Azimuth's body trembled, her severed hand bloodless but raw. Her voice cut through the hollow, sharp and venomous:
[You shit.]
Jack flinched.
"That's for Rayen."
He stepped forward, anger and grief twisting her face. "How do you heal?"
Azimuth lifted her head, eyes rimmed in red. [Take the hand. Put it back.]
"Really?"
[Only you can heal me.]
Jack froze. She's bound to me. Hurt by me. And now… I'm the only one who can fix her.
He picked up the hand, and pressed it to her wrist. The compass flared. Red light stitched flesh to flesh, veins reknitting like molten thread. The smell of iron and heat filled the air.
"You good?"
Azimuth blinked, then sneered. [Look at Mister Good Guy. The one who ordered me to cut my own hand off.]
Jack's jaw tightened. "Stop complaining. You're fine now."
[Fine?] Her voice cracked. [You think this is fine?]
Jack looked away. I didn't mean to hurt her. I just needed to know. Needed to see if the compass obeyed. And it did. Too well.
If I can command her to bleed, to heal… then what else can I make her do?
"What more can this compass do?"
Azimuth's eyes narrowed, ember‑red. [You can order me to fight.]
Jack's stomach turned. So that's what I am now. A commander of souls. A master of pain.
Azimuth tilted her head, crimson dress whispering against the stone. [You want to know what the compass can do for you? Order me. Train me. That's how you learn.]
Jack's throat tightened. "Train you? Like a soldier?"
[Like a weapon. You speak, I obey. That is the law. But every command costs you.]
"Costs me what?"
[nightpulse. The compass feeds on you as much as it feeds on us.]
Jack clenched his fists. So every order drains me. Every use of power is a bargain. If I push too far, I'll burn myself hollow.
He raised his hand. "Fight."
Azimuth's body stiffened. Her eyes flared red, and the air rippled with heat. She moved with impossible speed, striking at the empty air, each blow cracking stone.
Jack staggered back, sweat slicking his skin. His stomach burned, the compass wound glowing faintly. God—it's pulling from me. Every strike she makes, it's my blood paying for it.
"Stop!"
She froze, chest heaving, eyes still burning. Then she smiled, cruel and weary. [See? You command, I fight. But the compass always takes its due. Train me more, and you'll learn the limits of your own flesh.]
Jack wiped his mouth, This isn't training—it's torture. For her. For me. But if I don't master it, Calder will kill me. And if I do master it… what will I become?
The sun bled out behind the mountains. Jack fought her until the stars came, until his body gave out. He collapsed in the dust, chest heaving, vision swimming.
Azimuth stood over him, crimson dress torn, her voice low and mocking. [So… what do you think of my sightless Mouse?]
Jack smiled weakly. "You're strong. But I defeated you before."
Her eyes narrowed. [Insolent bastard. You won by chance. You stumbled on that cursed compass—and you caught me by surprise.]
Jack forced himself upright. "Enough. We need to go. How do I… re‑summoning you?"
Just place your marked hand on my chest.]
Jack hesitated, then pressed his scarred palm against her.
[Yes.]
A shadow surged from his hand, swallowing her in a single swoop. She vanished into him, leaving only silence and the echo of her voice.
Jack staggered back. "Are you there, Hay?"
Her laughter curled inside his skull. [Oh, you are worried about me, Mouse.]
"Shut up. Stop joking."
The compass pulsed. Jack lifted from the ground, rising into the night. The sky stretched black and endless, the moon burning silver above him.
"Hey," he whispered.
[What, Mouse?]
"Can I win against this guy?"
[You afraid, Mouse?]
"A bit." His voice cracked. "Hey… you hear me?"
No answer. Only silence.
Jack flew higher, the city sprawling beneath him in a sea of lights. Towers gleamed like glass spears, streets glowed like veins of fire. For a moment, the horror fell away, and he let himself breathe.
This view… it's beautiful. Almost enough to forget what Im about to do.
