The flower didn't move.
It glowed—soft and pale, with veins that pulsed like a heartbeat. The petals remained still in the silence of the ruined chamber, but Nyxia could feel the weight of it. Not its size, but its significance.
It had whispered her name.
And not in a voice she recognized.
"It wasn't Elune," Nyxia said quietly.
"No," Boo agreed, crouching beside her. "It never is."
Nyxia turned her head.
"You've seen one before."
Boo nodded. "At Carrion Bloom. I touched it. And when I did… it didn't bloom like that. But it burned."
Nyxia's gaze sharpened. "Burned you?"
"No." Boo looked distant. "Burned someone else."
She didn't elaborate.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the subtle hum of the flower and the faint whirring of Thros'len's mechanical lungs somewhere far above.
Then Boo stood and dusted off her thighs.
"You ever get the feeling," she said, "that the Veil doesn't just mark people—it curates them? Like it's assembling a cast for a play it hasn't written yet."
"I don't feel like a character," Nyxia said.
"Maybe you're the narrator." Boo smirked. "You've got that brooding tone."
Nyxia stepped back from the flower. The tattoos on her skin were fading, the light retreating beneath the surface like an animal going back to sleep.
"Can we destroy it?" she asked.
"No," Boo said quickly. Too quickly.
Nyxia noticed.
Boo's lips pressed thin. "I tried. The last time. It screamed."
Nyxia blinked. "It screamed?"
"Not like sound. Like… everything around it got louder. Like it was bleeding into the stone, and the stone was trying to bleed into me."
She flexed her fingers, rubbing at the palm of her left hand like it ached.
"I ran."
The word hung between them. It wasn't one Boo used lightly.
"You don't seem like someone who runs from things," Nyxia said.
"Don't get used to that version of me," Boo replied. "She only shows up when it counts."
They both watched the flower a moment longer.
Then Boo added, voice softer, "Something else happened that day."
Nyxia looked at her.
"I died."
Nyxia said nothing.
Boo went on, "Briefly. Not here. In the marsh beyond Carrion Bloom. One of the void cultists didn't go down easy. He had a blade coated in something wrong. It cut my side, and I just… stopped. Breathing. Feeling. Everything."
"How are you alive?"
Boo smiled faintly. "Haven't figured that part out yet."
Nyxia knelt once more before the flower.
"Whatever this is," she said, "it knows us."
"More than we know ourselves," Boo agreed.
They stared down at the bloom. The petals shifted slightly, as though touched by breath.
Nyxia reached out—not to touch it, but to hover a hand just over its glow.
It whispered again.
But not her name.
A different word.
"Vylira…"
Boo inhaled sharply.
Nyxia looked at her. "You recognize that name."
Boo didn't answer at first. Then: "I've heard it. In Thros'len. Spoken by the kind of people who don't use names unless they come with consequences."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know," Boo said. "But if the Veil's speaking her name through your flower, she's not someone we can ignore."
They left the flower behind.
Not destroyed. Not taken.
Just… left.
Boo tossed her half-broken flask into the corner on the way out. "Too many ghosts in that room," she muttered.
Outside, the wind had died down. The rooftop was quiet again.
Below, Thros'len buzzed like a nest recently kicked.
They returned to the Broken Tooth bar under cover of false calm. Boo walked like nothing had happened. Nyxia watched everything. Every shadow. Every glance. Boo noticed.
"Ease up," Boo whispered. "You look like a blade waiting to fall."
"I am."
"Save it for the chapel."
Nyxia frowned. "The what?"
"That's where the relic's going," Boo said. "A half-flooded temple in Dustwallow Marsh. Heard the buyer was dracthyr. Cultish. Fancy armor, no name. Paid in blood crystals."
"And you just happened to overhear this?"
"I gambled it off a demon-broker," Boo said proudly. "He lost to a pair of aces and my thighs."
Nyxia stared at her.
