Zalthorion leaned back in his chair as though he were presiding over a social call instead of sending two people one of them a child into a war-torn era. His fingers drummed lazily against the carved armrest, the faint smile on his face suggesting a man in complete control.
"Everything's in order, then?" he asked casually, glancing between Nyxia, Eri, and Dr. Wagner without the slightest hint of urgency.
Nyxia adjusted the strap of his briefcase. "As far as I can tell."
Eri stood beside him, proudly holding her plushie like a talisman. The infant orowyrm on her shoulders blinked slowly, tail curling and uncurling with lazy contentment.
Zalthorion's gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment, his smile deepening. "Good. Then I'll keep this short." He gestured broadly toward the far side of the room where an Rift frame stood dormant, its surface dull and mirror-like. "The coordinates are set. You'll arrive just outside the city limits not too close to draw attention, but near enough for your… cover story to work."
Nyxia's eyes narrowed slightly. "And if things go wrong?"
Zalthorion chuckled, the sound warm yet unsettling. "Then you improvise. You're good at that."
Dr. Wagner, standing off to the side, kept his arms folded and his jaw tight. He hadn't said a word since returning the bracelet to Eri, but Nyxia could see the tension in the man's posture the silent calculation in his eyes.
Eri, oblivious to the layered tension between the adults, piped up. "Will there be ice cream?"
Zalthorion's smile softened, his tone almost grandfatherly. "If you look in the right places, little one, there's always ice cream."
Nyxia exhaled slowly, glancing once more at Wagner, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. There was something the man clearly wanted to say maybe even to shout but the moment was already slipping away.
The portal began to hum, light rippling across its surface like liquid silver.
Zalthorion rose from his chair, stepping around the desk. "Safe travels, Nyxia. Enjoy the… scenery." His voice lingered on that last word, as if he knew exactly what storm he was sending them into.
Nyxia tightened his grip on the briefcase and took Eri's hand. The orowyrm hissed softly, its scales shimmering as they approached the rift.
Behind them, Wagner muttered something under his breath in German too low for Eri to hear, but sharp enough for Nyxia to catch the edge of frustration.
The rift's light swallowed them whole, and Zalthorion stood watching until the last ripple faded.
Only then did Wagner turn toward him, expression dark. "Du spielst ein gefährliches Spiel, Zalthorion."
(You're playing a dangerous game, Zalthorion.)
Zalthorion merely smiled. "The most dangerous games," he said softly, "are the only ones worth playing."
The silver light peeled away, and suddenly the damp, claustrophobic air of an alleyway pressed in around them. The faint ozone tang of portal travel faded quickly, replaced by the heavy smell of coal smoke, stale beer, and the sour reek of garbage piled along brick walls.
Nyxia adjusted his footing on the uneven cobblestones, still gripping Eri's hand. The infant orowyrm raised its head and flicked its tongue, tasting the air, a low, curious rumble in its throat.
It was afternoon but not quiet.
Somewhere just beyond the mouth of the alley came the dull thud-thud-thud of fists hitting flesh, accompanied by muffled grunts and the scrape of shoes on asphalt. Eri blinked, her head turning toward the noise.
"Stay close," Nyxia murmured, instinctively stepping in front of her as they edged toward the source.
As they emerged, the scene unfolded beneath a flickering streetlamp. A lanky, undersized young man blond hair plastered to his sweat-damp forehead was on the ground, arms up in a feeble guard as a taller man in a leather jacket loomed over him, fists cocked.
"Stay down, punk!" the attacker snarled, slamming a kick into the smaller man's ribs.
Nyxia recognized the face instantly from the dossier Steve Rogers. Scrawny. Breathless. But there was no mistaking the defiance burning in his eyes as he wheezed, "I can do this all day…"
The words were met with another blow that snapped his head to the side.
Eri gripped Nyxia's coat sleeve. "He's gonna get hurt!"
Nyxia weighed his options. The mission parameters were simple: stay low, blend in, avoid altering major events unless necessary. But watching the kid try to stand again despite the obvious beating stirred something deep something protective.
