The air in Nyxsha's ruined cathedral hung heavy, stale with the scent of dust and yesterday's chaos.
Fractured beams of corpse-light filtered through the cracked walls, illuminating a battlefield of broken pews, shattered stone, and the faint, lingering whiff of moths and crushed veils.
Nyxsha prowled in restless circles, her massive paws silent, her black fur bristling with irritation.
Her tail flicked like a whip, her golden eyes narrowing as she muttered curses about "coiling perverts" and "slippery headaches" under her breath.
The memory of Virelya's intrusion—and her own humiliating purr—gnawed at her like a bone she couldn't spit out.
Azareel sat on a slab of bone altar, his bare feet swinging gently, his torn robe patched with strips of Nyxsha's shredded linen curtain.
His silver-white hair, streaked with faded gold, was dusted with ash, and the stumps on his back glistened faintly with dried ichor.
He was quiet, his silver eyes, fixed on the floor, as if searching for something lost in the cracks.
Then—grrrrk.
A low, rumbling growl broke the silence, echoing through the ruins like a distant beast.
Nyxsha whipped around, her claws half-unsheathed, her tail freezing mid-lash.
"What was that?!" she snarled, her eyes scanning the shadows for threats.
Azareel blinked, his hand gently pressing against his stomach.
"…I think I'm hungry," he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic.
Nyxsha squinted, her ears twitching. "Angels get hungry?"
"We're immortal," he explained, his tone earnest, "not self-sustaining. In Aetherion, we didn't have to think about it. The light guided us to harvest—manna, roots, fruits. It was… instinct."
His gaze dropped, his voice quieter.
"But here, there's no light. No scent of harvest. No manna."
Another growl rumbled from his stomach, longer and more insistent.
Nyxsha wrinkled her nose, her tail thumping the ground. "You sound like a gut demon throwing a tantrum."
"Sorry," Azareel said, his silver eyes meeting hers with that infuriating, soft sincerity.
He tilted his head, his expression hopeful. "Could you help me find food?"
Nyxsha crossed her arms, turning away with a huff. "No."
A pause. Her tail twitched, betraying her resolve.
She glanced back, her golden eyes narrowing.
"…Fine. A little. Just so you don't die and stink up my den with your corpse."
Azareel's face lit up with a gentle smile. "Thank you."
"Not because I care," she snapped, her voice sharp as she stalked toward the cathedral's broken entrance. "I just don't want flies buzzing while I'm trying to sleep."
"Still, thank you," he said, his voice warm, undeterred.
Nyxsha hissed, her tail lashing violently enough to knock a bone shard across the room.
Her ears flattened, but she didn't look back as she led him out into the Abyss.
The hunt was, to put it mildly, unimpressive.
Nyxsha trotted through the cracked stone fields beyond her cathedral, her massive form weaving between barkless trees that loomed like blackened ribs.
The ground squelched under her paws, oozing a viscous, tar-like sludge.
Above, the sky churned with purple mist, caught between bone-sails that jutted from floating islands of twisted iron.
She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling at the stench of decay and rot, searching for what passed for "wildlife" in this forsaken place.
With a swift jab of her claw, she impaled a chitterbug the size of a melon, its segmented body twitching as she flung it into Azareel's lap.
It landed with a wet pop, leaking a greenish ooze that smelled faintly of sulfur.
Azareel blinked at it, his silver eyes wide.
"…It's still twitching."
"That's freshness," Nyxsha said, her tone flat, her tail flicking dismissively.
He poked it gingerly.
The bug oozed more, its legs curling inward.
He smiled weakly, his voice hesitant. "I'm… actually more of a fruit-and-leaf person."
Nyxsha froze, her golden eyes narrowing to slits. "Like a vegan?"