The tunnel was breathing.The walls sweated a cold that sank into the bones, and every step Aisha and Rasen took echoed like a phantom heartbeat. The hospital's light was gone—swallowed by a darkness that felt wrong, almost sentient.
"Rasen…"Aisha tightened her grip on his hand, stopping. Her voice echoed, multiplied, as if the tunnel itself repeated her fear.
He felt the weight of her gaze before he turned.The shadows twisted at the edges of his vision, dancing to a whisper that came from nowhere.The locket under his shirt vibrated—growing hotter, until it scorched.
"This isn't just a tunnel," Rasen murmured, running his fingers along the wall.The stone gave way under his touch, liquefying—gelatinous—then turned solid again.
Aisha stepped back.Where her back had brushed the wall, an imprint remained: the silhouette of broken wings.
A crash tore them apart.The tunnel stretched, its walls pulsing like the insides of a beast.Rasen screamed her name, but the sound shattered into a thousand pieces. When space finally stopped pulsing—he was alone.
The figure appeared from nothing:Tall as a cathedral pillar, violet eyes glowing beneath a black turban.Steven smelled of incense and gunpowder—a scent that made Rasen's eyes water.
"How curious," Steven said, inspecting the locket now hanging over Rasen's chest."Luciano Kerens marking his pups."
Rasen tried to fight back—but his limbs betrayed him.The hospital pliers fell from his pocket with a pathetic clink.
"If I killed you now," Steven said, crushing the tool beneath his boot, "I'd lose a very entertaining pawn."
He tossed a towel at Rasen's feet."Wash off your fear. We'll talk after."
The freezing water revealed every injury: bruised ribs, torn knuckles, scars he didn't remember earning.Rasen scrubbed his skin until it bled—But the scent of Aisha's bergamot clung stubbornly to his hands.
In the next room, Steven waited.Sanathiel's sword rested across Aisha's neck, humming with ancient hunger.
"Train. Break your limits. Or I break hers."Steven carved a crimson bead into her skin.
Rasen bit his tongue to silence the scream.The taste of iron would follow him into every blow—against punching bags, against midnight walls, against himself.
Aisha counted the cracks in the ceiling of her cell.Three hundred forty-seven.One for every minute Rasen had spent fighting shadows that screamed in his own voice.
She found him one night, kneeling beside her bed like a penitent sinner.The bandages around his hands had stained the sheets rusty red.
"I'm doing this for you," he whispered, pressing his forehead to her knee.
She buried her fingers in his hair, feeling the heat of the locket burning between them.In her mind—A flash of a vision:Rasen kneeling before Luciano, accepting a dagger marked with the symbol: S.S.V.
"Stop lying to me," she pleaded, tracing the outline of his cracked lips."Or one day, I won't recognize the man who comes back."
He caught her hand, sealing her words with a kiss that tasted like goodbye.