The camp was quiet under the pale glow of the moon, the embers of small fires flickering against the rows of tents. Sid sat alone near the edge of the training grounds, his black cloak pulled close around his shoulders. His hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the leftover weight of the day's mission.
Drelith had been too close. The screams, the heat of the First Flame, the way the air seemed to bend around it—he could still feel it pressing against his chest like an invisible stone.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness. Sid looked up to see Professor Nox approaching, his long coat brushing over the dirt, the silver glint of his glasses catching the faint firelight. The calmness in his movements made him seem almost out of place in this tense camp.
"You feel it, don't you?" Nox's voice was quiet, but it carried across the empty grounds with an unshakable weight. "The eyes of the divine… watching. They are as alert as the demons, Sid."
Sid's throat tightened. "Why now? They've never interfered before."
Nox crouched beside him, the shadows of his coat stretching long across the ground. "The balance is shifting. Your actions, your power… they do not go unnoticed. Every time you use the Oblivion Bind or let the Blackbind Flame loose—it echoes. The divine sense it. They are watching. Waiting."
Inside him, Ravh'Zereth stirred, his voice a low hiss threading through Sid's mind. "Watching means nothing. If they come close, they will burn."
Sid clenched his fists to keep his focus. Nox placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Restraint is not weakness. Your strength is in knowing when to hold back."
Before Sid could answer, Thorne appeared from between the tents, his Hollowbane rifle hanging from his shoulder. In his other hand, he carried a small crate. He set it down with a dull thud, revealing rows of silver-glinting ammunition.
"These aren't ordinary rounds," Thorne said, voice low but sharp. "They're made with micro-fragments from Hollow cores. They pierce even the thickest armor. But one misfire, one wrong hit—and the explosion could wipe out everything nearby. Including you."
Sid's gaze shifted between Nox and Thorne. The words control and balance echoed in his mind like a warning bell.
Thorne tapped the crate. "I know you have your daemon powers, but don't think you're above careful aim. These rounds are unpredictable. Handle them like they're alive."
"I understand," Sid said quietly, though his chest was tight with unease.
Nox adjusted his glasses, studying Sid. "The divine are watching as closely as the demons. Do not give either side a reason to act. You are the line between worlds now—and that line is thin."
Sid felt the truth of it in his bones. The divine above and the demons below—both circling him like predators, waiting for one wrong move.
Ravh'Zereth's voice pressed again, impatient. "They watch because they fear. Let me act. Let me end them before they strike."
Sid pushed the whisper aside and stood. "I won't lose myself."
Nox's faint nod carried both approval and warning. "See that you don't. The weight of watching eyes is heavy—but it is yours to bear."
Thorne snapped the crate shut. "Get some rest. We head for the northern ridge at dawn. Hollows are stirring there."
Sid turned toward his tent, but a sudden chill swept through the camp. The wind shifted, carrying with it a scent like rain on stone—and then, before him, a figure appeared.
It was not demon, nor human. Its form shimmered, as if made from moonlight itself, eyes glowing faint gold. The divine messenger's voice was soft yet rang through Sid's skull like a bell.
> "We will come for what is ours."
And then it was gone—vanishing as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only the cold air and the pounding of Sid's heart behind.
Nox's gaze had already shifted toward the empty space where the figure stood. Thorne's hand was on his rifle. Neither spoke.
Sid knew then—there would be no avoiding what was coming.