"Is passing out your hobby or something?" Nixie asked. Waking up to her voice is oddly reassuring. Sure, she'll probably boss you around the second you open your eyes, but still—there's this strange comfort in it. Like, whatever mess happened, she's already handling it.
"Did we win?" I asked.
My throat felt like sand—like all the moisture had been sucked out. My body felt even worse. My head throbbed, my ribs felt like they'd been stomped on, and it seemed like my body was broken in multiple places.
I guess that's what happens when you fight a literal god as a frail, normal human.
"I don't know if we could call that winning," her voice sounded more disappointed than pissed. "But… all three of us are alive, and we did manage to drive that god away. So, in a very loose definition, we did win," she added, though it ended up sounding like she was trying to convince herself.
"I should've fired faster. Should've been better," she said, her voice full of regret. I guess even Nixie has moments like this—when she's unsure about herself.
It's strange, seeing someone so fierce and capable sound like a human.
Nixie went quiet after that. All I could hear was the baby laughing, comfortably sitting on my stomach like it was his personal throne while casually making me float.
Another proud moment in the life of Ariane Sombraluna—I've officially become the seat of a baby god.
"Hey…" I called out. My voice came out weaker than I expected.
"What?" Nixie replied, sounding annoyed.
She didn't even look at me, but I could tell she was listening—just pretending not to care.
"Should we give this kid a name?" I asked, glancing at Nixie. "I mean… we can't just keep calling him 'baby' forever, right?" I added while looking at him.
"Great idea," Nixie said sarcastically.
"You name him then," she added, effectively ending the conversation.
I shrugged. I wasn't exactly thrilled about the task, but it wasn't like I had anything better to do.
I looked at the baby. He was laughing, making stones float over his head like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Sometimes, I'm not even sure if he understands what's going on around us. But then, I see how useful he is in a fight—and how psychotic he acts—and those doubts vanish faster than they came.
"What should I call you then?" I asked.
The baby looked at me, like he was actually waiting for me to decide.
"Maybe something cool, like Krono or Saturn," I said, half-serious, half-amused.
"That's a boring ass name," I heard a whisper inside my head.
"Nyx! Is that you?" I said inside my head, hoping the whole telepathy thing still worked.
"Who else would it be?" Nyx said, still sounding pissed. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, even though she couldn't see it. Same old Nyx.
"Where have you been?" I asked, feeling a little bit better. Honestly, hearing her again was... kind of a relief.
"Are you really going to name that baby something like that?" she asked, ignoring my question.
I raised an eyebrow, unsure if she was serious. "Why do you even care?" I asked.
"Well, I don't care," Nyx replied, her voice as cold as ever.
"Then why bother asking? You're Nyx, right? The god who couldn't even be bothered when I was dying—didn't even show up to help. So why show up now? Just to criticize what name I give this child?" I said, my words sharper than I intended.
"Because I literally can't!" Nyx said, sounding frustrated.
"I almost disappeared last time, I need to heal myself," Nyx added.
There was an awkward silence inside my head.
I know it's all telepathic, but I could still feel her lingering in there, and the silence was… uncomfortable.
"You don't realize how scary it is for a god to die," she said, breaking the silence.
"You mortals have your afterlife when you die, but for us gods, if we die, there's nothing. We just cease to exist," she explained.
Now, that's something even I couldn't imagine.
"I'm sorry, okay?" I shouted inside my head.
"You could've helped a little, or at least given me a heads-up. Would've been really nice, you know."
"And you were becoming overconfident, a really bad habit," Nyx said.
"Overconfident?" I snapped.
"I only acted like that because I thought you'd be there! Because I trusted you!" My chest tightened.
"That's the thing—I can't always be there to help you," she shouted back.
"Yeah, well, you weren't here when I almost died," I shot back. "But we managed. We defeated a god. And you weren't needed."
"Oh, so now I'm useless?" Nyx said, her voice sharp but trembling underneath.
"You think I wanted to vanish? That I enjoyed watching you nearly get torn apart without being able to lift a finger? For your information, if you die while being my host, I die as well, so don't think I don't have any stakes here," she snapped, the edge in her voice barely hiding the fear beneath it.
I raised an eyebrow, not backing down. "Did I say that? Because I'm pretty sure I didn't. But it's good to know you've got stakes in this, too."
