The road was quite at dawn, with only the sound of Nyx's steady footsteps carrying Lith in her arms. Lith's face burned in shame. "I-I told you I can walk!" He whispered harshly.
Nyx didn't even glance at him. Her voice was fast. "Prey this fragile cannot walk, Master must be carried."
"I'm not prey! And stop calling me that!" Lith wriggled, but Nyx's grip was unyielding. As the villagers began to appear—whispering, staring—Lith panicked. "They'll misunderstand! P-put me down, please!"
But Nyx didn't budge. To her, his protest were no different from a bird's weak chirping in the talons of hawk. She adjusted her hold, pulling him closer against her chest like he weighed nothing at all.
Lith groaned, covering half his face with one hand. Lord, just let me disappear now.
The villagers' murmurs rose.
"Look at the boy's robe...is that a priest?" One muttered.
"There are outsiders."
"A priest...here?"
The whispers rippled through the small crowd, growing louder with each step Nyx took. Lith forced a smile, hands trembling as he pressed his fingers together in a sloppy sign of blessing. "Ah, y-yes—may peace be upon you all...!" He stammered, lifting his hand to the nearest bystander. His voice cracked, and his knees shook eve though he wasn't even walking. He looked less like a holy priest and more like a concerned animal trying not to cry. Still, he pressed on—murmuring blessings under his breath as though clinging to them for protection.
The more he looked around, the heavier his chest felt. The village was tiny. Smaller than the farmlands near the church he grew up in. The Houses here sagged with decay; many had roofs patched with straw and walls lined with splintered wood. Poverty clung to the place like fog.
Lith's heart squeezed. They...live like this? So broken, and abandoned?
But the whispers rose again, needling into him.
"A priest...here of all place?"
"I've never seen one with my own eyes before..."
"Could this be...a sign?"
His chest tightened, and he tried to steady himself. His lips bent into a fragile smile, as if he could hide behind it. A sign? Are they angry...just because I'm a priest?—Father Aldric told me to change out of this robe. I should have listened. Why did I think wearing the priest's garb Seraphine made me was a good idea?
Nyx's voice sliced through his thoughts, calm and flat. "The villagers look at you the way scavenger birds eye a wounded fawn."
Lith whipped his head toward her, nearly tripped over his own feet. "Wh—what's with you and animals all the time?!"
She didn't even blink. "Because Master resembles prey, small, shaking, wide-eyed. Vulnerable."
His jaw dropped, his face turning red. "H-Huh?! Vulnerable?! What's that supposed to mean?!"
Nyx tilted her head, utterly serious. "A rabbit does not realize it is rabbit. The wolves do."
"Stop calling me a rabbit!" Lith wailed, his voice cracking as a few villagers turned their heads curiously. His humiliation was already past human limits—he was crossing into the divine.
They walked—well, Nyx walked, while Lith dangled miserably in her arms through the uneven street until his eyes caught on a crooked sign swinging above a faded doorway. A tailor's shop. Relief nearly knocked the breath of him. "There! Clothes! We're going in."
Nyx followed his gaze, her expression as flat as ever. "...Clothes are unnecessary."
Lith almost exploded. "Unnecessary?! Are you kidding me?!" He jabbed a finger at her, voice rising a panic. "Y-you're only wearing that robe! No layers, no underclothes—nothing! Do you even realize how much of your skin shows if the light hits the wrong way?! Of course people are staring at us!"
Nyx's violet eyes stayed calm, unbothered. "... Clothe will not sharpen my claws, nor make my strike faster."
Lith let out a strangled groan, dragging both hands down his face. God have mercy...she really doesn't get it...
Inside, the shop was dim and smelled faintly of mothballs. Bolts of clothes leaned tiredly against the walls, their colors faded with age. Behind the counter, an elderly woman lifted her head—and froze. Her gaze flicked from Lith, to Nyx and back again, sharp as hawk's. Suspicion lingered in her eyes, heavy enough to make Lith's throat dry.
Why does everyone stare at us like this? Do they... really despite priest that much?
