The Manor doors slammed open as Dylan and Ethan burst in, bodies trembling, duffel bags thudding against the floor. David blocked the front, arms crossed, face hard. "Who the hell is this?" he barked, nodding toward the two strangers trailing behind.
Dylan didn't answer. He ran straight to the dining room. Yve lay pale and still on the table, chest barely rising with shallow breaths. Harrison stood beside her, eyes sharp, hands moving with precision.
Ethan dropped the second bag onto the floor. Harrison yanked the first open, dumping its contents: bandages, clean cloths, vials of antiseptic, clamps, and whatever sterilized tools they had left.
"Get everything ready," Harrison barked, voice low but urgent. "Ava, stand here—pass me what I need. Jenkins, monitor her vitals."
Ava stepped in, pale-faced but steady, holding out instruments, clean cloths, and the rudimentary tools Harrison needed. Jenkins hovered nearby, scribbling notes, eyes wide as he tracked every subtle change in Yve's pulse and breathing.
Harrison leaned over Yve, one hand pressing to slow the bleeding from the exit wound at her back. Blood soaked the tablecloth, slick and dark, dripping onto the floor. He murmured instructions to Ava as she passed him clamps, gauze, and makeshift splints.
"Pressure here—tight! Keep it steady! Don't let it relax," Harrison ordered, voice calm but slicing through the tension.
Dylan paced at the edge of the room, hands twitching, chest tight. He hovered like a predator, watching every motion Harrison made, but terrified of getting in the way. "She gonna be okay," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Jenkins leaned closer, whispering. "Her pulse—Harrison… it's dropping."
Harrison's hands didn't falter. "I know. We keep it slow, steady, compress, don't panic. Everyone else, back out. Room's too tight. We can't risk contamination or confusion."
Dylan stiffened. "I ain't leavin' her—"
"You'll only make it worse," Harrison snapped. "Go. Now. Watch from the door."
Dylan's jaw clenched. His gaze flicked to Yve's pale face, the faint twitch of her fingers, and the shallow rise of her chest.
Ava gritted her teeth, moving like a shadow. She handed Harrison more bandages. "Clamp ready," she whispered.
Harrison nodded, pressing gauze and makeshift hemostatic material into the wound. "Keep her head steady."
Minutes felt like hours. Dylan's boots scraped the floor as he circled near the doorway. Each breath he took was sharp, ragged. He watched the room shrink down to only Harrison, Ava, Jenkins, and Yve—no other world existed.
A sudden shout from outside—the sound of David's voice echoing in panic—snapped Dylan's head around.
They stepped outside, Dylan leaned toward Lucas briefly. "Two of them—they saved us. At Serenity. They helped us get here," he said, voice tight, hurried.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"
"Yeah," Dylan said, barely blinking.
The two survivors inhaled sharply, noses twitching as if tasting the air itself. "Smell that?" the man said, his voice low, almost a hiss.
The female tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Yeah…"
"You thinkin' what I'm thinking?" he asked, dark amusement in his tone.
"Yeah. But let's not act hastily," she replied, voice tense. "I smell… something different in the air."
Lucas stepped forward, gesturing for David to lower his rifle. Hands raised, calm but cautious. "You guys part of a group?"
The man shook his head. "No."
"How'd you find Dylan and Ethan?" Lucas pressed.
"We were just driving around," the man said, voice casual, but eyes sharp. "Then we saw corpses piling up… something. Their car."
Lucas glanced back at Dylan and Ethan. Ethan gave a subtle nod, but Dylan's leg bounced nervously. He shook his head. "I'm gonna go back inside. Let you guys deal with those two," he muttered, voice tight, and turned on his heel.
Lucas exhaled slowly, trying to gauge them. "We're… real grateful to both of you for saving them. I'm Lucas. Lucas Brooks." He extended his hand.
The man's grip was firm, cold. "Draven. This is… Ravena," he said, nodding to the woman beside him.
Ravena's eyes lingered on Lucas for a heartbeat, almost predatory. "Hmmm… what's that smell?" she murmured.
Lucas frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It… doesn't smell like you. That's for sure," she replied, voice almost amused.
Lucas sniffed himself, brow furrowing. "Ah… yes. I do smell like blood."
The two exchanged a quiet chuckle, soft but unnerving, like a shared secret. "Can we… go inside?" Ravena asked, voice low, cautious.
Lucas nodded. "I'll inform Harrison first. He owns this estate."
Draven stepped forward, curiosity sharp in his gaze. "But I'm curious. I'll go inside."
He moved silently, almost gliding, nose twitching as he followed the scent through the Manor. Dylan blocked a doorway, arms crossed, muscles tense. "What you doin' here?" he asked, voice low, warning clear.
