The roof felt colder after Lina Voss descended the ladder.
Kael remained seated on the edge, legs dangling over the drop, long coat pooling around him like spilled night.
The faint crown tattoo around his brow had dimmed completely now—leaving only a thin silver-red halo scar that pulsed once every few minutes, as though the Blood Horizon's echo was still listening from afar.
His crimson-silver veins had settled too—thinner, quieter—but the red tinge lingered at the tips of his claws, a permanent reminder that some things once devoured never fully leave.
Veyra sat beside him—armor so faint it looked like star-flecked shadow clinging to skin.
Her galaxies spun slowly, watching the horizon where the golden scar still glowed faintly against the night sky.
"She's not afraid of you," Veyra said—voice soft, almost amused.
Kael stared at the city below.
"She should be."
Veyra laughed—low, knowing.
"She recognizes the hunger.
That makes her more dangerous than fear ever could."
The compound courtyard had quieted.
Fires burned low—embers glowing like dying eyes.
Uzo's exaggerated stories had trailed off; he sat now with a cup of starfruit distillate, staring into the flames.
Amara's shadow sculptures had dissolved; she leaned against a pillar, shadows coiling restlessly around her ankles.
Zara had landed—wings folded tight—curled on a bench with her knees drawn up.
Jide's orbs floated higher—golden light dimmed to a soft glow that barely reached the ground.
Enoch remained on his mat—pendant-eye closed, lips moving in silent prayer.
Ifeoma had returned to the medical bay—her steps slower, but steadier.
She had kissed Kael's forehead before leaving—small, careful gesture—and whispered:
"Sleep tonight.
Even monsters need dreams."
Kael had not answered.
Now, alone with Veyra on the roof, the silence stretched.
Until it didn't.
A soft footstep—different from before—sounded on the access ladder.
Lina Voss climbed back up.
She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had walked too many dangerous rooftops to fear heights.
Her patched leathers were still damp from the day's blood, short blade at her hip catching faint moonlight.
The thin silver chain around her neck pulsed once—slow, irregular—as though it sensed Kael's presence before she did.
She stopped a respectful distance away—five meters—hands visible, blade hand relaxed but ready.
"I couldn't leave," she said simply.
Kael turned his head slightly.
Veyra's galaxies spun faster—curious.
Lina took one step closer.
"I tried.
Walked halfway down the ladder, told myself to go back to my hideout, forget I ever saw the Ash-Walker eat a god.
But the hunger inside me… it wouldn't shut up."
She placed a hand on her stomach—lightly, almost unconsciously.
"It's been growing for months.
Ever since I touched a bleed-shard near the old Carter Bridge.
At first it was just whispers.
Then hunger.
Then… voices.
They started saying your name three weeks ago.
I thought I was losing my mind.
Then you fell from the sky.
And the voices got louder."
Kael studied her.
Silver-grey eyes—bleed-touched, like his own, but softer at the edges.
Lean frame—scars visible on her forearms where leathers didn't cover.
The silver chain pulsed again—faster now.
"You have power," he said—not a question.
Lina nodded once.
"Echo-Weaver.
I can pull echoes from the bleeds—people, objects, moments.
Summon them for a short time.
They fight for me.
They speak through me.
But every time I use it… I lose a little more of myself.
The hunger grows faster after each pull."
She looked at him—direct, unflinching.
"I saw what you did today.
You ate the Red God.
You closed the rift.
The hunger inside me… it recognized you.
Like meeting family it never knew it had."
Veyra tilted her head.
"And now?"
Lina's hand tightened on her blade hilt—then relaxed.
"Now I need to know if you're the one who can stop it… or if you're the reason it's spreading."
Kael stood slowly.
Armor plates shimmered faintly beneath his torn coat—then retracted again.
"You think I can cure it?"
"I think you're the only one who understands it," she said.
"And if you can't cure it… maybe you can teach me how to live with it."
Silence.
The hunger-voice stirred—soft, intrigued.
She's honest.
She's strong.
She's… useful.
Keep her close.
We might need her before she needs us.
Kael stepped forward—one measured step.
Lina didn't back away.
He stopped just outside arm's reach.
"What do you want?"
Lina met his gaze.
"Answers.
A truce.
And if you're willing… help.
There's a new rift forming—smaller, but different.
It's not bleeding blood.
It's bleeding time.
Things from the past and future are stepping through.
I can't close it alone.
I'm asking you to come with me.
Tomorrow.
Before it grows."
Veyra laughed—soft, surprised.
"You don't waste time."
Lina shrugged.
"The hunger doesn't give me much time to waste."
Kael looked toward the horizon.
The golden scar pulsed once—fainter still.
He turned back to Lina.
"Tomorrow."
She nodded.
"Tomorrow."
She turned to descend—then paused again.
"Don't die tonight," she repeated—voice softer this time.
"I still want answers."
She disappeared down the ladder.
Kael sat back down.
Veyra watched him—galaxies spinning thoughtfully.
"She's dangerous," she said.
"She's honest," Kael replied.
Veyra's laugh was quiet.
"Same thing, sometimes."
The night deepened.
The compound slept—fitfully, but it slept.
Kael remained on the roof.
Veyra stayed beside him.
Neither spoke.
But the hunger-voice whispered—soft, almost gentle.
She's like us.
She'll either save us… or feed us.
Kael stared at the stars—fractured by the remaining rifts.
Tomorrow would bring answers.
Or blood.
Or both.