I took a shaky breath, then another. The blue mist curling from my mouth was almost gentle now, dissipating into faint sparks that floated upward and vanished among the shattered branches.

  The Wailfiend layed before me.

  ???

  [Status Analysis] Wailfiend's

  Species: [Wailsheelong] — [Banshee type]

  Dominions: [Disrupt] [Virtuoso]

  APeX: ["800,000" Units]

  Attributes: [Phantom] [Aqua] [Deino]

  Evolution Stage: [Dominant]

  Current Variant Grade: [Unique] ☆

  Active Transformation: [Banshee-Eel Form]

  Personal Note: Has the appearance more like an oarfish—delicate, mouthless, and an angular head like a fox's that hints sophistication; Wailfiend also has pretty frills that grants it a fanciful aesthetic.

  ???

  My gaze settled completely on the Wailfiend again; still curled in the crater, as its sleek, red-black body heaved with slow, startled breaths. I felt a wave of disbelief and discomfort toward the faint lines of abyssal energy I saw etching on its battered body. They crisscrossed its scales where my rampage had struck hardest, leaking shadows.

  Something twisted uncomfortably in my chest. Not quite guilt because I wasn't sure I could even feel guilt the way I used to but something close. A tether to whatever frail humanity remained beneath this newly forged hunger.

  I floated to the edge of the smoldering crater, feeling the scorched earth give beneath my feet. That gnawing power still hummed through me in a hungry, restless mood but I forced it down, swallowing hard until my breathing steadied.

  Below, the Wailfiend twitched where she lay coiled. Her once ghostlike grace was gone, replaced by the lean, tattered frame of that red-black dragon. Frills along her spine fluttered with exhausted shudders, and her eyes rolled toward me, pupils blown wide with something that was not quite fear… but not trust either.

  I felt something painful twist inside my chest again. Fortunately, I still had empathy.

  Slowly, I dropped to one knee at the crater's rim. I leaned forward, trying to soften myself though every line of my body still buzzed with lethal tension.

  "Hey," I said. "Are you okay?"

  The Wailfiend's slit eyes narrowed, confused. Her throat fluttered with a low, uncertain rumble that carried none of the banshee's shriek from before. She shifted like she might flee; but then stopped, blinking rapidly. A thin hiss escaped her fanged mouth, more puzzled than hostile.

  Behind me, I heard the faint scratch, scratch, scratch of a pen. I glanced back.

  Szylla stood elegantly beneath her umbrella, one hip cocked, her monocle aglint. In her hands she held a small leather-bound book, scrawling notes with a quill whose tip glistened with shifting black ink that seemed to drip and vanish before it ever reached the ground. Her tentacles curled contentedly behind her, two of them even seeming to peek over her shoulder as if to read along.

  "Fascinating," she murmured, not looking up. Her pen danced in a graceful and unhurried motion. "An instinct toward empathy, even now. After such a violent molting. That is most illuminating."

  I ignored her. My gaze returned to the Wailfiend.

  Slowly, I stretched out my hand toward her, paws up, palm exposed in what I hoped was a non-threatening gesture. My voice softened, hoarse from whatever monstrous roars I'd unleashed earlier.

  "I… didn't mean to hurt you that badly. Or maybe I did, when I wasn't myself. But I'm truly sorry."

  The Wailfiend's nostrils flared. And I almost thought she might snap at me—sink those beautiful needle teeth into my wrist. But instead, she leaned in, inhaling deeply. Her breath was hot, tinged with shadow. Then, almost shyly, she nudged her scaled snout against my hand.

  "Hmph, I guess you're forgiven, neophyte."

  A soft, stunned exhale left me.

  This time, Szylla let out a delighted sigh, her pen pausing for emphasis.

  "Oh KiAera. Do continue. Every moment of this is worth recording."

  I didn't answer her. My attention stayed wholly on the Wailfiend, whose eyes half-closed as I gently ran my claws along the edge of one frill. There was still a wariness in her, but also… a fragile thread of recognition. Maybe that was enough. For both of us.

  The Wailfiend's breath came slower now. She shifted her coiled body in small increments, trying not to wince, as if even the pride of moving carried a risk of embarrassment. Her frills lay half-folded, twitching with restless little flutters.

  I drew closer still, easing down the last slope into the crater. The ground was warm beneath my paws, etched with glowing cracks from where our fight had scarred it. My ribbons fanned outward, responding to the residual essence that still clung to the stone. When they accidentally brushed the Wailfiend's flank, she flinched in a prim, offended shiver.

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  "Careful," she said, her voice unexpectedly airy, a tone of elegance I wouldn't have expected from a creature who only an hour ago had tried to flay me with spectral bullets. "Your trailing adornments are quite forward."

  Awkwardness prickled up my ears. "Oh. Sorry. They kind of… have a mind of their own."

  She made a soft, reedy noise, a little like a fluted sigh. Her coils adjusted again, scales rasping gently over one another in a strangely delicate way. It reminded me of someone primly smoothing their skirts.

  Her gaze found mine, eyes large and lambent under their long, dark ridges. There was suspicion there, but also a quizzical interest. She tilted her elegant, narrow head, then her nostrils flared.

  "You are a Unique Variant too now, aren't you? Something… newly born." Her pupils shrank slightly. "Your aura has the raw edge of fresh forging."

  "Of course. It's… recent."

  She regarded me with a solemn blink, then lowered her snout until her chin nearly rested upon the scorched stone. Her long body curled a little tighter, neatly tucking her tail in. There was something almost bashful in the motion, the way her frills drooped to partially hide her throat. A very deliberate daintiness.

  "You look confused," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

  The Wailfiend sniffed, fidgeting a bit as her words came out brittle. "I am not confused. Merely… reorienting. One does not simply rise from battle with one's form half-crushed and discover their rival to be so… diminutive now. And floating."