I couldn't stop the bitterness creeping into my voice. "You think I wanted to nearly get torn apart either? I didn't exactly ask for this situation, Nyx."
"And maybe you should've said something instead of ghosting me," I muttered, crossing my arms even though she couldn't see it. "I get it now, okay? You were scared. But I was out here bleeding, thinking you just didn't care." I paused, lowering my head. "Next time, don't disappear without a damn word."
There was a long silence before Nyx finally spoke, softer this time. "I was not scared—"
"Oh please, don't lie to me. You are scared, and everything would be simpler if you stopped acting all powerful all the time, even though you're just as fragile as everyone else," I said sharply, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
"I was not just scared, I was terrified, broken. Gods aren't supposed to feel pain and desperation, but I did…" she said quietly. "So don't die on me, okay?" she added.
It was silent after that. I could tell she was done talking. But as she left, I felt the familiar warmth of her blessing returning. My wounds began to heal, slowly but steadily. It was weak compared to her usual blessings, but I was grateful it was back. Having accelerated healing, even if it was barely there, was still something I badly needed.
"Hey," Nixie broke the silence. "Are you okay? You've been staring blankly at the sky for a while now." She sounded worried.
"I'm okay I think," I replied. "Actually, I feel great," I added.
"Well, that's good, because the baby really looks like he needs a break," Nixie said, pointing at the baby who was calmly sitting on my stomach, making me float. He looked sleepy, barely hanging on.
Nixie grabbed the baby, and just like that, the psychic connection—whatever it was called—vanished. One second, I was floating, and the next, I was crashing into the cold, hard ground.
"A little warning next time," I muttered as I pushed myself up from the ground. "Where are we heading now?"
"To the warehouse, of course," Nixie replied, her tone matter-of-fact as she adjusted the baby on the strap on her back.
We were walking in silence for a while. "By the way… did you come up with a name?" Nixie asked, glancing at me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest?" I asked, my tone dripping with curiosity.
Here's how the dialogue tags would fit into your text:
She shrugged. "I don't know. Some people say naming something gives it power. Others say it's good luck," she said.
I paused, remembering how Nyx had been weirdly opinionated about the name too. Not exactly supportive—but not silent, either.
"Well, I haven't really thought of anything yet. It's hard," I replied.
"So we're just going to keep calling him 'baby'?" she asked.
"Sadly, yes," I said.
The journey back to the warehouse was quiet—at least emotionally. There were enemies along the way, but Nixie shot through them with quick, practiced precision, barely even blinking. She didn't let me lift a finger, convinced I was still injured.
Truth was, most of my wounds were already healed. Nyx's blessing had returned, even if it was weaker than before. Still, healing was healing.
When we arrived, the warehouse gate stood wide open. The silence was unsettling.
We moved in cautiously, eyes scanning the shadows. Everything looked mostly how we'd left it. Some scattered signs of battle—a cracked wall, scorched floors, bullet holes—but nothing fresh.
No corpses either. That used to be a relief. Now, it just made me anxious.
"Where to now?" I asked.
"To the clinic," Nixie said.
We made our way there, stepping over the twisted remains of a few assassins. Their bodies were collapsing into themselves, decaying rapidly as the magic holding them together faded.
I stared for a moment. It was like watching a sandcastle slowly erode in the tide.
Whatever had brought them back… it was gone now. And that was almost more terrifying than if it were still here.
We reached the clinic, and Gideon and two of his men stood guard. They looked exhausted, about ready to collapse.
"Where have you been?" Gideon asked weakly. I could see a few scratches on his body, blood staining his clothes. Looked like someone had a really rough night.
I raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to the 'they'll only come for us because we have what they want'?" I asked Nixie, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, shut up," she shot back. "It was the best plan at the time. And, if I'm being honest, I must've killed a few dozen of those assassins. Them focusing on us is a win in my book," she continued.
"Casualty report?" Nixie asked Gideon, flipping back into her leader mode.
"None, but there are a few men wounded. Some poisoned. We managed to handle the poison, but they'll be bedridden for a few days."
"That's good, then," Nixie said, looking satisfied.
She handed me the baby before resuming her task of organizing everything. She was asking for reports, checking the gate, planning how to fix things, checking the supplies—it was impressive how she could juggle all of it. Meanwhile, all I could do was fight, and even that felt pretty average compared to her.