Jack dropped into the abandoned freight yard, gravel crunching under his boots. Rusted trains loomed like carcasses in the moonlight, their windows black and hollow.
"Azura," he called. No answer.
Where is this guy?
A scream tore through the silence. Jack blurred forward, the air splitting around him.
One freight door hung ajar. From inside came a whisper, thin and broken: "Kill… kill me…"
Jack ripped the door wide.
Chains rattled. A woman and a boy were bound inside, IV lines burrowed into their flesh like parasitic vines. The boy looked twelve, maybe thirteen, eyes shut tight. The woman's eyes were open but hollow, her skin sagging as if life had been sucked from her.
God… what is this?
He stepped inside.
"Who are you?" the woman rasped, voice brittle, hope long gone.
Jack knelt beside her.
"Am I seeing this? Is this real?" she whispered.
"Yes. I'm going to help you."
He tore the chains apart with his strength. She collapsed into his arms, trembling.
"Help… help my son!"
"I will."
Jack laid her down and rushed to the boy, snapping his bonds. "Kid, can you hear me?"
No response. The boy sagged limp. Jack laid him beside his mother.
Her face crumpled, tears streaking her cheeks. "No… no, it can't be. He can't die."
Jack's voice cracked, fury spilling out. "Hey, you damn devil—respond to me! How can I save the kid? I order you to respond!"
Azura stirred, cold and patient. [What do you want?]
"Can I use the compass to heal him?"
[Yes. You did it before.]
Jack pressed his marked hand to the boy's bony chest. His palm flared green.
Agony ripped through him—his stomach burned, his back arched, his hand seared like fire. The smell of scorched iron filled his nose.
It's tearing me apart to give him life. My blood for his breath. My strength for his heart.
The boy's chest rose with a shallow gasp, the green glow fading from Jack's hand.
The mother's eyes widened. "He's breathing…"
Jack staggered back, clutching his stomach. The compass burned hotter, climbing up his spine, into his skull.
Something's wrong. It's not stopping.
He screamed as fire lanced through his head. His vision blurred, one eye flooding with light.
"Stop—stop!" He clawed at his face, but the compass pulsed, merciless.
The mother clutched her son, sobbing, unaware of Jack's agony.
She lurched forward, arms trembling, and pulled her son against her chest. Her fingers dug into his thin shoulders as if afraid he might vanish again.
Jack fell to his knees. His left eye seared white, then black. He felt it tear away—not with hands, but with hunger.
Blood ran hot down his cheek. He pressed his palm to the ruined socket, gasping.
My eye… it took my eye. To heal him, it took my eye.
The woman rocked her son, tears spilling down her hollow cheeks. "My boy… my boy…" Her voice cracked, half‑scream, half‑prayer.
The boy stirred, whispering weakly, "Mom…"
Her sob broke into laughter, raw and jagged. She pressed her face into his hair, breathing him in as though she could anchor him to the world by sheer will. "You're alive. You're alive."
Jack leaned against the freight wall, half‑blind, half‑broken. The world swam in shadow, sweat dripping. I saved him.
The mother clutched her son tighter, whispering over and over: "Never again. Never again."
The freight roof shrieked as it tore open, metal screaming against the night.
Jack looked up with his one good eye, the other dripping hot blood down his cheek. His vision swam, half the world swallowed in shadow.
The mother gasped, clutching her son tighter. "It… it can't be."
Moonlight spilled through the jagged hole, silver slicing the dark.
A figure crouched above them—gas mask gleaming, eyes black and bottomless, fingernails long and hooked like talons.
He tilted his head, voice muffled and sing‑song through the mask. "Looky, looky… what do we have here?"
Jack's stomach clenched. Not just a man. A predator. And he's been waiting for me.
The compass pulsed in his gut, hot and restless, as if it recognized the intruder. His ruined eye throbbed, blood dripping into his mouth, metallic and bitter.
I can barely stand. And now this thing drops from the sky like a nightmare.