The Sentinel outpost rang with steel and barked orders.
Rows of recruits clashed in controlled motion, wooden glaives and blunted blades striking in practiced arcs. Captain Ilyrianne walked among them like a storm, correcting footwork and breaking stances with sharp eyes and sharper tone.
Nyxia was already drenched in sweat.
Not from effort. From restraint.
She moved through the drills with quiet precision, anticipating every call. When the formations rotated, she adjusted instantly. When the terrain exercise began—an ambush scenario through thistle-brush and cliffs—she ghosted through the course without error.
She wasn't just good.
She was impossible.
And she knew it was starting to show.
Boo, on the other hand, was drawing all the wrong attention.
"Blade too low, draenei!"
"It's not low," Boo snapped. "It's efficient. Your angle's textbook—mine's survival."
Captain Ilyrianne narrowed her eyes. "This isn't a tavern brawl."
"It's not not one," Boo muttered, but raised her blade all the same.
Nyxia smirked.
After drills, the two of them slumped beneath the ridge near the practice ring. Loque lay beside them, panting lightly. Boo took a swig from a stolen water skin and wiped her brow.
"You're a machine," Boo said, looking over. "That was spooky even for you."
"I've had good teachers," Nyxia replied.
Boo leaned closer, voice low. "I saw you sidestep the cliff trap before they even laid the decoy markers. That wasn't training. That was memory."
Nyxia said nothing.
The pain behind her ribs pulsed gently, like a warning.
Boo didn't push. But her gaze lingered.
"Whatever secret you're sitting on," she said, "it's not going to hold forever."
"I just need it to hold long enough."
"For what?"
Nyxia stared at the field below. At the Sentinels who wouldn't live past next season.
"To change the outcome."
Evening crept in slowly over the cliffs of Darkshore. The wind carried salt, pine, and the faintest chill. Most of the recruits had returned to barracks after the evening meal, but Nyxia lingered near the supply tent, her hands idly checking her gear — or pretending to.
She needed a minute to breathe.
To think.
To feel something besides the ache of remembering a world no one else knew had burned.
Inside the tent, she heard voices — muffled and mundane.
"Have you finished organizing the healing poultices?"
"Almost. I just need to sort the frostcaps. They were mislabeled again."
A younger voice. Light, calm, kind.
And familiar.
Nyxia moved to the entrance and looked in.
There she was.
Eurydice.
Hair pulled back in a neat braid, robes a bit too clean to have seen much real combat. She wore the novice violet trim of a junior priestess — not yet battle-tested. She laughed softly as she restacked a crate of moonwater tinctures, sleeves pushed up to her elbows.
Alive.
She hadn't been alive for long, the last time.
The memory struck like lightning:Eurydice, eyes wide in panic, chanting a barrier spell over Perseus's broken body. Her hands shaking. Her shield failing.Then the void crashing through them both like black fire.
Nyxia swallowed hard.
"I thought I told you not to lift anything heavier than a spellbook," said a senior quartermaster, nudging Eurydice with a bundle of linen bandages.
Eurydice grinned. "And I thought I told you I'm not made of glass."
The quartermaster chuckled, moved on.
Nyxia stood at the edge of the tent's shadow, just watching.
She wanted to say something. Anything.
But Eurydice turned — and didn't recognize her.
Her eyes passed over Nyxia like she was just another figure in the dusk. Not a sister. Not a friend. Not someone who'd held her hand as her last breath escaped between prayers.
Nyxia looked down.
She had no right to interfere. Not yet.
Instead, she turned and walked away without a word.
She returned to her bunk in silence. Boo wasn't back yet. Probably still stealing from the kitchen staff or seducing a quartermaster for gossip.
Nyxia sat on her cot and opened her journal.
She wrote a name.
Eurydice.Position: novice priestessStatus: aliveRisk: high
She tapped the end of her quill twice before adding the last line:
Protect at all costs.
The moon was high when Boo returned, carrying two half-stolen canteens and a bag of dried fruit she'd "borrowed aggressively."
She dropped them next to the campfire, flopped onto the stone beside Nyxia, and handed over a skin.
"Drink. You look like someone just told you jokes were outlawed."
Nyxia took the water, but didn't drink. The firelight flickered in her eyes, and her shoulders were tense.
Boo raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess — more spooky future-feelings?"
Nyxia shook her head. "No. Just… someone I lost. She's alive here."
Boo didn't respond immediately. She leaned back on one elbow, chewing on a piece of dried pear.
"You ever wonder if it's worse," she said, "getting a second chance… but not being able to use it fully?"
Nyxia turned to her. "I can use it."
"You can act, sure," Boo said. "But you can't say why. You can't warn anyone outright. You can't tell me how I die, even though I'm pretty sure it involves something dramatic."
Nyxia looked back at the flames.
"I held her when she died," she said quietly. "Eurydice. A priestess. Gentle. Stronger than anyone gave her credit for. She gave her life trying to protect the rest of us."
"And now?"
"She's restocking frostcaps in the medical tent. Still laughing like nothing's coming."
Boo was quiet for a beat.
Then: "So fix it."
"I will," Nyxia said. "But it's like moving glass. One wrong word, one wrong moment, and it could all break worse than before."
Boo tossed a stick into the fire.
"Well," she said, "good thing I'm here. I've broken a lot of things."
Nyxia gave a soft exhale. Almost a laugh.
"Look," Boo added, more gently now, "I don't know what you've seen. I don't know what this 'before' really looked like. But I can tell you this—whatever happens next? You're not walking into it alone."
Nyxia looked at her, surprised by the sincerity.
Boo shrugged. "Just don't get weird about it."
A long silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… real.
Then Boo leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head.
"You know, I always thought if I died, it'd be doing something cool. Like jumping off a gryphon into a volcano. Or seducing the wrong prince."
Nyxia smiled, just a little. "It wasn't a bad death."
"I want a loud one," Boo said. "With sparkles. And maybe something exploding."
"I'll keep that in mind."
They sat there as the fire burned lower, two shadows tucked between worlds.