They kept running until the sound of that eerie laughter faded into the distance, until it was nothing but an echo carried on the cold air. Only then did they slow down, their breathing heavy, their steps crunching against snow as they moved side by side. The silence between them was not empty; it was filled with the weight of what had just happened, and with the exhaustion of two people who had barely escaped the jaws of something far worse than death.
Calethia was the first to speak, though her voice was unsteady. "I never told you how it started," she said, her eyes fixed forward, as if the very memory was something she did not dare look at directly. "When he took me… he pulled me through walls, like they weren't even real. I couldn't fight him. Every time I tried to scream or breathe, he just squeezed tighter, cut off the air until I blacked out."
Ashfall glanced at her without slowing his pace, one hand tightening around the hilt of his knife. As they walked, he killed off the occasional shambling Minor Mythborne that staggered too close, each strike efficient, almost casual. "And then you woke up in that place," he muttered.
She nodded slowly. "Cold ice against my skin. My wrists tied and my weapons gone. I was trapped on that chair. And then he forced me… forced me to look at the Stars of Madness." Her voice cracked, but she forced herself onward. "I saw things from my past. Things I had buried so deep that I thought they'd never crawl back." She looked down, as if ashamed. "He wanted me broken. He wanted me to shatter from the inside."
Ashfall said nothing for a moment. He understood well enough. The stars did not just whisper; they tore pieces of you away and fed them back as monsters. He had heard of it before. Finally he said, with a dry edge in his tone, "Sounds like he almost succeeded."
Calethia glanced at him, maybe expecting sarcasm, but what she saw instead was something different; something close to honesty hidden beneath the roughness. She slowed for a moment, then whispered, "Thank you... for pulling me out of there. For not leaving me to that fate." Her words came out clumsy, as if she wasn't used to gratitude, but Ashfall felt the weight behind them. It wasn't empty politeness. It was genuine.
He didn't answer right away. That gratitude made him uncomfortable and tied him down. It demanded something in return. So instead of saying anything, he kept walking, knife in hand, eyes always scanning, while his thoughts were heavy. In the end, he only muttered, almost too quietly for her to hear, "Don't thank me too much. I didn't do it for you."
They walked on until they reached a wide, ruined intersection, where the cracked roads split off in four directions. Buildings leaned precariously on all sides, some collapsed entirely, some standing like broken teeth against the pale sky. The place felt like more than just a physical crossroads. It felt like a decision, a line between past and future, between survival and something else.
Ashfall stopped at the center, boots crunching against shards of glass. He looked down each road in turn. Ahead lay the long path toward the distant metropolis, where there might be shelter, food, maybe even answers, but nothing guaranteed. Behind them lay the chaos they had barely escaped, and with it the fused Core Mythbornes, whose regeneration and relentless persistence had haunted his thoughts since the moment they first appeared. If they had merged into one, they would not simply be Core anymore. They would be Major. And Majors were the kind of monsters people whispered could rule entire worlds alone.
He clenched his jaw, staring down the side streets, considering another option. They could stay here, in this broken suburb, scavenging from the ruins. But he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. They had only found one house with a roof intact enough to give cover, and even that was rotting. Food was scarce, and every shadow hid something waiting to devour them. No, staying here meant cruel death. And he had no patience for that.
Calethia stood beside him, watching his silence stretch out. "You're weighing it all, aren't you?" she asked softly.
He smirked faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's all life is here. Weighing which way kills you slower." He turned his gaze back toward the faint silhouette of the metropolis, its towers like broken spines against the horizon. "I'm done playing in ruins. The city might be worse, but at least it's forward. If there's a chance at more than scraps, it's there."
Calethia hesitated, biting her lip. "I… I was thinking. About the supermarket and about him. About that factory you mentioned. I want to see them again... I want to know why... why he dragged me there. Why he forced me to look at the stars. There has to be more to it."
Ashfall felt the sharp twist of annoyance in his chest. He had expected this. People always wanted to chase ghosts, even when survival screamed otherwise. He shook his head, his voice flat. "Then this is where we split ways. You dig through ruins and haunt yourself with questions, I'll keep moving."
For a moment, he thought that would be the end of it. That she would nod, say goodbye, and walk her own path. And maybe, in some dark corner of his mind, he almost wanted it that way. He didn't need company. Company meant distraction, vulnerability, and risk.
But she looked at him, and there was something stubborn in her eyes. "I should. I really should. But…" She trailed off, the word hanging between them like a fragile thread. Then she took a slow breath and said, "But I'll follow you. For now. You pulled me back from the edge. I'm not ready to walk away from that."
Ashfall studied her in silence. He saw the hesitation, the fear, but also the flicker of trust. It was small, fragile, but there. He didn't ask for it, didn't want it, but it was there all the same. Finally he turned away, muttering under his breath, "Do what you want. Just don't slow me down."
They stood there at the great crossroads, the ruins stretching out in every direction, the wind carrying with it the whispers of madness from distant stars. Ahead lay the metropolis, uncertain and dangerous, but full of possibility. Behind lay monsters that should not exist, monsters that might already have become something greater, something that would haunt the world until it bent to their will. And here, at this broken intersection, two survivors chose to move forward together, even if neither would admit how much that choice meant.
Without another word, Ashfall adjusted his grip on the knife, started walking toward the horizon, and Calethia fell into step beside him. The crossroads faded behind them, but its weight remained, lingering in the silence between them as they moved into the unknown.