The moment I opened my eyes, a sharp pain coursed through every part of my body. It felt like every muscle, every bone, every inch of my skin was crying out in protest. Even my eyes ached, as if they wanted to escape my head every time I tried to focus on the ceiling above me.
The tin roof of the hostel greeted me, familiar, rusty, and as miserable as ever.
"Great. And here I thought I'd be more disappointed," I murmured, genuinely surprised by the unexpected gratitude I felt for having a place to rest, even if it was a dump.
I turned my head with some effort. There she was—Aria, sleeping on the couch. Her once-pristine robe was riddled with burns, and underneath, bandages covered her pale porcelain-like skin. The dark stains of blood on the fabric were a grim reminder of how close we had come to not surviving.
"I'm sorry, Aria…" I whispered, letting the guilt inside me spill out like a river. I didn't want to wake her. She didn't need to hear my pathetic apology.
With great effort, I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, a makeshift space still under construction. Standing in front of the mirror, the reflection staring back at me left me speechless. My chest was wrapped in a bloodstained bandage, now dried and dark. My face bore fresh wounds and old scars, remnants of a life that had never been kind.
"At least I look rugged," I muttered with a bitter smile.
The childish thought faded quickly. There was nothing heroic about my appearance. Every scar was a mark of how little I had accomplished. Every painful breath reminded me of how much I had failed.
I dressed slowly, feeling every tug of my sore muscles. I needed to walk, to think. Maybe some fresh air could clear the storm raging in my mind.
The town was nearly deserted. The streets, once lively, now stood empty. The few residents who had escaped Lira's mind control had likely fled, leaving their homes abandoned. The oppressive silence hung heavy in the air, and each step I took echoed on the pavement, amplifying my thoughts.
Memories of the fight with Lira slipped away like smoke. She had toyed with my mind, snapping the fragile leash that kept Laplace under control. She had tried to use him as a weapon, just like everyone else who had learned my secret. But this time, the weapon had turned on her.
Yet my thoughts weren't focused on Lira. They were on Vorax.
He knew about Laplace. He had used Lira to set him free. But why? The question circled my mind, each possible answer more terrifying than the last. Vorax wasn't just a threat—he was a strategist.
If there was one thing that defined me, it was my ability to gamble when the odds were against me. I had decided to seek him out, to face whatever I needed to. Maybe I could use Laplace as bait, a tempting carrot for someone like Vorax.
And all for one reason: Noah's Ark.
The recent hallucinations of my little brother Nox, brought on by my battle with Aria, had ignited a fire I couldn't ignore. If the mythical ship could carry me to hell and back, I would do whatever it took to recover his soul. There was no other choice.
My thoughts came to a halt as I reached my destination: the grimy bar at the edge of town.
The broken windows and rusted sign were a testament to its decay.
"Aria doesn't need to see this," I muttered to myself.
I pushed open the door, the creak of the hinges blending with the stench of cheap alcohol and stale tobacco.
Inside, the bartender glanced at me with the same mix of distrust and resignation he always had. But this time, I wasn't here for a drink. This time, I wanted vengeance.