He lowered his head slightly, clasping his trembled hands. A whispered prayer slipped from his lips. Please...if danger waits here, shield us from it. The silence snapped when Nyx emerged from behind a curtain in her first choice of clothing.
Lith's jaw nearly unhinged. "Wh-what—what even is that?!"
It was a pink floral dress, frills drooping like sad flowers. On Nyx, whose aura screamed midnight shadow, it looked utterly cursed. Nyx stool still, expression unchanging. "This makes me resemble a weak herbivore awaiting slaughter."
Lith staggered back, choking. "H-herbivore?! T-that's not—why are you like this?!"
Next came a yellow frock. Nyx's verdict: "The color of cowardly birds. I reject it."
Lith: C-cowardly—?! It's just a dress!"
The. A patched shirt and skirt combo.
Nyx: "Restrictive. Unsuited for killing."
Lith voice cracked. "You're not supposed to be killing anyone!!"
One after another, every outfit fell under Nyx's merciless judgment. Lith's sanity frayed with each rejection, while the tailor simply watched, lips thinning, eyes narrowing like a drawn bowstring.
At last, Nyx stepped out in the plainest of them all: a simple white dress edged with black, unadorned and modest, carrying none of the grandeur of finery—only a quiet, restrained grace.
She tugged lightly at the sleeves. "This cloth hinders movement. It reduces range."
Lith let out a long sigh, forcing a smile as he stepped closer. He had to tilt his head upward—Nyx was taller after all. His voice softened, almost shy. "It's fine for now. Just...endure it, okay? You still look." He smiled softly. "... beautiful. Even in this."
Nyx blinked once. Tilted her head. "...Hm? Beautiful?"
The word sounded foreign in her mouth, empty of meaning, yet her violet eyes lingered on him a moment too long.
Lith scratched the back of his neck, flustered. "Just don't overthink it!" He fumbled for his pouch, relief bubbling that at least this ordeal was over—obly for his fingers to close on nothing. Cold horror stabbed his gut. "I...I don't have money." His voice cracked, trembling.
Nyx turned her gaze toward him, calm as ever. "Master?"
Lith's knees nearly gave out. Sweat slid down his temple as the old tailor's stare sharpens into knives.
"No money?" Her voice was quite, accusing.
Lith opened and closed his mouth like a fish, desperate."w-wait, I—I can explain, it's not—!" But before he could dig himself deeper.
"Is there a priest here?!" The shout tore in from outside, frantic and raw. Then everyone froze.
Lith's eyes went wide. His heart hammered so hard it hurt. Me? They're calling for...me?
The voice rose again, thick with desperation. "Please—someone said a priest passed this way! I beg you, if you are here help us!"
Panic surged through him. His stomach twisted. Help? No... It can't be. What if they mean sometimes else? What if it's a trap?" His legs twitched, ready to bolt for the back door. But then the old woman moved. Slowly, she came around the counter, her expression no longer suspicious but heavy with urgency. She laid a wrinkled hand on Lith's trembling shoulder.
"You don't need to pay, child," she said gently. "The only price we ask...is that you help us."
Lith's breath caught. His chest squeezed tight. Help...them? Lith was about to step out of the inn when the noise outside hit him like a wave. Dozens of villagers crowded the muddy street, faces streaked with dirt, clothes torn, eyes wild with desperation. For a moment, Lith froze, heart hammering. Had he walked into another world?
"Wh-what's happening...?" He whispered under his breath.
A woman shoved her way forward, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead. Thin and trembling, she seized Lith's robe as if it were the last rope keeping her form drowning.
"Please! Help us! Help my daughter!"
Lith blinked, stunned. "W-wait—you must be mistaken, I'm not—" but she didn't let him finish. She dropped to her knees, clutching his hands and pressing her forehead against his trembled fingers.
Lith panicked. "P-please, stand up! Don't bow to something like me... I'm not worthy of that! Just—tell me what you need. I'll help however I can."
The woman wasted no more time. She grabbed his arm and dragged him forward, the rest of the villagers following like shadows. Lith stumbled after her, his protest swallowed by the crowd.
