Ashfall sat a a little bit away from Calethia, his wrists free now but his weapons still missing. He stared at her with narrowed eyes, weighing his options, then finally spoke.
"So," he muttered, his voice low but sharp. "Do I get my weapons back, or are you planning to keep me leashed forever?"
Calethia did not even look at him at first. She was busy adjusting the straps of her pack, her expression calm and distant. When she did meet his eyes, it was with the same firm, unyielding gaze she had shown him since their first encounter.
"For now? No," she replied. "You'll survive without them."
Ashfall let out a humorless laugh and leaned back against the cold stone wall. "Survive? Out here, unarmed? That's your grand plan? Keep me alive by stripping me of the only thing I'm good at?"
Her lips tightened slightly. "If I give them back, the first thing you'll do is put steel through me. Don't pretend otherwise."
He smirked. "You're not wrong."
For a moment they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken threats between them. Eventually Calethia unwrapped two small ration packs, tossing one across the short distance. Ashfall caught it with a flick of his hand, suspicious, but hunger made him tear into it anyway. The taste was bland, the texture worse, but it kept the ache in his stomach at bay.
Calethia ate slowly, her eyes never leaving him. Every time his hand moved, even to adjust his coat, she shifted slightly, fingers ready to reach for her blade or pistol. Ashfall noticed, and he found it both irritating and amusing.
"You're watching me like I'm some wild dog," he said between bites.
"Because you are," she replied flatly. "A wild dog that doesn't know if it wants to bite or run."
He chuckled. "Better a wild dog than a chained one. At least I know what freedom tastes like."
Her gaze flickered, as if his words struck somewhere deeper than she wanted to admit, but she said nothing more.
The evening deepened, shadows stretching long across the roads hidden under the snow until darkness consumed the ruins around them. Calethia remained awake, sitting upright against the wall, her weapon resting casually in her lap though her posture showed no signs of sleep. Ashfall lay on his side with his back to her, breathing slow and steady. To anyone else he might have seemed asleep, but his mind remained restless, his body poised. Trust was still a foreign word between them.
Hours dragged on, the cold night biting into their bones. Sometime past midnight Ashfall cracked an eye open. Calethia still sat there, eyes half-lidded but alert, her silhouette rigid in the dim glow of the stars. He turned away, forcing his body to relax, though his mind refused.
Morning did not come peacefully. At some point, exhaustion claimed them both. Ashfall stirred first, blinking against the weak daylight that filtered through the gray sky. His eyes found Calethia slumped slightly against the wall, her chest rising and falling in the shallow rhythm of sleep. For the first time, she looked almost human; unguarded and fragile.
He studied her for a long moment, weighing the thought that had gnawed at him since the night before. His gaze drifted to where his weapons lay near her pack. Quietly and carefully, he shifted onto his knees and reached forward, each movement calculated and silent.
He had almost touched the hilt of his blade when he froze. A cold pressure pressed against his chest. His eyes flicked downward and saw the muzzle of her gun resting there, steady as a heartbeat. Calethia's eyes remained closed, but her voice was sharp.
"Step back."
Ashfall's lips curved into a thin smile. "Sleeping with one eye open, huh?"
"Always," she murmured, finally opening her eyes. "Try that again and you'll bleed before you can blink."
He eased back with exaggerated slowness, raising his hands slightly. "Fair enough."
They ate again in tense silence afterward, both moving with the weariness of another sleepless night. Ashfall leaned against the broken wall, chewing on the tasteless ration. Eventually, he broke the quiet.
"So, Calethia," he said, his tone almost mocking, "do you always travel with such charming company? Or am I just special?"
She gave him a glance that carried more warning than amusement. "You talk too much."
"And you too little," he countered. "We've been stuck together long enough, might as well pretend we're allies. Or is that too much to ask?"
Her shoulders shifted slightly, as though the idea unsettled her. "Allies don't hold each other at gunpoint."
He smirked, tilting his head. "True. But maybe that's what makes this fun."
Their words circled without ever striking true, each revealing little, each answer guarded. They danced around details, neither willing to give more than scraps, but the small exchanges chipped away at the wall of silence. In some strange way, it felt like progress.
The fragile rhythm shattered when distant noises echoed through the ruins. Ashfall stiffened, head tilting. The sound came faint at first in a low, distorted tone, almost like whispers. Then the laughter grew, sharp and cruel, multiplying until it surrounded them from every direction. Hundreds of voices, all twisted by madness.
"Minor Mythbornes," Ashfall said under his breath, his body tense, ready to move.
The ground trembled with heavy steps that followed, slow and deliberate. A larger shadow moved among the laughter, its presence unmistakable.
"And the tall one too," Ashfall muttered, remembering the nightmare figure from before.
Without hesitation he stood, his voice hard. "Give me my weapons. Now."
Calethia continued eating, her expression unbothered, as though the growing cacophony of horrors was nothing more than background noise.
"Calethia," Ashfall growled, his patience thinning, "this isn't the time to play games."
She ignored him, calmly chewing, as though she had all the time in the world.
His hands curled into fists. "Fine. Maybe I don't need them. Maybe I'll just head to the Metropolis alone and leave you here to your little staring contest." He took a step forward, frustration burning in his eyes.
Finally, she lifted a hand, signaling for silence. "Listen."
Ashfall stilled, grinding his teeth, but obeyed. He focused on the laughter, letting it wash over him. Slowly, he realized what she meant. The sound wasn't closing in on them. It was moving away, drifting toward the direction where he had met Ryn, Uka, and Daryl for the first time.
"They're not hunting us," Calethia said softly. "Not yet."
The realization settled heavy in his chest. Relief mixed with dread. If the Mythbornes weren't after them, then they were after someone else.
When the laughter finally faded, Calethia rose to her feet, dusting off her coat with deliberate calm. Without a word she jumped downstairs, going toward the main road. Ashfall clenched his jaw but followed, his eyes narrowing as he watched her every move. Still she refused to return his blade or pistols.
They moved through the ruins, silent save for the crunch of snow underfoot. It didn't take long before a small cluster of Minor Mythbornes broke away from the main horde, their twisted forms slinking toward them with hungry grins. Calethia did not hesitate. She advanced steadily, striking with precision, dispatching each creature with efficient, almost patient movements. Ashfall watched, torn between admiration and frustration.
"Efficient," he said, his tone edged with sarcasm. "But you won't last long alone like that."
She spared him a glance, her blade dripping dark ichor. "That's why I'm not alone."
He snorted. "Cute. Except I'm useless without my weapons, remember?"
Before she could answer, a sharp sound cracked through the air. A flare, bright against the gray sky; a signal pistol. Both of them froze, turning toward the direction it came from. Ashfall's stomach twisted. It was the same direction he had traveled with Ryn and Daryl, the same path where the factory or warehouse had stood.
The Mythbornes that had been drifting away turned sharply, their shrill laughter rising again as they surged back toward the source of the flare. Even Calethia, calm as ever, stiffened at the sound.
Ashfall's breath caught. His mind replayed the image of the Timer Agent who had fallen, consumed by madness, transforming into one of the very monsters they now feared. He had believed that was the end of it, that the flare had belonged to him. But now…
"Damn it," Ashfall whispered, the realization clawing its way into his chest. "That flare wasn't his. Someone else is still out there."
For once, Calethia said nothing. She only stared at the sky where the last traces of the signal faded, her silence confirming what Ashfall already knew.
The game was far from over.