They chose to stay where they were.

  Leaving in the dark, after what they had endured, would have cost more than it saved. So they put together a small, temporary camp—nothing elaborate, just enough to mark the space as claimed for the night.

  The fire had long since died.

  Only embers remained, buried under ash and sand, giving off just enough warmth to be worth keeping. The night stretched wide around them—quiet, but never empty. Shapes moved at the edge of vision sometimes, far enough not to matter, close enough not to be ignored.

  They settled into a simple rhythm. One slept while the other watched.

  Adlet took the first watch.

  He sat with his back against a fractured slab of stone, legs bent, posture loose but ready. The desert air was cool now, almost gentle, carrying faint sounds across long distances. He let his senses stretch outward, not hunting, not probing—just listening to what the night chose to offer.

  Behind him, Nina slept.

  Not deeply. Never fully. But enough.

  She had positioned herself with care, body angled so she could rise quickly if needed. Even at rest, her stance suggested movement waiting to happen.

  Adlet kept his attention outward.

  Minutes passed.

  Then longer stretches, unbroken.

  That was when he noticed it.

  Not a sound. Not a presence.

  An absence.

  Pami did not answer.

  He reached inward—not sharply, not with urgency at first. Just enough to brush against the familiar current that usually responded without delay.

  Nothing came back.

  Adlet frowned slightly.

  He tried again, this time with more focus, opening the channel the way he had learned to do after countless repetitions. The space was still there. The link remained.

  But it was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Pami had never been silent like this since their voices had begun to reach beyond the confines of their inner world.

  Not even after exhaustion. Not even after pain.

  Adlet shifted his weight, scanning the dunes again, then the rocks, then the distant dark. Everything remained unchanged. No pressure. No approaching Apex. No immediate danger.

  Yet the unease settled anyway.

  He didn’t force the connection.

  Instinct told him not to.

  Whatever had happened, pushing would only make it worse.

  So he stayed awake, alert, letting the hours pass while the night slowly thinned.

  When the first hint of fatigue crept into his limbs, he turned and reached out, touching Nina’s shoulder lightly.

  She woke instantly.

  Their exchange was brief. A nod. A shift of position. No words needed.

  Adlet lay down where she had been resting, back against the stone, eyes drifting toward the distant Stars—steady, unmoving points of light that defined the night rather than filled it.

  Sleep didn’t come right away.

  When it did, it pulled him under fast.

  The world changed.

  Sand and stone gave way to something deeper, quieter.

  Adlet stood within his inner space, the familiar contours forming around him—imperfect, softened, as if the place itself were tired. Everything here felt muted.

  Pami floated nearby.

  Weaker than usual.

  Dimmer.

  The vibrant presence Adlet had grown accustomed to was dulled, its edges less distinct, its movements slower. Even the currents around it felt thin, stretched.

  Adlet stopped short.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

  Pami didn’t answer at first. Its presence shifted, gathering itself with visible effort before responding.

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  “I couldn’t reach out sooner,” it said. “I needed the rest.”

  Adlet ignored that and stepped closer.

  “You’re drained.”

  “A lot,” Pami admitted. “More than I expected.”

  Adlet’s jaw tightened. “From the fight?”

  A pause.

  “From saving you.”

  The words landed heavier than any blow.

  Adlet felt his chest tighten. “Explain.”

  Pami drifted slightly, the inner currents trembling around it.

  “When the Manticore struck,” it said, “you were going to die. There was no time. I had to do something.”

  Adlet remembered the moment.

  The certainty of impact.

  The knowledge that there would be no second after.

  “You stepped in,” he said. “I didn’t.”

  “You couldn’t,” Pami replied.

  Adlet looked at it. “I didn’t feel it,” he said slowly. “The carapace. It wasn’t mine.”

  A brief pause.

  “It was your Aura,” Pami said. “I had to use it in your place—to defend you while you were attacking.”

  The words settled.

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” Adlet said.

  “I don’t know if it is,” Pami answered. “It just… happened. There was no time to decide. You were going to die.”

  Adlet clenched his jaw.

  “So we were both acting,” he said. “At the same time.”

  “Yes.”

