Shrouded in the complete darkness of the corridor, Ecludia crept toward the others' voices, three Soul Cores cradled in her hands. Her feet whispered against the dusty floor as her eyes fell on the cores—each roughly the size of her palm, swirling orbs of darkness, chasing an imprisoned light flickering within.
"What if another one of those creatures comes back?" Olivia whispered, her voice trembling.
"Olivia, we're not leaving anyone behind. Just relax," Theo said, his tone calm and measured.
Tina scoffed. Even without sight, Ecludia could tell she had crossed her arms in frustration.
Then, as Ecludia's footsteps drew near, everything fell silent. It was as if a thousand unseen eyes were watching her from the shadows.
She hesitated before speaking. "He said he'd be out in just a moment," Ecludia murmured, slowly extending her trembling hands, holding out the Soul Cores. "He gave me these... we should use them."
Then came relief—the eyes in the darkness had shifted, focused on the cores instead of her.
"Finally," Tina muttered, stepping forward and snatching one of the cores.
"Wait, Tina—" Everly paused. "Shouldn't Ecludia keep them?"
"What?" Tina's voice snapped, disbelief flooding her words. She clearly wasn't happy about that suggestion.
"Let her," Theo said, calm but firm. "Her Aspect is medical."
Ecludia wished the argument would end there. She didn't want conflict—not for her sake. She hoped the certainty in his voice would be enough, enough that she wouldn't have to be the deciding factor.
But Tina didn't back down. "My Aspect is built for combat," she shot back. "Do you seriously expect your friend every battle for us while he's clearly injured?"
Ecludia flinched but didn't look up, her thoughts spiraling.
There it was again—the eyes. She could feel them on her, just like back home. They always expected everything from her, as if she were infallible... like her.
She should have stayed in that cell with Zerin—anything but this.
"If he were fine," Tina pressed, her words like a hidden blade, "wouldn't he already be out here? None of you can fight but me and him. I need this more. She can have one. Give me two."
Ecludia hesitated, then slowly reached out, giving up the remaining Soul Cores.
Tina was right. Sure, she could heal with her Aspect, but was that really what they needed? Did she really expect Zerin to fight all their battles?
Ecludia thought herself as stupid for even considering it. She wasn't like her at all. Her name hardly held up the same—not even comparable.
If it were her, there would be no hesitation—faith would fall in line with her will.
No matter how hard she tried, Ecludia could never inspire that kind of certainty
But before Tina could even grab another core, Ivan's voice cut through, followed by a large, slender hand seized the two cores in Ecludia's hand at once.
"Please tell me... what difference would one make?" His voice slithered, spiked with curiosity. "Or two? Three?" Ivan lifted a single core into the air, inspecting it as though it were delicate glass. "Or even ten?"
Then, unmistakably, his gaze fixed entirely on Tina. "These wouldn't even increase your Aspect's output by even ten percent."
Ivan's eyes swept the shadows. "You all felt it, didn't you? The cage... it diminished us."
He returned the two cores to Ecludia. "A handful of Soul Cores won't restore what was taken—only time can do that."
Ecludia felt his gaze in the darkness. They weren't expecting her to fill the shoes left behind. Cold, precise, and unflinching.
"Her Aspect consumes Soul Fragments. Each one comes at a cost—a currency." He paused, words settling in the air. "And in her case... it is a worthy expense."
Ecludia was at a loss for words.
Ivan rarely spoke, and she couldn't even remember mentioning her Aspect to him beyond just a medical context. The thought of him knowing the ins and outs put her on a slight edge, and she instinctively drew the cores closer to her chest.
"This is ridiculous," Tina huffed. "Fine—take it!" She shoved the single core against Ecludia's chest.
"But don't say I didn't—"
The corridor erupted with a scream, nearly human, but it wasn't. Another chased it, then another, the sounds piling atop another.
The echoes faded, but no one moved. The corridor held its breath. Ecludia's own came shallow, as if trusting the air might give her away. Fear pressed in, shadows turning into another enclosure, another box meant to hold her. And with it came a quiet, terrible certainty—that whatever had made that sound was already on its way.
Ecludia spun on her heel, her pulse hammering in her chest—only to be caught by steady hands. Her heart stumbled at the stench of rot and decay that followed.
Then, she looked up and met his gaze: red, assessing, looking over her head.
"Three," Zerin spoke, so calmly it forced her heart back into place. "They're not close. We'll be fine—for now."
He shifted her aside, firm but careful, then that creature from earlier followed silently behind him.
One thought lodged itself in her mind.
How could he get them all out?
She shouldn't have asked something so impossible. He'd already come this far... Just for her. And she—
He turned to her. Red eyes fixed solely on hers. It was like he knew her thoughts in that very moment.
Even after just a few days, she knew she was filthy, roughened, unworthy of such a name. She braced herself, expecting dismissal, pity or even ridicule—anything but understanding.
But when he spoke, it wasn't what she had feared.
"Which one of you want out first?"
For what felt like an eternity, no one spoke. Deep down, each of them wanted the same thing—to be the first to leave this nightmare behind.
Ecludia swallowed, a single tear tracing down her cheek. "Everly," she said without hesitation. "She goes first. Then Olivia."
His gaze lingered on her. She could tell he was offering her a chance to step back, to save herself—but she held firm, unwavering. She would do the same for them.
Ecludia forced herself to reconcile her words with her heart—their shared goal, the Spell, their singular purpose.
So why did she feel herself wanting safety above all else?
Everly's voice drew closer across the chilled stone, snapping Ecludia out of her own thoughts.
"...Lady Ecludia, are you sure you'll be safe? I... I couldn't possibly..."
Everly had been loyal—to someone she hardly knew beyond a name. "Yes. I'll be fine. I promise." Ecludia lifted a trembling hand to wipe at the tears that had begun to form.
"Okay. Take her back to the Howler. It should be safer there." Zerin commanded.
The creature moved—the one whose eyes mirrored his own.
Then, with a sharp, cracking split, a circular tear ripped open in the middle of the corridor. Deep red, its edges blurred into nothing, the gaping wound opening further painting the stone walls in shifting crimson. Within it, a ceaseless churn twisted, accompanied by the sound of rushing waves, and a grinding groan that vibrated through Ecludia's bones.
It was the same kind of gateway the creature had used to free them from the cell—some sort of portal that looked as if it led straight to hell itself.
The Veinborne approached Everly without pause, closing its hand around her wrist.
She stiffened, turning to Ecludia. "Please be safe..." Everly's worry lingered—before she yielded. Stepping into the tear in space.
Then, shortly after this disappeared, the portal snapped shut behind them, allowing darkness to swallow the corridor once more.