Dawn found us on the cliff's edge. Broken, breathing. A cough tore through my chest—fire through cracked ribs. "One hour..." The words were gravel in my raw throat. "To catch our breath..."

  Lena shifted beside me, all coiled energy, restless. The Mouth still yawned below, waiting with terrible patience.

  "And next time—" I murmured, too drained for bite, "NO FLAMES! You barbaric Pyraei girl!" The reproach was automatic. She knew I preferred a sharper, more subtle cut. Not burning everything down.

  A slow, calm sigh escaped. My fingers found Hebe's pouch, traced the dried leaves and stems.

  Come on, what's left? Althaea. Marsh-mallow. The key catalyst for the Healing Whisper. Without it, I was just a man with a spear. Four sprigs left. Four chances to mend our broken bodies.

  Gods. That was barely enough for another night.

  Lena grunted beside me, hollow with exhaustion. "You told me to burn it! Said we needed to make them think twice about climbing!"

  "One hour, huh?" Her head leaned back against mine, the weight familiar, grounding. "Fine. You're on watch first."

  Her warmth was a small comfort against the chill. I closed my eyes, let the exhaustion pull me under.

  The hour of sleep was shallow, fitful. I stood—every muscle protested. But it wasn't my body that froze me solid.

  My senses screamed a single, primal command: RUN!

  The air was wrong. The crisp, clean salt had soured into ozone and fresh-turned grave dirt. My gaze dragged against its will, scanning the beach below. My blood turned to ice.

  There. At the tide line. Two figures, small, woven from solid humming shadow. No crackling static, just standing. Chuckling—a low wet sound like stones grinding in a hollow gourd. Their smooth featureless heads tilted up, staring at me.

  "Oh... no..."

  A horrified whisper stole all the warmth from the new day.

  The name surfaced from panic, a cold heavy stone from Hebe's scrolls. Lemures Immaturi. Shades. Warriors of Lethe. They didn't just kill—they drained you. Strength, will, life itself, sucked out until you were a hollow shell.

  The horror stories whispered the final truth: if one consumed you, you were forgotten by everyone. As if you had never drawn a single breath. True offspring of Lethe, the Primordial of Forgetfulness.

  Two of them. Just great.

  My hand clenched on my spear, white-knuckled. My shield slid free with a dull scrape.

  So. Phase Two. Just as Dia warned.

  I glanced back. Lena was still sleeping hard, her Promethean Flame extinguished. If only she'd listen... that stubborn, silly girl.

  "Alright then." I muttered to the empty sky, advancing down the slope. "Let's see what you've got."

  By all the gods! Why Lethe? I'd take a minotaur's gore over this soul-sickness. At least a gash you can stitch shut.

  -?-

  They were faster. So much faster.

  The two shadows glided forward, flanking me on the sand. The first lashed out—a limb of pure darkness phasing through my guard. Ice-water weakness flooded my veins. Terrifying numbness.

  My strength was draining. The second blow landed as I reeled the cumulative drain was a chain around my soul. Wounded. Weak. Terrifyingly weak.

  "Heavy..." I looked at my trembling hand. "They're taking it. My strength..."

  I can't fight head-on. Not like this.

  A desperate rush, wide sweeping spear arc to break their formation. The spear passed through the lead Lemur like thick cold fog—no resistance, no impact. Just a chilling void. Useless. My attacks were useless!

  I immediately broke off, my boots skidding on wet sand, creating distance.

  Think, Nihl! Brigand, not spearman! Remember Finnik!

  My body fell into the rhythm. My feet traced an unpredictable, disorienting pattern in the sand. I became a ghost, an impossibly difficult target to pin.

  They glided after me, mocking chuckles turning to frustration. Their limbs swiped through empty air.

  I backed toward the sea, narrowing the approach. Nice! Now they weren't looking at Lena.

  They floated toward me again, humming louder, more aggressive. A wall of shimmering darkness between me and the path back. The doubt was a cold whisper.

  I shook my head violently. Cast it out.

  The spear was useless against their phasing forms. But I wasn't just a spearman. I'm Minthe's son.

  "No. I don't need to fight them. I just need to endure." A grim smirk. Survival, not victory. Just holding the line.

  I charged—a feint! As I thrust, I poured my will, fear, desperation into the wood, into the bound mistletoe. "SIDEROS!" My quarterstaff spear erupted with sudden fierce verdant glow. The wood hardened to iron-oak, raw primal Sthénos energy crackling along its length like green lightning.

