By now, the sun was already beginning to set.
After a full day of having occupied the city, Neodera — at least in regards to within the city limits — had been officially marked as clear. No Terror was present within the walls, only destruction and decay taking its place.
The tranquil glow now began to illuminate the dwindling embers of the city, smoke above partially cleared enough to spot specs of dimming light beaming through the chaos. Nyx, along with a few other cadets, sat calmly by a rivers edge, placed neatly right along the western wall. It was there they collected a few bottles and scoured the nearby remains, a dilapidated house partially collapsed into the side of the waterfront.
Each of them wore a makeshift mask, completely derived from torn cloth of sheets and clothing they scavenged from the houses. Most of what they found turned to be completely unusable, the fire making quick work of almost everything. Still, a few buildings, mostly those made with or strengthened by stone, managed to survive the conflagration.
They were sent out not long after the city was officially labeled as safe, obviously in search for supplies and possible survivors, though none have yet to be found. In this instance, Nyx and the few he came with were sent down what would've been a rather quaint street, leading straight to the waterfront they now stood by.
Feeling the cold tossing of water against his palm gave him an odd, almost fleeting sense of ease. Something so mundane, so regular, and yet it comforted him. Gripping a small bottle in his hand, he thought of the dead Terror collapsed onto the streets. By now, the flow had already brimmed the submerged flask, though Nyx was hesitant to pull it out.
He was too lost in his own world. Too lost in reflection.
The only thing which managed to snap him back was the sudden calling from a distance, echoing through the ruins and resonating in his ears. He couldn't see the figure, though could tell it was the stern Phantom just from his voice alone. He was calling them back.
Immediately did he raise himself — the others quick to do the same — and hastily started to march back towards the camp. He tucked the vial firmly within a small pouch he kept around his waist, only a short walk before he could see their camp above them.
For safety and visibility concerns, they settled within a rather spacious house atop a minor plateau, the front walls and sections of the roof completely torn asunder. That being said, it was easily one of the best conditioned houses this side of the city. The back wall remained surprisingly firm, and surrounding its base was a short, slightly melted but sturdy girth of stone.
Using a few loose crates, wood and rubble, they set up a makeshift fire near to the buildings center. As of right now, it remained unlit, however. They gathered around in a tight circle, helplessly bracing for the cold of night soon to bear down upon their person.
It was an oddly somber moment. An oddly refreshing one. The wind smelled of both nature and ash. The last signs of eminent light fading from the decaying ruins felt oddly beautiful.
Nyx sighed.
The second the sun's zenith hid behind the line of trees to the west, the lands were plunged into unimaginable darkness. slowly but surely, the stars peeked their heads out and into the sky above. It felt cold. It felt lonely. It felt desolate.
From the corner of his eye, Nyx could note the stern man pacing back and forth just out on the streets beside them. His eyes stayed locked onto the sky as if awaiting something. Nyx tried to pay him no heed, simply turning his head and staring at the charred wooden boards lining the edges of the frame. Moments passed. Those moments turned to what felt like years.
Until finally... Nyx noticed it.
Perhaps it was because he was so occupied in his own mind, or perhaps it was done with such subtlety he completely failed to tell until now. The stern man stood just beyond the boundary of the house, arm raised as some form of dark bird perched atop his forearm. He could tell he was reading something, a small note placed in his hands.
Once done, he carefully jolted his arm, the bird launching up and almost seamlessly merging with the night sky above.
As he approached, all heads quickly turned to him. His nerves seemed to remain steady. Passing a swift glance towards the other Phantoms present, he finally spoke. "We have news."
His voice was rather soft, sounding gruff and raspy in texture. The other Phantoms were quick to stand, though he seemed almost hesitant to speak. Carefully, he shoved a glance towards the cadets, for a brief moment locking eyes with Nyx before returning his gaze. "Perhaps we should speak in private."
Without much more word, they silently disappeared into the distant streets, leaving the few cadets in complete and total isolation. Who knows how long they were gone for. Nyx was far too tired to keep count. Part of him, in his mind, almost felt as though they never left in the first place. It was simply too much energy to care.
Nyx sat in relative silence, back leaning against the stone base of the house. Silas was just by his side, groggily rubbing his eyes with his bow crossed over him like a makeshift blanket.
Finally, the Phantoms returned, though much to Nyx's curiosity, a few less than what left. Six Phantoms, Nyx knew, was apart of their group, two sent out for patrol a little while earlier while three left to confide with the stern one.
Now, only him and one other remained.
There were three groups scattered throughout the city, meaning three separate camps. Nyx could only assume that they went to run supplies between them. Or, at the very least, that what he chose to believe.
Frankly, he was sick of worrying. Right now, all he wanted to do was rest. He shivered.
His mind, as if to distract himself from the cold, immediately began to jump to thoughts on the other camps. He wondered if they managed to get by just as well as his. He wondered if on their ends, they did encounter a Terror. An alive one. He wondered if they had any casualties.
Subtly, he recalled what Silas had said to him; "...You don't want them to die, so stop them from dying."
Nyx shook his head. 'How can I do that when we're all split apart like this?'
He hadn't noticed, but his thoughts managed to project themselves onto his face — now appearing as a concerned, almost angered expression. As if sensing his dilemma, a sudden voice suddenly broke through these thoughts that swirled in his head. "Are you cold?"
