The forest was a cathedral of silence, its towering trees like ancient sentinels watching over them with indifferent patience. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound beyond their own footsteps. Eryk Thorn trudged behind Sera, his boots sinking slightly into the moss-covered ground with each step. The world around them was vast, endless, and utterly indifferent to their presence.
Eryk hated it.
Not the forest itself—though its oppressive quiet gnawed at him—but the boredom. The endless walking, the sameness of the trees, the way time stretched like taffy, slow and sticky. He had spent his life chasing something to fill the hollow inside him. Now that he had the Null Grimoire fused into his very being.
And so, he talked.
"Are we lost?"
Sera didn't turn. Her fingers tightened around the map she held, the parchment crinkling under her grip.
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Because this looks like the same tree we passed an hour ago."
Sera stopped. Slowly, she turned her head just enough to glare at him from the corner of her eye. "Trees look the same, Stray Dog."
Eryk kicked a pebble, watching it skitter into the underbrush. "Yeah, but that one had a weird knot that looked like a face. And now this one has the same knot."
Sera exhaled through her nose, long and slow, as if summoning the patience of a saint.
"We're not lost."
Eryk opened his mouth.
"And if you ask me again," she cut in, "I'm tying you to the next tree and leaving you for the skyrends."
Eryk snapped his jaw shut.
For a blessed moment, there was silence.
"What does it feel like?" He broke the silence between them.
Sera's shoulders tensed. "What?"
"Having a core," Eryk said, his voice quieter now. "You said it was like carrying a candle in the dark. But what did it feel like?"
Sera didn't answer at first. Her steps were measured, deliberate, as if she were counting each one to keep from turning around and throttling him.
"It felt like…" She hesitated, her voice softening despite herself. "Like the earth was breathing beneath you. Like you could press your hands to the soil and feel its pulse. Like the roots of the world were tangled in your ribs."
Eryk swallowed. He had spent his whole life pressing his hands to his chest, begging for even the faintest flicker of that feeling.
"And now?" he asked.
Sera's fingers brushed the hilt of her knife. "Now I just carry a blade."
Eryk wanted to ask more.
Did it hurt when it broke? Do you miss it? Do you ever dream about it?
But the set of Sera's jaw told him he'd already pushed too far.
So he let the silence stretch.
~○~
The river appeared suddenly, a silver ribbon cutting through the dense foliage, its surface dappled with sunlight where it broke through the canopy. The water was clear and cold, rushing over smooth stones with a sound like whispered secrets.
Sera crouched at the bank, cupping her hands to drink. Eryk mirrored her, the icy water sharp against his palms, washing away the grime of travel. For a moment, the world felt simple.
Then his stomach growled.
Sera smirked.
"Hungry?"
Eryk scowled. "No."
His stomach betrayed him with another loud protest.
Sera rolled up her sleeves.
"Stay here."
"Where are you—?"
But she was already wading into the river, her movements fluid, her eyes fixed on the water. Eryk watched, baffled, as she stood perfectly still, her hands poised above the surface.
Then, like lightning, she struck.
Her hand plunged into the water and emerged clutching a wriggling fish, its scales flashing silver in the sunlight. She tossed it onto the bank with a wet thwap where it flopped helplessly.
Eryk blinked. "How did you—?"
Sera didn't answer. She was already stalking another.
Eryk frowned, then crouched by the river's edge, peering into the water. Fish darted just beneath the surface, their shadows flickering over the stones. He reached in, fingers splayed and grabbed nothing but water.
He tried again. And again. Each time, the fish slipped away with infuriating ease.
Sera snorted.
"You look like a drowning cat."
Eryk glowered. "I've never done this before!"
"Obviously."
He lunged again, this time with both hands, and nearly face-planted into the river. Sera's laughter rang out, sharp and bright, bouncing off the trees.
Eryk sat back on his heels, dripping and defeated.
"This is stupid!"
Sera wiped her eyes, still grinning. "You're just bad at it."
"Yeah, well, not all of us grew up speaking to dirt."
Sera's smirk faded slightly, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she tossed him another fish. "Here. Make yourself useful and clean them."
Eryk stared at the fish. It stared back, glassy-eyed and accusatory.
"...How?"
Sera groaned.
~○~
Night fell softly, the forest exhaling into darkness. The fire between them crackled, its light painting their faces in gold and shadow. The fish, now gutted, thanks to Sera's patient and exasperated instruction, sizzled on a makeshift spit, their skins crisping.
Eryk poked at one with a stick. "How do you know when it's done?"
"When it stops looking at you," Sera deadpanned.
Eryk scowled.
Sera flipped the fish with practiced ease. "You really never did anything for yourself, did you?"
Eryk picked at the frayed edge of his sleeve.
"The Academy fed us. Servants cleaned. Mages don't do things."
Sera's lips twisted. "Must be nice."
Eryk didn't answer. It had been nice. Until it wasn't. Until he realized he was just a hollow thing among real mages, a boy playing pretend in a world that had no use for him.
The fish was good. Simple, smoky, the flesh flaking apart between his fingers. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first bite.
Sera watched him devour it, her expression was unreadable.
"Slow down. You'll choke, you prick!" she shouted. "I don't wanna drag a corpse in the middle of the night! I'll throw you in the river."
Eryk ignored her, licking grease from his fingers.
Sera shook her head, but there was something almost fond in the gesture.
The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the night.
Later, when the fire had burned low and the forest hummed with the sounds of unseen creatures, Eryk lay on his back, staring up at the sky. The stars here were different from the ones in the Ashen District—brighter, sharper, like pinpricks in the fabric of the world.
Sera sat nearby, sharpening her knife with slow, rhythmic strokes. The sound was steady and grounding.
Eryk turned his head. "Do you think the stars have cores?"
Sera paused. "What?"
"Like, do they have magic inside them? Is that why they shine?"
Sera sighed. "Go to sleep, Stray Dog."
Eryk rolled onto his side, propping his head on his arm. "I'm serious. If they do have cores, could a Spellbreaker drain them?"
Sera's knife stilled.
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Then, she softly said, "If you drained a star, what do you think would happen?"
Eryk frowned. "I don't know. It would go out, I guess."
Sera looked up at the sky, her face half-lit by the dying fire.
"Then let's hope you never find out."
Eryk followed her gaze. The stars stared back, cold and distant.
He didn't ask another question after that.