Arielle sat between Zeke and Lira, her elbows resting on her knees, hands loosely clasped.
The reunion had cald from its emotional high, but the air still carried that strange tension—the kind that lingered after many years apart, after bonds had been stretched but never quite broken. Just paused or better still... forgotten.
They had spoken for over an hour now, swapping fragnts of mory, nas of those lost, theories on what had happened to others. So had vanished.
Others had died. So had beco ghosts even while alive, never resurfacing, never speaking again. So had also tried to break away from the Traversers like they had done but weren't quite lucky. They'd either been killed off or worse, they were being tortured even until this day.
Zeke leaned back in the wooden chair he'd now taken for himself, arms folded, with his expression looking more relaxed than before. Damien wasn't in the room after all. "It still doesn't feel real. You, alive. Leading so quiet second life in Westmont."
"I wouldn't call it quiet," Arielle muttered.
Lira chuckled. "You always were terrible at staying out of trouble. And even when you managed to, you'd put yourself in the plsce of another."
Arielle gave a faint smile. "Old habits."
Zeke nodded. "We've seen things, since we left. Heard rumors. Whispers about demons growing stronger and appearing more often. Camps going silent. Border towns falling in ways no one talks about."
"We've seen the sa," Arielle said. "Too many coincidences. Too many dead ends."
A brief silence fell.
That was when the door opened.
Damien stepped in first, his coat barely disturbed from the cold air outside while Luton remained as a ball of sli resting on his head like a crown of red transparent liquid. Lyone trailed after him, his grin wide, his steps bouncing with unchecked excitent.
Cerbe followed.
Still in human form.
Still terrifying.
He closed the door behind him and remained by it—arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly under heavy brows. He said nothing, did nothing, but his presence filled the room with an oppressive weight. A predator among sheep.
Zeke shifted in his seat imdiately. His spine stiffened. Damien was back and he was imdiately uncomfortable again.
Lira, across from him, tensed just enough to be noticed. Neither said anything but both felt it.
Damien didn't offer introductions, simply standing, his back slightly resting on the door he'd just closed shut.
Arielle stood. "Lyone, et Zeke and Lira. My old… friends."
Lyone's eyes widened. "Oh! You're the ones—"
He paused, clearly catching the mood. Then, slowly, he raised a hand. "Hi."
Zeke nodded. Lira gave a polite wave.
Cerbe's silence hung over them all like fog.
Lyone looked up at Damien, then back at Arielle. "Sooo, we may have done sothing slightly insane tonight."
Damien sighed, already anticipating the next part.
Lyone launched into his story like a fired arrow.
"First, we went out for a walk. You know, not a big deal. But then we stumbled on this underground fight ring—well, not exactly underground, it was out in the open, but you know what I an—and then Damien—this guy right here—just decides to enter the brawl. And wins. Then loses. Then wins again. Then wins again! It was all part of a strategy, you see."
Arielle blinked. "Wait, you fought in the brawling pit?"
Damien adjusted his gloves. "Briefly."
"Briefly?!" Lyone nearly shouted. "He hustled the entire courtyard!"
He turned to Zeke and Lira now, suddenly animated. "I an it—there were odds and coins and this guy in a bronze mask, and Damien was just toying with him. Then there was Cerbe here,"—he thumbed toward the summoned figure by the door—"who was terrifying enough to scare off everyone trying to look at sideways."
Cerbe didn't react.
Not even a blink.
Zeke coughed slightly. "He's, uh… still terrifying."
"Yeah, he doesn't get called out much so it's obvious why he doesn't want to leave in a hurry," Lyone said casually. "Apparently Damien likes to keep him away for the peace his absence brings."
"Enough," Damien said flatly.
Lyone crossed his arms. "Fine, fine—but we did make a fortune."
Arielle's eyes narrowed. "How much?"
Damien didn't answer.
Lyone nudged him. "Co on, show them."
"No."
"But—"
"I said no."
Lyone looked wounded. "You're no fun."
Zeke, still unnerved by Cerbe's looming silence, shifted again. "How… how much is a fortune, exactly?"
"Doesn't matter," Damien said. "It's gone."
Arielle raised an eyebrow. "Gone?"
"Stored," he clarified. "Safely."
Lyone huffed. "He won't even let count it twice."
"You'll live."
Arielle gave a soft snort, folding her arms. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. You always did prefer efficiency over celebration. Even back at Westmont after the battles."
Damien's eyes flicked to her. "And you always preferred risk over caution."
They stared at each other for a second too long.
Zeke cleared his throat. "A lot of tension in here."
Lyone nodded. "Like really. Really thick."
Damien exhaled and turned his gaze away.
Arielle stepped forward. "Damien, I need to speak with you. Alone."
He gave a slight nod. "Alright."
She motioned toward the hall. "Just for a mont."
Damien followed her, casting a final glance toward Cerbe—who, without command, remained rooted to the spot, still glaring at Zeke and Lira with an ancient, wordless pressure that kept their shoulders high and spines straight.
Lyone chuckled softly to himself. "Don't worry. He only bites if you lie."
They stepped into the hallway just outside the room, the door shutting behind them with a dull click. The corridor was barely brightened by the sconce halfway down, the silence between them sharper than any noise.
Arielle didn't speak at first.
She stared down the hall for a long mont before turning to him fully.
"There's sothing I need to do," she said quietly.
Damien's face didn't move, but his focus intensified.
"And it's not sothing I can do with anyone else."
"What is it?"
She looked away, for just a mont.
Then back again.
"I'll explain soon. But for now… just know that it's important."
A beat passed. "I want you to trust ."
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