The sky had begun its slow climb into the Waxing Twilight's second phase: The Pale Ascent. Hues of muted lavender and dusty mauve softened the oppressive dark. The first spectral hints of corpse-pale rose touched the edges of the bruised clouds—a fleeting suggestion of warmth that never arrived.
A fine, persistent drizzle fell, hissing against the dying embers of the cabin. A lone figure moved with sharp urgency through the dripping Shadow-Wood. The scent of wet ash and scorched pine clung to the damp air—a heavy shroud that mingled with the raw, clean smell of rain-soaked earth.
Aira's lips were a thin, bloodless line. Her jaw was tight with a frustration that radiated from her in waves.
"You... bitch," she hissed. The words were a plume of condensation in the chill air as she finally reached the charred debris. Her gloved hands clenched into fists at her sides. She kicked a blackened piece of timber. Her anger was a sharp counterpoint to her deep, instinctual aversion to the heat still radiating from the ruin. It was a subtle, unwanted touch against her skin that she had to force herself to ignore.
Her violet eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over the wreckage. "After killing my reanimated, after surviving your own idiotic trap, after destroying my puppet... this is how you go out? Drowning in smoke and flame?"
She stalked into the ruin and seized a handful of long black hair, thick with rain and soot. With a furious yank, she pulled the naked, lifeless body from beneath a heavy, angled beam. The rain began to wash away the grime.
The gruesome sight beneath was revealed: a raw, weeping landscape of third-degree burns marred No One's torso, arms, and legs. Her burgundy eyes were wide and vacant, mirroring the bruised and indifferent sky.
Aira cursed under her breath, dragging the body by its hair through the sucking mud. Her focus was singular. As she emerged from the woods and into the perimeter of the nearby village, faces began to appear in doorways. Their expressions shifted from weary curiosity to stark horror. Shutters slammed closed. The low murmur of village life vanished, replaced by a sudden, dead silence.
They watched as the strange, cloaked woman who had rented out the inn dragged her grim prize through the main street. It was a chilling spectacle that froze the blood.
Aira threw open the inn door and found Kanna and Hanna standing side-by-side. Their identical forms were unnervingly still in the gloom of the lobby. Their long white hair, damp from the persistent drizzle, framed faces of chilling serenity. Their silver eyes, luminous in the low light, held a shared, chilling amusement.
"What do you think, Hanna?" Kanna asked. Her voice was a sinister, melodic lilt as her head tilted in perfect, mirrored motion with her sister's.
"Should we tell Father that Aira failed her mission?"
"Oh, yes, Kanna," Hanna replied. Their voices harmonized into a single, mocking tone. "Father should be made aware of her failures. He will want to punish her for it."
They began to chuckle—a sound like fine crystal shattering that echoed in the quiet inn.
Aira's lip curled into a snarl. "I have not failed!" she retorted, her voice tight with effort as she began hauling No One's dead weight up the wooden stairs. A muffled thump... thump... thump... punctuated her ascent as the body bounced against the steps.
"We were sent to retrieve this girl and heal her. That is what we will do," she ground out between clenched teeth. "I will simply resurrect her. She will be just as she was before."
"Okay," Kanna and Hanna chirped in synchronized, sarcastic tones, rolling their silver eyes in perfect unison before turning and gliding away towards their own rooms.
Aira unceremoniously dropped No One's burned, lifeless form in the center of the floor. She extended both hands, and a low, guttural chant, barely a whisper that vibrated through the floorboards, slid into the air.
"Corpus fractum, cinis et pulvis. Anima errans, audi vocem meam. Ad hoc vas inane, te voco."
A tremor ran through No One's lifeless form—a slow, unnatural shake that made the floorboards creak. Outside, the terrified villagers still huddled in the rain heard a low groan emanate from the very timbers of the inn, a sound that sent a fresh wave of terror through them.
Aira's voice grew louder, more forceful, taking on a commanding, resonant tone as the inn itself began to tremble. Furniture rattled violently in the adjacent rooms.
"Per fila vitae et mortis, ego te impero! Dolorem re-nativitatis amplectere! Redi ad hanc carnem, ad hoc carcerem ossium!"
The shaking became violent, rattling the windows in their frames. An unnatural chill permeated the air, thick with the smell of decay and disturbed earth. A faint, mystical light—the color of twilight amethyst—began to swirl around No One's body, growing brighter and faster with every ancient word.