"What?" Boo said. "Use what you've got."
They were halfway through a back alley when a voice stopped them.
"Didn't think you'd be back so soon, Boo."
Both women turned.
A figure stood at the far end of the alley—lean, cloaked, a face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. A bounty slip hung from his gloved fingers, fluttering slightly in the artificial wind.
"Got word you were seen," he said. "Didn't believe it. But the elf confirms it."
Boo muttered under her breath, "Of all the gutters in all the cities…"
The bounty hunter stepped forward.
"I'm not here for violence. Not unless you resist."
Nyxia's hand drifted to her bow.
The man looked at her. "I'd keep that down, Huntress. This one's not for you."
"She's with me," Boo said, stepping in front of Nyxia.
"Oh?" the bounty hunter asked. "Since when?"
"Since I started hating being alone."
The hunter hesitated.
That was enough.
Nyxia fired without warning—an arrow into the stone at his feet. A threat.
The man stared at it, then looked back at them.
"Fine," he said. "Not today."
He vanished into the dark.
Back at Boo's quarters—one floor above a cursed smelter and two doors down from a succubus-run tailor—they settled into uneasy silence.
Nyxia sat on the low cot near the wall, shoulders tense. Boo tossed her gear down beside the alchemy-stained table and cracked open a bottle of something amber and sharp.
"You want some?" she asked.
Nyxia shook her head. "I don't drink."
"I do," Boo said, raising it to her lips. "Keeps the ghosts fuzzy."
She downed half of it and flopped into a chair with a sigh. The moment settled. Their weapons rested. Their bodies slowed.
Then Boo heard a sound she didn't expect.
Glass slipping from Nyxia's hand.
She turned.
Nyxia stood there, swaying slightly. Her breath was shallow. Her skin had gone paler than usual—ashen, sweat slicking her brow.
"Nyx?" Boo stood, bottle forgotten.
Nyxia tried to speak. No sound came.
Then she collapsed.
Boo caught her just before her head hit the floor. The weight of her was solid. Too solid. Unresponsive. Boo dropped to her knees, hands pressed against Nyxia's neck, her cheek, her pulse.
Still beating.
But slow.
Too slow.
"Fuck," Boo whispered.
Her fingers brushed something on Nyxia's collar—dampness. She pulled the fabric aside and saw a faint line along her skin. A needle mark? No—something subtler. A shimmer. Like oil in moonlight.
Poison.
It wasn't from the fight. It wasn't from the relic. It had to be recent.
Boo's jaw clenched.
"The bastard in the alley."
She looked around the room as if it could offer answers. But Nyxia didn't move. Didn't twitch. Her eyes remained half-lidded, staring through shadows she couldn't see.
Coma.
Or something worse.
Boo gritted her teeth and hefted her up, hoisting her over her shoulder.
"You're not dying, forest girl," she muttered. "I'm not dragging your void-marked ass through Thros'len just to have you taken out by a sneak dose."
She ran her thumb over Nyxia's lips, checking her breath. Still there. Barely.
Boo stood and made her way to the rowdy tavern below.
Boo kicked the door open and dragged Nyxia inside, one arm hooked under hers, half-carrying, half-dragging her past startled patrons. No one offered to help. Most looked away the moment they saw the pale light bleeding from Nyxia's skin.
The bartender stepped aside.
"She's not breathing right," Boo growled. "Who knows a healer?"
Silence.
Then someone muttered, "Marked."
The room changed. Chairs scraped. Curtains shut. The bar emptied in record time.
Boo stood alone with Nyxia slumped against her, heatless sweat coating her forehead.
"This isn't Veil sickness," she said aloud, as if saying it would make it true. "It's poison. That bastard in the alley—he dosed her."
Nyxia stirred once, then went still.
"Damn it," Boo hissed.
She grabbed her gear and hauled Nyxia over her shoulder again. The hunt for help began. And the city, ever eager to protect its secrets, turned its back on them both.