The chase continued.
Erika's entire attention was nailed to the fleeting white back weaving through the crowd ahead.
Cole ran fast—his route sharp and tricky—sometimes squeezing through narrow gaps, sometimes circling around piles of clutter and debris.
Erika could only wring the last drops of strength from his starving, exhausted body, clinging to the chase with sheer will, not daring to relax for even a heartbeat.
Breathe.Breathe.In. Out.
The flow of people, the buildings, the sounds—they were still there, but everything felt stretched and blurred, reduced to swaying color blocks and distant background noise.
Even sparing a thought for why they were chasing felt like a luxury.
He had only one thought:
Follow the white.
The white figure ahead suddenly accelerated, took a sharp turn, burst free from the denser crowd, and darted into a quieter alley, flanked by even lower, more dilapidated houses.
Erika gritted his teeth and followed, stumbling as he plunged into the alley.
No mistake.
That familiar back was Cole's.
The Chase Ended
It ended behind Cole's slightly heaving, dust-stained white back.
Ahead was a narrow gap between two crooked mud-brick houses, cluttered with broken barrels and shattered roof tiles.
Erika braced his hands on his trembling thighs and bent over, mouth wide open, gasping greedily and painfully, like a fish hauled from water.
Sweat soaked his bangs.His vision swam, darkening at the edges.
He needed time—just seconds—to steady his breathing and heartbeat, teetering on collapse.
"Hey… Cole…" he forced out, broken and faint."You… believe…"
Before he could finish, a solid arm slid under his armpit, hauling him upright.
Cole.
His breathing was quick, but far steadier. His face even held a faint flush of excitement—like after a good warm-up.
"Your Highness," Cole said by his ear, breath still light from running, voice carrying his usual teasing tone."Our lodgings are here."
Lodgings?
Here?
Erika barely steadied himself and followed Cole's gaze toward the depths of the narrow gap between the houses.
Then—
He saw her.
The earlier crawling, disheveled figure stood there with her back to them, halted at the far end of the gap before a low, grime-covered wooden window.
She had stopped crawling.
Her body twisted into an awkward, contorted posture—pale, thin arms gripping the rough windowsill, back arched beneath ragged clothing, long tangled hair hanging loose.
She was trying to climb inside.
Clumsy.Persistent.Focused like an insect.
She showed no reaction to the two standing behind her.
Inside the window was darkness.
Cole kept supporting Erika, not moving forward. He simply watched the figure struggle and squirm at the sill, as if enjoying some strange entrance ritual.
Evening wind swept through the narrow alley, carrying chill and dust.
Erika's breathing slowly settled—but a deeper shiver crept up from his feet, a mix of absurdity and cold dread.
Their lodgings…
Were to be shared with that?
"Stay with that thing?" Erika blurted once he could speak, voice still trembling.
He glared at the now-empty window, only dirty scrape marks remaining.
His stomach churned.
"I'd rather sleep in the outer city."
At least the ruins' dead silence felt preferable to this living wrongness.
Cole didn't release him.
Instead, he began guiding Erika step by step toward the low window, toward where the figure—now half vanished into the darkness inside—had been.
"Spare me, Your Highness," Cole said, half coaxing, half resigned."We're travelers. We make do."
They stopped before the window.
Inside was pitch black—only a sliver of faint light from somewhere opposite barely outlining a rough interior and a deeper, tightly closed door further in.
The crawling figure was gone.
Only gray smears—like elbow scuffs—marked the frame.
"You first or me?" Cole asked casually, like asking who should go upstairs first.
Erika stared at the window, which looked like the mouth of some beast.
His throat bobbed.Nausea rose.
He didn't want to touch anything that thing had touched—let alone go first.
Cole shrugged.
"Fine. The boss goes first."
He planted his hands on the sill—movements practiced, disturbingly familiar—bent, swung his leg, and flipped inside with smooth efficiency.
Gone.
Only a faint puff of dust lingered.
Erika stood alone in the alley.
Cold evening wind brushed his neck.