——
Back in the inn, Nyx wrestled with the stuff priestly garments, scowls at the color.
"This white cloth...it doesn't suit me."
The inn's owner chuckled from the doorway. "You're not used to clothes like those, are you, Dear? You don't look comfortable."
Nyx's cold eyes narrowed. "I wish to match my Master. But...black suits me better."
The old woman only smiled faintly and pushed aside a curtain. "Then follow me."
——
Meanwhile, Lith was pulled into a crumbling house that smelled of damp wood and despair. On the bed lay a girl no older than eight, lips cracked breathing shallow.
Cough! Cough!
Blood spattered the blanket. Her mother collapsed beside her, weeping. "Mama's here. Don't be afraid, sweetheart... I brought someone to help you."
Lith's chest constricted. His eyes locked on the gir's frail body, her short curls matted to her sweat-drenched face.
Mina.
The memory stabbed through him like a knife. Before he knew it, he was kneeling at her bedside, taking her trembling hand.
The girl blinked weakly. "M-Mama...w-who's this older brother?"
"Shh," her mother soothed, voice cracking. "He's here to heal you, sweetheart."
Heal.
Lith's heartbeat roared in his ears. Was it fear? Guilt? Both? It didn't matter. He couldn't just stand by. He pressed his glowing sigils to the child's hand. "Please..." His voice was whisper, desperate. Sweat ran down his face. Please, even if I'm useless, even if my gift is broken...let me save her. A faint glow spread across his palms.
The villagers gasped.
"A healer...!"
"He's a healer!"
Relief rippled through the room, but Lith's heart only sank. He felt it immediately—the same dead resistance. His light faltered, flickering uselessly against the sickness consuming her.
"No..." Lith gritted his teeth, tears burning his eyes. It's not enough. I can't... I can't heal anyone. My gift... It's worthless!
The girl convulsed, coughing harder, blood dribbling from her lips. Her mother's so s tore through the air.
Lith's hands trembled. His despair whispered. "Stop." You'll only fail again.
Then—another voice stirred. Cold. Steady. Unyielding.
( We are bound. If you die, I die. Your weakness is mine, but so is your strength. )
Nyx.
Lith's eyes widened. He could almost feel her presence, a shadow coiled around his heart. "I don't want to borrow..." His voice shook. "...But if it's for her—"
He shut his eyes, forcing himself to reach deeper. A searing pain ripped through his chest—ghhk! He doubled over, choking. Then—light flared. Brighter. Warmer. Alive.
The girl stirred. "Big Brother...?" Her lips healed, her breathing steadied, and the fever faded. Blood no longer came. She gasped—and then, for the first time in days, breathed evenly.
The room erupted.
"She's healed!"
"Praise be—he saved her!"
Lith slumped, coughing violently into his sleeve. Blood streaked his palm. He expected it. Healing always took his from his life. But at least...the child was safe.
From the doorway, a voice cut through the cheers—cold and sharp. "You spill your own life to mend theirs. Tell me, is that balance worth keeping?"
Lith looked up—and almost choked again.
Nyx had returned, dressed in black robes lined with silver, a white veil draped over her head like a funeral priest. Polished boots gleamed beneath the hem. Her violet gaze was flat as stone.
"...Why do you look like you're attending a funeral?" Lith blurted.
Nyx ignored him, stepping closer.
Lith wiped the blood from his lips and smiled weakly. "A healer doesn't choose who deserves life. As long as I breathe, I'll heal whoever I can."
Nyx tilted her head. "Foolish. Humans cling to life like frightened animals."
Lith groaned. "There you go again with the animal talk! And seriously—boots? Where did that grandma even find those?!"
Nyx said both. Instead, she slid an arm under him, steadying him as his knees buckled.
Lith looked past her, to the villagers laughing and weeping as they clutched the little girl. They didn't see his shaking hands or the blood he'd hidden.
All they saw was hope.
And in that moment, Lith swore to himself: Even if it costs me everything... I'll heal. I'll fight. I won't let death win.