Auren's trembling hand lifted, pointing toward the wide-open door of the main house. His breath hitched in his chest, almost as if his lungs refused to move. Sukamu didn't wait for another word—he bolted, his feet striking hard against the snow and wood, racing toward the doorway.

The entrance was littered with corpses, blood soaking the earth in thick, dark pools. Each step Sukamu took splashed crimson, but he didn't flinch—he carried Auren across the grotesque path and pushed inside.

What they saw beyond that threshold was not a house anymore. It was hell carved into a hall. The ground had become a river of blood, its color so deep it seemed to stain the air itself. Walls, pillars, and floorboards were painted with death; bodies lay torn, scattered without shape, as if war had chewed and spat them out.

Auren's eyes darted, panicked, scanning. To the left, fifty steps ahead, he froze—there, beneath a broken pillar, on Nyra's lap, Dax lay breathing. Slow, heavy breaths. Painful, but alive. Relief and dread battled in Auren's chest.

Behind the cracked gates, a shadow stirred. Vivi. She was crouched low, her small frame pressed into the corner, trembling. Her face was pale, eyes wide, lips sealed in terrified silence. She had been hiding this whole time, afraid that the next sound, the next move, would be her last.

Then a voice ripped through the bloody air—shaking, raw, but desperate."Dax!!"

Vivi's eyes snapped toward the sound. She knew that voice. Her lips parted, a whisper breaking free, fragile and slow:"…Auren?"

She stumbled forward, her feet dragging across the blood-soaked floor, leaving streaks of red in her wake. Her breathing was heavy, uneven, as though every inhale carried both fear and hope.

Their eyes met. Auren clung to Sukamu's back, exhausted but alive. For the first time since the nightmare began, Vivi's face softened. A flood of relief washed over her features, her eyes closing as she tilted her head upward, whispering a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens.

Auren's eyes turned glossy, a smile breaking through his pain."Vivi… I'm so happy. You're safe."

His voice shook, but joy lived in it. He forced himself to look past her, scanning again. His gaze grew sharp, his words rushing out in panic: "Look out for Dax—and Nova! They seemed serious—where are they?!"

Vivi's breath stuttered. She looked around, confusion dawning on her pale face."Huh? Nova? …I didn't see him."

Before Auren could press further, Sukamu was already at Dax's side. The old devotee knelt, pulling herbs and salves from his pouch, his hands steady as he pressed green paste against torn wounds. He sprinkled water across their faces, chanting under his breath, each motion filled with purpose and devotion.n

"Kids — we have to leave now," Sukamu barked, voice sharp as the cold. "What happened here will spark rage through the town in no time. This is a priest's place; people come for offerings and rituals. You can't stay."

Nyra snapped fully back to herself. She forced the summons—Zarkis, the great wolf—to rise. The beast answered with a low growl, silver bones glinting under its hide. "Place Dax and Nova here, fast," she ordered.

Sukamu didn't waste a breath. One by one, he hoisted the wounded onto Zarkis's broad back—Dax first, limp but breathing; then Nova, pale and spent. Finally, he helped Auren up, then climbed himself, shoulders steady despite the weight.

"Go!" Nyra commanded.

With a hiss—fusses—Zarkis shot out the main gate, paws tearing through packed snow like knives. They vanished into the white, moving faster than any man could run, leaving the ruined hall behind.

Auren clung to the wolf's fur, breaths rough. "Where are we going now?" he asked, voice thin.

"Nova's place," Nyra replied, eyes hard with purpose.

Snow whipped past them. The world narrowed to wind, pain, and the desperate motion of escape. Behind them, the temple lay broken—its silence already filled with the coming anger of the town.

Auren's voice cracked through the cold wind, almost swallowed by Zarkis's pounding steps.

"Are we… are we even safe in Baku now? I don't want to leave this soon. I still haven't learned anything from the Hollow Mountain. I'm not strong yet—not as strong as I should be. I can't just run. I want to learn… about prana, about Aravalli, the Mother Snake… about the past, about my abilities. I will never leave Baku before I understand all that."

His words shook, heavy with worry, like his breath itself carried chains.

Beside him, Vivi shifted closer on the wolf's back. Her small hand pressed against his back, warm against the cold that gnawed through his sweater. She leaned close, voice soft but steady, the kind that cuts through storms.

"Don't worry, Auren. We are not wrong. What we did… we did for good, right?"

Her eyes glistened, but her tone held no doubt. "My mother always told me—those who follow the right path never fail, as long as they carry their will. Even if the world calls us wrong, if our hearts are clear, the path will open."

Auren blinked, her words sinking deep. His chest still trembled with unrest, but that touch—her warmth, her certainty—gave him a moment's stillness. Seemed as Vivi's word fell after a long time since blood filled the heart, he closed his eyes not from pain, but to listen.

Auren smiled gently, calm resting on his face despite the blood staining from his wounds. His lips curved, and with a soft laugh, he whispered, almost to himself, "Phantom Tideborn's first fight… and Phantom won." The words carried like a secret, hidden under the weight of his pain. He giggled faintly, though his body trembled, and the sound was both fragile and brave.

Nyra and Vivi, watching him, couldn't help but smile back, their eyes glistening with relief. Even Dax and Nova, who looked half-lost between life and death, carried a quiet gesture of happiness across their weary faces.

But then Sukamu realised that...

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