The morning sun broke through the treetops, golden light spilling across the clearing. Birds chirped as if last night's chaos hadn't existed, their songs mockingly peaceful.
Zethra sat hunched on a broken log, one hand pressed to his side where a hunter's blade had carved deep. His black hair, usually neat, clung to his bloodied forehead. Every breath rattled in his chest, each exhale tainted with a groan he tried to swallow down. every muscle in his body screaming protest. He blinked blearily and found Ezagone sprawled across his lap, drool soaking into his tunic.
"…You're disgusting," Zethra muttered.
Ezagone cracked an eye open, grinning. "I'm alive, though. Which, if you think about it, is mostly your fault. Congrats, big brother, you've officially kept me from dying and turning into demon-soup."
Zethra tried not to smile. "You should thank me more respectfully. Maybe kneel."
Ezagone sat up and, without missing a beat, pressed his palms together in mock reverence. "All hail the almighty Zethra, Lord of Bad Hair Mornings and Supreme Sufferer of Drool."
Zethra shoved him, hard enough to knock him into the dirt again.
---
But beneath the banter, Zethra's thoughts churned. He could still feel the echo of Amethyst's touch, her voice lingering like perfume that refused to fade. She'd guided him. She'd saved Ezagone. Yet every word carried the taste of danger.
"Oi, Zeth," Ezagone said, brushing dirt from his cheek. "Last night, you were real badass,"
Zethra's jaw tightened. "…I barely survived."
Ezagone's brow furrowed. "I see, how did you manage to do all those cool stuffs?"
"Training," Zethra lied quickly. "My… instincts kicked in."
Ezagone narrowed his eyes, suspicious. But then he shrugged, throwing his arms behind his head. "Figures. You always figure things out before me. Must be the older-brother brain. Guess I'll let you babysit my soul for now."
He grinned wide, fangs peeking slightly. "But one day, I'll be the one saving you, Zeth. Bet on it."
---
Later, while Ezagone scavenged for berries, Zethra leaned against a tree and closed his eyes.
"You're lying to him."
Her voice again—Amethyst, smooth as velvet, dripping with mischief.
Zethra didn't bother opening his eyes. "Stay out of this."
"Darling, I'm already in you. There is no 'out.'" She giggled, a sound that sent heat through his chest and ice down his spine. "But it was cute, watching you dodge his questions. Brothers share everything, don't they? Shouldn't he know about me?"
"He doesn't need to," Zethra muttered.
"Oh, but he will. Secrets rot, Zethra. They fester. And when he finds out, will he laugh with you as he does now? Or will he look at you the way angels look at devils?"
Her words dug deep, and for once Zethra couldn't form a sharp retort.
---
A rustle broke his thoughts. Ezagone stumbled back into the clearing with a handful of half-smashed berries.
"Breakfast!" he announced proudly. "They're probably edible. Probably."
Zethra eyed the crushed, suspiciously purple mess. "…Ezagone. Those are poisonous."
Ezagone froze mid-bite. "…Really?"
"Yes."
"…I knew that." He spat the mush dramatically into the dirt. "Testing you. Congratulations, Zeth, you passed."
Zethra pinched the bridge of his nose.
Amethyst's laughter bubbled in his mind. "Keep him close. He'll either kill you with laughter… or with poison."
---
They walked most of the day, leaving the scarred battlefield behind. The forest grew denser, shadows stretching long.
By evening, Ezagone flopped onto a rock with a groan. "Ugh… walking is worse than fighting. My legs are filing a complaint."
Zethra rolled his eyes. "Your legs don't get a vote."
"Then I'm appealing directly to the boss of this operation." Ezagone raised his hand like a student. "I demand dinner and a nap."
Before Zethra could reply, Amethyst's whisper returned—urgent this time.
"They're coming."
His head snapped up. " Again?"
Ezagone noticed instantly. "What is it?"
The trees rustled unnaturally. A cold wind swept the clearing. And then, from the shadows, figures emerged—silver-clad hunters, their weapons glowing faintly with holy inscriptions.
Ezagone's grin vanished. "Oh… great. Fans."