I woke up staring at the ceiling, my heart racing, skin covered in sweat. The room was dark as always; the only light came from a small fluorescent lamp in the corner. The silence was unbearable. The only thing I could hear was my deep breathing, as if my body was trying to keep up with reality. Without thinking, I whispered into the shadows.
"Nyx," I said, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.
A low groan answered my whisper, followed by the rustling of sheets. Then, a voice—familiar, sharp, a hundred percent irritated—pierced my ears. "That's just great. What do you want now?" Nyx muttered, her tone as hoarse as mine, like her ancient slumber had been abruptly interrupted. "Do you have any idea what time it is in the metaphorical land I've been staying in?"
"I need answers," I snapped, ignoring her sarcasm. "That man—the one leading the cult. Who is he? Why does he know me?" I demanded, my voice edged with urgency.
There was a pause. I guess Nyx was thinking or something. Then I heard an irritated scoff. "I don't know. Never met that human. Not directly, anyway."
"What do you mean, not directly?" I asked, my voice sharp, sensing the shift in her tone. Nyx sounded suspicious.
"Oh, did I say that?" Nyx muttered, her tone dripping with irritation. "I meant I never met him, period," she added, her voice sharp and defensive.
"But why does—" I started, but Nyx cut in.
"If I had to guess," she said, her voice dripping with disdain, "someone probably just told him about you. Maybe that pathetic excuse of a war god. He reeks of desperation. He'd say anything to stay relevant."
Ariane pulled the blanket tighter around herself, though the chill wasn't in the room—it was in her bones. "But it felt like he knew me. Like… like he's seen me before."
Another pause. This time, Nyx's voice softened, if only slightly. "You're spiraling. Don't overthink it. That kind of paranoia will get you killed faster than any of them," she said, her tone more measured but still tinged with warning.
I looked at the corner of the room where moonlight barely touched the cracked floor. "So what now?"
"If I were you?" Nyx's voice grew distant, already retreating. "I'd get out of here as soon as possible. Follow that woman—Nixie. Whatever mess you're in, she's your best bet."
Nyx disappeared after that, mumbling about needing more rest. For some reason, I could hear the sound of her metaphorical footsteps fading out, leaving a hollow silence behind. She had already left, but the weight of her words lingered.
I just lay there, thinking.the weight of the dream still pressing on her chest, and the memory of that man's eyes—calm, cruel, certain—burned behind hers like a brand.
There were no clear answers, no easy paths forward. But one thing made sense: keep moving. Just like Nyx said.
I found Nixie a little while after that, hanging around in her office with Zion. The baby god was using his powers to make his toys float above him, spinning them slowly, making them chase each other. It was weird at first, but considering everything that had happened, this seemed normal.
When he spotted me, he grinned and launched the toy toward me. I caught it before it could smack me in the face, and the psychopathic baby looked disappointed when I did.
Nixie glanced up with a raised brow, her amused smile present as always. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" she asked, her tone light but knowing.
"I can move, I feel great," I said, flexing my body to prove a point. "So? What do I need to do next?" I asked, trying to sound ready, even if part of me still felt off.
Nixie stretched out her legs, stood up, and started doodling on the map of the island hanging on her wall. "I don't have a plan yet, but I've been thinking—analyzing," she said, her tone calm but focused.
She tapped the map with her pen, her eyes scanning its details. "So far, we have two relics: the war god's helm and the pendant, which is currently being worn by Zion. Both were guarded by gods. There are seven relics that I want, and if that pattern holds, then that means each one has a god protecting it," she continued, her voice steady with a hint of anticipation.
She shifted her gaze to me, looking amused and excited—an expression that didn't quite match the seriousness of what she was explaining, but still perfectly on brand for Nixie. "We've already run into one god outside of those two, which makes three in total. So, in theory, there should be at least four more we haven't seen yet."
I stared at the map, quietly doing the math. She's kind of right, but for me, I've only got two I haven't seen yet. But that was all just theory—there could be more of those gods roaming around the island. Still, there was no point in correcting Nixie. Not now.
"So four more, huh?" I muttered, my voice low and weary. "That sounds hard—we're not even halfway done," I added with a grim sigh, rubbing the back of my neck.
"But at least progress is progress, right?" Nixie said, smiling faintly at Zion, who was now floating along with his toys, orbiting the lamp above us like a makeshift solar system.
I crossed my arms. "So... where should I go next?" I asked,
"Oh, you're not going anywhere." Nixie leaned back. "You still need rest."
