Dragged to Ember's Cottage
The moon had drifted high by the time Ember finally convinced Bug—and, through Bug, Nyxar—to follow her to her modest forest cottage. It smelled faintly of herbs and smoke, a warm contrast to the night air.
Bug zipped ahead, antennae twitching like a herding dog.
Bug: "Oi, Nyxar. Lose the blindfold already. The light isn't gonna melt your eyeballs."
Nyxar tilted his head, then untied the strip of cloth. For the first time, Ember saw his eyes: deep black with a scarlet ring that shimmered like burning coals.
Ember almost dropped her staff.
Ember (soft gasp): "Whoa…"
Nyxar blinked calmly. No squinting. No pain. Just that quiet, predatory stillness.
Bug landed on his shoulder, whistling.
Bug: "Well I'll be… Didn't realize you were hiding demon jewels in there. Guess we couldn't see much color in those caves."
The Spirit's Command
The house-wisp spirit zipped in a circle around Nyxar, nose—if it had one—wrinkling.
Spirit: "Now. Shower. Immediately."
Nyxar simply stared, expression unreadable.
Nyxar: "…Shower?"
The spirit turned to Ember like a tiny drill sergeant.
Spirit: "Wash him."
Ember's face went crimson to match his eyes.
Ember: "M–me?! Why me?!"
Spirit: "Because this boy clearly doesn't know what a shower is, and someone has to demonstrate. You're the only human here who won't treat it like black magic."
Bug chuckled wickedly.
Bug: "This is already my favorite conversation of the night."
The "Lesson"
Eventually Ember, muttering furiously, shoved a wooden bucket toward Nyxar and guided him to a small washroom.
Ember: "Fine. But—blindfold. For me."
She tied a cloth over her own eyes, which only deepened Bug's confusion.
Bug: "Wait… why is she blindfolded? He's the one covered in cave grime!"
Nyxar stood perfectly still as Ember awkwardly explained—half in Common, half through Bug's translation—how to pour warm water over himself.
Splash.
Nyxar's hair, once matted with dried blood, loosened into a sleek black fall with streaks of crimson at the tips. Steam curled around him like faint shadow magic.
The spirit cackled in the doorway.
Spirit: "Ha! Civilization: one, cave-boy: zero."
The Reveal
When Nyxar finally stepped out, Ember handed him a fresh set of simple forest-green clothes. He accepted them with silent curiosity and emerged a moment later, dressed.
Bug hovered back, blinking.
Bug: "…Okay. Didn't realize you could look like an actual person."
The spirit whistled appreciatively.
Spirit: "When you're not wrapped in dried blood, you're… surprisingly handsome."
Nyxar stared blankly, clearly unsure what the flying light was talking about.
Bug scratched his head.
Bug: "Yeah, uh… neither of us speaks whatever 'handsome' is. Some kind of spirit riddle?"
The spirit floated close to Ember's ear and whispered with a mischievous spark,
Spirit (whisper): "You found yourself a nice-looking man."
Ember jolted like she'd been struck by lightning, nearly dropping her towel.
Ember: "W–what?! No! Absolutely not!"
Nyxar tilted his head at her sudden outburst.
Nyxar: "…Humans. Space?"
Bug zipped between them, utterly lost.
Bug: "Okay, now I'm confused. What in the abyss is a 'nice-looking man'? Is it edible?"
The spirit collapsed in midair, laughing until its glow flickered like a candle.
Ember hid her red face behind her hands.
Nyxar simply adjusted the unfamiliar clean tunic, completely unmoved.
To him, this was just another strange surface ritual—
…while the rest of the room burned with a different kind of heat.