The attacker grabbed Steve by the collar, pulling back for another punch.
That's when Nyxia stepped forward, his shadow stretching unnaturally long in the lamplight. "I think he's had enough."
The man froze mid-swing, eyes flicking to Nyxia. "Yeah? Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Nyxia gave a slow smile. "The guy who's about to ruin your night."
The orowyrm around Eri's neck hissed loudly, its scaled body tensing like a drawn bowstring.
The thug hesitated just long enough for Steve to shove him away not much force, but enough to stumble the man back toward Nyxia.
And that was when the first crackle of trouble in 1943 truly began.
The thug barely had time to blink before Nyxia moved.
A sharp sidestep, one gloved hand grabbing the man's jacket collar, the other driving a quick, controlled punch into the gut. Air burst from the man's lungs in a rough wheeze as he staggered back, clutching his stomach.
"Lesson one," Nyxia said evenly, stepping forward. "Pick on someone your own size."
The man recovered enough to snarl and swing a wild right hook. Nyxia tilted his head just enough for the fist to whistle past, then drove his knee into the thug's thigh. The impact made the man's leg buckle with a grunt of pain.
Steve, still on the ground, blinked in disbelief. "Who… are you?"
Nyxia didn't answer. He was already catching the man's next punch, twisting his wrist in a joint lock and sending him sprawling into the alley wall with a thud. Bricks scraped skin. The thug spat, lunged again but this time Nyxia grabbed him by the lapels, swept his legs out from under him, and planted him flat on his back.
The orowyrm, disguised as a slender, iridescent snake coiled around Eri's neck, hissed sharply. Its eyes glimmered faintly a subtle flare from the upgraded bracelet. Eri's small fingers gripped Nyxia's coat, her face calm but watchful.
The man groaned, trying to push himself up. Nyxia crouched beside him, voice low and cold.
"You're done."
To punctuate it, Nyxia flicked his wrist a precise strike to the man's jaw that sent him slumping unconscious.
Silence hung for a moment, broken only by Steve's ragged breathing. Then footsteps approached from down the street.
"Steve?" a voice called confident, concerned.
A figure in uniform, wearing a cap tilted low, jogged into the lamplight. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky slowed as he took in the scene: Steve on the ground, Nyxia standing over an unconscious man, and Eri clutching a plush toy with a snake draped lazily around her neck.
Bucky went straight to Steve, crouching to help him up. "You've got a real talent for trouble, pal," he said with a crooked grin.
Steve, wincing as he stood, muttered, "Wasn't me this time." He glanced at Nyxia. "He stepped in."
Bucky looked Nyxia over with a quick, measuring gaze. "Well… guess we owe you one."
Nyxia just gave a slight nod, stepping back toward Eri. "Stay out of alleys for a while," he said, tone calm but edged with warning.
Bucky smirked faintly. "You too, stranger."
As they walked away together, Steve shot one last curious glance over his shoulder at Nyxia a look that said he'd remember this face.
And Nyxia knew this was only the first ripple in a much larger current.
◇◇◇
The little bell over the door jingled as Nyxia stepped inside, Eri's small hand tucked securely in his. The warm aroma of sizzling meat and fresh bread wafted from the kitchen, a welcome contrast to the chill of the street. The snake-disguised orowyrm rested loosely around her neck, its scales glinting faintly under the dim overhead bulbs.
They hadn't even made it to the counter when the door behind the register opened, and a heavyset man in a stained apron stepped out. His eyes fell on Eri and instantly hardened.
His voice carried through the room, sharp enough to cut conversation at the nearest tables."Get out," he barked. "You damn Jap."
Eri froze. Her little fingers tightened around Nyxia's coat, and the orowyrm shifted, coiling slightly closer to her.
Nyxia moved in front of her, his stance casual but unyielding. "Whoa… what's wrong? She's just a kid."