"But I want to finish this as soon as possible," I said firmly, my voice low but resolute.
"The only thing that'll get finished is your life if you keep pushing yourself," Nixie said flatly. "Take a good, long rest. We'll continue tomorrow."
She turned her attention back to Zion, gently nudging another toy toward him as if the conversation was already over.
With nothing else to do, and Nixie shutting down any idea of leaving the warehouse, I decided to just roam around the place for the time being. The place felt lively in its own strange way. Gideon's men were busy moving things around, while civilians—tourists and locals who had survived the island—were occupied with their own tasks: cleaning, talking to each other, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
I walked around without any real destination in mind, hoping to find something—anything—to do. Something to make myself useful, something to keep my mind from spiraling. Maybe I'd stumble into someone to talk to, or maybe I'd just end up fixing a broken light fixture out of boredom. Either way, staying still felt worse.
As I turned the corner for the nth time, near the back of the warehouse, I paused at the sight of a small boy sitting cross-legged beside a pregnant woman. They were quiet—she seemed to be resting while he played with scraps of wire and a plastic spoon, lost in his own world, not even noticing me at first.
I stared, a weird feeling wrapping around my chest. I was pretty sure this kid was already here before—everything feels familiar about him, his face, the way he moved, the calm way he stared at me when he finally noticed me approaching.
Curiosity tugged at me, and before I could think, I was walking toward the pair. My steps were both careful and hesitant. Up close, he looked no older than seven—messy hair and calm eyes that seemed too sharp for a boy his age. He didn't look threatening as he watched me approach.
I sat beside him, glancing briefly at the sleeping pregnant woman.
"Hey," I said softly. "Have we met before?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gave me a faint smile—the kind that made you nervous rather than calm.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe not yet," he added with a grin.
Then I realized something, and it made me dizzy. That smile—quiet, tired, and far too old for his face—stirred something in my memory. I blinked, and for a moment, the warehouse blurred. Everything blurred. The memory of my dream crept back, uninvited.
He was the boy. The boy whose memory I had once relived in my dream.
That life hadn't been mine, but I had lived it. Felt the cold. The fear. The dull ache of being forgotten. I looked at the boy again, my voice low. "The orphanage… were you there?"
His eyes gleamed faintly, and he didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
My heart skipped a beat. The boy suddenly disappeared—one moment he was there, his small figure bathed in dim light, and the next, he was gone. Vanished. As if he had never been there at all.
I looked around, searching for any sign of him, but there was nothing. No trace. Like fog dissolving into the air. The pregnant woman stirred slightly, still unaware.
My chest tightened with the lingering sense of something otherworldly—another addition to the growing list of things I couldn't explain.
Was the boy even real? Had he truly been here? Or were my memories and dreams bleeding into reality? Was this just another layer of confusion, another piece of a puzzle that didn't fit?
I stood there for a long time. I could feel the pregnant woman watching me now, but I kept staring into the empty space where the boy had been, feeling like I had just missed something important—something I wasn't supposed to forget.
I glanced at the pregnant woman, my voice hesitant. "Hey… have you seen the boy that's usually with you?" I asked, my voice shaky.
The woman blinked, her expression unfazed. "What boy?" she replied, tilting her head slightly in confusion.
My brows furrowed as I scanned the space around me. "The kid—he was with you while you were napping. Around seven, messy hair... you didn't see him?" I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
The woman shook her head slowly, one hand resting protectively on her belly. "No one was here but me," she said softly. "And I've never seen anyone like that before. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
I froze for a moment, the confusion knotting tighter in my chest. "I think… I think I'm fine… yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, though my voice sounded far from convincing.
I felt a sharp throb pulsing behind my eyes and instinctively pressed my fingers to my temples. The pain felt heavier than usual, as if something was trying to claw its way out of my skull.
"Ariane, calm down," I muttered, breathing slowly and trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. It was persistent and annoying. "Focus, Ariane," I told myself, forcing my thoughts into order. "Nyx, come out," I said, summoning her.
"Did you see the boy I was talking to before? The one who was here just a few moments ago?" I asked, my voice tense.
There was a long silence before Nyx responded, her tone flat. "What boy? There's no one here, Ariane. Maybe you're just seeing things."
I could feel my headache growing worse. "I'm not imagining things. He was right there, with the woman," I said, pressing my fingers harder to my temples.
"I didn't see anything," Nyx replied with a hint of irritation. "Focus on what's in front of you. You've got enough problems already."
