They walked.
The Ashlands stretched endlessly before them, a silent wasteland painted in shades of ash grey and muted black. Cracked earth crumbled underfoot, while strange, withered trees clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers. The air was still and oppressive, as though the land itself held its breath. Each step was a quiet war against fatigue — the weight of exhaustion, the tension of being hunted, the ever-present threat that something could rise from the shadows at any moment.
Time lost its meaning here.
Eventually, after what felt like hours — though it might've been less — they stumbled upon a cave nestled into the side of a broken cliff. It wasn't deep, but it had cover, shade, and only one entrance. That made it safer than most places.
Hope was the first to exhale a sigh of relief. He didn't say it aloud, but he was glad. They'd eat here. Properly. Not that nutrient pill Massa had handed him earlier, which had tasted like chalky metal and despair.
Massa slung the wrapped meat off her shoulder and let it fall with a heavy thud, the sound echoing faintly off the cave walls. She crouched beside it, unwrapping the cloth, careful not to smear the blood too far beyond their small perimeter.
Nefer eyed the cavern ceiling, then the flickering light outside. "If we make a fire," she said coolly, "it might attract veil creatures. Even corrupted ones."
Hope, squatting down beside a pile of dry twigs he'd gathered earlier, shrugged with resignation. "If we don't eat," he replied, "we won't be able to fight either. It's a gamble. But that's what this place is, right?"
Massa nodded in agreement. "He's right."
With a practiced flick of her fingers, she conjured a small flame in her palm. It floated above her skin like a droplet of molten gold before she gently pressed it into the base of the twig pile. The fire took quickly, and soon a warm, dancing light painted their faces — the first bit of comfort in an otherwise cruel place.
Hope skewered a thick slice of meat onto a stick and held it over the flame. The scent began to rise — not delicious by any means, but real, solid, and better than any pill. Yet as the minutes ticked by, Hope's expression grew increasingly strained. The meat didn't brown evenly, parts were undercooked while others began to char. He turned it too quickly, then too slowly, poked it, then left it alone too long. Fat dripped into the flames with sharp sizzles, spitting embers into the air.
"Crap," he muttered under his breath, squinting at the half-burnt, half-raw monstrosity turning in his hands.
He looked up — and instantly met Nefer's eyes. She sat across from him, legs crossed, arms folded. Her lips didn't move, but her expression said it all: an arched brow, a slight glint in her eye, a quiet smirk that danced on the edge of mockery. Hope sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"I get it, alright," he grumbled, scooting back from the fire.
Nefer took over without a word. Her movements were precise, fluid. She adjusted the distance of the meat from the fire, turned it at a rhythm that somehow felt graceful. There was a certain… elegance to her. She didn't just cook the meat — she tamed it, sculpted it. In a world of monsters and ruin, Nefer made fire-roasted scavenger meat look like art.
Hope leaned back against the cool stone wall of the cave, his body sinking slightly with exhaustion. He glanced over at Massa. She sat not far from him, her gaze distant, almost wistful. The firelight painted her face with flickering orange hues, casting shadows beneath her eyes. She often wore that look — as though she were physically present, but her soul lingered somewhere else entirely.
Hope studied her for a moment, curiosity finally rising to the surface. He hadn't known her long, but she was the type of person who carried mystery like a second skin.
"Hey," he said, breaking the silence, "before you were marked by The Veil… what were you doing? In the waking world, I mean."
Massa blinked, slowly turning toward him. Her eyes — dark and unreadable — flickered with something soft. She hesitated. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Her voice, when it came, was quieter than usual.
"My father," she said slowly, "was a magician. Not a real one — not the kind with power. A trickster. Street shows, card games, vanishing coins... illusions."
Hope's eyes lit up, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. "So you know tricks?" he asked, sounding like a child caught between wonder and disbelief.
Massa chuckled lightly. It was the first sound of amusement he'd heard from her.
"I know a few."
"Show me one!" he said, sitting forward now.
She sighed, but there was no annoyance in it — only that quiet reluctance that comes before peeling back a layer of the self. She reached down and picked up a small, flat stone from the cave floor. Holding it between her fingers, she rolled her hand over it, palm facing downward, then upward again.
Nothing.
She closed her hand around the stone, fingers tight. Then, with a flourish far too smooth for someone who claimed to be 'just an Awakened,' she waved her other hand slowly over the closed fist.
She opened her palm.
The stone was gone.
Hope's mouth dropped open.
"Wait. What? No way— Where'd it go?" He leaned forward, eyes scanning her hands, arms, sleeves. "Was that a spell?"
"No," Massa said simply, holding up both hands to show they were empty. "It's sleight of hand. Nothing more."
Hope blinked, still trying to process. "Can you teach me that?"
Massa smiled, and for a fleeting second, she looked younger. Softer. Not a spellcaster in the Ashlands — but a girl remembering a childhood long since buried.
"Maybe," she said. "If we live long enough."
Hope chuckled, the sound dry and hollow — but real. "Fair."
Nefer, meanwhile, handed him a properly roasted piece of meat without a word. It smelled much better now — cooked through, a little charred on the edges, the fat rendered properly. He took it gratefully and bit in. It was tough, stringy, but compared to what he was used to? It might as well have been steak.
For a moment, as the fire crackled, and the three of them sat in the quiet warmth of the cave, it felt almost… peaceful.
Just for a moment.