The malformed wyvern plummeted.
THOOM
Its body hit the stone with a deafening impact that hurled Ren off his feet. Wind howled out from the crater in a stormfront of dust and debris, the remaining shell above falling apart like glass.
Ren used his arm to shield his eyes, the other hand slamming down to steady himself. As the dust settled, Ren lowered his arm. In front of him, Nocstella knelt beside the beast's malformed skull, a mother before her newborn. She reached out, brushing a hand over the side of its face.
The wyvern twitched—its form barely able to support itself. The thin, translucent membrane still clung to it afterbirth, stringing between its horns. Its wings were malformed, overgrown bone spears with shredded skin draping down like cloaks. Its head sagged, too heavy for its neck.
"Yes, my beloved, Iris..." She whispered. "Show them the blessing you are."
The creature turned its skull toward her, reptilian eyes blinking one by one—six eyes in total.
Slowly, the creature then turned its head toward the sky. Its jaw unhinged—too wide—stretching in a yawning gape that peeled all the way down along its neck. Then it screamed. Not a roar, but a whine. A baby's wail stretched into something draconic. The scream itself cracked through the sanctuary, turning the once-beautiful scene into ruins. Ren staggered back, clutching his ears as the sound rattled through his body. His gaze snapped up as the ceiling cracked. Stone ruptured and rained down in splintering slabs. And above on the crumbling stairway, Eva stood.
The stone stairway she'd descended with trembling resolve now gave out beneath her.
'I have to move…' Eva thought, her foot pressed to the next stone. 'If I don't, then I'll—'
But she slipped—
No.
Eva's foot fell through, the weakening platform breaking like brittle chalk beneath her weight. Her chest banged the ledge—hard—driving the air from her lungs. But her fingers caught hold, curling over what little of the edge was left. Her legs flailed below the drop, bare feet scraping uselessly against the vertical wall of stone.
'I'm…'
She couldn't breathe.
'I'm…'
She couldn't think.
'I'm slipping…'
Then, the ledge she held onto finally gave out, and her world flipped upside-down. She saw Ren—far below—his grey eyes widened at the sight of her falling.
In that helpless moment, as gravity pulled her down, her mind cleared.
She didn't think of gods or fate or anything righteous.
She thought about the boy she had just met.
That broken boy who hates asking for help.
And protected her without any hesitation.
'If I die now.' Her voice didn't reach her throat, alive only in her thoughts.
Die?
No, she knew better. Not in this place.
But when she came back—whatever version of her returned—what would be missing?
'Please...let me remember. Let me remember his voice. Don't...don't take that away from me.'
Then—
CRACK
Her neck snapped, and her world—her thoughts, her heartbeat—all of it—gone
Even after death, her body continued to fall further until reaching the utter bottom.
Her arms splayed beside her sides.
Her hair fanned out over blood-slicked stone.
Her black dress soaked in the pool of her blood.
From Ren's perspective—it was all instant. One blink—she was there. The next—she wasn't.
His mouth parted, a faint breath caught on his tongue—but no sound came.
'Is…is she?'
His legs almost gave out from the view of her corpse.
Yet, he couldn't find it in himself to look away from her.
'...Dead?'
The word came out fractured. His mind reeled—it was all too much for him to process.
And then, from behind him, Nocstella's voice rose—calm, reverent, almost mournful.
"Loss is a sacred thing, Hollow..."
Ren turned around to face her and her abominable child.
He didn't blink; his eyes still widened in horror.
"Each death shapes us," Nocstella continued, her hand resting on the malformed wyvern's wing. "A piece taken. A piece given. And what returns…is not always what was lost."
He didn't care for her fake philosophical words. Ren stepped forward—once.
Nocstella paused, her gaze drifting from her newborn to the broken soul now walking toward her. The wyvern beside her shifted, its limbs twitching. Wet and guttural crunches came from its body as it began to rise, bones straining under the weight of its malformed frame. Wings spread partially—torn, broken things like flayed banners. Nocstella followed, palm sliding off to her side.
"You walk forward, even now?" She murmured. "Should you not mourn her death?"
He didn't answer, not even acknowledging the question presented. There was no point.
The underground sanctum, once flowing clear waters and filled with beautifully carved stone, was now a ruin of loose stone and jagged grounds. The air that once cleansed the lungs now choked them with dust. The one who was at his side in this wretched place was now gone.
In these ruins, Ren stood alone against two monsters.
The shape of her body on the blood-slick stone burned into his eyes—every detail fixed there. That was all he saw, even as the basin shifted under the weight of something far larger than himself. The wyvern unfolded in spasms, its six eyes swiveled toward him. Nocstella stepped back from her child, her hands folded neatly before her as though watching a performance.
"Those eyes…" Nocstella questioned, watching Ren slowly walk forward. "That expression..."
The wyvern's body twitched, its claws screeching against the stone.
"You still haven't decided what to act as. One moment, you're the noble fool, rushing to protect what cannot be saved. The next, you're the coward, longing to flee and hide." Her crimson gaze narrowed. "Or is it you simply lurch between whichever fantasy hurts you less at the moment?"