For the first time in days, I wasn't asleep, so I helped out. It felt nice, actually doing something for once. This was the first time I wasn't freeloading off others' efforts.
The baby, who still had no name, was sleeping peacefully in my arms. I handed him off to the pregnant woman, whose name I just learned—Annie.
She looked up at me when I failed to give him a name. "What's his name?" she asked, raising an eyebrow like I was some kind of oddball.
"How about… we just call him Zion?" I suggested after a moment of thought. "A name that represents hope."
She smiled, nodding. "Zion… I like it."
Just as I decided on the name, I swear I saw the necklace shimmer briefly. I wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but it gave me a weird feeling.
But I couldn't stand there doing nothing, so I got busy, taking care of things around the warehouse.
By the end of the day, I was covered in sweat, but everything felt normal again—well, as normal as it could get in a place like this.
I grabbed my usual supplies and took a bath. It felt heavenly, the warm water soaking away the tension.
When I finished, I collapsed into bed, too tired to think about anything else. But then a dream came.
In the dream, the world shifted into shadows and an echoing silence. I stood in the corner of a dark chamber—not physically present, just watching.
The assassin leader knelt on the cold marble floor, her head bowed low. Her once-pristine armor was cracked, her mask broken. One of her arms hung uselessly by her side, blackened and stiff like burnt wood.
Before her stood the cult leader.
Tall. Unmoving. Uncaring, yet somehow watching her with a gaze that pierced through skin and bone.
"I failed," the assassin rasped, her voice thin and hoarse. "The target—Ariane—survived. The god-child is still with them. The necklace is still unrecovered."
The cult leader said nothing.
The silence stretched so long it began to hum, vibrating through the chamber like a low, disapproving heartbeat.
"They had help," she continued, trying to justify herself. "A woman. Guns. Precision. She killed many of my sisters. I underestimated her."
Still, no response.
"I will do better next time," the assassin added, though her voice faltered, as if she already knew she wouldn't be given one.
The cult leader finally moved. A single, gloved hand lifted—not with anger, not even with disappointment. Just... inevitability.
"You already know this is your last chance," he said quietly.
The assassin leader knelt on the cold marble floor, head bowed so low her cracked mask nearly touched the stone. Her armor was in ruins—dented, split open in places. One arm dangled uselessly at her side, blackened and stiff like it had been burned straight through.
And in front of her stood the cult leader.
He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Just towered there, tall and still, like a statue carved out of malice. His gaze wasn't loud, but it cut through her—cut through everything.
"I failed," the assassin said. Her voice was dry and small, like it had been scraped down to the bone. "The target—Ariane—survived. The god-child is still with them. The necklace is still unrecovered."
He didn't answer.
Silence stretched across the chamber, heavy and humming. Like the room itself was holding its breath in disappointment.
"They had help," she said, grasping at reasons. "A woman with guns. Precise. She killed many of my sisters. I underestimated her."
Still nothing.
"I'll do better next time," she said, but even she didn't believe it.
Finally, the cult leader raised a hand. No fury. No drama. Just inevitability.
"You already know this is your last chance," he said, calm as a whisper.
And that was it.
She started unraveling.
Her body came apart like someone had found a loose thread and pulled—slow, steady, merciless. Armor, flesh, even the shadows clinging to her all peeled away into black silk and smoke. No screams. No resistance. Just quiet acceptance, like she'd been expecting it all along.
And when the last thread fell, when the smoke curled low and still across the marble floor—
She was whole again.
No wounds. No burn marks. Not even a crack in her mask.
Just kneeling, as if nothing had happened.
Like the unraveling wasn't a punishment.
Like it was a reset.
Then he turned his head—toward me.
No. Not toward me.
Through me.
"Ariane," he said.
And the moment he said my name, I couldn't breathe. It pressed down on me like a weight, like something had reached into my chest and wrapped itself around my lungs.
"You're getting stronger too fast."
Then the shadows moved. Fast. Rushing toward me.
I woke up gasping.
Sweat clung to my skin like I never took that bath. My heart was pounding hard enough to shake my ribs.
The warehouse was still. Quiet. But the dream—his voice—was still in the air around me.
He knows me.
Not just my name.
He knows me.