Draven tilted his head, inhaling deeply. "Hmmm…"
He peeked into the room where Yve lay unconscious on the table. Recognition hit him, pupils dilating, irises thinning. Hair bristled along his arms, a shiver of dread crawling up his neck and chest.
A sharp intake of breath escaped him. Then, as if the sight were unbearable, he spun and bolted outside.
Ravena's voice cracked, panic lacing her words. "What? What happened?"
Draven whispered something that made her freeze, eyes wide, lips parted.
"Shou—should we leave?" she stammered.
Draven's gaze lingered on the Manor, but his tone was soft, almost hungry. "But I'm… so hungry."
"Let's just leave… let's not risk it," Ravena said firmly, tugging at his sleeve.
Before he could respond, a small voice called out from the porch. "Dad."
Lucas whipped around. "Tyler? You need anything?"
Tyler rubbed his eyes, sleep still tugging at him. "Mom… wants to see you."
Lucas turned toward the survivors. "I—I'll head inside. David, assist them. Give them food, fresh clothes."
Draven's eyes glinted, the light catching them in a way that made Tyler seem… wrong, almost like prey. Ravena's gaze followed, mouth slightly open.
David snapped his fingers in front of their faces. "Hey. Follow me."
Ravena blinked, startled. "That's—a kid…"
Draven's smile was slow, deliberate. "Yeah…"
~~~
They finally managed to stabilize Yve. The wound was closed, but she wasn't out of the woods yet. Harrison slumped into a chair, flexing his wrists, trying to shake off the tension. Ava handed him a cup of water.
"You okay, Dad?" she asked gently.
Harrison exhaled, voice rough. "Yeah… it's just—been so long since I operated on someone."
Dylan hovered nearby, eyes never leaving Yve. "She gonna be okay?"
Harrison's jaw tightened. "We stabilized her. Closed the wound. Just… hope there's no infection."
Jenkins, still monitoring Yve's vitals, added, "Her heart rate and oxygen are steady… for now. Gotta keep track."
Dylan let out a long, shaky breath, as if the weight of the world had lifted just slightly from his shoulders. He studied Yve, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her eyes fluttering beneath their lids. "She looks uncomfortable… should we move her?"
Harrison nodded. "Ava, set up Mia's bed. It's bigger than Yve's. We'll move her there."
Dylan gently lowered himself beside Yve, grasping her hands, running his thumbs across her knuckles, and brushing her hair back from her face. Elena placed a basin beside him, holding out a towel.
"You wanna?" she asked.
Dylan nodded, voice low. "Thanks…" He started to carefully wipe away the dried blood, his movements slow, almost reverent.
Jenkins watched, concern etched across his face. "I told her to be careful… What happened anyway?"
Elena's hands trembled slightly as she answered. "Mia shot her."
Jenkins froze. "What? Why?"
"She looked… terrified. Confused," Elena said softly, avoiding his gaze.
Jenkins's eyes shifted around the room. "Where is she now?"
The group exchanged uneasy glances, then slowly turned to Dylan.
He kept wiping Yve's face, tone flat but steady. "I shot her."
Jenkins blinked, trying to process it. "Oh…"
~~~
As the night deepened, Yve's eyes would sometimes flutter open. Dylan was instantly at her side, leaning close, his hands ready to steady her if she moved. When her fingers curled lightly, he held them, whispered softly, "You need anything?" Every twitch, every shallow breath, Dylan was there, alert, coiled with protective tension. Harrison dozed in the armchair, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Deeper into the evening, Yve stirred again. Faint whispers drifted through the room, and a new scent, sharp and strange, reached her senses. She coughed, and blood trickled from her mouth. Dylan's eyes snapped open from his light nap. He leaned closer, supporting her gently as he guided her into a sitting position.
"You want water?" he asked quietly.
Yve only nodded, eyes tired and glassy. Dylan reached for the glass on the nightstand, poured slowly, then held it to her lips. She drank, small sips at first, but seconds later, she coughed violently, bringing up both water and blood.
Dylan didn't flinch. He reached for a towel, quietly wiping her mouth and the spilled water from her chin. "It's okay… don't force yourself," he murmured, voice low and steady.
Yve's eyes drifted closed again. Dylan carefully eased her back down onto the bed, adjusting her position so she could rest more comfortably. His hands lingered on her, checking pulse and breathing, running through everything Jenkins had shown him, making sure she was safe. Each gentle movement, each quiet word, carried the weight of his vigilance—and his fear.
Around 3 AM, when the house lay deep in silence, even Dylan exhausted from the previous day, Yve woke again. The smell hit her—sharp, unfamiliar, pricking at her senses. It gnawed at her, a warning she couldn't ignore. Summoning every ounce of strength, she pushed herself upright, careful not to disturb Dylan's shallow sleep.
