"Come look at this..." Cain gestured before pointing.
Evan stepped up beside him, following Cain's gesture. His eyes setting on a peculiarity barely visible through the swirling flurries of snow.
"You think that's..." Evan's gaze narrowed.
Cain didn't respond at first. His white brows furrowed, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a grim line.
"Who else could it possibly be?" Cain exhaled.
"The problem is... is that the damn thing went that way... before the flames rose. And it hasn't circled back."
Evan exhaled sharply, his breath fogging in the air. He clenched his fists around his Warhammer.
"Damn it," he growled. "What the hell does she think she's doing?"
Evan stepped out.
Cain reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"
Evan shrugged him off. "If that fire stood out to us, what the hell do you think it's doing for that thing? It's heading straight for it."
Cain snapped back. "You could barely run from that creature, and now you want to chase after it?"
Evan stopped, turning to face him. His breath misting in the cold. "Maybe you just don't get it." He exhaled. "I've been with those girls for over a year. I'm not just fighting for myself anymore."
Cain groaned, rubbing his hand across his face. "Screw off with the damn lecture." He stepped past Evan. "Let me handle the damn bastard. You save your strength for the final blow, got it?"
Evan nodded once. "Thanks---"
Cain cut him off, already moving. "Don't thank me. I'm not risking anything."
They began moving, quickly but cautiously toward the burning fire getting much clearer as they approached.
***
Seren pressed forward, ragged breathing escaped in puffs of smoke. Zerin's weight dragged on her body, he wasn't getting any better. His blood painted her side red, sticky and crusting in the cold.
Every step forward was an arduous chore. She adjusted her grip, slinging his arm tighter over her shoulders. Her knees buckled slightly.
"Damn it, Zerin..." she muttered. "You're heavier than you look."
The wind began to pick up, its icy chill nipping at her face. She turned her head away, biting back against the cold. There was little protection out here on the open plain—they needed to find cover.
As if her silent prayers had been answered, the terrain ahead began to change. The snow-covered ground rose gradually, shallow crags and jagged stones jutting out the snow.
The wind grew harsher as they moved closer, funneled and sharpened by the jagged rock formations. Seren staggered under a sudden gust, her footing faltering on the uneven terrain. She nearly collapsed into Zerin but caught herself just in time, her knees slamming against the frozen, rocky ground.
Pain shot up her legs, but she swallowed the urge to cry out. Instead, she drew in a shaky breath, the cold air burning her lungs.
One would expect a year in the Dream Realm to harden you—but the truth was, she wasn't the rough-and-tough type, even amidst adversity.
Not really. The only training she'd had was specific, tied to the memory she was given before she was sent into the Dream Realm. Everything else—survival, endurance, grit—she was still learning.
And the environment only made things worse. As they ascended the rocky hill, the snow thinned---shielded by the overhanging terrain above. The ground beneath her was jagged and uneven, slick with ice, making each step all the more precarious. She was no longer carrying Zerin so much as dragging him.
She gritted her teeth. "I swear by the gods, you better not die on me. Not after all of this!"
Zerin groaned faintly. His eyes opened just a crack.
"Wisteria..." he whispered, delirious.
Seren shook her head. The name hit her like a slap.
She clenched her jaw, struggling to carry him farther. "Yeah? Well, she's not the one dragging your ass up a goddamn incline now, is she?"
He didn't respond. He couldn't. All she knew was that he probably didn't even know where he was at this point. She was surprised he'd had the strength to speak at all, considering how much blood he'd lost.
Eventually she made it, with great effort and motivation, usually one is granted results, and the Dream Realm followed that rule as well.
She discovered a spot halfway up the rocky hill—a nook carved by nature that offered shelter from the elements. Wasting no time, she began preparations. She laid Zerin down on his stomach. That's when she was able to see his injuries: two circular holes torn through the back of his coat---likely even further deep into his back. His entire back of his coat was soaked in blood.
She forced herself to focus. She moved quickly, setting up a fire near him, using her flaming brazier and spare wood to bring a fire to life. Any warmth would make a difference.
Seren knelt beside Zerin, hands trembling slightly as she cut away the shredded fabric of his coat. The holes were worse than she feared—large, open wounds that were deep. Blood still oozed sluggishly, dark and thick, matting the ruined cloth to his skin.
"Gods, Zerin," she muttered. "I am not sure I can help this..."
She inhaled sharply, her eyes snapping to the back of his head. The realization hit her. She remembered Evan's account---how he first encountered Zerin, how he had seemed more of a beast than human. How quickly he had torn through the Kaldrmanes. And what came after---how he devoured their flesh and blood.
