Their new guide, Linnéa, moved with quiet poise, and the Kindle Ones dispersed without a word. Noah and Abel followed her through winding, fleshy paths lit by more of the scent-lanterns, their glowing trails lingering in the humid air like incense made visible.
As they passed deeper into the sanctum, the settlement opened into layers.
Homes grew from the walls like tumors molded into shape, some pulsing faintly as if breathing. Walkways wound between bone scaffolding, and windows blinked open and closed like eyelids. People emerged—scarred, burned, mutated. Some had limbs fused with brass or bone. Others were blind, eyes sealed shut with waxen scarring. A man shuffled past with a melted jaw, feeding himself with trembling hands. And none of them looked away from Noah and Abel.
Children's laughter echoed from a nearby structure—laughter not of joy, but of triumph. The training barracks. Inside, child-soldiers sparred with sickles, whips, and brands, under the sharp eye of teen instructors. One boy was being praised for slicing clean across a dummy's neck with a blade half his size.
Noah shuddered. "I want it on the record that I deeply resent being the normal one right now."
Linnéa ignored the comment. Her voice, though calm, sounded hollow—as if she were repeating doctrine she'd memorized too many years ago.
"The Flame Saint teaches us that pain is the purification of the soul. That the body is ash, but the will is fire. We live in harmony with the vessel of the god-beast. We remember through ritual. We serve through discipline."
Noah glanced at Abel. "Did she just say 'vessel of the god-beast,' or is the heatstroke finally setting in?"
Abel gave a single, weary nod. He'd given up questioning.
They were just rounding a bone staircase when a voice called out—loud, bright, far too cheerful for the scenery.
"Linnéa!"
A figure jogged toward them. Tall. Sun-browned. Shirtless under an open ash-colored jacket, sweat glinting on his collarbones. His hair was a tousled mess of gold-brown, and his grin could've powered an entire village.
"Since when do we have guests?" he asked, already falling into step beside them. "And why didn't anyone tell me? I'd have shaved."
Linnéa blinked, her neutral expression cracking slightly. "Cassian. They are under the Saint's protection."
Cassian's grin widened. "Ohhh. Well then." He looked Noah up and down, eyes dancing with amusement. "You're small."
Noah blinked. "You're tall."
Cassian leaned forward like he was inspecting a curious bug. "Taller than your guard dog too." He gave Abel a once-over, clearly enjoying the reaction—or lack thereof. "Though not as broody."
Noah smirked. "He broods professionally. It's his calling."
Cassian laughed and threw an arm around Noah's shoulders like they'd been friends since birth. "You're fun. Come on, Linnéa. I'll take them from here. You deserve a break."
Linnéa hesitated—clearly not fond of ceding control—but eventually nodded. "Very well. They are to be given comfort. The Saint was clear."
Cassian gave a mock salute. "Saintly comfort. Got it."
He led them through a different tier of the settlement—one slightly more polished, where the bone was smooth and the homes had been etched with gentle sigils of warmth and fire.
"Alright, you two," Cassian said, pausing before a curved structure with what looked like a working door and actual windows. "Best place we've got that doesn't bleed at night."
Noah eyed the structure. "I feel honored."
Abel said nothing, but his eyes hadn't left Cassian.
As Cassian opened the door and gestured them inside, he added, "So. What's your deal? Traveling bard? Pet psychic?"
Noah stepped past him with a half-laugh, half-sigh of disbelief. "You have no idea how refreshing that is."
Cassian raised a brow. "What is?"
"Someone who speaks fluent sarcasm and isn't trying to stab me with cutlery."
Cassian grinned. "Yet."
Abel, behind them, made a low sound that could only be described as disapproving.
Cassian glanced over his shoulder. "Easy, tall-dark-and-dagger-glare. I'm just being friendly."
Noah smirked. "That's his 'I'm considering murder' face. You'll get used to it."
Cassian leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to tingle. "If I'd known we had someone this cute arriving, I'd have made cookies. Or, you know, kidnapped you myself."
