The war table in Boo's den was no longer decorative.
Gone were the wine glasses and idle scrolls of gossip and trade. In their place: a spectral projection of Serath'Kai's underbelly, veins of the city illuminated in cold light. The image pulsed with quiet urgency, paths spiraling inward toward a center that looked less like a destination and more like an open mouth.
The Vault.
Above it loomed the Maw Garden.
Beneath it lay the fungal catacombs.
Nyxia stood just behind Perseus, arms crossed, shoulder brushing his as she stared at the twisted sprawl projected across the table. Her armor felt restless. It hadn't stopped humming since they burned the cart.
Across from them, Boo traced a red-lit corridor through the layers of rock and rot. Her fingers were ungloved tonight, her nails tipped in silver, and her voice was low and clipped with something rare for her: tension.
"We go in through the east breach," she said. "Old smuggling tunnel collapsed three years ago—opened a fissure in the lower city's foundation. That fissure leads to a hollow shaft that used to be a druidic barrow."
"Used to be," Cipher muttered, adjusting a data node on his wrist. "Now it's overrun with spore-touched fauna and anomalous heat blooms."
Mirell exhaled softly, a plume of pale vapor escaping her lips. "We'll need masks. Full filtration. The spores don't kill—but they'll twist your head sideways. I've seen the echoes it leaves in people's minds."
Nyxia's jaw tightened. "Ves'Sariel's work?"
"No," Boo said, folding her arms. "Not directly. She's clever, but not a gardener. The Hollow did this on its own. Like mold growing toward light. Her followers just fed it blood and prayers."
Perseus narrowed his eyes. "And after the catacombs?"
Boo's lips quirked. "Then we play a game."
She tapped a point on the projection. The image twisted, descending into a new level. Jagged white formations spiraled like an organic crown of spears.
"The Maw Garden," Boo continued. "No maps. No stable paths. This section of the old tunnels was carved out by something enormous. Bone formations the size of siege towers. Looks like teeth. Feels like teeth. We don't know if they're remnants of something old… or something still alive."
Nyxia stepped closer, frowning. "You've sent scouts?"
"Three," Boo said. "One vanished outright. The second came back without their mind. The third made it five minutes in and turned on their own squad."
Cipher cleared his throat. "The geometry down there doesn't behave. Echoes loop. Light flickers backward. Some team members reported seeing versions of themselves in the walls—older, younger, dying. All wrong."
"And Ves?" Perseus asked.
Boo's gaze sharpened. "We think she's already inside the Vault. The Maw guards it. Maybe even feeds it. She's using the catacombs and the Garden as both ward and crucible. Anyone strong enough to reach her will already be broken."
"Sounds inviting," Talon muttered, cleaning his blades with a strip of oilcloth.
Boo looked around the table. "We'll split into two vanguard groups. Talon and Mirell with me. Cipher runs overwatch from the surface—we'll need updates on Hollow activity and any potential reinforcement patterns. Nyxia, Perseus—you're strike point."
Nyxia's brow lifted. "You're not coming with us?"
Boo smirked. "I've got to pull your corpses out when things go wrong. Someone has to plan for that."
Perseus glanced toward the dim wall. "When do we move?"
"As soon as possible," Boo said. "Eat. Sharpen what needs sharpening. It's not a long trip to the barrow—but it's not a forgiving one either. And whatever's waiting inside the Vault…" She hesitated, just a blink. "It doesn't want you dead. It wants you changed."
The projection flickered, shifting to a crimson outline of the Vault itself. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"I want eyes on Ves'Sariel," Boo finished. "But more than that—I want the Vault sealed. She doesn't get to open the door."
"And if she already has?" Nyxia asked.
Boo looked at her for a long moment. "Then we break what comes through."
No one argued.
One by one, the team nodded.
The briefing ended without fanfare. No rousing speech. Just grim purpose.
Nyxia turned away first, her fingers tightening around her bow as she and Perseus stepped back into the hall.
Their room was quiet when they returned.
No incense. No flickering lanterns. Just the distant mechanical thrum of Serath'Kai and the low whisper of the armor as it adjusted to Nyxia's body with every step.
She unbuckled the vambraces and set them on the table. They clicked faintly. Not metal. Not entirely. The weave at the joints shivered in faint pulses of violet when she wasn't looking directly at them.
Perseus peeled off his over-tunic, tossing it onto a chair with the weariness of someone carrying too many burdens and not enough time. He didn't speak at first. Neither did she.
"You think she's in the Vault already?" she asked finally, removing the gorget and setting it beside the others.
"I think she never left," he said. "Not in the ways that matter."
Nyxia sat on the edge of the bed. Her new armor pooled around her hips, the runes still faintly aglow.
"I felt something in the fight," she murmured. "When that woman attacked me. The armor—it reacted. Protected me. But not like a shield."
Perseus turned. "Like what?"
"Like a creature," she said quietly. "Like it was angry."
Perseus crossed the room and knelt, examining the plates again. His fingers hovered, brushing the edge of the collar.
The stitching caught his eye.
That cursed inscription.
If found on a corpse…
"Skivv gave you this," he said.
"And Ves touched it."
They stared at each other.
Then Perseus leaned back. "We'll figure it out. One mission at a time."
Nyxia nodded, though the knot in her chest didn't loosen.
They began gathering their gear in silence—oils, filters, toxin charms. Mira's purifier vials. Backup runestones.
Loque watched from the corner, his spectral form coiled tightly, glowing eyes unmoving.
Outside, Serath'Kai whispered.
And below them, the Vault waited.