Finally, Aira's voice rose into a raw, deafening scream. She poured all her power and will into the final command, and the entire inn shook as if it would be torn apart. Panicked shrieks erupted from the street as villagers fled their homes, convinced a demon was being born from the inn's very foundation.
"Portas oblivionis infrige! Suscitare! SPIRITUM DUCERE! VIVE!"
As she shrieked the final word, a soft, pure white light engulfed No One's body, silencing the amethyst swirl and the violent shaking. For a moment, the light pulsed with an intense, silent power. Then, as if it were intangible water, it poured off her body, flowed across the floor, and vanished into the wooden boards.
In the profound silence that followed, Kanna and Hanna glided back into the room. They knelt on either side of the still-unconscious body and held out their hands. A faint blue-silver light enveloped No One.
After a tense moment, she stirred. A soft gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes, which had been wide and unseeing, blinked shut and then opened again, taking in the dim light of the room. Her body ached, a dull throb replacing the searing pain of the burns. Her muscles felt stiff, heavy, and her eyes dry, as if she hadn't blinked in a long time. A wave of primal needs washed over her—hunger, thirst, and a biting cold that made her shiver.
Aira, her expression a mask of frustration and grudging necessity, lifted the now-breathing girl and placed her gently on the bed, pulling a thick blanket over her. She leaned in close, her violet eyes boring into No One's.
"I hate you," Aira said, her voice a low, raw whisper. "But I need you alive."
She turned and stalked from the room, leaving No One alone with the twins.
No One watched her go, bewildered. The necromancer from the eastern village. She remembered fighting her puppet, beheading it. Yet here she was. It made no sense.
Kanna approached the bed, an unsettling smile playing on her lips. "Rest easy now. The pain will subside soon enough. You will be back to full strength after you have had nourishment."
As Kanna turned, Hanna stepped forward. "We will fetch the innkeeper so you can get something to eat," she said, her silver eyes cool and assessing. "Do not move in the meantime."
With that, the twins left, their footsteps perfectly synchronized.
Aira waited on the stairs as Kanna and Hanna descended to the lobby. The innkeeper and his wife, Akari, were huddled outside, trembling in the rain, their faces pale with terror. As the twins approached the terrified couple, they clapped their hands twice in unison.
"Meal service for the guest upstairs," they announced in synchronized harmony.
The innkeeper and his wife flinched back. The twins, with a disturbing, fluid grace, spun around with their arms extended and glided back inside the inn, leaving the couple engulfed in fear. The demand for food, delivered in such an unsettling manner, spurred them into fearful obedience.
Not long after, Akari, her hands trembling so badly the tray in her hands rattled, brought a plate upstairs. It held two bowls of steaming rice, a side of vegetables, pieces of fish, seasoned chicken, and two cups of green tea.
Hanna's face registered disappointment. "Do you expect Her," she said, pointing a delicate, long-nailed finger at No One, "to eat this? She's too weak for that."
Kanna immediately chimed in, "But we'll be taking that. We're hungry, too." They began to chuckle in synchronized, sinister harmony, their shared sadism a palpable chill in the room.
The innkeeper's wife, her face ashen, set down the plate, bowed quickly, and rushed back downstairs to prepare a more suitable soup.
As she returned with a steaming bowl, Aira entered the room from behind her, her dark cloak swaying. Without a word, Aira took the tray and approached the bed. She sat down and began to feed the soup to No One, adopting the posture of a caretaker with a clinical detachment. No One, her mind reeling, simply accepted. Her body craved nourishment.
She observed the strange tableau—the woman she believed she had killed now feeding her; the twins humming and swaying gently in the background; the baffling fact of her own survival. The questions swirled, but survival was paramount. She ate the soup as instructed.
No One lay still, a storm of questions in her mind, yet survival was paramount. She would adapt. She would wait. The warm soup was a comfort, but it was the cup of green tea that grounded her. When Aira offered the cup, a flicker of memory—Sayaka, a small, kind gesture in a borrowed room—surfaced. She recognized the green tea. It was a comfort she had been taught to accept. She drank it without hesitation, the familiar, earthy flavor a strange anchor in this bizarre new reality.
After she had consumed it all, Aira instructed her to rest. Prioritizing her recovery, despite the multitude of unanswered questions, No One did as she was told and rested.