  This time—no phasing.

  The strike connected with a solid, sickening thump. The sound of a great tree splitting. The Lemur shrieked—a distorted, childlike wail of agony. It recoiled violently, its form rippling and thinning like smoke caught in wind.

  Using the new reach, I backed onto firmer sand. Feet set, solid stance, shield raised. The now-glowing spear-point aimed low. A promise. Come on. Try it.

  The wounded one hesitated, its form shimmering unsteadily. The unharmed one glided forward, aggressive, crossing into my spear's deadly reach.

  My body moved on instinct. The spear lashed out like a striking adder, caught it solidly in the chest. Another grinding cry. Its advance halted. Brutally.

  Stung and wary, both stopped dead. They circled me, humming with frustrated angry calculation.

  They're trying to surround me. Pull my attention apart I can't let them control this dance.

  The world narrowed to the wounded Lemur on my left. Everything else blurred into nothing. Finish it. Now.

  I lunged, a powerful committed thrust, my entire being poured into the glowing spearpoint. It slammed home through its shadowy torso. The form convulsed. A shriek tore through the air. Severely weakened.

  Oh gods. The stories about these were true—they're tough!

  But the commitment left me open. A side-step—and the second Lemur seized its chance, chasing me up the beach. Its chilling presence pressing against my back.

  No time. No breath.

  "Whisper, spirit of the green glade—" The words were a ragged gasp. "Mend the flesh, breathe life once more."

  Warmth flooded my core. A second wind. The worst of the icy wound stitched closed.

  The fight stretched into a grueling dance—thrust, parry, retreat. My breath was ragged fire. My arms screamed.

  Enough.

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  A loud scrape of stone from the path above. The movement was groggy but deliberate. Lena was stirring.

  The shadows hesitated, their humming static momentarily broken.

  A furious, wild, over-committed charge. The spear thrust—the shadowy child-form flowed around it like black water.

  A spin. The spear's butt whipping around in a tight controlled arc. It screeched, flickering violently.

  I disengaged immediately, backed away. Shield high, glowing spear pointed forward.

  They were both wounded, frustrated. They glided forward in unison, coordinating their assault.

  My body reacted. The spear lashed out, striking the second Lemur as it entered my range. A distorted cry. It recoiled but they pressed, they swarmed me. The weakened one put everything into a final lunge—the icy touch sank deep.

  A wave of profound weakness washed through me.

  The second blow landed right after. I was severely weakened. On the brink.

  My body was failing, the world swimming in a haze of pain and exhaustion. Clutching my last sprigs, I poured remaining will into a prayer—a wordless plea to Minthe. This rushed effort was less effective, a mere trickle of warmth. Just enough to keep me in the fight.

  Then I saw it. A flash of crimson and fury over their shadowy shoulders. A genuine, pained smile touched my lips. "...but you made the lioness mad."

  Lena stood on the path above, white-knuckled fists already wreathed in flickering Promethean Flame. She didn't look happy. She looked like vengeance incarnate.

  "I even gave you an extra hour of beauty sleep." I taunted weakly, one knee sinking into the sand. "J-just give me a second..."

  She didn't shout. Didn't roar. The only sound was the whoosh of ignited air as she became a comet of righteous fury.

  She descended the slope in a blur, ignoring the second Lemur completely. Her first punch slammed into the weakened one with the force of a battering ram. The Lemur had time for one short aborted wail before her second-strike shattered it like glass, the shadow dissolving into black mist.

  She landed in a fighter's crouch between me and the last Lemur. "Your second is up," she snarled. "Now it's my turn."

  The remaining shadow-warrior halted, looking from Lena's burning fists to my raised spear. No attack came—instead, it began backing away, slow, gliding across the sand toward the Mouth.

  The immediate threat was broken.

  Lena kept her eyes on the retreating foe, her voice tight with concern she'd never admit. "You still with me, Nihl? Don't you dare die on me."

  "Idiot! I'm fine!" The lie was a pained cough. I pushed myself up—my legs wobbled dangerously. "Go after the other one!"

  I can't be a liability! Move. WALK!

  A split-second glance back. Her eyes took in my wobbling gait. Understanding flashed.

  "Fine! But stay there!" She barked, launching herself after the fleeing Lemur with explosive speed.

  She caught up in a heartbeat. Her first punch smashed into its back—it screamed, stumbled. As she moved to strike again, the fleeing Lemur spun. Lashed out with a parting strike—the shadowy limb smashed into her shoulder. I saw her grit her teeth against the chilling pain.

