The Knight Noire 2

"Hey… shouldn't they be back by now?" Rai's voice was barely a whisper, meant only for Kaelen. She raised a thin veil of Criole around them—a sound barrier, just in case Lia was listening.

Rai-Ella, eldest of the sisters, carried her authority like it was woven into her bones. Her presence was calm, regal, and disarming in a way that made even Kaelen—sharp-tongued and fire-hearted—ease her stance.

"He's with Terrene," Kaelen replied, almost dismissive. "He'll be fine."

They both glanced toward Lia, who leaned casually on what looked like a massive, floating metal egg. It hovered silently, a window sliding open around the front like a blinking eye. Two immense beasts stood motionless before it, tethered by lines of light etched into their gleaming armor.

Towering, lupine figures—each half the size of the egg, yet still monstrous. Four-legged, scaled, and clawed. Though they looked more wolf than dragon, they radiated a quiet, ancient calm.

"Why is it so dark?" Myles thought, floating in void. He'd known the pit would be deep, but this was lightless, sensory death. "Maybe falling into a random hole wasn't my best call."

His mind turned, inevitably, to Terrene.

Why had she tried to throw herself after him? Two years of cloudy memories told him she didn't care for him—barely tolerated him. She always seemed irritated when Lia embraced him. At first, he thought she was jealous. But he remembered her recoiling once, snapping into a defensive stance when he'd brushed her arm by mistake. Back then, he was all hormones and chaos—less a man, more instinct.

Which made him wonder, not for the first time: what the hell did Lia even see in him?

A low growl dragged him back. His vision returned just in time to see an oversized rodent-beast sniffing at him. Huge head, twitching ears, jagged teeth—not quite a dog, not quite a mouse.

It hadn't noticed him yet.

He tried to move. Nothing.

And then he saw it: his own body, headless, slumped and limp—being devoured by the creature.

Myles stared.

He was disturbingly calm. "Am I broken?" he wondered.

He closed his eyes and prayed. When that didn't help, he cracked a joke in his head about how picky the monster was—it hadn't touched his clothes.

Then he remembered the feeling—when Terrene had made him float once. He concentrated.

With a jolt, his head launched forward—and landed squarely on the beast.

"…Okay. Definitely need practice."

The beast didn't react.

Myles, somehow, was both relieved and insulted.

"What… is that?" Terrene whispered.

She crouched just beyond the brush, having followed the sounds of movement. Her eyes scanned the scene—the spectacle of Myles' floating head scrambling to evade two mouse-beasts mid-feed.

She put a hand to her mouth. A small, stifled laugh escaped.

"Wow," she said, flatly.

Myles noticed her. "Hey! Are you just gonna stand there?!"

"Yes," she replied.

His surprise vanished when he realized—he was talking. His neck had grown back.

He pointed with his nose. "Can you grab that?" He meant his ruined suit.

Terrene lifted the clothing with a flick, hovering it beside her. She'd planned for this. She'd also known the larger beast would notice.

It did.

The small ones turned too. All eyes on her.

She looked once at Myles—then bolted. Her glow trailing behind.

Myles waited for his eyes to adjust. His body had regrown to the chest now—head, shoulders, torso. No hands yet. "Why does it feel like my abilities are toying with me?" he muttered.

He looked around. "Need to find Terrene. Also… she still has my boxers."

Terrene didn't scream when it bit.

But the sharp, sudden feeling—that electric stab of pain through her arm—made her stumble. Another one latched onto her leg.

Tears pricked her eyes.

"No—no, no—" she gasped, half-running, half-falling toward a hollow. She dove in, sealed herself off, and curled into the dark, trembling.

Pain.

Not damage—she couldn't be broken. But the sensation of pain, rare and real, pierced her like nothing else. It terrified her.

"Where'd she—" Myles was cut off by the piranha-mouthed dogs lunging toward him. His right hand had grown in. Still no left.

He punched one, sending it flying and shattering its teeth. The next he kicked into a wall. More swarmed, but he handled them, fast and brutal.

One hit a rock formation—revealing Terrene, curled inside.

Myles rushed to her. By the time he reached her, his full body had returned.

"Wow," Terrene said, voice blank—but her face was flushed.

It was the first time he'd seen anything other than disdain or disapproval from her.

Then he looked down.

"Oh god."

He scrambled to cover her eyes. "Where are my clothes?!"

"I dropped them," she said flatly. "You look good without them though."

Before he could reply, a roar ripped the ground apart. A massive blow slammed into the ground just beside them. Terrene shuddered.

She wasn't afraid of the beast.

She was afraid of what it could make her feel.

"Myles…" her voice cracked. "No—I don't want to feel it."

Without hesitation, he hoisted her onto his back and ran.

Tentacles snaked after them, the beast's bloated form thundering behind—too fast, too precise. Myles' body moved on instinct now, faster, stronger, sharper than ever. He dodged every strike, but he knew he couldn't keep it up forever.

"Do you remember where you dropped them?" he asked, frustrated.

Terrene was quiet.

Her grip on his chest tightened. Her face was still red. A faint smile hovered on her lips.

He sighed. She wasn't going to be helpful.

A blur struck him—a dog made of metal. It slammed him into a wall, hard enough to crater stone. Terrene tumbled free from his back just in time.

Myles hit the ground unconscious.

The beast turned its attention to her.

She stood, trembling, face expressionless—but her whole body braced in terror. Not of death. Of pain.

A tear slipped free.

Before it could fall, a thunderous boom echoed.

The beast went flying.

Myles stood at the far end of the chamber, crimson-eyed, black-flamed, hair rippling like ink underwater.

Terrene watched. Disappointed he was reckless. Relieved he was okay.

The beast wasn't done. It hurled a horde of metal dogs toward them. Myles moved like lightning—evading his, destroying those aimed at her. Even still, some reached her.

His flames blazed hotter.

He hurled bolts of fire—precise, controlled. The air warped with heat.

He vanished—then reappeared in front of the beast.

One upward swipe.

The creature split in half.

Silence.

The flames died. He turned to Terrene, picked her up, and leapt skyward, tearing through the stone above.

Back on the surface, Myles laid her down gently—then collapsed beside her.

Terrene let his head rest on her lap. She smiled.

With a motion, his clothes returned to her hand. She cleaned them with a spell and began dressing him carefully.

"I'm sorry, little sister Lia," she whispered to herself.

"But I want your black knight for myself."