  He stayed silent for a moment, turning the idea over.

  “One body,” he said. “Two intents.”

  “Two responses,” Pami corrected quietly.

  Adlet exhaled.

  “That’s why it cost you so much.”

  “Yes,” Pami said. “Holding an Aura through you is natural. Holding one alongside you is not.”

  Adlet’s fists tightened as the implication settled.

  “That’s why it drained you,” he said.

  A brief pause.

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t press further. He didn’t need to.

  “How bad is it?”

  Pami drifted, its presence thinner now, less defined.

  “I need time,” it said. “Not moments. Real rest.”

  Adlet didn’t argue.

  He nodded once, already turning away.

  “Then we stop,” he said. “I’ll get us somewhere safe. You recover.”

  “Thank you,” Pami said.

  He let the inner space dissolve before anything else could be said.

  Morning came gently.

  Light filtered across the ground, softening shadows, revealing the quiet damage left behind by the night. Adlet woke to Nina’s presence before she touched him.

  “You’re up,” she said.

  He sat up slowly. His body felt heavy, but functional.

  “Yeah.”

  They shared a brief meal, sparse and efficient. No unnecessary movement. No wasted time.

  Once they were ready to move, Nina folded her wings, studying him for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

  “What now?” she asked.

  Adlet looked toward the horizon. Toward Savar.

  “I’m heading back.”

  Nina blinked. “Already?”

  “I need to.”

  She considered that. Then nodded. “Same, then. I’ve finished my contract.”

  She paused. “And you?”

  Adlet shook his head. “Didn’t find my target.”

  Nina tilted her head. “You want help?”

  She gestured upward with one wing. “I can scout. Cover ground faster. We might still—”

  “No,” Adlet said, without hesitation.

  She watched him carefully. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It can wait.”

  That answer told her more than the words themselves.

  “Alright,” she said. “Then let’s move smart.”

  They did.

  Nina took to the air whenever terrain allowed, flying wide arcs, choosing routes that curved away from known Apex territories. Adlet adjusted his pace to match her findings, keeping to cover when possible, avoiding open ground when it wasn’t necessary.

  They didn’t fight.

  They didn’t test themselves.

  They passed through the land quietly, deliberately, leaving nothing behind.

  By the time Savar came into view, the tension had eased—but not vanished.

  The city rose from the stone like a promise and a warning all at once.

  They entered side by side.

  The guild hall was busy, as always, but attention shifted the moment they crossed the threshold together.

  The guild official noticed them and paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

  “Well,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you two arrive at the same time.”

  Nina stepped forward first. She reached into her pack and placed a dark, jagged fragment onto the table.

  “Apex neutralized,” she said. “Target confirmed.”

  The official examined it closely. “Clean work.”

  His gaze shifted to Adlet.

  “And you?”

  Adlet met his eyes steadily. “Didn’t complete my assignment. I never found my target.”

  The guild official frowned, eyes moving over Adlet’s posture, the way he stood just a little too carefully.

  “Then why do you look like that?”

  Adlet didn’t embellish.

  He explained the encounter with the Manticore. The chaos. The cooperation. The victory. The decision to disengage afterward.

  The room was quiet when he finished.

  Finally, the man leaned back.

  “Rank 5 species,” he said slowly. “Even if that one wasn’t fully grown — its Aura probably hadn’t reached the true fifth rank yet. Still…”

  He shook his head slightly.

  “And you both walked away.”

  He looked genuinely impressed.

  “You made the right call coming back,” he added. “Mission success isn’t worth broken Protectors.”

  Adlet inclined his head slightly.

  “There’s more,” the man continued. “Both of you have been summoned.”

  Nina stiffened. “Summoned?”

  “Yes,” he said. “By Lord Horus himself. At the palace in Eresh.”

  Adlet and Nina exchanged a glance.

  “Why?” Nina asked.

  The official shook his head. “That’s not for me to say.”

  He smiled faintly.

  “Only that when Lord Horus calls, it’s rarely for something small.”

  The weight of that settled between them.

  Adlet felt it immediately.

  Whatever waited in Eresh… it wouldn’t be simple.

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  See you next chapter.