  "Go Lee! Kick its ass!" I forced a pained chuckle.

  "That all you got?!" She shook it off, eyes blazing. Her second punch—a devastating cross—struck its core.

  The Lemur let out a final grating wail before violently collapsing inward like a dying star, dissolving into a cloud of black mist.

  The beach fell truly silent only the waves and our heavy breathing remained.

  Lena stood panting, then turned and strode back. "You look like shit." Her voice rough with relief. "And you're a liar. You're not fine." Without another word, she slung my arm over her shoulders, hauled me up with a grunt.

  "Come on. We're falling back to the wall. We need to reassess... and you need to not die before Dia gets back with the cavalry."

  The second day had begun. We survived the dawn's brutal assault.

  Lena half-dragged, half-carried me up the slope. We slumped behind our crude wall, the rough stone digging into our backs.

  "Yeah... I need to sleep." The words were a ragged sigh. Every muscle was water. The Lemures' drain was a lead weight pressing down on my chest. "...and the Labyrinthos will send worse. Two hours. You eat something but leave some bread for me, at least."

  A weak, pained chuckle.

  I leaned against the rough-hewn wall, no strength to remove my armor. My eyes slid shut.

  The respite was over. Two hours—a blink of nothingness.

  I was jolted awake, not by sound, but by silence. A deafening, absolute void where the sea's rhythm should be.

  My eyes snapped open. The world was gone, swallowed by thick grey fog. A cold wet shroud that clung to skin and armor. The air was a poison mix—salt, ozone, and freshly opened tomb.

  Lena was already a statue of tension. "Too quiet." Her voice was a strained wire. "Fog rolled in. Nothing from the Mouth. It's wrong."

  Then, a new sound gutted the silence. A low drone rising into a chorus of high chittering voices. "Khhh-rik-khra! Vex-a-lith! Khhh-rik-khra!"

  The chant echoed from everywhere and nowhere. A cage of sound.

  I pushed myself up—my body groaned a symphony of protest. But it was enough to stand, to lift a spear. To die on my feet.

  My fingers found the pouch. Frantic inventory. My heart plummeted.

  "Oh..." A quiet exhale of pure dread. "No more catalyst, Lee. We're on our own." I showed her the pathetic contents—two sprigs of Althaea, half the mistletoe burned. "Two more flowers... half the mistletoe is burned."

  Two more Healing Whispers. After that, we were done.

  The reality was a physical weight.

  The chanting swelled. "Khhh-rik-khra! VEX-A-LITH!" Shapes resolved through the fog—a pack of sleek fox-like things sculpted from living sea-foam and polished abalone. Too many legs. Single eyes burning like a bloody sun.

  A hard slap on Lena's back—our old signal. Get ready, this is it.

  "Go play with them." My voice was gravel. "I'll cover our rear. Don't let them surround us."

  This wasn't a battle. It was a holding action. A prayer for time we don't have.

  With chittering cries, the pack flowed forward! Half surged toward Lena, the others flanked the hill, moving with pack intelligence.

  One darted in low, shell-fangs scraping her armor with a metallic grind. She sidestepped a second lunge, dancer's grace fueled by desperation.

  Two more glided to my sides—they didn't attack. Luminous red eyes studied me, calculating weakness.

  Lena brushed the new scratch on her arm. "Tch. Annoying little things!" Her fists ignited—a fiery punch connected, shattered the first into steam and fragments. A swift kick dispersed the second like morning fog in a burst of embers.

  Two down. Ten more circled. Their chant dropping to a low, hungry hum.

  Back-to-back with Lena. The only warmth in this dead world. Crystalline claws clicked on stone—a death march counting down.

  "Let's go, Lena!" A step forward, low spear thrust. Useless—it phased through.

  A spin. The spear's butt connected solid—a web of cracks spread across its surface. It shattered into seawater.

  One less.

  Immediate step back. Shoulders bumped. I was here. Her back was covered.

  Enraged, the pack swarmed! Two lunged from my flanks—crystalline claws found a gap in my guard. Fresh fire bloomed in my side. The drain—familiar chill spreading through my veins.

  Three converged on Lena. One scraped past her defenses—a line of fire opened on her arm. She grunted, her aura flaring brighter. "Alright, no more playing!" A blur of motion—one creature pulverized with a devastating punch. A second crystallized and crumbled under her fist, raining shards.