Noah blinked, surprised by the genuine, easy charm in the man's flirtation—no hidden edge, no manipulation. Just a golden grin and mischief. His heart did a stupid flutter he'd pretend never happened.
"Saints save me," Noah muttered under his breath. "You're like me. But taller."
Cassian laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I could give you the tour tomorrow. Show you some of the better corners of our rotting paradise. Maybe even my room, if you promise not to bite."
Noah chuckled, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and something dangerously close to genuine delight. "I'd love that. Just give me enough time to emotionally prepare myself for the horror of a clean room."
Cassian's grin widened.
Noah turned, spotting Abel's deeply unimpressed expression, and—without warning—grabbed onto his arm, hugging it like a clingy cat. "But only if my big brooding puppy can come too. Otherwise, he gets fidgety and starts sulking. And I hate when he sulks."
Abel stiffened. Visibly. A tiny pink flush crept up his neck like a betrayal.
Cassian barked a laugh. "Of course. Wouldn't dream of separating you two. I'm not into tempting fate—or jealous swords."
He gave a theatrical bow. "Tomorrow, then. I'll come fetch you."
With a wink, he turned and walked off into the haze of lantern-light, whistling something cheerful that didn't fit this place at all.
The moment the door closed behind them, Noah slumped back against it and let out a long, theatrical sigh that echoed lightly against the bone walls.
He looked around, wide-eyed. "Okay. What the fuck just happened?"
The room was... strange. Strangely nice. Not homey—this wasn't that kind of place—but more than tolerable. The walls were polished bone, smoothed into gentle curves, and there were alcoves etched with soft, flickering fire-runes. A low table stood in the center, made of what looked like petrified wood—or something trying to be wood. There were two beds, side by side, formed from coiled sinew and layered with surprisingly soft-looking pelts. One wall had a shelf filled with carved symbols, half-melted candles, and dried flowers pressed into glass.
The air inside was warm but not stifling. Clean, in a way that felt... unsettling.
Abel stood unmoving in the center of the room, posture rigid, like he was still expecting an ambush.
"We're in a city built inside a dead god-beast," Noah said again, as if repeating it would make it make sense, "guarded by children with knives, and we just got flirted with by a golden retriever wearing a cult jacket and nothing else."
He ran a hand through his hair, laughing a little too loudly. "I'm sorry. Is this a fever dream? Did I die again and no one told me?"
Abel finally exhaled, his shoulders dropping as he rubbed the back of his neck. A faint pink still lingered on his skin where Noah had clung to him earlier. He hadn't looked Noah in the eye since.
"We shouldn't stay long."
Noah's smile thinned. "I know. But maybe…"
He pushed off the door and began pacing slowly across the room, running his fingers along the edge of the low table. "Maybe we pretend to play along. Just long enough to learn something. The Saint knew me somehow. Cassian's clearly more than just a himbo with great shoulders. And what the hell does 'vessel of the god-beast' even mean?"
Abel didn't reply right away. He sat on one of the beds and ran a hand down his face, jaw clenched.
Noah stopped pacing and looked at him—really looked at him. "Are you okay?"
Abel gave a short laugh with no humor in it. "You flirted with him."
Noah blinked. "Wow. That's what got you?"
Abel looked away.
Noah stepped closer, sitting gingerly on the edge of the opposite bed. "You know I was joking, right?"
"You weren't."
There was a beat of silence, thick and awkward.
Noah reached down and unbuckled his boots, letting them drop with two soft thuds. "Look, I flirt with danger, death, and men who might stab me. It's how I cope. If I didn't joke, I'd be screaming."
He paused, then added with a crooked grin, "Besides, it's not like we're official. We haven't even had our first kiss yet. Someone keeps getting in the way—monsters, ghosts, dramatic lighting…"
Abel's ears turned slightly red. "Not my fault."
Noah's grin widened. "Didn't say it was. But if you're going to act jealous, you better make it worth my time."
Abel finally glanced over, jaw tight, but the heat in his face betrayed him. He muttered something under his breath and looked away again.
Noah laid back on the bed with a satisfied sigh, arms behind his head. "No promises, big guy. I like making you flustered. It's practically a hobby now."