Evan shared the little he knew about Zerin's aspect. Maybe that was the key. Maybe blood would bring him to the path of recovery.
She carefully turned Zerin onto his back, his weight pressing him onto his wounds. Causing him pain, but it seemed to stir him.
She left his side for a moment, searching for a sharp stone. She returned just moments later with the stone in hand, holding it to her palm, dragging its edge across her skin. She winced as blood pooled in her hand.
Zerin's eyes snapped open, wide, as he gazed up at her. She met his stare. She knew what she had to do, even if he didn't understand or wasn't willing.
"Open..." she commanded.
He shook his head, struggling to speak as his voice was barely a whisper. "No."
"What do you mean, no? There is no difference between my blood and that of a nightmare creature. Your aspect is tied to blood isn't it? So open up. I've already cut myself." She held her palm out, blood nearly spilling, daring him to deny it.
She could see it in his face---like a cornered animal, second-guessing whether to take what was being offered. But she didn't pull back, not even an inch. She pressed her palm closer, urging him once more.
Eventually, he gave in, parting his lips just enough. She poured her blood into his mouth. He began to drink, hesitant at first. The amount was far too little to replace all the blood he lost, she knew that much. But if it could keep him alive long enough, if it was just enough to give his aspect time to heal him... if that was even possible.
***
Zerin drank greedily---not with the wild hunger of his former self, not because he had lost control---but because he couldn't let this sacrifice be for nothing. Strength crept back into his body, slowly, vitality was returning. But it was mostly in vain. His wounds were too severe---too deep for a full recovery with this amount of blood. Still, he felt them closing, slowly.
She looked away, and he didn't blame her. This---whatever this was---was probably the most humiliating thing she'd ever done. Intimate, raw, and far too personal for two people who barely knew each other---connected only through someone else.
But for him, the time for shame had passed. His life wasn't entirely lost. He had regained something he thought was gone forever. And now, for the first time in far too long, his purpose was clear: survive enough to see Wisteria again. Fight long enough to see her again. Save Ecludia, and use the firmament fragment to bring her back to reality.
Everything else could wait.
Before, he wandered with vague hopes and no direction. But now he was certain.
Zerin could feel his wounds closing, slowly. He drank her blood greedily, even as the flow had began to weaken. Seren began to pull her hand away, trembling, but Zerin caught her wrist, holding it firm.
He did something he thought his humanity would never allow. He sank his teeth into her palm again, refusing to let go. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
"Zerin! Stop!" Seren tried to free his jaws from her, but every push only drove his bite deeper. His eyes flared red, leaving him unrecognizable.
Fresh blood welled up, and he drank until his wounds sealed shut. At last, he released her and pushed himself to his feet. Seren recoiled, clutching her palm, looking up at him with fear etched in her face.
His attribute flared---[Sanguine Surge] his breathing grew ragged, his mouth still tasting of her blood. His vision sharpened with immense clarity. He'd thought he had control, but in that moment, he lost it.
His own desires seizing him entirely.
He stepped back, the line he'd just crossed burning in his mind. When he met her eyes, he saw her fear. He swallowed hard, the last remnants of her blood sliding down his throat, and in that instant, he knew he'd done something unspeakable.
[Your Aspect Legacy mastery level has increased.]
[You have received the right to claim a Legacy Relic.]
The Spell had other ideas. It congratulated him, rewarding his actions without an inch of concern for humanity. It urged him forward---toward progress, toward power---utterly indifferent to the cost. It didn't care how he gained his strength, or who had to suffer for it. Consequences were irrelevant. The Spell had one purpose: advancement at any price.
He choked on the words before they even formed. After a long pause, he cleared his throat. "Sorry."
It sounded pathetic, even to him.
He averted his gaze, lowering it to the burning fire she set up as shame burned even hotter beneath his skin. He hated himself for what he'd done---for losing it, for crossing the line. "I---I lost control."
As if that somehow made it better.
As if those three empty words could mend the damage or fill the silence that occupied the chasm between them. It was a poor excuse. A half-hearted justification, tossing away real accountability. And worst of all, he wanted forgiveness---as though crossing such a boundary could be brushed aside with a regretful tone and a bowed head.
He opened his mouth again, desperate to say something. But before a single syllable could be spoken, the ground beneath them shook. Just down the hill from the ledge they stood from, the scrape of sharp boulders grinding against something, followed by a low guttural groan, Zerin had heard before.
Zerin turned---and froze.
He saw a face he never expected to see again.