The man's lip curled. "I don't care if that damn Jap's a kid. Get out of my place. And look at that—" He jabbed a finger at the snake on her shoulders. "What's that for, huh? Trying to poison my customers?"
A flicker of heat rose in Nyxia's chest, but his voice stayed steady, measured. "We're just here to eat. That's all."
"I said get out!" the owner roared, his face flushed with anger.
The room was watching now a few patrons looked away uncomfortably, but none spoke up. The weight of the decade's wartime prejudice pressed in on the air, thick and suffocating.
Nyxia's jaw tightened. Every instinct screamed at him to end this here and now, to shut this man up in a way he'd never forget but Eri's small grip on his coat reminded him of his priority. He glanced down at her; her gaze was on the floor, shoulders hunched, silent.
Without another word, Nyxia stepped back, his hand still on her shoulder as he guided her to the door. The bell jingled again as they left, the warm smell of food replaced by the cold bite of the evening air.
Out on the street, Nyxia exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from his frame. He crouched to Eri's level."You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly.
Eri gave a small nod but didn't speak. The orowyrm gave a soft, almost protective hiss, and Nyxia's eyes hardened with quiet resolve.
This city was going to make it very hard for her and he'd be damned if he let it break her.
Nyxia raised a hand and whistled sharply, drawing the attention of a passing cab. The driver gave him a quick once-over before jerking his head toward the back seat. Nyxia opened the door, letting Eri climb in first with the orowyrm still curled like a lazy scarf around her neck. He slid in beside her, closing the door with a muted thunk.
"Chinatown," Nyxia told the driver.
The cab lurched forward, weaving through the bustle of 1940s streets. Neon signs flickered faintly against the dusk, and the faint scent of roasting duck and incense began to seep through the open window as they neared their destination.
They stepped out onto a narrow street lined with colorful paper lanterns and shopfronts with gilded lettering. The hum of conversation, the clang of a wok, and the smell of ginger, soy, and freshly steamed dumplings wrapped around them like a warm blanket.
Nyxia let Eri pick the direction, and soon they stopped in front of a small restaurant tucked between a herbalist shop and a silk store. Its front windows were fogged from the heat inside, and a single red lantern swayed above the door.
Inside, the restaurant was intimate polished wood tables, soft yellow lighting, and a low murmur of Cantonese conversation from a group in the corner. A server greeted them with a polite nod and gestured to an empty table near the back.
Nyxia and Eri settled in, the orowyrm shifting to rest its head lazily on Eri's shoulder. He flipped open the menu, scanning through the familiar dishes."What do you feel like, Eri?" he asked.
Her face lit up. "Noodles."
Nyxia smirked. "Figures." He caught the server's eye and ordered a bowl of hand-pulled noodles for her, braised pork belly for himself, and a shared plate of dumplings.
They'd barely finished placing their order when the door opened again, the small brass bell above it giving a soft ding.
A tall, slender figure stepped inside, wrapped in a layered robe of muted gold and green that looked utterly foreign in the 1940s street scene and yet somehow at home in this little enclave. Her head was shaved, and her calm gaze seemed to take in everything and nothing at once.
She walked with unhurried grace, each step quiet yet certain, and when the server gestured to the empty seat beside Nyxia and Eri's table, she inclined her head in thanks before taking it.
Nyxia didn't recognize her but there was something in the way the air seemed to subtly shift around her, like the faint pull of a tide.
The woman turned her head slightly, her eyes resting on Eri. Not in judgment. Not in suspicion. But with the quiet, measuring look of someone who had seen far more than they would ever say aloud.
Eri blinked back at her, curious but not frightened. The orowyrm raised its head slightly, tongue flicking the air, then settled again without a sound.
The woman smiled faintly the kind of smile that felt both like a greeting and a test.
"Quite the companion she has there," she said softly, her voice warm but layered with something deeper.
Nyxia's gaze narrowed just slightly. "Yeah. She's full of surprises."
The Ancient One's eyes flicked to him then, a faint spark of amusement passing through them like she already knew far more about him than he'd given away.