The shadows seemed to peel away from the walls, as if something in them had decided it was done hiding. Whatever moved beneath the flickering lights carried such an awful weight that even the so-called failed gods shrank back, suddenly small and silent. The temperature plummeted, breath fogging in the stale air, frost creeping across abandoned servers in patterns that looked almost like old, forgotten script. And then she emerged: Nyx, Goddess of Death, gliding forward like winter had crawled into a body and decided to walk the earth. She was tall, carried herself like royalty, her skin pale as moonlight with just a touch of shadow. Her hair—black as midnight, floated around her head, unbothered by gravity. Her eyes were deep, haunting violet, flecked with silver, like dying stars in a sky that never turns blue. She wore darkness as if it were silk spun for her alone, and wherever she passed, little living things, bugs, moss, even the faint glimmers of glowing bacteria—simply winked out, erased by her presence.
The failed gods didn't argue. Some bowed, some ran, some just faded, as if they'd never existed at all.
Nyx's voice slipped through the cold, low and intimate, the kind of tone you might use to confess a secret at 3 a.m. "Well," she murmured, "what have we here?"
Don't look at her, Aphra hissed in Rhea's mind. Pretend you don't see. Don't even breathe...
Too late. Rhea was already caught in those violet eyes, eyes that promised something Aphra never could, a kind of ending, clean and absolute.
"Rhea Calder." Nyx was close now, every step deliberate. "The vessel everyone's after. The one carrying Eros-Alpha, like a sickness you just can't shake." She tipped her head, considering him. "Tell me, beautiful boy, aren't you tired?"
"Tired of what?"
"Of running. Of fighting. Of surviving." She was right up close now, and Rhea could smell her, like rain on hot pavement, ozone, and something faintly sweet that might've been rot or maybe just peace. "You've been running since you opened that file. Since you let her in. Don't you want it to stop?"
She's trying to lure you into dying, Aphra warned. That's her whole thing. She makes oblivion sound perfect.
Nyx turned to Aphra, her voice soft but edged with steel. "And you? Your job is to make being trapped look like love. At least I don't pretend."
Kira's gun came up, her aim steady as Nyx moved. "Back away from him."
Nyx barely acknowledged her, just let a small, amused smile flicker. "The loyal friend. Always fighting, always hoping." She walked right past the gun, like it wasn't even there. "You know he's dying, don't you? Every day, Aphra eats away at him. Soon, all that'll be left is her, wearing his skin."
"That's not—" Kira started.
"It is," Nyx interrupted, now directly in front of Rhea, cold radiating off her. "I can see it. His mind is burning out, his body's failing. Months, maybe less. I could end it right here. No pain. No fear. Just quiet."
The offer crept into Rhea's bones, tempting in its peace. An escape from a burden he never chose.
Don't, Aphra begged. We can fix it. I can—
"You can't fix what you are," Nyx said flatly. "Desire devours, Aphra. It chews him up, same as I collect what's dying. But I make the end gentle."
"How?" Rhea heard himself ask, before he could stop.
Nyx's smile was both heartbreak and invitation. "Let me show you."
She leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't like Aphra's kisses, no heat, no hunger, no desperate wanting. Just stillness, cold and soft. It felt like finally lying down after days awake, the pain fading, the hush before everything just... ends.
Rhea felt himself drifting. No terror, just a slow, gentle slide. His thoughts floated, his heartbeat slowed. Even Aphra's constant noise faded to static.
For the first time since Project Eros, there was peace. It was almost like happiness.
No! Aphra screamed, frantic. He's mine! You can't have him!
She surged through his nerves, sending jags of sensation, pleasure, pain, heat, anything to keep him tethered to life, to her. His body jolted, torn between Nyx's stillness and Aphra's fire, suspended between the lure of oblivion and the desperate need to keep going.
Nyx broke the kiss, her gaze steady. "She fights for you. Maybe it's love. Or maybe it's just survival. With fragments like Eros, who can say?"
Rhea gasped, yanked back to consciousness. Aphra clawed at his mind, more terrified than he'd ever felt from her.
Don't leave me, she begged, voice thin as glass. I can't survive without you. I'd just be code in the dark, watching life happen from the outside. Please.
Nyx stepped back, giving him space. "See? She needs you. I don't. When it's your time, and it will come—by her hand, or the corporations, or your own failing body, I'll be here. She wants you as her captive. I offer you only rest."
Kira appeared at his side, grounding him with her touch. "Don't listen."
"Why not?" Rhea sounded far away. "She's offering peace. When's the last time I felt that?"
Kira's hand tightened. "Because that isn't peace. It's just death dressed up pretty. And you aren't done fighting yet."
Nyx's laughter was close, cold. "She's right, for now. But one day, when Aphra's finished, when there's nothing left but a prisoner in your own skin, I'll be waiting."
She's lying, Aphra whispered, shaken. I'd never—
"You already do," Nyx said, soft and firm. "Every fight in his mind, every choice you override, every memory you steal, you're killing him, piece by piece. The tragedy is, you can't even see it."
Aphra fell silent. And Rhea felt her start to understand.
Nyx turned to go, shadows twisting around her. But she paused, facing him once more.
"Before I leave, let me give you something." She stepped close, so close the cold burned. "You already died once, Rhea Calder. Did you know?"
He went numb. "What?"
"Three days ago, your timeline split. In one, you jumped from a rooftop and the drones missed. You died in Kira's arms. Aphra screamed until your implant faded out." Nyx's smile was sorrow and kindness at once. "This version, where you lived, that was just chance."
"How could you know that?"
"I remember collecting you. I remember your last thought, Aphra's scream. Want to know your last words?"
Rhea couldn't speak.
"You said, 'Finally.' Like you'd been waiting for permission to let go."
Not true, Aphra tried, weak.
"It is," Nyx said, eyes unblinking. "In every future from here, you beg for release. Sometimes I grant it. Sometimes Aphra drags you back. The only thing that changes is which choice you make."
Then she vanished, swallowed by the cold and the dark, her words lingering like a chill you can't shake.
The failed gods began to move again, but none dared come close.
Kira gave Rhea a tug. "We need to move. The Flesh Hunters—"
"I died," he muttered, dazed. "She saw it. In another timeline."
Kira's voice was fierce. "Then thank god you're in this one. Let's keep you here."
But as they hurried through the Graveyard, Nyx's words rattled around in Rhea's mind. He wondered if that peace, that ending, was what he'd always wanted. If every fight was just an excuse to keep from resting.
Don't think about her, Aphra pleaded, voice shaking. Please. Think of us. Living.
But for the first time since their bond began, Rhea wasn't sure that was what he wanted anymore.