The moment the last word left his lips—'that truth is why I'm still standing'—his feet exploded into motion, his sword howling through the air. Ren closed the distance in an instant, steel arcing toward her throat. At the last second, a tendril spiraled up between them, coiling around the blade mid-swing.
The impact sent a violent jolt through Ren's arm, rattling the bones in his shoulder. He clenched his jaw and shoved forward, pressing his full weight against it, trying to split the dark coil in two.
"Ah, yes…" Nocstella tilted her head. "There it is."
This time he came in low—only for a sharp black tendril to intercept him again, slamming into his shin. The bone fractured. Ren dropped to one knee but stabbed forward regardless, impaling the tendril through its center and dragging his sword down through its form.
"What is this?" Ren demanded.
His wounded leg trembled beneath him—more than it should have.
He'd taken worse hits than this. Come back from worse. Regenerated from less.
'Why…Why do I feel so weak?'
Another tendril peeled into his path, and Ren swung upward.
CLANG
The impact shuddered through his body. He stumbled to the side, losing his footing.
'No…no, not now.'
Another tendril lashed out. Ren ducked too slowly—the tip grazed his ribs, carving open a fresh gash. He hissed through clenched teeth, dropping low and slashing at its base.
'Why am I… slowing down?'
Nocstella smiled as she watched him struggle to stand.
"Do you feel it, Hollow?" She asked, stepping forward. "The weight pressing down upon you…"
Ren staggered, forcing himself upright through sheer will.
"You wonder what it is…Don't you?" She continued. "Why each step feels heavier than the last? Why your hands refuse to grasp that weapon? Why thoughts feel like wading through water…"
'I—' The thought wouldn't finish.
"Here, time does not move as it does on the outside." Nocstella continued, voice soft as usual. "The longer you remain…the more the vessel forgets what it means to exist."
He hadn't imagined it. His depth perception wavered. The edges of his vision blurred. His breath came slow and cold when it shouldn't have. It felt like his own body was shutting itself down.
"Do you know what the darkened forest above was made for, Hollow?" She asked, lifting her gaze toward the false sky—gloomy and heavy, as though rain might fall at any given moment.
"Wounded minds. Fractured souls. Those too tired to carry themselves any longer. That place welcomes them." Her eyes returned to him. "I…welcome them."
She stepped closer.
"But it seems you have rejected my love. Even when your shell begged for an end. When your soul cried to be unburdened." She drew nearer still. "This is the first time a wandering soul has rejected me deep enough…to be brought here…To this place. To my true domain."
Ren's eyes narrowed as she closed the distance. His breath trembled out in shallow bursts.
"I'm not done…" He whispered.
He lifted his sword again—barely. The blade trembled in his grip, heavy and resistant, as though the air itself opposed him.
Nocstella stepped into range, unafraid.
"Still reaching…?" She murmured.
Ren forced the sword toward her chest with what little strength he had left. She didn't flinch.
Instead, she raised two pale fingers—gentle, almost reverent—and pressed them against the flat of the blade. With that single touch, the weight crashed down.
Ren's knees buckled. He caught himself on one trembling hand as he fell. Nocstella lowered herself with impossible grace, kneeling before him, and placed her palm against his chest.
Then—
SPLITCH
Her hand passed through his ribcage like mist through water and closed around something inside. Ren's mouth opened—but no sound came out. It didn't seem to hurt Ren.
"You remember the warmth of your loving mother's voice," Nocstella said, gazing into his eyes. "The nights she caressed you. Told you it was all right to be afraid."
Her fingers tightened on his chest.
"But she didn't, did she? She told you to grow up. That you were too old to weep over the imaginary monsters. That she regretted having a child who needed so much."
"No…"
"She pushed you away."
"She didn't—"
"I can show you, Hollow."
And that she did.
The memory unfolded—twisted and vivid.
His mother sat beside his bed, but her eyes were cold now.
Her voice, once soft, cut sharp and bitter.
"You're still crying?" The memory sneered. "God, I should've let your father deal with you. I'm done! I'm so done coddling such a pathetic child." The illusion warped further—her lips stretching into something cruel, her eyes flickering with a hatred they never should have held. "A waste of time! A waste of space! A waste of effort! You were a mistake—"
SNAP
Ren's hand shot up, clamping around Nocstella's wrist.
The false memory froze.
His fingers trembled—not just from weakness, but from effort.
From clawing himself out of the mire of her lies.
"…It won't work," Ren rasped.
The words were cracked and breathless—but certain.
"I know what this is."
He squeezed tighter, anchoring himself in the present.
"You can twist what she said. You can corrupt her voice." His grip hardened. "But that's not her."
With a growl, Ren tore her hand from his chest. Black ichor dripped from her fingers, trailing like strands of oil before evaporating into the air. Ren staggered back, one hand clutching his chest where she had passed cleanly through him, the other dragging his sword behind him, forcing himself upright. Nocstella watched him rise, curiosity flickering in her gaze, still kneeling where she had been. Ren met her stare with shaking grey eyes, mixed with sadness and pure anger.
"She was broken, too," Ren said. "But she never…never said anything like that. Her voice was always gentle with me. No matter what…" He leaned his weight onto his sword, drawing a slow, unsteady breath. "She carried wounds she never spoke about. Some nights, I heard her crying on the porch through my window."
His jaw tightened at the confession.
"But she never made me feel like I was the problem. Like I was the reason."
He lifted his gaze.
"And I know…Without a doubt, she didn't want me to find her that night."
Nocstella blinked once, slow and unreadable.
"You seep into the cracks of broken things and think that makes them yours." Ren pushed harder against the sword, steel biting into the ground. "But you don't replace what was there."
Something sharpened in Nocstella's gaze.
Ren closed his eyes—just for a second.
'Heal…'
The words were a whisper. A plea.
'Please…I know who I am. I know where I come from. I know what I've lost…'
His body answered, sensing energy coming back to his form.
'I remember…who I am.'