Dawn — Near the Pit
The fire had long since burned to embers, casting faint orange light across the sleeping forms of Nyxia and Draj. Boo sat alone, cross-legged on a flat stone, the quiet of the pre-dawn hour wrapping around her like a cloak.
She'd woken early—earlier than usual. That habit never left. Years of living with a blade's whisper near her neck had trained her body to rise before danger could. The air was colder here, sharper. It bit like a warning.
Boo stoked the fire gently, then turned to the mess kit. She moved quietly, slicing dried meat, heating water, steeping a strong herbal brew Nyxia liked. Something bitter and smoky with a hint of mint. Grounding. She never asked for it. Boo made it anyway.
While it simmered, Boo pulled out the worn leather-bound journal. Her hand moved over the page with ease. The words didn't.
We were ambushed yesterday. Three on one turned to six on three. Getting closer to the Pit is drawing something out. Not just bandits. Not just old grudges. Something else. It's in the rocks. In her shadow.
She sealed the letter and tied it to the raven's leg. The bird vanished into the sky just as the sun began to yawn over the cliffs.
Nyxia stirred a few minutes later, groggy and stiff, face tucked into her arm. Draj padded over to Boo, quietly helping with the food. He lingered a second too long beside her.
"You don't sleep," he murmured, offering her the first bite.
"Someone has to guard your hair from forest bandits," Boo replied, soft but sardonic. Her voice had weight this morning. He heard it too.
He met her eyes. "You good?"
She didn't answer right away. Just looked east, where the Pit rose through the mist like a scar.
"Ask me that when we get out of there."
They ate in quiet. Nyxia joined them with a nod — more motion than words. She sat close, and for a moment, the silence felt almost normal. But the wind carried something else with it. A stench. Old ash. Burned magic. Something was wrong in the bones of this place.
They packed. They moved. East again. Toward the wound in the land.
Midday — The Pit
It wasn't a canyon or a ruin. The Pit looked like the world had cracked its knuckles and punched downward. Smoke hissed from hidden seams. The cliffs curled inward, surrounding a wide basin of shattered stone and moss. Makeshift camps dotted the landscape like bones picked clean.
And trolls. Dozens. Some tribal. Some scavenged. All armed.
Boo raised a hand. "We go slow."
"Too quiet," Nyxia murmured. Her tail flicked, twitching with the tension she didn't voice.
They descended calmly — no drawn weapons, no sudden moves. Draj kept his head low. Boo kept hers high. Nyxia walked with the grace of someone ready to kill.
A voice cut the air like a knife.
"Oi! What you think you doin' here, elf?"
The troll came out of a tent with two others. Scarred face. Armor stitched from bone and hide. Eyes burning like he'd seen war and liked it.
"We're just passing through," Boo said easily, hand near a dagger.
"You walkin' through the Pit like you own it," he spat. "You wit' dem void-walkers? We seen what dey did to da rocks."
Nyxia tilted her head. "We don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar." Another troll pointed. "Seen her. Seen da tail. She marked. Touched."
Boo's face fell. "Oh. Fuck."
Chaos erupted.
The lead troll lunged. Boo moved first, dagger flashing. Draj drew his blade and dropped into a guard stance. Nyxia spun into the second troll's path, glaive catching sunlight like a curse.
It was a mess from the start.
Steel slammed into bone. Spells lit the air. A warhorn sounded from the edge of the pit. More trolls. More misunderstanding.
Nyxia blocked a blade with her forearm, her spear whirling through the opening like water through fire. Boo ducked and stabbed, slid under a wide swing, then kicked someone's knee out from under them. Draj roared as he cleaved through a makeshift shield, protecting them both.
"STOP!" Nyxia shouted — but the roar of battle drowned her out.
Then the ground pulsed.
Just once. A thick, black shimmer beneath the stone.
A vein. A whisper. The Void.
It brushed her boot like smoke and memory.
Then came the pain.
Boo hit the ground hard, ribs cracking under a club. Draj crushed the attacker in response, but she didn't rise. Not yet.
Nyxia snapped her glaive sideways, cracking bone. A troll caught her tail and tugged — and the scream she loosed was not human. Her elbow broke his jaw in a single blow.
They were winning. But it was ugly.
When it ended, groans filled the air. Trolls scattered. Blood and smoke lingered.
Boo clutched her side. "I think I broke something."
"You did," Nyxia said, still breathing hard.
Draj wiped his blade on a fallen tent. "No one's gonna mistake us for diplomats now."
Then they saw him.
On the ridge. A figure, hooded. Watching.
Nyxia moved before anyone could stop her.
She sprinted up the slope, slammed the spy into stone, and tore the hood down.
A night elf. Barely more than a boy. Temple robes, caked in dirt.
"Who sent you?" she growled.
He trembled. "I—I was told to observe. That the rogue—"
"You were spying on me?"
"Orders! They think the Void's taken root here. They said you'd be—"
"A threat," she finished, voice flat.
He flinched. "I didn't mean harm—"
Her blood still dripped from her wrist. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
"Go," she said. "Before I show you what the Void really looks like."
He ran.
Draj approached slowly. "You okay?"
"No."
Ahead, beyond another ridge — sounds. Cheers. Shouting. Metal on bone.
An arena.
She could see it from here. Crude and brutal. A bloodsport ring built from scavenged stone. Combatants stepping in one at a time.
Nyxia turned toward it.
"I'm going in."
Boo's eyes went wide. "Nyx. No. You're rattled."
"I'm ready."
"You just got blamed for corruption you didn't cause."
"I know."
"This isn't healing."
"It's proof." Nyxia's voice cut like steel. "That I choose what I am. Not the Temple. Not the trolls. Me."
"And what if it proves them right?"
Nyxia didn't answer.
She turned and walked into the arena.
Boo cursed. Draj said nothing, but followed a few steps behind, hands tight around his sword hilt.
The Arena
The crowd roared like something starved. The floor was packed earth, soaked in old blood. Above, wooden scaffolds creaked with onlookers — gamblers, exiles, predators.
Void energy pulsed beneath it all, like a second heartbeat. Faint. Wrong.
Boo stood in the shadows, eyes sharp, pain forgotten.
"This place isn't just a ring. It's cursed."
Draj nodded. "It's feeding on them. On her."
Across the pit, cloaked in arcane glamor, a shadowed man leaned forward, grinning.
"There you are," he whispered. "Little nightfang. Let's see what burns first — your rage or your soul."