Distant street noise seeped in, making the silence here oppressive.
Stay here?
Alone?
No.
He inhaled deeply, forcing down the nausea and pounding heart.
He copied Cole's move.
Left hand on the icy, grime-coated sill—goosebumps erupted instantly.
He awkwardly lifted his right leg, hooked it over the edge, and with all his core and left arm strength, clambered and tumbled inside.
His feet hit solid ground.
The first sensation was warmth.
A heavy, enclosing warmth—utterly unlike the cool evening air—carrying hints of dust and old wood mold, but nothing sharp or rotting.
His eyes adjusted.
The room was neater than expected.
Small. Like a storage room or abandoned servant's quarters.
Packed earth floor, fairly level.Rough plaster walls.Minimal clutter.
Only a few cloth-covered shapes piled in the corner, and a crooked wooden table propped up by a brick.
The air smelled stale—but not decayed.
Cole stood at the far end, back turned, facing a closed, dark-colored door, posture relaxed, as if listening or waiting.
Erika scanned the makeshift lodging—
Then froze.
In the corner near the window—
The crawling figure was there.
Curled against the wall.
Arms wrapped around bent knees.Head buried deep.Hair dull, tangled, cascading down to hide her face.
She was folded into a small, unmoving bundle—silent as a forgotten, dust-covered sack.
Only the faintest rhythmic tremor betrayed that something alive remained inside.
No hostility.No movement.No sound.
A stark contrast to the relentless, straight-line scuttling in the street earlier.
Erika stood rooted, left hand still gripping the cold window frame, eyes locked on that trembling shadow.
A warm, mold-scented room.Cole's back at the door.A silent, curled "thing" in the corner.
This was their lodging.
"Come on, Princess," Cole's muffled voice came from beyond the door."Not the time for prayers."
Erika tore his gaze away and moved forward.
He pushed the door.
The hinges gave a well-maintained creak.
What lay beyond made him pause.
The room inside was vast—even luxurious.
Opposite stood an enormous double door, heavy wood inlaid with intricate, dulled metalwork, nearly reaching the high ceiling.
This was clearly the proper entrance—not the low rear window they'd crawled through.
High ceilings.Worn but elegant dark carpets.Wood-paneled walls hung with large, dust-choked paintings.
A massive, unlit chandelier hung overhead.
Sparse furniture—but each piece solid, grand, worn with stubborn dignity, like a fallen noble refusing to bow.
The air was cooler, thicker with old dust, wood, books, and a whisper of long-faded incense.
Crackle. Crackle.
Cole crouched by a massive black stone fireplace.
A fire already burned—weak orange flames licking damp logs, hissing and popping, casting flickering light and long shadows.
"A bit damp," Cole said casually, prodding the fire."Maybe we'll break up some furniture later. Old wood burns hot enough."
Erika said nothing.
His gaze drifted.
On the far wall stretched an enormous mural, covering it entirely.
Age, dust, and dim light blurred its details.
At the center stood six humanoid silhouettes—poses varied, some holding objects, others spreading arms.
Faces, clothing, even gender were indistinct.
Behind them: a chaotic dark backdrop, dotted with faint gold flecks—stars, or symbols—flickering briefly in firelight before vanishing.
The mural radiated a silent, crushing weight.
Standing before it, Erika felt small.
Then reality returned.
His stomach twisted painfully.
Outside the stained-glass window, dusk deepened—white fading to rusted red.
Lights bloomed one by one in distant buildings.
Faint scents drifted in—oil sizzling, broth bubbling, bread baking.
His stomach betrayed him with a loud GURGLE, echoing pitifully through the grand room.
Cole chuckled softly, saying nothing.
Then—
Groooooan…
The sound came from behind the door.
Low. Hollow.
Not human.
Not a stomach.
From the storage room.
From her.
Erika stiffened.
Cold dread drowned the hunger.
Don't tell me… I'm its dinner.
Firelight flickered.
Outside, night swallowed Darenz whole.
Behind the door, the sound came again—slow.
Closer.