A Dark Plan is Brewing

Nyxia's POV

I sat on the hospital bed, the thin paper sheet beneath me crinkling with every small shift. The cold air seeped through the flimsy white gown they'd given me, and despite my best effort to stay still, a shiver slipped down my spine. My skin felt too pale, too bare without the weight of my usual armor and colors.

Dr. Wagner stood at the foot of the bed, his goggles perched low on his nose, eyes darting over the clipboard in his hands. He muttered to himself in that clipped, accented tone, the words half-medical jargon, half-private thoughts. Every so often, he'd glance up at me, as if measuring something beyond just my vitals.

"Vitals stable… no permanent damage," he finally said, tapping the pen against the paper. "But you vill need rest. No… running headfirst into monsters zat vant to eat your soul, ja?" He gave a thin smile, but it didn't hide the worry in his eyes.

I managed a small smirk. "No promises."

He shook his head and scribbled one last note before setting the clipboard aside. "Go. Sleep. Eat something zat isn't neon-colored sugar for once."

I slid off the bed, the cold tiles kissing my bare feet, and headed out of the medical department. The sterile scent of antiseptic faded with each step, replaced by the muted hum of the evening city beyond the hallways.

By the time I stepped outside, the sky had deepened into a wash of indigo, streetlights flickering to life one by one. My body still felt heavy, the echo of that thing's presence lingering in my bones. I tucked my hands into the pockets of the oversized jacket someone had draped over me earlier, pulling it close against the night air.

Home wasn't far. Just a few turns, a few streets. Each step felt more real, more mine, as I left the hospital behind. But somewhere deep down, I knew… the fight wasn't over.

Dr. Wagner's POV

I walked the long stretch of corridor toward Zalthorion's office, the weight of the reports heavy in my hands. Not the physical weight they were only a few sheets but the kind that sat in the chest, pressing against the ribs. The kind that told you before you even knocked that the conversation ahead would not be pleasant.

The door hissed open, and I stepped inside. Zalthorion was already at his desk, surrounded by stacks of other files, half-lit by the pale glow of the holographic displays. He didn't look up when I entered. His eyes stayed locked on whatever grim news was in front of him.

"Sit," he said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of command.

I closed the door behind me and crossed the room. The air in here felt different thicker, heavier, like it had soaked up the tension of every meeting that had taken place in this space. I sat across from him, the leather of the chair creaking slightly under my weight.

For a moment, there was only the faint hum of the displays and the rustle of paper as I set the reports down on the desk. I could feel his focus, sharp as a blade, even though his gaze hadn't shifted from the document he was reading.

"I have… updates," I began carefully, my own voice sounding too loud in the quiet. "Not ones you vill like."

Still, he didn't look up. He simply extended one hand toward me without breaking from his current page, a silent command for the documents. I passed them over, watching his fingers close over the paper with that same controlled stillness that made him unreadable.

The silence stretched, broken only by the slow turning of a page and the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall.

I leaned back slightly, my mind already running through the possible reactions he might have once he saw what I had brought him.

He took his time with the pages, eyes scanning every line like he was dissecting the words themselves for hidden meaning. I watched his expression or rather, the absence of one. Zalthorion had the kind of face that could stay carved from stone even when the world was burning.

But then, halfway down the last page, I saw it. A subtle tightening of the jaw. The faintest narrowing of the eyes.

When he finally reached the end, he let out a long, quiet sigh the kind that sounded less like relief and more like resignation. Without ceremony, he let the report slip from his fingers, the papers landing on the desk with a soft, weightless thud.

The sound felt louder than it should have, final somehow, like a gavel hitting wood.

I sat there, waiting. He didn't look at me yet, just stared at the papers for a moment as if they might rearrange themselves into something less damning if he gave them time.

"Vhat are you going to do?" I asked finally, the words coming out before I could stop them.

Only then did his gaze lift to mine sharp, steady, and full of a quiet heaviness I hadn't seen in a long time.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, the faint glow from the desk lamp casting deep shadows over his face.

"We prepare," he said at last, voice low but steady. "Plan our next move, knowing hi—" He caught himself, a tiny hitch in the rhythm of his words, as though the name itself was something too dangerous to give form to. His eyes flicked away for half a heartbeat before locking back on me. "—it. It will come back for Nyxia. So we have to prepare."

The room felt heavier after that, the silence thick enough to press against my chest. I could hear the faint hum of the old ventilation system, the whisper of paper as his clawed fingers tapped the report still lying on the desk.

I didn't bother asking if he was certain. Zalthorion didn't make statements like that unless he was already convinced beyond doubt.

Instead, I gave a slow nod. "Vhen do ve start?"

His mouth curved not into a smile, but something more like grim resolve. "Now."

"We will send Nyxia on a mission," Zalthorion said, voice steady but heavy with the weight of inevitability. "A long one. We'll let him take Eri with him."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Take Eri? With him? Are you serious?"

Zalthorion didn't waver. "The entity has grown wary of Evolto City's defenses. It adapts quickly. We cannot simply wait for it to strike again within the city walls. Only by drawing it out can we gain the advantage."

I frowned, tension knotting my gut. "But she's just a kid. This isn't a game of strategy it's her life. Why pull her into this nightmare? Why put her at risk?"

His eyes met mine, calm and unyielding. "Eri has already been part of this problem from the moment Nyxia adopted her. The danger never truly left her. Ignoring that fact won't protect her will only leave her vulnerable in ways we can't predict."

The silence hung between us like a thick fog. I stared at him, searching for any hint of doubt, but found only absolute conviction.

I turned away, my heart pounding with conflict. The weight of the decision pressed down on me. Some battles couldn't be fought in the shadows or behind closed doors. Sometimes, the greatest risk was protecting the ones we loved.

Without another word, I left the room, the echo of my footsteps swallowed by the heavy stillness