Nyx left after that, but I still felt paranoid. It was unsettling how everything was starting to make me feel crazy. I rubbed my temples harder and wandered around the warehouse, stopping anyone I came across.
"Have you seen a boy? Messy hair, around seven, kind of quiet? He was with the pregnant woman earlier," I asked almost everyone I passed.
But each person just gave me the same puzzled look, shaking their heads.
"No kids here, aside from the baby," one mechanic said. "You sure you weren't dreaming?"
Even Nixie, who usually had an eye on everything, looked genuinely confused when I brought it up.
"A kid?" Nixie repeated. "No, I haven't seen anyone like that. Are you sure you're okay? Maybe it's the stress."
I wasn't sure anymore—not about what I saw, or what it meant. The boy had felt real. Too real. And yet, somehow, no one else remembered him at all.
I let out a tired sigh as I leaned against a wall. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe there really was no one—maybe the boy didn't exist. Maybe it was the stress, the dreams, the relic, the gods… maybe the weight of everything on this island was finally starting to affect me, wearing me down. I closed my eyes, just for a moment, trying to find my balance.
Then—I heard movement.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him again. The boy. Darting between corridors, quick and silent.
My instincts kicked in before my mind could come up with a proper reason. I was running after the kid—I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination or a shadow, but I ran, chasing something.
"HEY!" I shouted as I gave chase, turning corners, dodging people. And when I thought I had him cornered, I found nothing. He was gone again. No trace—just the echo of my own footsteps and a crawling dread wrapping around my soul.
Frustrated and breathless, I shouted, "NYX!"
I summoned her again. The shadows around me shifted, and Nyx emerged slowly, clearly irritated.
"Didn't I tell you not to call me for something unimportant?" Nyx groaned. "You even materialized me this time. Didn't I say to conserve my energy?" Her form flickered at the edges like a glitch. "What do you want now?" she asked.
"Are there any gods with mind-altering powers?" I asked, urgency creeping into my voice, my eyes darting around the empty hallway. "Ones that can make people forget? Make me see things that aren't there?"
Nyx narrowed her eyes. "Mischief," she muttered. "If any of them are messing with your head, it'd be that one. But even he—"
Suddenly, her voice cut off.
I flinched at the sight of Nyx's form warping, like smoke being pulled by an unseen force—then vanishing entirely. No snarky farewell, no warning.
A chill swept through my whole body. I took a step backward—then turned around—and froze.
The boy stood directly in front of me.
Silent. Still. Staring up at me with that same knowing look, like he'd been waiting all along.
"We can't have that traitor god ruining our fun now, can we?" the boy said in the fakest British accent I'd ever heard, wearing a smirk far too cruel for his age.
"Who are you?" I snapped, then sprinted toward him, focusing Nyx's blessing on my legs and fist. I swung—and missed. Not exactly missed, but he vanished. It was like punching air.
His whole body seemed to turn into mist, only to rematerialize a few feet away, leaning casually against a crate.
"Aren't you being a little too violent?" he said, faking an innocent voice. "Attacking a harmless little boy?" he added with a tilt of his head, clearly mocking.
"Oh no, no," I said sarcastically, stepping forward again, trying to gather more power in my feet. "You are in no shape or form harmless. Who are you?" I demanded, not letting my eyes leave him.
The boy grinned wide, something ancient and mocking behind his eyes. "You can call me Mischief," he said, his voice echoing just slightly too much for the room. "God of... well, a little bit of everything you're not ready for."
"What does that even mean? Sounds stupid," I said, trying to taunt the god.
"It means that if you want to save everyone here," the boy said, his smile stretching unnaturally wide, "you will do what I tell you to do. Find me at my ruins."
My eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if it was just a bluff. "What do you mean, save? You've got nothing here—no power, no leverage," I said, challenging him.
"Oh," he gave me a very sarcastic smile and tilted his head. "You'll see," he said with a singsong tone.
And with that, he vanished—no mist this time, no dramatic flicker. Just gone, like a blink that swallowed reality.
I barely had enough time to process what had just happened when Nyx reappeared, her form crackling with fury.
"That bastard! I'll kill him! Lend me your body and I'll kill that clown!" she shouted, her eyes burning with rage.
"What happened to you?" I asked, my voice laced with concern and disbelief.
"That bastard silenced me," she spat, her voice sharp with rage. "Cut me off mid-sentence. I couldn't move, couldn't speak—nothing."
