the two black silhouettes darting across the rooftops.
Elliot ran after Nile, his dagger shoved deep inside his winter coat. His hands were still wet with blood—a reminder of what he'd done. Pain, sorrow, guilt, and anger gnawed at him.
Move. Faster. Faster.
They leapt between roofs, vaulted fences, slipping through streets as soldiers swarmed like ants below. Elliot snapped open his Resonance Sight for a heartbeat—and saw the wall ahead. A wall of soldiers.
"Nile, stop—we're about to get caught. Follow me!"
"You up for it?" Nile asked, breath ragged.
"I'm fine. We'll make it. Trust me."
They dove down side streets, weaving left, right, scaling wooden homes. Boots thundered beneath them. Shouts rang out like a hunter's chorus. The chase was a game of cat and mouse—only the loser didn't live.
Elliot chose a blind corner, wedged between two homes. The front was half-blocked by a wooden crate, enough to buy them a breath. "Rest. Here. If we push deeper into this street, we'll run into drunks… or Max and Will's men."
Nile nodded. "If you say so. Another hour, then we backtrack."
"Good. Damn, I didn't expect your gift to be this good." Nile studied him. "How'd you get it?"
"I was born with it." Elliot's voice went flat. He could never tell Nile the truth—that he was thirty-five, reborn in a twelve-year-old body, cursed to walk a nightmare world every time he slept. Nile wouldn't believe it anyway.
"Alright," Nile said. "Then let's chill."
They rested in silence, worrying for Scar and Charly.
When the hour was up, Elliot nodded. "Time to move back."
"Okay." Nile followed him to the roof. Elliot used his power twice more, each time vomiting water until he was pale and trembling. He could barely stand.
"I think you should stop," Nile muttered.
"I'm fine," Elliot lied. "We made it. We're clear."
But Nile noticed the truth: Elliot could barely keep up.
"I'm taking my mask off," Nile said suddenly.
"What?!"
"It's fine. We're in the slums. Hundred meters more, that's all."
And so they walked. Against all odds, they reached the hut—and inside, Scar and Charly waited. They tore off their masks, faces pale with exhaustion but bright with relief.
"You guys—you made it!" Charly said first.
"Yeah," Nile muttered, collapsing.
Elliot leaned against the doorway, too drained to speak.
Scar's voice shook with excitement. "You actually pulled it off?!"
"Yeah. Elliot saved my life," Nile said. "If he hadn't… story would've ended for both of us."
"Thank you, Elliot—the Alden slayer!" Charly laughed nervously, trying to lift the weight of guilt from him.
"Godslayer, huh?" Nile chuckled.
"Too much," Elliot said with a tired smile. "I'd rather be called the Dark Night… or maybe the Clean Shifter."
Scar blinked. "The hell is a Clean Shifter?"
"Come on you don't know?" Elliot grinned, launching into a half-baked explanation until they were all laughing quietly, their dread briefly forgotten.
…
An hour later, they counted the crystals.
"Four hundred and five," Nile whispered. "Four-oh-five! Thank the heavens—we made it!"
"What the fuck," Scar muttered. "We only needed two hundred. If we'd walked off with this many, we could've left the city forever. We'd be legends."
"Keep dreaming," Scar snorted.
"So, Nile—how do we deliver them?" Elliot asked. The bag wasn't too large, but walking through the city with it would be suicide.
"We meet the Runic in the morning," Nile said. "Lay out our proposal."
"Sounds right to me," Charly agreed.
"Fine by me too," Scar added.
"Alright then," Elliot said. "You go first, I'll stash this. Meet tomorrow."
"You sure?" Nile asked.
"Yeah. Go ahead."
The three slipped into the night.
Elliot buried the haul beneath the hut, covering the spot with care. Then he walked alone through the slums, across the inner region, until he pushed open the door of the Moonshin Inn. A bell rang faintly.
"Who is it?"
"It's me. Elliot."
"Room three," the innkeeper mumbled. "Late night, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then good rest to you."
"You too."
Elliot climbed the stairs, stripped to his pants, and collapsed into the white-sheeted bed. This time, he felt certain there would be no nightmare wolves, no endless falling, no swarms of bats. Just sleep. Empty, dreamless sleep.