She gripped the glass of water, trembling hands shaking with effort, and slowly brought it with her as she moved toward the door. Her knees wobbled beneath her frail body, each step a battle. She leaned into the doorframe, bracing herself, tilting, swaying, but her resolve burned brighter than the pain.
Then, she drew her sword. Setting the glass down, she used it as a makeshift cane, inching forward with painstaking care. Her senses were sharp, taut, alert with every step. Every few paces she slowed, leaning on walls, tables, anything to keep herself upright. Her breath came ragged, dizziness clawing at her mind, but her will pushed her onward.
She reached a corner, entering another long hallway. The smell drew her forward, pulling her like a thread. Her eyes narrowed, thinning into the calculating gaze of a predator. She didn't notice the claws sliding out of her fingers; her nails dug into the walls for support, raking deep grooves into the plaster, leaving faintly jagged trails in her wake.
Every step was agony, every movement deliberate. And yet, every inch forward carried her closer to whatever lay ahead, her body weak but her instincts razor-sharp, hunting the source of the scent that called her from sleep.
Yve froze as her eyes caught a door, slightly ajar. She paused, heart hammering. With a careful movement, she pricked her finger, letting a thin line of blood drip onto Nierven, the serpent coiled around her wrist like a living bracelet. The serpent's eyes glowed faintly, responding immediately to her call. It slid down her arm, growing larger, its sinuous body thickening until it matched Yve in size, strong enough to support her weight.
Nierven's gaze locked on the door, understanding her intention. With a gentle press of its head, it guided her forward. Yve gritted her teeth, pushing herself onward.
She swung her sword with all her strength. The blade connected with a person standing there, and the force hurled both the intruder and the sword through the window. The figure hit the front yard with a sickening thud, screaming in pain.
Another intruder hissed, claws raised, lunging at her. Nierven reacted instantly, snapping its jaws around the attacker and dragging it through the shattered window, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
Inside, Lucas, Taylor, and Tyler had been roused by the noise. The darkness swallowed most details, but Lucas grabbed a flashlight, sweeping it across the room. His eyes landed on Yve, collapsed against the doorway, spent and trembling.
"Yve?" Taylor whispered, rushing to her side. Yve didn't respond. Her body sagged entirely, and Taylor braced her just as she fainted.
Lucas's gaze shifted outside the shattered window. His breath caught. Nierven coiled around the intruder, biting and thrashing, tearing Ravena apart with monstrous efficiency, swallowing her as snakes do their prey.
The serpent's attention moved to Draven, who lay on the ground, claws snapping at Nierven. A sharp strike caught the serpent near its eyes, eliciting a hiss of pain—but Nierven's fury only grew. In one swift motion, Draven was ripped apart, halved in a gruesome display.
Lucas could barely form words. "Wh—"
The chaos echoed through the manor, Dylan sprinted across the hallway, panic in his eyes, calling for Yve, realizing she wasn't beside him.
Nierven slithered back up the shattered window, his tongue flicking around his mouth like someone wiping crumbs from a plate. He shrank slightly, coiling protectively around Yve, letting out a low hiss aimed at Taylor, Lucas, and Tyler. Elena, roused from the other room, froze at the sight, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.
Lucas swallowed his fear and stepped closer. He could see what Nierven was doing—reading his every move, guarding Yve as though she were the most precious thing in the world. Slowly, he raised his hands, careful, gentle, as if approaching a wary dog. "Easy, boy. Easy," he murmured.
From the end of the hallway, Dylan's voice cut through the tense silence. "Nierven?"
The serpent's head snapped up, recognizing Dylan instantly. Dylan sprinted forward, hands out, palms wide. Nierven lowered his head, sniffing Dylan, then nudged him softly, granting him access. Dylan exhaled, running a hand along the scaled ridge of Nierven's head. "Woah. Woah. Easy now. They're good people."
Dylan's gaze shifted to Yve, lying limp on the floor. He crept forward, gently cradling her head in his hands. "What happened?"
Lucas hesitated, voice tight with shock. "I… I don't know. We just woke up… saw that thing… whatever it is… eating Ravena and Draven alive."
Dylan blinked, processing. "What?"
"What the fuck is that thing, Dylan?" Lucas demanded, fear and disbelief warring in his tone.
Dylan gave a calm shrug, almost casual. "Relax. It's Yve's. Ain't gonna bite you."
Lucas's jaw tightened. "Ain't gonna bite me? It just ate those two alive!"
Dylan's expression darkened, but his voice stayed steady. "Well… that says a lot."
David, having tracked the source of the noise, raised his rifle, hands shaking. Nierven's ears flattened, scales bristling. Without warning, he lunged, knocking David to the floor under his immense weight. The rifle clattered across the floor. Dylan jumped in, positioning himself between David and Nierven, keeping his hands visible, voice firm. "David—don't. Don't move. Calm. It's not yours to fight."
