The dream didn't begin like a dream.
It began like a memory.
He stood at the edge of a forest clearing—ancient trees encircling a pool of mirror-still water. The moon hung low, impossibly large, its light silvering the leaves. Nyxia stood there, barefoot in the shallows, eyes closed, her armor gone. She looked peaceful. Real.
But the water around her feet was black.
"Nyxia," he called out.
She turned slowly.
And the world shifted.
Her eyes opened—wrong. No longer pale frost, but a deep and shining violet threaded with voidlight. Her hair floated in the air around her, weightless, alive. Her voice, when it came, rippled across the clearing in a thousand overlapping tones.
"Poor Perseus," Ves'Sariel crooned through Nyxia's mouth. "Still chasing ghosts. Still clinging to the edges of things you can't save."
He took a step forward, muscles tense. "Give her back."
"She was mine before she was yours," Ves replied, stepping closer, her bare feet disturbing the water, black rippling outward from each step. "I knew her first. I loved her first. You're the shadow, paladin. I'm the echo she can't stop hearing."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
Nyxia's body began to shift—her face flickering between itself and Ves's, lips cracking at the edges to reveal void-forged teeth. Her skin split in places, violet light bleeding through the seams.
"She remembers me," Ves whispered. "Even now. And I'll hollow her out—make her mine again. One memory at a time. One kiss at a time."
Perseus lunged.
He tackled her—no, it—into the darkened water. They hit the surface hard, but it didn't splash. It absorbed them, swallowing the sound.
He straddled her as she laughed, nails raking his shoulders, eyes bright with cruel delight.
"You can't save her," she rasped. "You're too late."
He grabbed her throat.
Squeezed.
"I'll kill you," he snarled.
She laughed harder. "You'll kill her."
Her face shifted again—Nyxia's expression twisted in pain and horror, lips trembling. "Perseus—please—it's me—!"
But it couldn't be. Couldn't be.
Couldn't—
Her hands slapped weakly at his chest.
Her eyes dimmed.
And something inside him snapped.
Reality
Perseus woke with a gasp, fingers locked in a vice grip around someone's throat.
Nyxia.
Real. Solid. Struggling.
Her eyes wide with panic, her hands clawing at his wrists.
He released her like he'd been burned, stumbling back into the chair and crashing against the table.
"No—no—Light, Nyxia—I—"
She coughed hard, hand to her throat, breath wheezing as she pushed herself upright on trembling limbs.
Loque lunged between them with a roar, spectral fangs inches from Perseus's throat.
"Back!" Nyxia rasped, voice raw.
The beast hesitated.
She stood fully now, shaking, the skin at her throat already turning a blotched red.
Perseus was on his knees.
"I thought—she—I saw her—she had your face—she said she'd take you—" His voice cracked. "She laughed when I grabbed her—I thought it was her—"
"You were choking me," Nyxia whispered.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes. He didn't reach for her.
He didn't dare.
Nyxia stared at him, expression torn between fury and a tremble of old fear. Her fingers flexed, as if remembering the pressure on her neck.
"She's inside your head now," she said. "Just like she said she'd be."
Perseus bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
Nyxia didn't answer for a long moment. The silence was a second knife between them.
Then she stepped closer—not too close—and said, "If she uses my face again…"
Perseus looked up.
"I want you to kill her. No hesitation."
He nodded.
"I swear it."
Nyxia's expression didn't soften. But something in her shoulders eased—just slightly.
Loque let out a low, warning growl and curled beside her.
And across the room, the faintest trace of hollow laughter echoed—not in sound, but in the pulse of the armor she wore.
The false-sky of Serath'Kai shimmered pale amber through the domed walkways outside Boo's den, casting long, warm shadows into the halls where the scent of clove smoke and steel still lingered from the night before. Nyxia and Perseus walked side by side in silence, though not the companionable kind.
Perseus's jaw was set tight. He hadn't spoken since she rose from her cot, bruised and distant.
Nyxia bore herself like a blade—straight-backed, quiet, cold. The purple mark at the base of her throat had faded, but not completely. She hadn't tried to cover it. Let Boo see it. Let the city see it.
Let Ves see it.
When they reached Boo's receiving chamber, the rogue was already lounging across her favorite velvet chaise—legs crossed, horns polished to a gleam, dressed in a high-slit black gown that shimmered like obsidian rain. Her gaze flicked up lazily when they entered.
Then sharpened instantly.
"Well, well, well," she purred, sitting upright. "You two look like sin."
Perseus froze.
Nyxia's brows pinched.
Boo's smirk widened. "I was going to ask if you slept well, but clearly the answer is 'not much' and 'on top of each other.'" Her golden eyes dropped meaningfully to the still-faint bruise peeking from Nyxia's collar.
Perseus's face went crimson. "That's not—"
Nyxia's tone was dry as dust. "It wasn't what you think."
"Shame," Boo replied without missing a beat. "Because if I have to pay for cleaning up another headboard, I at least want the details."
"We didn't break anything," Perseus muttered.
"Not yet," Boo said, rising from her chaise with all the grace of a queen. "But if I find too many scorch marks, claw rakes, or—Light forbid—void residue on the ceiling again, you're reimbursing me. Crowns. Up front. And a thank-you note to my staff."
Nyxia rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "We had a rough night. That's all."
Boo's teasing faded—but only slightly.
The rogue's eyes slid between them, calculating, sharp. She saw the tightness in Nyxia's shoulders. The guilt dragging Perseus's eyes to the floor.
She stepped closer, circling them once like a curious cat. "A rough night… but not the good kind." Her voice was softer now. "What happened?"
Nyxia didn't answer.
Perseus did. Quietly. "Ves."
That was enough.
Boo's playfulness melted off her like silk slipping from skin. She stepped back, folded her arms, and let the silence linger a beat too long.
Then: "I'm going to start charging that bitch rent for how often she shows up in our nightmares."
Nyxia snorted despite herself.
"Anything useful come of it?" Boo asked.
Perseus shook his head.
"Only more questions," Nyxia murmured. "And more reasons to kill her."
Boo nodded slowly, then turned back toward her map table, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the etched steel.
"Well," she said at last, voice like velvet dragged over a blade, "we'd best make today count then, hm? Because if Ves is in your heads, she's already too close."
She threw a look over her shoulder. "And next time, Perseus—if you leave a bruise, at least make sure it's from something fun."
Nyxia smirked.
Perseus groaned audibly.
And somewhere behind them, Loque gave a faintly judgmental chuff.