Elias' sleep was deep and, for a while, peaceful. But the warmth of the cottage slowly bled away, replaced by a familiar, biting cold. The scent of pine and damp earth twisted into the iron-tang of old snow and despair.
He was back in Cocytus, standing amidst the frozen wasteland.
Far away in the distance stood a small cottage with faint light leaking from its cracks.
The door was slightly ajar.
He pushed it open. The inside was barren. No fire, no furniture, just a layer of rime frost covering everything. And it was silent. Too silent.
A single, frayed rope was tied to the main beam in the centre of the room. It hung, down, motionless, in the dead air.
Beneath it, the frost-covered floor had been stained red.
His eyes followed the rope upward, to where it vanished into the shadows of the rafters –
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Open up! Guards!"
The sound was like a physical blow. The frozen scene shattered.
Elias gasped awake, his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. For a terrifying second, he didn't know where he was. Then he saw Liam sleeping fitfully beside him.
The dream clung onto him, like a shroud of ice.
The knocking came again. This time, louder.
"We know you're in there!"
Elias' breath caught.
He sprang up from the ground and scanned the room. His gaze darted towards the open window. The boards there hung loose and the nails rusted. It was the only way out.
He rushed towards it, nearly tripping over the leg of the cupboard. Liam stirred faintly in his mattress, but didn't wake. Elias pressed a hand to the wall, forcing himself to stay as quiet as he possibly could.
"He couldn't have gone far," barked an awfully familiar voice.
Elias' pulse pounded in his ears. He reached the window and climbed onto the sill. Cold air rushed against his face. Then – another knock.
Elias' throat tightened. He swung one leg over the sill and jumped out when suddenly –
"Got you!"
A sharp voice cut through the night as a figure leapt out from the shadows.
Elias flinched so hard that he lost his grip and tumbled backward, only to be greeted by a familiar grin.
"Amelia?!" he blurted out, breathless.
She leaned against the wall, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "You should've seen your face!"
Elias groaned, rubbing his back. "You nearly stopped my heart."
"That's what you get for sneaking around like a fugitive," she teased. "Well technically, you are one."
"Not helping."
Amelia reached into her satchel and pulled out a poster. The paper fluttered in the moonlight as she held it up.
There it was: his face, sketched in black ink. Below it, in bold letters:
"WANTED. 20,000 Coins"
"Found this just outside the gate," she said, grinning. "Apparently, some guard left it there. If he'd bothered to knock and check inside, he might've been able to retire by now."
Elias blinked, and then stared at the rough sketch of his own face. "That's… flattering," he muttered. "But did they have to make me look so… scary. Like I eat people for breakfast or something?"
Amelia chuckled, folding the poster neatly. "Well, if I turn you in, that's twenty thousand coins. I could finally afford a better house. Maybe even a door that doesn't squeak. And Liam… some proper medicine…"
He shot her a look. "And I could finally learn to sleep without worrying about being sold for pocket change."
She feigned a dramatic sigh. "Relax, hero. You're safe. Besides, you don't even look worth that much…"
"Hey!" whispered Elias under his breath.
Their laughter mingled softly under the silver moonlight.
"Come on," she said finally, lowering the lantern. "Before that guard actually decides to come back and re-check."
They quietly slipped back inside, careful not to wake Liam. Amelia immediately went to her brother's side, unpacking the small bundle she had been carrying.
"Medicine," she said simply.
Elias watched in silence as she worked – how gentle her hands were, how every movement was deliberate and protective.
When she finished, he asked. "What about your mother?"
Amelia didn't look up. "She doesn't come home often. Only when she needs to."
He frowned. "Needs to?"
She gave a humourless laugh. "She's busy. Working."
Something in her tone made Elias pause. "What kind of work?"
Amelia met his eyes, unflinching. "The kind that breaks you before it feeds you."
Then, abruptly and bluntly, "She's a prostitute."
The silence after that felt sharp.
Elias' jaw tightened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked…"
"You didn't know," she said softly, tucking the blanket around Liam's shoulders. "It's not your fault. After Father died, it's… been like this."
He didn't press further.
Amelia suddenly stood up, forcing a small smile. "Enough about that." She walked to the small table, pulling out a clay bowl. "You haven't eaten properly all day."
From her bag, she brought out a few items – a small loaf of bread, half an onion, and a few strips of dried meat. She dropped them into a pot with a bit of broth and placed it over the weak flame of the hearth. The smell soon filled the cottage – savoury, warm and humble.
"It's not much," she said as she stirred, "but it's better than dry crusts."