  The remaining seven pulled back. Reassessing. They stopped outside my reach, reared back. A volley of razor-sharp brine cut through the fog!

  The projectiles shattered against my shield with wet cracks. A sharp fragment grazed Lena's arm, drawing blood.

  They were adapting. Grinding us down from a distance.

  She shook her stinging arm. "Cheap shots from a distance?! Fight me, you cowards!" But she held position, trusting the plan.

  I couldn't stay here. I couldn't be target practice. Move. Fight!

  "Lena! Let's go from the sides and return!" No warning—a burst of motion to the left. Spear a silver blur, the arc wide, smashed into the creature on the flank. A shriek. Shell cracking.

  A follow-up strike—it fractured into shadow-fragments.

  If they wanted range, we gave them close. If they wanted a circle, we broke it.

  "Now! Back-to-back, Lee!" Immediate disengage, flowed back to the center. Shoulders bumped.

  The maneuver took seconds. Their encirclement, broken.

  Our aggressive strike threw them into chaos—their coordinated hum shattered into discordant chittering. The three on the left flank scrambled in confusion. The ones on the right pressed Lena harder.

  One got a solid hit, claws scraping across her shoulder guard. A grunt from her. "My turn!" An explosion from our shared center—a comet of retribution. A fist smashed one to pieces, fragments scattering. A second met the same fate under her blazing knuckles.

  A swift dance back to defensive position. Only four remained—the fog seemed to thin, retreating. The momentum was ours.

  I flashed a wide, predatory smirk over my shoulder. "Ha! Look who's outnumbered now... I wonder if they taste good, Lee..." An old joke from Finnik's hunts. A genuine chuckle escaped despite everything.

  I lunged—true, powerful thrust caught one square in the chest. It burst apart into sea spray with a gurgling hiss.

  My follow-up jab met only air—it dodged with surprising agility.

  Their numbers were critical now, coordination shattered into panic. TIME TO PRESS!

  The last three attacked wildly, all strategy abandoned. Claws flailed against my shield—two desperate strikes at Lena, effortlessly avoided with minimal movement. She didn't even need her Flame anymore.

  "Pathetic." Her crisp, efficient strike sent the last Vexling on her side flickering into mist.

  Only one remained, skittering before me in confused circles.

  The fight was over.

  The fog pulled back entirely, the Labyrinthos cutting its losses.

  I turned my back on the last Vexling, utterly confident. Let Lena have the fun.

  I sank onto the sand, eyes fixed on the distant pulsing Mouth. My stomach growled loudly. I rummaged through the supply bag.

  "OE! Lena!" A shift to playful complaint. "Did you save my bread?! I told you to!"

  Behind me, a final satisfying crunch—the last one dispersed like morning fog.

  Lena strolled over, wiping sea-spray from her cheek. She plopped down beside me, shoved a slightly squashed loaf into my hands.

  "Of course, I did, idiot. You think I'd eat your share? Even when you're being all... thinky?"

  She leaned back, looking out at the Mouth with me. "So... sea monsters now. You think it'll try a giant squid next? Or just a really angry crab?"

  I tore off a chunk of bread. Chewing felt like a minor victory.

  "Maybe." I said with a knowing wink. "The Labyrinthos ran out of humans to twist—no more scouts to become Phantoms, no more regret to spin into Lemures. So it's using what's available: the sea's fauna. That's actually good news for us."

  I leaned back against the rough wall. "I told you the first time... 'we are not a good match.'"

  The memory was sharp. We were brigands, hunters, not exorcists of divine regret. "But those Immaturi... they were fighters. Disciplined. Knew how to drain a man." Another bite, the playful glint returned to my eyes.

  "These Seafoam dogs? They're beasts. That's our field. We can't have clean duels with melancholic shadow goblin-like children... but we can sure as hell contest a pack of dogs."

  A reaffirmation. We were a hunter and a brawler. The brief meal, the camaraderie, fortified more than any spell.

  The uneasy calm settled. The silence felt like a held breath. The Labyrinthos was watching, learning.

  Then, from the Mouth, a new sound—not a chant, not a skitter. A low, resonant hum, like a massive bowstring drawn taut across the sky.

  The respite was over.

  A shared glance, no words needed. We rose as one. She met my eyes, ember-gaze blazing. I managed a tired smirk. "One more round, Lee. Then maybe we get to rest."

  The hum from the Mouth grew louder.

  Whatever came next, we'd face it standing.

  Saturday becasue of the release week]. See you then!