Chapter 6 – The Law Of The Good Host (3)

Within the protection of Rurik's shield, the eight remaining members of the group took advantage of the brief respite to recover their strength.

Dorian sat cross-legged, the Codex resting in his hands, as he performed a cycle of focused breathing. His eyes remained shut, his face tense, covered in dried sweat.

Beatriz, already healed, stood near the edge of the barrier. She kept a sharp eye out for any sign that Rurik's Vis might falter—ready to act if needed.

Nyra remained unconscious, her body feverish, almost burning. Mei Lin monitored her breathing and pulse, brow furrowed, a drop of worry sliding down between her eyes.

Not far away, gathered around Bastian, sat Kael, Edward, and Lena. The air was thick with exhaustion and frustration.

"Now that we're a little more stable…" Bastian began, elbows resting on his knees, "...we need to come up with a plan."

"But first…" Lena crossed her arms, her gaze sharp on Edward and Dorian. "...can someone explain what the hell happened to Ezra?"

Dorian stayed silent, but Edward gave a nod. "It's simple," he said. "He snapped. Was in a trance or something... just walked straight through the front lines. Didn't answer anyone. Vanished into the middle of the mannequins."

Fuuuuh... Lena let out a long, weary sigh. "Ezra's completely lost it. Throwing himself to death like that?" she muttered, shaking her head.

"And to think that idiot is supposed to be our guide…" Dorian added, still with his eyes shut. His voice was full of disdain, cold. "But then again, what can you expect from someone like him—"

"Dorian." Kael cut him off immediately, voice calm but firm. "Talking trash about him now won't help. We've got a bigger problem."

"Kael's right," Lena added, sighing again. "Whether we like it or not, he's the one who got us here."

Dorian clenched his jaw but fell silent. "You're all right," Bastian said. "But that doesn't change the fact: we're trapped, hunted by those damned mannequins... and without Ezra, we can't decode the path forward. Even if he does come back, that still doesn't solve the real issue—survival."

"Attacking the mannequins was a damn stupid move..." Dorian muttered, still breathing in controlled rhythm. He didn't name names, but everyone knew who he blamed: Lena and Nyra.

"Who, in their right mind, attacks something in a sealed space right after crossing an arcane threshold?" he continued, voice dry. "Who doesn't know the Law of the Good Host?"

Lena slowly raised her gaze, hands tightening around the handle of her whip. Rage burned within her—but guilt... that burned deeper. "And you think you'd have done better?" she shot back, tense.

"I did better," Dorian replied with scorn. "Unlike certain frightened little girls."

"That's enough, Dorian!" Bastian cut in, voice sharp as steel. "We're not here to dig cracks into the group."

Silence fell, harsh and uncomfortable. For a few seconds, the only sound was the occasional flicker of the Vis shield, pulsing softly around them.

Then, almost inaudibly, a murmur slipped from Nyra's lips, though her eyes remained shut, feigning sleep:

"If only... Edward hadn't lost Oswin...

If Ezra had woken up... none of this would've happened."

Her fingers gripped the sleeve of her coat tightly.

They trembled.

She knew.

She knew part of the blame was hers.

But blaming others always seemed easier than facing the mirror.

Kael shifted, breaking the silence.

"Anyway… let's wait for Dorian to recover," he said, voice low, thoughtful, but steady. "With Ezra about to kick the bucket like that… I think we're going to need his teleport to get out of here."

The words hung in the air.

Heavy.

Final.

"Why do you speak of him as if he's dead?" Mei Lin's voice slipped into the circle, soft and sharp as glass. She knelt beside the group, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Is there no chance he's alive?"

Dorian let out a slow breath but didn't open his eyes.

"You didn't see how vicious those mannequins are… since you stayed in here the whole time," he said, bitterness barely restrained. His tone wasn't accusatory, but the resentment of someone who had fought to the brink bled through.

"And whose fault do you think that is!?" Mei Lin shot back.

She pressed her lips into a thin line but didn't answer. Lena and Nyra flinched slightly, even though they knew the words weren't meant for them.

They, along with Mei Lin, knew the truth. It was Dorian who had given the order — Mei Lin had to stay out of the fight. As the only healer, she was their fallback if things went south. They needed an escape plan. There were three of them now: Mei Lin, Rurik, and Dorian himself. Four, if Ezra was still around — and even if he denied it, Ezra had a knack for dodging danger.

But now that everything had gone wrong… they all knew.

In the end, Dorian had been right.

"Mei Lin…" Bastian looked up at her. His face was a mask of stone.

Emotionless. But his eyes… they were filled with too much of nothing, the kind of void none of them could read.

"There's nothing we can do." His voice was quieter than usual. Drawn out. Almost a whisper laced with the taste of dried blood. "Ezra walked into death… alone."

"HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND!" Mei Lin snapped. The words burst out before she could stop them, echoing like a crack through the group's tension.

Bastian's neck tightened. He shut his eyes hard, nostrils flaring — as if trying to hold something back. Maybe rage. Maybe tears. Maybe both. Or something else entirely.

Then he spoke. "And that's exactly why." His voice wavered — rising, then sinking, like someone hurting from the inside out.

He didn't yell.

But it hurt.

"Because he's my best friend, I'm doing everything I can to stay calm. Ezra… he'd hate to see us tearing each other apart over him. And worse… dying for nothing."

No one dared interrupt. Or even breathe too loud.

"And it's because he's my friend that I want to believe he's alive. But you know just as well as I do, Mei Lin… the world doesn't work that way."

Bastian's eyes dropped for a moment. His hand touched the ground, fingers slowly splaying out, as if trying to reach something invisible. Or maybe… someone.

"This isn't your first expedition," he went on. "Even if it's your first time in a primordial space… you know. Casualties happen."

The words felt hollow. A dead weight dropping between them.

The group stayed silent — not because there was nothing to say, but because they didn't want to make it worse.

The air felt heavier. Expressions were tense. Eyes stared off into the flickering shadows along the Vis barrier.

And then — as if the world finally took pity on that crushing silence — Beatriz's voice sliced through the air like a blade:

"EZRA!"