  My ears flicked at that. I felt my own cheeks heat, which was a ridiculous response given I was covered in fur. "You're very neat for a creature who spent the last few hours trying to gut me."

  "Of course I am," she retorted, drawing her head higher with a sliver of pride. Her forked tongue flicked delicately. "I serve Dr. Szylla, the foremost mind of our age. She demands nothing less than refined presentation, even from her creations."

  That stopped me. My brow lifted. "Doctor Szylla?"

  The Wailfiend paused, eyes flickering with a brief confusion that collapsed into faint exasperation. "Yes. Doctor. Did you think she was merely some decadent Sovereign drifting through eternity with no higher pursuits? She is—she was—the head of the Eld Pathogenics Circle. Or something akin to that. My memories blur when I press them."

  She studied one of her claws, flexing it with a dainty fastidiousness. Her long tail curled tighter, as if hugging itself.

  "She found me during the plague. When I was still… something else. Something softer, I think. Less scales, certainly." Her muzzle wrinkled faintly, perplexed. "I remember being ill. I remember my mind fracturing, little glass cracks running through every thought. I would have died. Or worse. Gone screaming across the veils forever."

  There was a hushed wonder in her tone, almost reverence, as her frills rippled.

  "But she took me in. She cured the madness in my marrow. She rebuilt me when the plague had rotted so much I couldn't even hold one shape anymore. That is why I serve her now, above all else. I am her triumph. Her proof. Her most precious."

  Her words trembled on that last declaration. I saw her eyes dart to where Szylla still lingered at the crater's edge, umbrella perched over her shoulder as she scribbled. Something tight and glistening passed across her expression.

  So that was it. A creature bound by gratitude and something far deeper—something tangled between awe and desperate, lingering need. The Wailfiend probably didn't just admire Szylla. She clung to her like a girl might cling to the last warm memory of a mother's hand.

  Still floating, I gently drifted closer. My ribbons brushed the edge of the Wailfiend's broad head again, this time softer, a ghost of contact. But the Wailfiend batted away, and the stare she gave me was harsh. That confirmed something else that I'd been impartial about.

  "You're jealous," I asked quietly.

  Her head jerked, eyes flashing wide with a scandalized glimmer. Then her frills snapped tight against her neck, almost like a collar tugged too hard.

  "Don't be absurd," she hissed. "Why would I be jealous of a trembling neophyte, fresh from their first molt, still reeking of confusion and half-baked power?"

  But her tail betrayed her, twitching with tiny, embarrassed movements that didn't match her haughty tone.

  I let it hang there. Let her discomfort fill the charged space. Finally, I only nodded.

  "Well," I said at last. "For what it's worth… I didn't come here to replace anyone. I don't even know why Szylla takes an interest in me. I'm still trying to figure out what I am now."

  The Wailfiend stared at me for a long, uncertain breath. Her gaze traveled from my soft, floating form, to the gentle ribbons stirring in the air, to my claw-tipped hands that now hovered harmlessly at my sides.

  Then, with a slow, almost petulant sigh, she lowered her head again until her snout just barely brushed my hovering foot.

  "I suppose… if she must take another pet, at least you are a curious one," she muttered. "And less hideous than most. Your fur is… well kept."

  "Thank you." I struggled not to laugh at the prim little bite in her tone.

  Just then the shift happened. I sensed it more clearly than ever before. Around us, the forest was beginning to breathe again. Overhead, the canopy wept soft drops of phosphorescent rain. It was mending what we had torn.

  I caught Szylla watching us, her smile faint and far too pleased. She made a tiny note in her book, then tapped her quill twice as though concluding a hypothesis.

  The Wailfiend drew her long neck up again, looking down at me through her half-lidded eyes. Her voice dropped, almost conspiratorial.

  "You will stay, won't you? In the grove. Even if only a while. It's… easier with more of us."

  There it was again. That subtle admission that underneath all the practiced aloofness and elegant posture, there still trembled the raw echo of a girl who had once wept with fever and fear, waiting for a mother to come save her.

  I smiled at her. My ribbons swept gently through the air.

  "Yeah. I'll stay. For now."

  The Wailfiend's eyes shut with something like relief, her body uncurling just slightly. Her frills relaxed into lazy arches.

  Beside us, Szylla finally closed her little journal with a crisp snap, the sound almost startling. She tucked it neatly beneath one arm and stepped closer, her tentacles withdrawing into the dark pool of her skirts like well-trained servants.

  "How very delightful. Nothing so charming as monsters learning how to nurse their fragile little hearts again."

  She looked at us both with that fox-bright smile. Her eyes glinted, catching not just the forest's glow, but something older and more calculating.

  I couldn't quite decide if I felt safe under her gaze. But for now, I drifted a little closer to the Wailfiend, feeling the faint heat of her scales, the hesitant curl of her tail near my floating feet.

  Szylla gestured for us to follow. I was uncertain whether I should because I wanted to see my crewmates again. The Crystal Shelter needed me more than anything. But that prospect had brought another concern in mind. How would I get back? and what had happened to Oath and Zest?

  Then, with no more ceremony than the hush of rain on stone, the Wailfiend nudged her snout against my back. The touch was light, almost shy.

  I stiffened. A claim? That was what it felt like: a staking of space; a quiet insistence that I belonged here, in the grove with her. And though every part of me screamed that I had a duty elsewhere. That Oath and Zest needed me more than anything—I couldn't shake the flicker of guilt that twisted deep in my chest.

  Because the truth was, I feared what would happen if I left her behind. I stayed very still, letting the warmth of her head press into me. To her, maybe it meant stay with us.