David struggled to breathe, flattened under Nierven's coils. The serpent's massive head pressed close, sniffing him as if weighing every thought, every intent. Nierven hissed and growled, drool and hot breath washing over David in a warning, a clear message: back off. Slowly, Nierven exhaled through his nose, then shifted back to Yve's side.
He bent his head over her, smelling her once more, licking her face with deliberate care. Then, almost gracefully, he shrank back down, coiling tightly around her wrist. The scales hardened, forming a living bracelet, and the faint glow in his eyes finally dimmed.
David coughed violently, hacking as he tried to catch his breath, wiping Nierven's saliva from his face and hair. "Wha—what the fuck is that thing?" he stammered, voice shaking.
Dylan, cradling Yve gently in his arms, didn't answer right away. "I'll explain later… right now, I'm just gettin' her back to her bed," he said, voice calm but urgent.
Lucas stepped forward, offering a steadying hand. David grasped it, knees wobbling beneath him. Dylan let out a small, wry chuckle, remembering the first time he had come face-to-face with Nierven.
David exhaled, a mix of relief and disgust. "That… that was… disgusting."
"You better wash up," Dylan said, glancing at him. "'Fore that saliva digs deep into your skin."
David rubbed at his soaked hair and shivered. "J-just… let me gather the manliness I have left."
Dylan didn't argue. He adjusted Yve in his arms and began moving back toward the room, careful with every step, every movement deliberate, as if even a single misstep might harm her.
~~~
Celeste's eyes fluttered open to pale morning light filtering through the water. Her chest ached dully, but the agony was gone. She pushed herself upright and immediately noticed her mother sitting by the window, staring out into the endless blue.
Yen hadn't moved. Her posture was rigid, hands clasped tight, her gaze distant—elsewhere. Every few moments, a quiet sigh slipped from her lips, heavy with worry.
"Mother?" Celeste called softly.
No response.
She hesitated, then reached out and poked her arm lightly.
Yen startled and turned. "You're up—finally." Relief washed over her face as she pulled Celeste into a fierce embrace, holding her as if afraid she might vanish again.
Celeste rested her forehead against her mother's shoulder. "Did you even sleep?"
Yen gave a shaky laugh. "How could I?"
Then her voice broke. "I was waiting for you to wake up… before I leave."
Celeste pulled back. "Leave? Where are you going?"
Yen met her eyes. "To get your sister."
Celeste stiffened. "No. I'll go."
"No." Yen's hands tightened on her arms. "You stay here. Where you're safe."
"I'll bring Lysander. Raine. Callista," Celeste said firmly. "We'll bring Yve back."
Yen shook her head, tears gathering. "I can't let you do that. I can't lose both of my daughters."
"You won't," Celeste said, voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "You'll have both of us back. I promise."
"Celeste—"
"She's my other half, Mom," Celeste interrupted gently. "I can feel her. She's still alive. I know it."
She lifted her wrist unconsciously, fingers curling as if grasping something unseen.
"And if I have to tie her up and drag her back myself," Celeste added, eyes hardening with resolve, "then that's exactly what I'll do."
Yen stared at her daughter—no longer just her child, but something stronger now—and slowly, helplessly, pulled her into another embrace.
~~~
Back at the manor, Dylan lowered Yve gently into the swimming pool. Her tail—once vibrant, a deep, dark green—now looked pale, almost lifeless. The glint had dulled, and some scales had peeled away. She barely moved, breathing the scant oxygen the water offered.
After nearly half an hour, Dylan lifted her back out, wrapping her carefully in a bath towel.
Jenkins leaned closer, pointing to the scales floating on the water. "Her scales…" he muttered, voice tight with concern. "She's not getting the nutrients she needs."
Dylan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jenkins pulled a scale from the pool, then another laminated one from his pocket. Holding them side by side, high in the air, he said, "See the difference?"
Dylan's eyes narrowed. "Why do you have her scales?"
"Relax," Jenkins replied. "Yve gave them to me."
"Gave… or took?" Dylan's tone was sharp.
"She gave them," Jenkins confirmed. "She explained that sirens shed a few scales from time to time so new ones can grow. It's how they keep their glint and strength." He held the pieces closer, inspecting them. "Like human hair. But look at these—they're dry. Dead."
Dylan's gaze dropped to Yve, her tail limp against his chest. "So… that means?"
"Yes," Jenkins said bluntly. "If this continues, she won't survive. She needs proper nutrients. Not just that dirty pool water."
Dylan pulled her tightly against him, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored. His jaw flexed as he thought, eyes hardening with resolve. After a long breath, he exhaled.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'll take her back to the ocean."