Shay remained still, his eyes fixed on the darkness where Billy had disappeared. The echo of his thoughts was louder than any footsteps. Behind him, the doors creaked one by one as they closed, and silence began to blanket the tavern.
Milo approached with calm steps. He stopped beside him, watching him with concern.
"Are you not going to rest?" he asked in a low voice.
Shay didn't answer right away. His hand remained on the handle of his warhammer.
"Someone has to keep watch," he finally said, without looking away from the hallway. "If a visitor from Bhael catches us sleeping, we'll be dead before dawn."
Milo sighed, bringing a hand to his side.
"You're wounded, Shay. You can barely stand… you should lie down, at least for a few hours. I'll keep watch."
Shay turned his face toward him, frowning.
"You?"
"Yes," Milo replied firmly. "I don't need much sleep. And I'm not that clumsy. If someone moves, I'll know."
Shay lowered his gaze for a moment. He hesitated. Not because he didn't trust Milo... but because he didn't trust anything.
At last, he nodded slowly.
"Fine," he said quietly. "But if anything happens… wake me."
"I will," Milo assured him, taking the seat Shay had left vacant.
Shay walked slowly to the nearest room, visibly limping. Before entering, he turned once more to look at Milo.
"Thank you."
Milo gave him a tired smile, his sword resting across his legs, his eyes fixed on the darkness.
The nearest candle flickered.
Shay climbed the stairs slowly, leaning against the wall. When he reached the room, he pushed the door open with his shoulder. The creak was long, as if it protested being opened.
He set the warhammer beside the bed and began to remove his armor. Every buckle felt twice as heavy. When he was finally free of the metal weight, he raised his leg with effort and examined the wound.
The skin around it was red. It throbbed with a strange heat. Shay wasn't a doctor, but he'd seen enough to know that wasn't a good sign.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
He stared at the cracked ceiling without really seeing it.
Bhael.
God of Death.
Billy had said they had already died. Several times. And yet, here they were. Breathing. Thinking. Remembering fragments.
Were they alive… or simply trapped in an eternal cycle within the Chambers of Bhael?
He looked at the walls. They were too smooth. Too perfect in their deformity. That place didn't follow normal rules.
Was there even a way out? Or just the illusion of movement?
Shay clenched his fists. Suddenly, he slapped his own face, as if that might silence the storm in his mind.
He collapsed onto the bed, which groaned under his weight. The mattress was thin, rough… and yet, the moment his head touched it, a strange calm washed over him like a veil.
His muscles relaxed. His thoughts faded.
He fell asleep instantly.
But his mind didn't rest.
It remained.
Awake.
Waiting.
Watching.
Listening.
The door opened slowly.
A soft, almost careful creak broke the silence. Shay heard it. His mind, still awake beneath the veil of sleep, reacted instantly.
"What was that…?"
He tried to move. Wanted to sit up, turn his head, reach out with an arm. But nothing responded. His body remained frozen, heavy as stone, trapped in that limbo.
"Come on… wake up, Shay. Wake up."
The footsteps entered. They were slow, soft, unhurried. Someone was approaching.
"Milo… is that you?"
No reply.
He heard a shuffle. Something heavy being lifted from the floor, followed by a faint creak of leather.
"No. No, no. That's not right."
He wanted to scream. To speak. To move his lips. But the calm that had once comforted him now felt like a trap.
Shay felt a breath near his face. It was slow, moist… far too close.
The heat of that breath was real. Not a dream. Not a nightmare. Real.
"What does it want…? Why doesn't it kill me?"
A pause.
Nothing moved. No sound.
"Milo… please tell me it's you…"
And then, the footsteps withdrew. Slowly. Carefully.
The door closed again with a soft click.
Shay still couldn't move.
All night, he remained like that—muscles tense, jaw clenched, heart pounding. Every second was torture. He tried to move again and again. He forced his body, his mind, his soul…
But nothing answered.
Until, finally, a faint ray of light slipped through the crack in the broken ceiling and touched his face.
Shay shot up, gasping.
Sweating.
Shaking.
And then he realized…
The warhammer was gone.