Caspian ran downstairs.
The moment a roar tore through the tower, instinct screamed louder than reason. He spun on his heel and bolted back toward the stairwell, clutching the Guiding Moonlight close—if close was even the right word. It weighed nothing, resisted nothing, felt like gripping a fragment of air that only pretended to be solid.
The stairs loomed below—
And then he heard it.
Heavy footsteps.
Not one set.
Many.
Stone cracked under their weight as something massive began ascending from below, claws scraping against marble, wings unfolding in tight corridors. The roars grew closer, layered atop one another, hungry and furious.
Caspian skidded to a halt.
"Nope" he muttered. "Absolutely not."
He turned and sprinted the other way.
Back toward the open chamber. Back toward the night sky. Back toward a fall that would kill most beings instantly.
The wind howled as he burst onto the top of the tower. Moonlight of crimson glow collided above him, painting the stone in blood. He risked a glance over the edge.
Far below, the rooftops of the castle sprawled like jagged teeth. Beyond them, the citadel stretched endlessly, dark and silent.
It was a long way down.
Behind him, the roars grew closer.
Caspian swallowed hard.
"…Better than fighting that."
He jumped.
The world dropped out from under him.
Air screamed past his ears as gravity seized him, dragging him down the tower's sheer face. Panic flared—but training, instinct, desperation all moved together.
Claws burst sharp.
He slammed them into the stone.
Sparks flew as his claws bit deep, tearing long grooves through ancient masonry. His descent slowed into a brutal slide, shoulders scraping, legs kicking for purchase.
Stone tore at him.
The Guiding Moonlight wavered.
Fear clenched his chest.
"Don't—don't fall—" he hissed, tightening his grip on nothing, terrified the ethereal moon would slip free, vanish back to its altar, doom everything.
But it didn't.
It pulsed.
Almost reassuringly.
Caspian snarled and forced himself down faster, releasing and re-grabbing the stone in controlled bursts until—
He crashed onto a slanted rooftop.
Tiles shattered beneath him as he rolled, barely stopping himself from tumbling off the other side. He lay there for a heartbeat, chest heaving, then scrambled upright.
Above him—
Shapes appeared at the edge of the tower.
Batlike silhouettes crawled out into the open, wings half-unfurled, eyes burning crimson. They leaned over the edge, snarling, watching him with predatory focus.
Gargoyles.
Not statues anymore.
"…I take it back" Caspian muttered. "I was not lucky."
The creatures withdrew.
Not retreating.
Descending.
Caspian ran like his life depended on that, because it did.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, claws scraping stone, boots skidding across slate as the city finally woke. Roars echoed from every direction now, howls reverberating through empty streets as winged shapes burst from towers and spires.
He didn't look back.
He jumped again, barely clearing a gap between buildings, landing hard and rolling. Pain flared in his shoulder—but he pushed through it, sprinting onward, guided by instinct and desperation.
A structure loomed ahead.
A church.
White stone, cracked but intact, its doors hanging open like a silent invitation.
Caspian dove inside and slammed himself against the inner wall, forcing his breathing to slow as he listened.
The roars passed overhead.
Claws scraped rooftops.
Something landed nearby.
Then moved on.
Silence crept back in, broken only by Caspian's ragged breaths.
He slid down to the floor.
That was when he heard it.
"Flow."
Caspian froze.
"…No" he whispered. "Not now."
"Crimson life."
The voice wasn't hunger.
It wasn't his thirst clawing at his veins.
It was a gentle voice, like a mother singing a lullaby to her children.
"Flow."
The Guiding Moonlight pulsed in his grasp, brighter than before. His vision blurred, the church melting away—
And suddenly, he stood on water.
A vast, still lake stretched endlessly around him, its surface smooth as glass. Above, the silver moon hung low in the sky, perfectly reflected beneath his feet.
Caspian looked down.
He was walking atop the water as if it were solid ground.
The reflection rippled.
The moon's image darkened.
Red began to seep from it, spreading like blood through clear water.
"Flow, Crimson Life, flow."
The moon began to bleed into it reflection.
Then—
The reflection and the sky swapped.
Caspian gasped as the vision shifted violently.
He stood in the Citadel of the Moon.
But not as it was now.
As it had been.
Silver light bathed the streets. People laughed. Children ran beneath glowing lanterns. Water flowed freely through canals, crops lush and green even beneath moonlight.
Life.
Then the moon darkened.
Silver turned crimson.
The chant echoed through the city.
"Flow, Crimson Life, flow."
People stopped.
They looked up.
Screams followed.
Caspian watched in horrifying detail as veins darkened beneath skin, as eyes bled light, as bodies twisted and broke. Bone reshaped. Flesh stretched. Wings tore free in sprays of blood.
Some begged.
Some prayed.
Some attacked each other in blind terror.
The streets ran red.
The moon bled.
The chant grew louder, demanding.
"Flow."
"FLOW."
The last sane screams faded as the city drowned in transformation. What rose from the carnage were not people anymore, but creatures of the night—hungry, loyal, hollow.
The vision ended.
Caspian collapsed back into the church, gasping, sweat soaking his clothes, heart pounding like it might tear itself apart.
"…You bastard" he whispered, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "You did this to them."
He forced himself upright.
" I'll kill you "Caspian said softly, voice shaking with fury. "For every scream. Every life. I will destroy that beloved moon of yours"
He slipped back out into the night.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He ran straight to the citadel gate, heavy footsteps and roars came from behind him, reaching it and escaping the city right before a stone claw reached him, the creatures did not followed him out of the city.
He reached the forest.
Branches clawed at him as he burst through the treeline, shadows twisting. The city's roars faded behind him, swallowed by distance.
A figure stepped from the darkness ahead.
Verdam.
He took one look at Caspian—bloodied, shaking, eyes burning—and then at the Guiding Moonlight glowing in his grasp.
The Saint smiled.
"Ah" he said brightly. "You got it."
Caspian staggered forward and nearly collapsed.
Verdam caught him effortlessly.
"…It's worse than you said" Caspian muttered.
Verdam's smile faded.
"Yes" he said quietly. "It is."
He straightened, fire flickering faintly around his eyes.
"Then we waste no more time."
Verdam looked toward the Citadel of the Moon, looming in the distance like a wound in the world.
"It's time" he said, voice hard as the sun at noon, "to prepare for the final battle."
And for the first time since entering the Nightmare—
Caspian believed he might actually end it.