HERO

Liora turned at the sound of footsteps, her guard still instinctive. Nyx stood there, a subtle grin on his lips as he held out a bundle of folded clothes.

She blinked, glancing between him and the offering. "...What?"

"Relax," he said, amused at her hesitation. "Figured you'd want a change. Unless you like looking like you just crawled out of a graveyard or somewhere."

She glanced down at herself—torn sleeves, dust-streaked pants, a faint trace of dried blood near the hem. He wasn't wrong. But that didn't answer the real question.

"Why?" she asked, still wary of his intentions.

Nyx just shrugged, as if it wasn't worth thinking too hard about. "Call it an investment. Hard to take you seriously when you look half-dead."

The words stuck. They shouldn't have meant anything, but there was something deliberate in the way he said them—like he'd already decided she wasn't going anywhere.

Liora hesitated but took the clothes. They were nothing special—a dark jacket, a fitted shirt, utility pants—but they were clean. Functional. A small mercy she hadn't expected.

"If this is some kind of setup—" she started.

Nyx raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes glinting with humor. "No tricks. Just a peace offering."

She didn't trust it. Not entirely. But she didn't refuse either.

By the time she stepped out of the spare room, changed and slightly more put together, Nyx was already waiting by the front door. He leaned against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching the dim neon haze flickering through the gaps in the rusted walls.

When he caught sight of her, he pushed off the wall with an easy movement and gestured toward the outside.

"Come on," he said. "Thought you could use some fresh air."

The walk he invited her on turned out to be a small errand for The Clan. Liora hadn't expected Nyx to drag her along, but she didn't argue. It's not like she had anything better to do.

"I thought you said fresh air," she muttered, shooting him a sideways glance.

Nyx smirked, unfazed. "I'm bored, you're bored. What's the harm?" His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was something unreadable beneath it.

"Besides, consider it a small way to keep proving you're worth something."

She ignored the implication, choosing instead to focus on the surroundings—neon-lit streets casting fractured reflections against rusting metal walkways, the distant hum of a patrol drone cutting through the thick, dusted air.

The city felt different at this hour. Quieter, but no less dangerous.

They stopped in front of an old comms relay, its metal frame rusted and weathered by time. Liora barely had a moment to process before Nyx leapt up, climbing over it with practiced ease. She watched as he tinkered with the panel, fingers moving with precision over worn-out circuits.

A moment later, his Xen-Link flickered to life, a holoscreen casting pale light over his face. Lines of encrypted code scrolled across the display, and with a quick motion, he slotted a drive into place before glancing around.

A sudden breeze ruffled his already-messy hair.

Nyx landed back on the ground with a soft thud, brushing the dust from his gloves. "Anything feel familiar?"

Liora frowned. "What?"

"This place. The Outer Districts." His tone was casual, but there was something careful about the way he watched her. "Anything tugging at your memory?"

She stiffened. She didn't like how easily he read her—or how the question unsettled her. Did he do this with everyone?

"Nothing."

It was half-true. Maybe even less. Because something did pull at her—a flicker of déjà vu in the way the neon signs sputtered, in the scent of rust and ozone clinging to the air.

"Why does it matter anyway?" The same breeze softly touching her face.

Nyx, with careful eyes, shrugs his shoulders. "It doesn't. But if you ever do remember something… might be a good idea to tell the right people first."

The right people? Meaning not just anyone. Meaning not The Ascended.

Might also meant that the right people are not The Clan.

Liora doesn't respond, but she doesn't need to. Nyx just gives her that same knowing, easygoing smile—one that makes it impossible to tell if he's just offering advice or playing a game.

A sharp sound cuts through the air. A gunfire, distant but not far enough to ignore. Handful of screams follows, then the unmistakable metallic screech of a drone scanning the area.

Nyx moves first. In a blink, he pulls Liora into the shadows of a narrow alley, one hand gripping her waist, the other pressing a finger to his lips. A silent command.

Liora barely registers the command—too aware of the sudden closeness, unknowingly holding her breathe. She forces herself to focus.

"Look," Nyx whispered, his voice low, stripped of its usual amusement.

Liora peeks past the corner just in time to see the cause of the chaos in the street. A group scrambling away, then a shadowy figure moving in pursuit.

Someone they both recognize from The Clan.

"Well, that's...inconvenient," Nyx exhales, tilting his head as if weighing their options.

He glances at Liora, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess our little walk isn't done yet."