Elias took a cautious sip once it was served. The broth was thin but flavourful. He tore off a piece of bread to go with it – soft, still warm – but as he chewed, there was a faint, almost imperceptible aftertaste. Not something anyone else might notice, but perhaps because of the Sigil, he caught it: a whisper of rot beneath the crust.
He blinked, unsure if it was real or just his imagination, but decided to ignore it.
When the meal was done, Amelia stacked the bowls and turned towards him. "You should sleep. There's another mattress in the corner. Ignore the smell, it's just damp straw."
"I'm fine."
"You're not," she replied firmly. "And you'll be worse if you keep pretending to be."
He tried to protest again, but she crossed her arms. "Sit. Down. And sleep."
With a reluctant sigh, he did as he was told. She smirked before settling down beside her brother, running her fingers through his hair.
The moonlight filtered through the shutters. Elias lay on the worn mattress, staring at the ceiling. But he just couldn't sleep. His mind kept returning to the dream.
He turned over, frowning. "System," he murmured. "That dream… what was it?"
[ A vision of two flames. However, it seems you shall always reach for the colder one. ]
He scowled. "Back to the cryptic responses again, huh?"
A pause followed.
Elias sat up slowly, unsettled by the tone. But the voice faded, leaving him alone with silence.
The night was clear outside. The moon hung full and silver above the trees. He stood up and went to the window, letting the cool air touch his face.
Behind him, Amelia stirred. "Can't sleep?"
He turned slightly. "…Yeah."
She smiled faintly in the dim light. "Come on. I know a place. It helps when my mind won't shut up."
He hesitated. "Now?
"Yes," Amelia said. She knelt to kiss Liam's forehead, brushing a stray lock from his brow. "He'll be fine for a while."
Elias' fingers drummed lightly against his knee. What if someone saw him out there?
But there was something in Amelia's tone that pulled at him.
"It'll be fine. I know the path."
"Alright," he said finally. "Lead the way."
They slipped out into the night, following a narrow trail that wound through the trees. The forest shimmered under the moonlight. Crickets hummed, and the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the branches.
Amelia told him about fishing with her father as a child, about how she once fell into the lake and screamed until he pulled her out.
"Sometimes," Amelia said quietly, "I wonder if all of this means something. The things we lose. The people we love."
Elias smirked, but had no response to give.
They reached the ridge where the forest ended, and there it was.
The lake.
Vast, endless and glittering under the starlight. The moon's reflection rippled gently on its surface. The sky looked infinite, strewn with bright stars. Every few seconds, a meteor streaked across the darkness like a silent prayer.
Elias stood still. "It's… beautiful."
"Told you," Amelia said, grinning. She sat down on the sand and patted the spot beside her.
He joined her. For a while, neither of them spoke.
When another shooting star crossed the horizon, Amelia clasped her hands dramatically. "Quick! Make a wish!"
Elias tilted his head. "You… really believe in this sort of thing?"
"Not really," she admitted with a small smile. "But I like pretending. It makes the night feel… less lonely."
He watched her close her eyes. The starlight reflected off the lake's surface and onto her face. After a pause, he did the same.
When she opened her eyes again, she asked, "So? What did you wish for?"
He hesitated. "To remember what I've lost."
Amelia studied him for a while but decided not to press further.
Elias shook his head slowly. "Nothing. Not who I was, not where I came from. All I know is that… if I want answers, I need to keep moving."
Her eyes widened a little. "That… seems like a lot."
"It is. But it's the only truth I have. Everything… it all feels like a series of accidents."
"Or maybe," she said softly. "it was fate."
He looked at her, unsure whether to laugh or agree. "Fate, huh? That's a comforting word for chaos."
"Sometimes," Amelia murmured, drawing her knees close, "chaos is just fate wearing a different name."
Elias turned to her. "Amelia… what do you think life is all about?"
She smiled faintly. "I think it's about trying. Trying to hold on, trying to love, trying to forgive. Even when it doesn't work. Especially when it doesn't."
Her words lingered in the air like a fragile melody.
Elias looked out over the vast, silver lake.
Beside him, Amelia leaned back on her hands, breathing in the cool night air. Slowly, Elias followed her lead. The soft wind brushed against their faces and the rhythm of the waves created a lullaby beneath the stars.
Without a word, they both closed their eyes – two strangers adrift beneath the same sky, suspended in a fleeting moment of peace.
And then, far out in the distance, past the Moon's reflection, something shifted.
The water rippled strangely. A faint darkness began to spread beneath the surface, like ink bleeding through parchment.
Neither of them noticed.
The stars above shone brightly, but quietly, the sea beneath them had began to rot.