I wanted to just laugh it off and call it a bluff, but after seeing what he could do to Nyx? I wasn't so sure. A cold knot of fear twisted in my gut. Something was coming—and Mischief wasn't playing games.
I ran around the warehouse, trying to look for something dangerous—trying to figure out what kind of game Mischief was playing. But there was nothing. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. There was no impending danger. The doors were secure. People were doing their tasks.
That's when I saw it—something was really off.
People were moving, talking, working. But their eyes… they were blank. Empty. It was as if they were moving, but being controlled like puppets. Their smiles were mechanical, their movements too smooth, too rehearsed.
It was creepy. The eeriness reminded me of those violent locals roaming the island—except this time, there was no bloodlust, just hollowness.
I approached one of the mechanics I'd spoken to earlier. "Hey, do you know where Nixie is?" I asked.
The man turned to me, polite, even friendly. "I'm not sure," he said. "You can check the supply crates."
"Supply crates? What?" I blinked, then shook my head.
"Do you know who I am?" I pressed.
The man blinked. "Should I?"
I backed away, tried to find another person to ask—then another. No one knew who I was.
Panic clawed at my chest. I needed answers. I summoned Nyx again. "What the hell is happening, Nyx?"
Nyx appeared immediately, this time serious instead of irritated. "He's already started," she said. "That little freak. Mischief isn't like the others. He doesn't fight with brute force—he corrupts reality. Bends people's minds until they forget themselves, forget you. If he's targeting this place, he's doing it slow and quiet… so no one notices until it's too late."
A sense of dread washed over me.
The god hadn't been bluffing.
I rushed toward the small office where Nixie usually hung around, only to slam into something invisible—an unseen barrier that pushed me back. I staggered for a bit and pressed my hands against the air that felt solid, immovable.
Nixie looked up from inside, her eyes widening. She stood quickly, cradling Zion against her chest.
"What's happening?" she called out. "Why can't you get in?"
"There's something wrong," I said, my voice strained as I pressed my palms against the invisible wall.
"Another god is here—Mischief. I just saw him. People are acting like everything's fine, but their eyes are empty. And none of them remember me."
Nixie's expression turned grave. She adjusted Zion slightly and stepped closer to the barrier.
"That explains it," she murmured. "Right before everything shifted… Zion suddenly lit up. He wrapped me in some kind of energy. I couldn't move, couldn't leave—but now I get it. It protected me. That little burst of power kept my head clear."
I stared at the child through the barrier. Zion looked back at her, calm and curious, almost like he understood everything.
"So what should I do then?" I asked, my voice low. "He said if I wanted to save everyone, I had to go to his ruins."
Nixie nodded slowly, her face unreadable. "Then I think you have no choice. You just have to do it."
I shook my head. "You want me to walk into a trap? From a god who can bend reality and wipe me from people's memories? That's insane, Nixie. I don't even know what he is yet."
"I don't want you to go," Nixie said quietly, stepping closer to the barrier. "But if he's already doing this much from a distance, imagine what happens if no one stops him. You're the only one he's talking to. He wants you there. That means you're still a variable he can't control."
I sighed. "I guess this is what it felt like to jinx myself, huh? Am I even ready for this?"
Nixie laughed. "You don't need to be ready. You just need to move. We'll figure out the rest later. But right now, you're the only one who can face him."
I returned to my room in silence, my heart pounding every time I saw someone move. I had this gnawing fear that someone might suddenly attack me—but thankfully, that didn't happen. I put on a leather jacket this time, picked pants that were easy to move in, tightened the straps around my boots, and slung a travel bag over my shoulder, packed with supplies I might need: food, water, spare ammo, and a small knife. I also grabbed the axe hanging on the wall.
Lastly, I pocketed the obsidian pebble I'd been carrying since day one as a lucky charm. Its faint glow was a reminder of everything I'd survived so far.
Back at the invisible barrier, Nixie and Zion were waiting. Zion reached out through the shimmering air, his tiny fingers brushing against it.
I managed a soft smile. "Watch over him, okay? No weird experiments, please," I told Nixie.
Nixie replied with her usual amused smile, despite the weight in her eyes. "You come back, got it? I've invested too much in you just to die."
"I'll try," I said, then looked down at Zion. "Take care of her, little god."
Zion gurgled softly, a tiny light pulsing from his hand in response.
I turned away before my resolve could crack, gripping my gear tightly as I made my way out—toward Mischief's ruins. Toward whatever was waiting for me next.