The fire flickered low, its light dancing in the dim cave. Past its glow, the boy and the snake rested.
Nyssa watched them in silence
The boy had saved her, but trust was another matter. His actions told her she was of no interest to him—just another body in his wake. Yet, he had protected her, and she had woken up in shelter rather than a grave.
The boy sat still, eyes closed, but she couldn't tell if he was truly asleep. If she blinked too long, she feared she would succumb to exhaustion, and her wariness refused to allow that.
Yet her limbs ached, her eyelids dragged lower with each breath, her mind slipping between wakefulness and sleep.
Perhaps she would be fine.
She lost the battle moments later.
* * *
Sunlight crept into the cave, chasing away the night. The fire had long since died, its remains reduced to charred wood and ash—Soot nestled in what was left.
Leon stood at the cave's entrance, stretching, his thoughts lingering on the girl.
His cloudy gaze swept over her sleeping form. She had Malrik's traits: black hair, pale skin, those dark eyes. Even with these clues, if not for his instincts, he would have doubted.
He had some suspicions though. 'How did she escape? Or survive even?'
They didn't talk much. After all, Leon was a Fenryn, and she was a Tipun tribesman. 'Will she try to keep it hidden?'
Leon turned toward the open sky, his cloudy eyes reflecting the blue skies. Exhaling as Soot began moving towards him, wrapped around his arm, he patted him while thinking, 'Malrik won't be the last assassin.'
'I think… I'll leave.' He thought of Serth, the gateway to the outside world.
But before he could leave, he heard movement behind him.
Nyssa emerged into the sunlight, her sluggish steps betraying the ache in her body. Her black eyes adjusted to the brightness, finding him waiting.
At first, she froze—his milky white eyes still unfeeling—until she relaxed.
She sat down with one knee up, her hands clasping it. "I thank you," she murmured. A pause, "Will you…" hesitation marred her face.
"... assist me on my path to Serth?" She asked.
Leon regarded her in silence.
Then, he nodded.
* * *
They moved northeast.
Nyssa led them, guiding Leon toward the great docks of Serth.
Although each nation had boundaries, they were never clearly established. Each map drew them differently. The lands outside of populated areas were dangerous.
It was the basis for the migration of Tipun. There was more than enough space for their people.
The land they traversed was sparse—rolling plains with scattered boulders.
The barren land stretched endlessly, its dry air clinging to their skin. Each step felt exposed, as if the absence of trees and mountains left them vulnerable to unseen eyes.
They had only been traveling a few hours before Nyssa faltered, exhaustion clear in her steps. "Apologies," she muttered, though there was no weight to the words.
Leon said nothing. She had too much on her mind to mean it.
"I will not show myself in any town," he finally stated.
She shook her head. "I cannot risk being seen. The docks of Finch are our destination."
They rested under the open sun, but their reprieve did not last.
Shadows flickered over them.
Leon's head tilted up. A flock of Amalgams circled above—a dozen avian creatures, their wingspans broad, talons gleaming like sickles. Their beaks were unnaturally flat and sharp.
'Burrow.' Leon whispered to Soot, rising to his feet.
Nyssa stepped forward, muttering words in her mother tongue.
Leon watched, unfamiliar syllables flowing from her lips. The moment they left her mouth, the first Amalgam collapsed, plummeting unnaturally fast, as if the sky had rejected it.
Then another. And another.
The final one hit the earth with a wet thud.
Blood seeped into the dirt, the air thick with the scent of ruptured organs and exposed entrails.
Nyssa gasped for breath, but she smiled.
Leon studied the aftermath. He was fascinated.
'Gravity.'
She was strong. Stronger than she had appeared when they first met.
Soot wasted no time, from the ground, he slithered over to the corpses, devouring indiscriminately.
Leon crouched beside one of the fresher kills, pulling a sharp rock free to carve. "Good job," he said without looking up.
Nyssa's smile lingered.
But Leon's thoughts were elsewhere.
He frowned, 'It is powerful. Could she have Integrated?'
Which led him to question further, 'I and the other students were able to manipulate the Laws without Integrating. Why?'
He thought back to Felix. The boy had worried about never Integrating, yet if the Laws could be wielded before then, why had he been concerned?
Something didn't add up.
'Or perhaps… he only wanted to Integrate early.' He concluded.
His cloudy eyes flicked to Nyssa. "How old are you?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "I have survived six Judgements."
Her answer puzzled him.
Noticing his frown, she continued, "Each Judgement takes place a year after the last. It took a while for us to understand how the other measures time, but our peoples have the same understanding of how long that i–"
She silenced herself, realizing too late that she implied her identity as a tribesman.
Leon nodded, 'Barely past six? That is...'
Leia and the rest were around the same age, but they couldn't compare with Nyssa's control.
'Not even if they would Integrate.'
Nyssa was confused at Leon's lack of reaction. 'Did he not realize? Or did he know from the start?'
Leon sat down, intrigued. "Judgement?"
She hesitated, then met his gaze.
"A day that determines one's fate."
* * *
The days blurred together.
They traveled under the vast sky. The storms didn't last long, the rainwater did not hurt her, the thunders didn't cause her ears to bleed, and there was no... Foul.
'It is far more calm here.' She didn't want what her father had done to affect the peace her people could experience.
Nyssa led, setting a steady pace despite the fatigue weighing on her limbs. Leon followed, his presence quiet yet constant, his cloudy eyes always scanning the horizon.
They spoke little.
Nyssa occasionally hummed an old tune, a habit she barely noticed. Leon never commented on it, only listening in silence. If the sound bothered him, he gave no sign.
Once, they encountered a group of scavengers picking through a wrecked caravan. Nyssa tensed, ready for conflict, but Leon simply turned away, avoiding them entirely. When she asked why, he only said, "No need."
That was how he handled most things. Unbothered. Detached.
And yet, he still traveled with her.
At night, Nyssa watched him as he sat with Soot curled around his arm, his mind distant. He had questions. She could feel them pressing against the silence. But he never asked.
And she? She had her own.
Leon was different.
She had seen strength before. But his was effortless. As if power was simply his to command, whether he wished for it or not. The way he moved, the way he thought—he was not bound by the same fears as others.
He did not seem to fear anything.
Perhaps that was why he unsettled her.
Still, they moved forward.
On the fourth morning, the dry plains began to shift. The land dipped into valleys, the air heavy with the scent of salt and industry. And then, past the last ridge—Finch.
The main docks of Serth.
The great dock-city spread out before them, its countless ships swaying in the harbor. Wooden piers jutted into the water, bustling with movement. Smoke curled from chimneys, and voices carried over the sea breeze.
Nyssa exhaled. She had made it.
Leon, beside her, remained unreadable.
But as he stared at the city, something dark flickered across his face. A moment later, it was gone.
Soot uncoiled from his arm, tasting the air with flicking tongue.
Nyssa turned to him. "This is where I must go," she said.
Leon didn't respond immediately. Then, he asked, "And after?"
She hesitated. "…I don't know."
Leon nodded. Then, without another word, he started walking down the slope.
Nyssa watched him for a moment, then followed.
The city gates loomed ahead.