No One slept for an entire day, a deep, restorative unconsciousness that pulled her away from the brink of death. She woke to the even, dim light of High Twilight, the perpetual bruised sky filtering a muted, pearlescent silver-gray through the window. She got out of bed, her muscles tentative, and slowly stood, bracing herself for the familiar symphony of pain.
To her surprise, she felt… whole. The deep ache in her bones had vanished. Her ribs no longer screamed with every breath. She ran a hand over her thigh; the searing fire of the spear wound was extinguished. It was baffling.
One thing was certain: she desperately needed a bath. A thick layer of dry mud, soot, and grime coated her skin and clung to the sheets she had slept in, leaving a grim, human-shaped outline. She was naked, a state of exposure that bothered her far less than the gnawing absence of her katana. Where is it? Her eyes scanned the room—the door, the window. No exits. No weapon.
She moved out into the empty hallway, peering cautiously around before taking a single, silent step downstairs. From below, the low murmur of voices, punctuated by a sharp, synchronized giggle, drifted up from the lobby. The twins. She remembered their faces, their unnerving harmony, through the haze of her revival.
The moment her bare foot touched the first wooden step, the talking ceased. A profound silence fell over the inn. The twins were already facing the stairs, their silver eyes fixed on her. They clapped their hands twice in perfect unison.
"Room service," they announced, their voices a single, harmonized entity.
"Should Aira give her a bath?" Kanna asked, tilting her head at the exact same angle as her sister.
"Yes! Yes!" Hanna replied, her voice a perfect echo of Kanna's. Together, they began to sway from side to side with a chilling, childlike glee.
From a nearby room, the innkeeper's wife emerged, a stack of linens in her arms. She stopped short, her eyes going wide as she took in the sight of the naked, mud-caked woman on the stairs and the unsettling twins.
"My name is Akari," she stuttered, her voice tight with a fear she could no longer conceal. "How much… how much longer will you be here?"
The twins stopped swaying, their smiles vanishing, replaced by identical frowns that deepened Akari's terror. The woman clenched the linens, her knuckles turning white.
"As long as we please," the twins said in sync, their voices now cold and devoid of warmth.
"She needs a bath," Kanna stated, pointing a synchronized, delicate finger at No One.
"Aira should be the one to do it for her," Hanna added, "but she isn't here right now."
"I can do it," No One said. Her voice was hoarse from disuse, a raw, grating sound that made Akari flinch.
Akari looked from the woman on the stairs to the twins, her face a mask of bewildered fear. Seeing No One's condition, she gave a quick, jerky nod. "I'll… I'll prepare the bathwater immediately," she stammered, hurrying away.
No One followed, her steps cautious. She didn't feel hostility, but the situation was a bizarre tapestry of contradictions, and her guard remained instinctively high.
Just as the bath was ready, Aira entered the inn, her dark cloak damp from the rain and carrying a long, wrapped object. She stalked straight up the stairs, her violet eyes scanning the area.
"She's in the bath now," Kanna chirped as Aira reached the landing.
"Giving herself a bath," Hanna added, both of them pointing an accusatory finger at the necromancer.
Aira shot them a low, guttural snarl and proceeded to the bath. She passed Akari, who scurried away, and found No One soaking in the large wooden tub. No One's eyes, sharp and assessing, tracked her every movement. Aira ignored the scrutiny. She unwrapped the object she held: it was No One's katana, still in its sheath. She laid it carefully on a stool next to the tub.
"I'll bring you some clothes and finish washing you when I return," Aira said, her voice flat.
No One immediately reached for the sheathed katana, her fingers closing around the familiar hilt. She cradled it in the water like a lost treasure, the weight a profound and grounding comfort. Having her sword back was a surge of relief, but it only deepened her confusion.
Aira returned a moment later with another covered object. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing pale skin, and knelt by the tub. She wet her hands and began to run her fingers through No One's hair, gently working out the knots of mud and grime. The sensation of another's touch on her scalp was startling, but as Aira continued, it became a surprisingly pleasant, soothing experience.
Her work was methodical, impersonal. After rinsing the last of the soot from the long black strands, she took up a rough washcloth. No One remained perfectly still, a statue of tense muscle and watchful silence as Aira began to scrub her shoulders and back. Her mind screamed for a warning, a precognitive flash from the Mark to signal the inevitable betrayal—the hidden blade, the sudden violence. Every instinct honed by a decade of cruelty told her that this proximity, this vulnerability, could only be a prelude to an attack.
