The manor felt heavier than usual that night.
Even with the Thorn fragment locked away in the vault beneath Vale House, its hum clung to the air like perfume gone rancid—sweet, unsettling, impossible to ignore.
Elma leaned against the cold stone of her chamber window, hood still damp from the mist outside. The moonlight turned her bruises silver. She turned the box in her hands, tracing the sigils burned into its black surface. Every line seemed alive, shifting when she wasn't looking, whispering something she couldn't quite catch.
"You're staring at it like it's going to tell you a bedtime story."
Calista's voice was soft but sharp enough to cut through the quiet. She stood by the door, arms crossed over her midnight-blue robe. The looseness of it, hair down and unpinned, made her look less like the queen of Vale House and more like the woman Elma had seen on the road tonight—knife in hand, heart beating too fast.
"Feels like it already has a story," Elma murmured. "And we're just reading the last chapter without knowing the first."
Calista walked closer, her bare feet silent on the carpet. She hesitated just outside the circle of moonlight spilling over Elma's window, as if stepping into it would make her too easy to see.
"You heard it too?" Calista asked.
"The voice? Yeah." Elma tilted her head back against the wall, exhaustion pulling at her posture. "It wasn't words. Not really. Just… something ancient. Something that doesn't want us touching it."
Calista's gaze flicked to the box, her jaw tightening. "Then maybe we shouldn't."
Elma smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Too late for that, princess."
Calista's lips twitched, almost a smile. "You're insufferable."
"And yet you're here."
The tension between them felt different tonight. Not the sharp edge of rebellion, but a quiet heaviness. They'd walked into Thorn's heart, stolen its secrets, and come back alive. For once, the house wasn't echoing with chaos. The quiet should've been comforting, but it only made the hum of the fragment louder.
Calista sank into the chair by the bed, resting her chin on her hand. "You ever think about what this is doing to us?"
Elma glanced over. "Define 'this.'"
Calista gestured vaguely—to the box, the leash hidden under Elma's collar, the dark power running through every hall of Vale House. "All of it. The way it's changing us."
Elma's fingers traced the sigils on the box, softer this time. "I've been changing since the gutter. Since the first time I had to fight for food."
"That's not what I mean." Calista's voice dropped lower. "You're… harder now. Sharper. Even when you smile, there's nothing soft left in you."
Elma met her gaze, steady but unreadable. "Would you rather I was soft?"
Calista hesitated. "No. I'd rather you survive."
The words landed heavier than either of them expected.
Silence stretched. The kind that pressed on the chest like a weight, like the house itself was holding its breath.
Finally, Elma set the box down and crossed the room. She crouched in front of Calista's chair, resting her hands on the woman's knees.
"I'm surviving for you," Elma said simply.
Calista's breath caught. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out but remembered the leash's bite. Even with the fragments in their hands, the chain on Elma's neck was still real.
"I don't want you to survive for me," Calista whispered. "I want you to survive for yourself."
Elma's smirk returned, but it was softer this time. "Then let's kill him. Together. So I can finally figure out what living for myself feels like."
Calista's composure cracked just slightly—a tremor in her breath, a flash of warmth in her eyes. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is," Elma said. "We just have to be willing to burn everything."
The box pulsed on the table, faint but insistent. Both women turned their heads.
The whisper came again, clearer this time. You're not ready.
Calista stiffened. "Elma—"
"I heard it." Elma stood slowly, retrieving the box. The hum vibrated up her arms like a second heartbeat. "It's… waking up."
A single, low bell tolled in the distance.
They both froze.
This wasn't the slow warning bell from Thorn territory. This was closer. Inside the house.
The sound reverberated through the floor, soft but deep enough to rattle glass.
"Someone knows," Calista whispered, standing now. Her hand hovered near the dagger strapped to her thigh.
"Or," Elma said quietly, "it knows."
The bell tolled again, louder. The shard pulsed violently in Elma's sleeve, the sigils glowing faint blue for the first time.
Calista's hand gripped Elma's wrist. "We need to hide it."
"No," Elma said, shaking her head. "We need to listen to it."
"Elma—"
The bell tolled a third time. This time, it wasn't sound. It was pressure. It vibrated in their ribs, crawled into their skulls, pressed on their hearts like a hand holding them still.
Calista's breath hitched. "It's calling."
The box's sigils shifted, rearranging themselves. A new mark appeared, glowing faint gold—a crest neither woman recognized.
Elma's mouth went dry.
The leash around her throat burned once, hard enough to make her stumble.
Then the whisper came again, louder. You can't free yourself. Not alone.
Calista's eyes flicked to her. "Did it—"
"Yes," Elma said quickly.
The hum quieted, but the weight of the words didn't.
Neither of them moved for a long time.
Finally, Calista exhaled, voice low and sharp. "Then we find out what it wants."
Elma's grip tightened around the box. "And if it wants me dead?"
"Then it will have to fight me first," Calista said.
Elma blinked at her, startled by the venom in her tone.
The bell didn't ring again. But the silence it left behind was worse.
[Quest Updated: The Second Fragment's Voice]
Status: Active
New Objective: Locate the Crest of the Forgotten
Risk Level: Severe
The room was still, but it didn't feel like safety anymore.
The leash burned faintly against Elma's skin. The box hummed.
And for the first time, both women felt like they weren't just plotting against Nitron anymore. Something else was watching.