The trio worked in a quiet rhythm around the monster's corpse, the only sounds the scrape of knives against flesh, the crackle of the campfire, and the occasional sigh of exertion. Nephis' flames licked the edges of their workspace, purifying the meat as they dug, ensuring that no toxin or corruption remained. Even the stench of the beast seemed to vanish in the glow of her fire, replaced by the faint, almost earthy scent of cooked flesh.
Sunny moved with careful precision, though he ate as if the world might vanish any second. He cupped each piece of meat in his hand, bringing it to his mouth in deliberate bites, chewing quickly yet cautiously, scanning the shadows as he ate. Every movement carried a subtle tension, the paranoia of someone who had learned long ago that survival wasn't guaranteed, that even a moment of weakness could be fatal.
Cassie, in contrast, maintained a quiet elegance. She sliced her portion into neat, measured pieces, holding her knife and fork like a conductor would hold a baton. Her expression, serene at first, soured slightly when a particularly unpleasant bit of muscle passed her lips, but she swallowed it with grace, refusing to waste the meal or show overt displeasure. Even in the face of a monstrous feast, she maintained a proper composure.
Nephis was different entirely. Her method was efficiency incarnate. Flames danced along her knife and fork as she cut and consumed, indifferent to taste or texture. Each bite was swallowed almost immediately, her eyes scanning the surrounding area while her body operated like a well-oiled machine. There was no hesitation, no moment wasted on appraisal or hesitation—her priority was nourishment and speed, sustaining herself for whatever came next.
Around the fire, they existed in their own worlds, each absorbed in the manner that survival had taught them. The crackle of the flames mirrored the unspoken rhythm of their teamwork: Sunny's cautious vigilance, Cassie's disciplined grace, and Nephis' relentless efficiency. Despite the silence, there was a kind of quiet understanding among them, a shared trust forged in battle and hardship.
When the last scraps were eaten and the fire burned low, the three of them leaned back slightly, sated but alert. For the first time since he had arrived in this godforsaken deadzone, Sunny felt a strange tranquility settle over him. Not the false calm of the Soul Devourer's grip—that had been forceful, suffocating, an attempt to enthrall them into eternal servitude—but a real, earned silence, the kind that comes only after surviving a storm by wit, luck, and steel.
The series of coincidences that had saved them—the Puppeteer's Shroud granting Sunny mental resistance, Nephis' cryptic sharing of the names "Song, Aster, Vale," and Cassie's prophetic insight about his number of Attributes—felt almost fated. Yet it was the encounter with the Spawn of the Vile Thieving Bird and acquiring Blood Weave that had been the true linchpin, a single moment where chance and skill had intertwined to carve them a narrow path to survival. Fated, indeed—but still, the shadow of what could have been lingered.
Sunny shifted on the ground, the warmth of the dying fire at his back, and realized he needed to know. The questions had been clawing at his mind all evening, and now, with Cassie asleep and the camp wrapped in darkness, he spoke.
"Hey, Neph."
"…yes, Sunny?"
"About what happened back there," he started carefully, "when I convinced you the Soul Devourer was bad…who are Song, Aster, and Vale?"
The crackle of the fire was suddenly deafening in the still night. Nephis froze, the sound of her breathing slowing, deliberate and careful. Sunny waited, heart thrumming with the tension of anticipation. For a long moment, it seemed she might ignore him, might slip back into the silence of night, but then she spoke.
"Sunny, I am saying this because I consider you a friend: don't get involved with this. Those three…well, let's just say they are the prime reason why the Immortal Flame Clan only has me left."
Sunny's breath caught, a small intake that almost betrayed him.
"Of course," Nephis continued, her tone measured but carrying the weight of memory and loss, "I'm not saying it is entirely their fault. Even without them stoking the flames, my Clan was doomed when my father perished. He had taken most of our most powerful Memories with him, you see, and his death practically bankrupted us. Anyone who falls from grace is inevitably devoured by hyenas—this is the natural way of things. But—"
"I will still kill those three."
The conviction in her voice struck deeper than Sunny expected. It wasn't blind hatred—it was something far colder, far sharper. It was wrath, tempered and contained, wrapped in the shell of absolute control. He remained silent, letting her words sink in, the firelight flickering against her resolute expression.
"Is that why you don't trust the other Legacies? Because those three have influence over them…because they have a vendetta against your family?" he asked carefully.
"Not my entire family," Nephis replied with cold precision. "Just my direct bloodline, the bloodline of my mother. My father married in, remember? But yes—the Legacies cannot be trusted. Any one of them could be a spy…or an assassin."
Sunny swallowed, the weight of her words pressing on him. "…Including Caster?"
"Especially Caster," she said with a hint of dark humor, almost a laugh caught in her throat. Then her tone shifted, firm and measured once more. "But that's enough talk. As I said, Sunny—you should keep to your own affairs. My feud with the Sovereigns has nothing to do with you, and I don't want it to. Just…survive, and live well. Goodnight."
The sound of her rolling over was definitive, a clear signal that the conversation was closed. Sunny exhaled slowly, drawing his knees closer, the warmth of the fire and her words both a comfort and a reminder of the dangers that still waited beyond the camp.
"Night, Neph," he murmured, letting the stillness settle back over the three of them. The shadows of the Dream Realm lingered outside their small circle of light. As always.