But the Mark on her forehead remained cold and silent.
Aira's movements were efficient, devoid of either malice or gentleness as she washed the grime from No One's arms and torso. The silence of her curse was more bewildering than any premonition of death had ever been. It was an undeniable truth whispered directly into her soul: there is no hostility here. The thought was so alien, so contradictory to the reality she knew, that she could do nothing but stare blankly at the far wall of the bath, trying to solve a puzzle for which she had no pieces.
"Out," Aira said, her voice still flat.
No One obeyed. After Aira patted her dry with a soft towel, she looked at her own hands, her arms. It was… wrong. The skin that emerged was not her own. Not really. It was flawless. The faint, silvery lines of old scars from a decade in the wilderness were gone. Her skin seemed to possess a faint, healthy luminescence—a vitality she had never known. She touched her face, her hair; it felt impossibly soft and smooth. This wasn't just healing—it was a remaking. The thought was deeply unsettling.
Aira unraveled the second covered object. It revealed black wolf pelts, a mask, and bandages – new gear, well-made and seemingly tailored to her size, with additional coverings for the forearms and shins, areas she hadn't previously protected with pelts. She had never considered covering her forearms and shins with pelts before, but the thought of the added protection was exciting. No One's face lit up, a rare expression of genuine pleasure, at the sight of the familiar wolf pelts and bandages. She missed wearing her old gear; the thin kimono felt restrictive, hindering her movement.
Aira noticed her assessing them. "They're from a primal wolf demon," she stated, her tone flat, as if mentioning the weather. "Stronger than steel, lighter than cloth. More fitting for what you are."
No One stared at the pelts. Stronger than steel. They didn't just save her. They were arming her. Making her stronger. The thought was overwhelming. Aira began wrapping the fresh bandages around her, her movements efficient and surprisingly gentle.
As Aira finished securing the last pelt, No One, acting on an impulse she didn't fully understand, grabbed her arm and pulled her into a spontaneous hug. She had only received this gesture once, from Roki. Now, she understood the warmth it could convey.
Aira's body went rigid, her hand instinctively flying to her side as if to draw a weapon. A beat passed. Realizing the gesture was not an attack, she hesitated, then gave two stiff, awkward pats to No One's back, her impatience a palpable force.
No One released her, her burgundy eyes fixed on Aira's face. "Thank you," she said, her voice still hoarse. "My name is No One. Who are you?"
"I'm Aira," she replied, her composure regained. "And I'm not your friend."
No One dismissed the words. The actions were what mattered. Kindness, healing, generosity—these were things no one but Roki and Sayaka had ever offered. A pang of regret tightened in her chest. She had never thanked them properly.
They left the bath together and were immediately greeted by the twins. Their silver eyes scanned No One's new appearance.
"I'm Kanna!" said Kanna, bowing in perfect sync with her sister.
"And I'm Hanna!" said Hanna, completing the bow.
No One bowed in return, still bewildered. "Why are you helping me?"
"Father wants to see you," said the twins in synchronized harmony. They twirled with arms stretched out, a disturbing, graceful spin, and clapped their hands twice. "Room service!"
Akari stepped out from a nearby room, bowing halfway, her body still trembling. Her eyes widened in shock at No One's new garments—the black wolf pelts, the mask, a figure of the wild made manifest in her inn.
"Lunch time!" said Kanna, her voice cheerful and unsettling.
"We're hungry," said Hanna, mirroring her sister perfectly.
Aira shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "We should be leaving soon," she muttered. "We don't have time for this."
"She needs to eat, too!" insisted the twins in unison, pointing at No One.
No One said nothing. She let them make the decisions, her mind trying to process the rapid shifts in the situation. They went into the main living area and waited.
Despite the strangeness of her circumstances, No One felt a sense of happiness settle within her, a quiet warmth in the vast emptiness she carried. Aira, claiming she wasn't her friend, took responsibility for No One's most basic needs. She resurrected her, and had the twins mend her body. With their unsettling sadism, Kanna and Hanna ensured No One regained her health and insisted she take nourishment. For the first time since the brief, fragile sanctuary with Roki and Sayaka, she felt safe around demons. They were nice to her, in their own twisted way, and that's all that mattered in the moment.