The wind was colder the higher they climbed.
It bit through the cloak at Lucas's back, tugged at the ragged edges of his sleeves, and carried with it the faint scent of stone and something older—dust, time, maybe even death.
He walked in silence, every step scraping over uneven rock.
The Deathfang Carapace was still wrapped around his body, its dark plates clicking faintly with each movement. The armor had protected him through more than one fight now—but it was beginning to show it.
Cracks ran along the chest piece.
The left shoulder was dented.
Scratches crossed the surface like old scars, and in some spots, the matte-black sheen had chipped away entirely, exposing the pale metal beneath.
Lucas rolled his shoulder and grimaced.
'Feels like it could fall apart any second.'
The weight didn't bother him.
It was the reminder—that even protection had limits. Even tools designed to keep you alive eventually broke.
Just like people.
Lyss walked ahead, as usual. Her stride was steady, calm, like she didn't feel the strain at all.
Lucas didn't mind being behind.
It gave him time to think.
Time to breathe.
Time to notice the subtle creaks and groans of his armor as it struggled to hold together.
'Still better than nothing.'
He tightened the straps on his side, muttered a curse under his breath, and kept walking.
They stopped under a narrow stone overhang, just wide enough to keep the rain off their heads. The wind howled past the edge of the ledge, echoing through the jagged pass like a distant cry.
Lyss sat down, pulling her flask from her belt and taking a measured sip.
Lucas remained standing, his back against the rock, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes drifted over the horizon—nothing but mist and cliff faces stretching endlessly in every direction.
He glanced at her.
She didn't look tired. She never did.
That somehow made it worse.
"Hey," he said suddenly, voice rough from the dry air. "Doesn't your family wonder where the hell you are?"
Lyss didn't answer right away.
She recapped her flask, set it down beside her, and leaned back against the cold stone.
Her gaze never met his.
"They don't care."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
A small shrug. "They have more important things to do."
'Cold. Direct. Just like always.'
She didn't elaborate. No sigh. No bitterness. Just fact.
Lucas let the silence stretch for a few seconds.
Then he pushed off the wall and sat across from her, his armor creaking as he moved.
'What kind of family doesn't care their daughter's missing for days?'
He didn't ask again.
Because part of him already knew the answer.
The wind outside their little shelter picked up, whistling low and sharp like a blade dragged across stone.
Lucas stared at the ground between them.
Lyss had pulled her knees to her chest, arms loosely wrapped around them. Her eyes were half-lidded, fixed somewhere in the distance—or nowhere at all.
She clearly had no intention of saying anything else.
Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced loosely together.
'They don't care, huh…'
'Yeah. I know what that feels like.'
He didn't say it out loud.
Didn't offer sympathy.
Didn't pretend to understand her pain.
But something inside him twisted slightly.
'I'm an asshole, sure. But I've got standards. I've been there too.'
'Left alone. Forgotten. Disposable.'
He let out a slow breath through his nose, then leaned back against the rock, staring up at the jagged ceiling above them.
'You learn to stop expecting anything from anyone. That's what keeps you alive.'
The silence between them wasn't warm.
But it wasn't cold either.
It just was.
Neither of them broke it for a long time.
Eventually, Lyss stood.
Lucas followed.
They had a mountain to climb.
The path narrowed again.
Lucas followed a few steps behind Lyss, his boots grinding over black gravel and slick ridges. The mountain's slope was no longer just steep—it was erratic, broken into jagged outcroppings that jutted like the ribs of some long-dead beast.
Each step demanded attention.
Each breath tasted like ash and iron.
The air had grown thinner. Not enough to choke—but enough to make his legs ache faster, his heart pound harder.
His armor didn't help.
The Deathfang Carapace creaked with every movement. A web of thin fractures ran along the right vambrace, and the chest piece had a dent that rubbed against his ribs with every breath.
'This thing's falling apart.'
But he didn't dismiss it.
Not yet.
'I'd rather it break while saving my life than vanish early.'
Ahead, Lyss moved with her usual grace—light on her feet, even when the ground offered no solid footing. She jumped a short gap in the rock without hesitation, landing silently.
Lucas followed, barely clearing it.
He stumbled.
Caught himself.
Kept going.
Hours passed—maybe.
Time felt elastic up here, stretched thin by fatigue and silence.
'There's no day. No night. Just more mountain.'
They passed what looked like the remains of an old campsite—a few cracked stones arranged in a ring, long since grown over with strange black moss. Whoever made it was long gone.
Or long dead.
Neither of them stopped.
There was no reason to.
They paused again under a slanted ledge, the only cover they'd seen in over an hour.
Lucas dropped his pack and sat with a heavy exhale. His legs were burning, and his shoulders felt like they were being held together by spite alone. The Deathfang Carapace groaned faintly as he leaned forward, its cracks deepening.
He didn't care.
He pulled out a strip of cooked meat from their stash and bit into it, chewing slowly.
Lyss didn't sit. She stood nearby, eyes scanning the horizon with that quiet, focused intensity she always had. After a moment, she pulled her own rations and ate standing, barely moving.
Lucas swallowed, then glanced at her.
"Still think your family doesn't give a shit?"
Lyss didn't answer.
Didn't even look at him.
Lucas let out a dry laugh. "Right. Dumb question."
She finally glanced his way, then looked back out over the stone and fog.
"…You talk more when you're tired."
He smirked faintly. "Takes effort to be an asshole, you know."
She didn't smile. But she didn't walk away, either.
They ate in silence after that—just chewing and breathing.
The quiet between them wasn't filled with tension anymore. It just existed. Worn and tired like the armor he wore and the path they walked.
They didn't say anything else.
Didn't need to.
Not right now.
The sun never rose on this mountain.
Not that Lucas expected it to anymore.
But something in the air shifted as the hours crawled by. The rain had stopped. The mist, though ever-present, hung lower now—thinner, like it was tired too.
They found a narrow ledge off the main path. Jagged rock walls on both sides, a small hollow under an overhang just wide enough for two to sit. No wind. No water dripping overhead. No signs of predators nearby.
Good enough.
Lucas dropped his things and slid down against the wall, exhaling deeply.
His armor felt heavier now. Not from fatigue—he was used to that—but from the damage. From the weight of every step they'd taken. It had held up longer than it should have, and he knew it wouldn't last much longer.
Across from him, Lyss was quiet. She didn't even sit, just stood near the edge, looking down at the endless drop beyond.
Lucas rested his head against the stone.
'What the hell am I even doing here.'
He closed his eyes for a moment.
He wasn't asleep.
Not really.
Just... still.
A strange stillness settled between them. Not friendship. Not trust. Just mutual understanding—wordless, fragile, but real.
Two people too tired to lie.
Two souls bound, for now, by survival.
That would have to be enough.