Nyx felt it before she fully understood it—the paralysis was fading. The numbing grip of the toxin slowly receded, like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Her body slackened for a moment, heavy and unresponsive, but she forced herself to move. Remaining in the water would only delay the final traces of the poison leaving her system. With steady, deliberate strokes of her arms and tail, she swam toward the shore, each movement controlled and measured. There was still grace in the way she moved, but beneath it lay tension—wariness coiled tightly in every motion.
She pulled herself onto the riverbank, water trailing from her form as she rose from the surface. The man's attention never wavered. She could feel it, even without meeting his gaze directly. Every muscle in her body tightened instinctively, half-expecting him to strike—to draw that pristine blade and cut her down the moment she stepped within reach. Yet he didn't move. And from what she could tell, he expected the same from her. Neither of them made any effort to hide it.
As Nyx settled onto the shore, her body began to shift. Her long, purple tail dissolved into shadow, the darkness folding inward before condensing into form—slender human legs, smooth and dark like the rest of her skin. The transformation completed, leaving her seated and naked beneath the open sky. She exhaled softly, then glanced toward him. "Can I at least have something to cover myself with?" she asked.
He removed the outer robe of his kimono and stepped just close enough to drape it over her shoulders. His movements were careful, deliberate—and for the first time, something slipped through his composure. A faint blush. Nyx blinked, mildly surprised. Flustered? The thought almost amused her. Of course, she mused inwardly, it isn't every day one sees a demon like me. Then, almost immediately, her expression hardened. Wait… why am I even letting him get this close? She shifted away, creating distance between them. It's the stress, she told herself. It has to be.
Silence settled between them—neither comfortable nor hostile, just uncertain. Two strangers standing at the edge of something neither of them had defined yet. Nyx broke it first, her gaze drifting toward the horizon where the sun had begun to sink, staining the sky in deep purples and reds. A flock of pale birds crossed the fading light, retreating home. "Wanderer," she said quietly, "what brings you to the hells of Aran?"
The man smiled faintly, the fabric of his blindfold stirring in the breeze. "I'm returning to the academy," he replied, his voice calm, precise.
"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.
He did not answer immediately. When he did, his voice carried a quiet certainty. "Nezra of Eralon."
Nyx studied him in silence before speaking again, softer this time. "You're different, you know. I don't see it—not beneath your calm, not hidden anywhere. No contempt. No disgust. Not even curiosity." She paused, her tone thoughtful. "And I consider myself a good judge of character. Do you not… scorn demons?"
Nezra remained silent for a moment, the last light of day slipping further into dusk. "Demons are not what they are," he said at last, his tone subdued. "They are what we make them. Humans can be demons too." He paused briefly before adding, more quietly, "It must be difficult… to live with nothing but hate directed at your kind."
Nyx smiled faintly. Not bitter. Not angry. Just… distant. "No. Not really," she said. "In fact, it was…" Her voice trailed off, the rest of the thought fading before it could take shape.
Silence lingered again.
"What is your name?" Nezra asked. "Why are you here?"
Nyx exhaled slowly, her gaze lowering slightly. "I'm running from home," she said. A pause followed before she continued, her voice steadier now. "My name is Nyx." Another pause, heavier this time. "I am the Avatar of the Dark God of Death… Merionine."