The glade was utterly quiet again.
Only the slow dripping of blood echoed—soft splashes as crimson fell from what little remained of Ren's ruined body. His corpse was unrecognizable now. His face—once clenched with fury and grief—was completely still. But even that wouldn't last. Ren's fingers twitched. It began…
Ribs knitted back, bone grinding against bone. Exposed nerves along his legs pulsed with dim light as thin filaments of flesh slithered over splintered bone, worming their way back into place.
His spine straightened with a crunch. One eye reformed first—like ice melting in reverse, a pale orb deepening with color before the socket sucked it into place, as the other followed.
Then, a breath. A violent, wheezing inhale tore from his lungs as Ren's back arched off the ground, air forced through him like wind through a broken flute. His mouth gaped as his head turned, blood still seeping from the seams of his scalp.
To his side laid the sword, reaching for it without hesitation.
Fingers closed around the leather as he hauled himself upright.
Across the glade, Nocstella still stood—her back turned to him.
Ren began to walk. Slowly at first. Then faster.
"You seem irritated," She said. "Tell me, Hollow…is it beginning to show?"
The ground answered her voice. Tendrils erupted from the soil, coiling like serpents before lashing toward him with unnatural speed. Ren veered left, barely avoiding the first. It sliced through the air inches from his cheek, tearing his cloak open. Another shot low, aiming for his legs. He vaulted over it, landing hard and stumbling forward, eyes never leaving Nocstella.
She turned to face him.
"Is this anger I feel?" She asked. "That tightness in your chest? That desire to scream?"
A tendril whipped toward his sternum.
Ren ducked and rolled beneath it, coming out of the motion swinging. His blade cleaved through a thin tendril, severing it mid-lash. It shrieked as it recoiled. Nocstella tilted her head in thought.
"Hmmm, You're starting to feel it again…somehow," She murmured. "It seems your idea of hatred runs deeper than I had imagined."
Another tendril rose—slower this time, deliberate.
Ren leapt over it, bringing his sword down in a brutal arc.
The tendril split at its base. Ren hit the ground hard, rolled, and surged forward again.
"Your hatred for your father came easy…," She continued. "The beatings. The shouting."
A tendril snapped toward him. He sidestepped just in time.
"You wanted him dead. You wanted someone to do it for you. But no one ever did."
Ren closed the distance and leapt, sword raised—only for a tendril to burst from the ground before her, snaring his ankle midair and slamming him spine-first back into the earth. The impact cratered the soil. Blood sprayed from his mouth. But he soon regained composure.
"And your mother…" Nocstella whispered. "You hate her too, don't you?"
"No…" Ren croaked, his gaze flicking upward.
Not at her. At the tendril hovering above his face. It struck down. Ren rolled left just in time, the shadow missing him by inches. He forced himself up to his knees, gasping for an ounce of air.
"That's the wound, is it not?" She asked, with that 'oh-so-motherly' tone. "You never wanted to feel it, but…somewhere deep down, you resented her for leaving."
Ren gripped his sword with both hands, arms shaking.
"You wanted to forgive her. To pretend she had no choice."
Another tendril lashed down.
He sidestepped and drove his blade through it, pinning it to the ground.
"You needed her," Nocstella said, closing her eyes. "You called for her. And she didn't come."
Ren let out a strangled sound—half growl, half sob—and kept moving.
The glade trembled as dozens of tendrils rose like reeds from the soil, surrounding him.
He didn't slow.
"Though you may say nothing," Nocstella continued, one hand pressed to her chest, "I hear the truth inside your hollowed soul."
The tendrils descended. Ren plunged into them. The first slammed into his gut. Blood burst from his lips as he was hurled backward—but his sword still cut, carving a jagged black arc through the air. He hit the ground hard, breath ripped from his lungs, then dragged himself to his knees, blood pouring down his side. Nocstella began to approach, eyes opening once more to him.
"She left me…" Ren whimpered, tears blurring his vision. "But she loved me. It wasn't her fault."
"Loved you?" Nocstella echoed, her voice filled with a mocking sorrow. "Is that why she left you alone in a house full of monsters? She chose the rope over her own son. Her suffering over yours. Her freedom over your life." She paused. "And still you cling to the idea that it was love?"
Silence stretched.
"No, Hollow. That wasn't love. That was abandonment. And somewhere inside that vessel of yours...You know that's the truth."
"You're not wrong," Ren murmured, clutching his wounded stomach. "She left me alone in that house. She loved me and still left. I know…And it hurts."
Nocstella tilted her head. The tendrils quivered, sensing the shift.
"I hate that she gave up," Ren said, standing upright. "I hate that she looked at me and decided she couldn't take it anymore. I hate that she left me alone with that monster."
Nocstella smiled. "So you've come to—"
But Ren didn't stop advancing.
"You talk about 'truth' like it's something I've been running from," Ren said. "But I've lived in it. Drowned in it. Every night. Every dream. I wondered what she thought at the end. Was she afraid? Was she relieved? Did she think of me at all when she tied the rope? I could never forget it…" His hands trembled. "Making me hate her doesn't break me. It just pisses me off."
The tendrils twitched—but Nocstella remained still.
Ren kept walking.
"I love her," He said, wiping a tear from his eye. "More than anything. You wanted me to collapse under the truth." His gaze locked onto hers. "But that truth is why I'm still standing here."