Snapping back to reality, Nyx was quick to follow the sound back to its source. Instinctually, his mind assumed it would've been Silas asking him, though much to his surprise, it was the stern man. "No-" he blurted, "I'm fine."
The man let out a slight grumble, quickly walking just before Nyx as he continued. "We're going to light the fire now. It should be safe. Care to help?"
Nyx nodded. He didn't waste any time, coming to a stand as he approached the silent pyre, crouching down just before it as the man came to his side, "Use this."
Carefully, he placed a small stone into Nyx's hand, the rock smooth yet rough, fractured to a point and almost resembled that of a black tooth.
"It's flint," The man explained, crossing his arms and examining the boy, as if waiting to see what he'd do next. "Striking that against the tip of your spear should do the trick."
"Ah... right." Nyx murmured.
His spear swung just over his shoulder, a leather strap wrapped around for ease of use. He shook the sleeve down his arm before firmly gripping its head, placing it mere inches from the base of the pile.
Carefully, he held the stone up to the rusted point, lightly tapping it against the steel before sliding it down its base.....
....nothing. It didn't work.
He tried again, only for the same result. 'Perhaps it's the rust..?' he thought to himself.
Subtly, he tilted his gaze towards the man, still towering overhead and glaring at him. He expected some form of mentorship or guidance, but he just stood there, completely motionless. Completely idle. It was almost as if he was more of a statue than a man.
Nyx shook his head — in part out of annoyance, embarrassment, though mostly due to another rogue shiver that shook down his spine.
He thought for a moment, looking around for anything nearby that could come in handy. A nearby rock caught his attention, grabbing it and carefully starting to scrape against the edge of his spear. Little by little, the rust that coated its surface gradually started to whittle away. Soon enough, a small portion of its surface was clear enough to the point where he felt comfortable to try again. So he did.
He held the flint, ran it down the restless metal, and still, no spark.
"You're being too gentle with it," The man finally spoke, gruff voice cutting through the night like a sharp knife. "It's a spear and a rock, not glass. Go harder."
Nyx sighed.
Listening to the mans words, carefully did he churn his arm back just before launching it down violently; a bundle of sparks erupting from its vigor and thrusting out towards the pile.
Not even a moment passed before the flames erupted, almost sending Nyx back out of shock. As the heat wafted against his skin, he couldn't help but be reminded of the town. Of the dead Terror.
'I'll need to get better at that...' Nyx thought to himself, silently coming to a stand as the other cadets started to flock around the crackling flame.
"How to start a fire...." The man spoke once more, "That's what you were meant to learn during your assessment. A shame that never managed to take place."
The man's eyes slowly dragged to the side, stopping on Silas. "You two seem to be close. What's your story? Childhood friends?"
Silas smiled. "More like brothers-" he stopped himself.
"Though not by blood, clearly."
There was a brief silence. Being clear that Silas wasn't going to respond, Nyx didn't hesitate to speak for him. "I'm from Hearth, sir."
He didn't seem surprised. "What's your name, kid?"
"Nyx. Nyx Correon."
He nodded. "And yours?"
"Silas Faye."
"Well, it's nice to meet you both. I'm Ryland Coute. I hope this is the start of our... professional relationship."
Upon hearing his name, Nyx was met with an odd feeling of Deja Vu. 'Ryland Coute... where have I heard that name before?' He thought, slightly rubbing his head trying to remember, though his attempts proved to be futile.
"Don't worry, you two, you both can rest. Me and Thane over there will keep watch over you cadets." He gave a slight jolt of his head towards the other Phantom, silently overlooking the eastern edge of the city.
Nyx peered over to Silas. He had failed to notice, but Silas' eyes were practically glued to the sky. Assuming he felt distant, Nyx tried his best to comfort him. "Silas, you okay?"
"Yeah..." he murmured, though he kept his eyes locked on the sky. Still being filled with smoke and ash, it almost appeared like a sandstorm over their heads. You couldn't see anything but the slim light from the stars dimly shining through the clouds.
"What are you looking at-?" Nyx asked, trying his best to leer through the smokescreen above. Overhearing the conversation, Ryland couldn't help but look up as well.
"Nothing-!" Silas exclaimed, "It's just that... do the stars look... odd to you?"
"The stars?" Nyx muttered. His eyes traced around the sky until he could spot the subtle glow of one. At first, it seemed normal. The more he looked, however, the more a deep frown began to grow on his face.
The stars looked as though they were crying — like their light was dripping from their core and straight down to the earth itself.
The stars were bleeding.
"Holy shit..." Ryland muttered, looking as though he had just seen a ghost, "Everyone up, now!"
Every cadet present stood without hesitation, aimlessly scouring the clouds as if to confirm for themselves. The stars were actually bleeding. They were in the midst of a starfall.
Nyx had only heard the stories. The dark, demonic ones, conveniently enough. If the stars were bleeding, that only meant one thing; death was soon to follow. The smoke made it nearly impossible to tell until now. They were caught with their guard down and were in the furthest depths of despair.
Only then did the smoke above their heads begin to fade. It was horrifically beautiful. It was dreadfully wonderous. The omen of death had just appeared over their heads, yet they were glued to its visuals like a moth to a flame.
It was stunning. It was sickly. Soon enough, dread started to well up from deep inside Nyx's stomach.
They had just entered purgatory without them even knowing it.