The stale air of Arcadia Station settled. Somewhere far off, a maintenance drone hummed lazily past, its dim red light blinking in the foggy dark of the lower decks.
Xion stirred first.
Pain throbbed in his limbs
Nyelle sat beside him on the alley floor, her slender legs curled beneath her, his head resting in her lap. Her small fingers brushed soot and blood from his face in silence.
"You're awake," she whispered.
He blinked once. The shadows of what he'd done still played behind his eyes the blows, the cracking bones, the way those men cried out as if they'd never felt real fear before.
"…Did I kill them?" he asked calmly.
She nodded. "All of them."
A quiet moment passed between them.
Then Xion exhaled, not with guilt but with clarity.
"Good," he muttered. "I just killed some filth."
Nyelle stared at him for a second, unsure if she should respond. But there was no coldness in his voice. Only certainty.
She spoke again, quietly.
"People talk down here… Some say there's a group, some sick bastards who take people off the streets and experiment on them. Run tests. Disappear kids. They call them The Coil… But no one knows if they're real. Just rumors."
Xion grunted faintly and pushed himself upright, wiping a smear of blood from his chin.
He turned to her. "You're coming with me"
She blinked, surprised. "…Me?"
"You want to stay down here?" he asked, gesturing toward the blood-stained alley and the rusting steel walls. "Because I'm not leaving you here."
Her mouth parted slightly, like she wanted to say something. She hesitated.
Then, a soft pink rose on her cheeks. She looked down at her knees and murmured, "Then… yes. I want to go with you."
He nodded and stood. His body ached. His shirt was torn and his fists still red. But he held himself steady.
They walked through the lower deck corridors quiet now until they reached a narrow stairway to the upper ring. The steel floor panels creaked beneath their feet. They passed vending bots and dim lanterns, empty crates, and the lingering smell of ozone and cheap smoke.
Then, at last, home.
Xion pushed open the rust-framed door of their little metal pod one of the old technician quarters left from before Arcadia's decline. It was barely more than three rooms, its walls patched with wires and recycled insulation, but it was home.
And it was warm.
The smell of cooked rice and cumin filled the air.
He stepped inside. Before he could say a word....
"Xion?!"
Bare feet pattered across the floor, a small, delicate form launched into him like a comet.
His arms caught her with ease. Her hair smelled of rosewater and kitchen herbs. She was small, her petite body fitting perfectly against his chest. His heart, which had been hard like iron all day, melted the moment her arms wrapped around him.
"Lyra," he breathed, exhaling the tension of the day.
She pulled back slightly, eyes wide and soft, brushing his cheek with her fingers.
"You're late. And bruised," she said, inspecting him with concern. Then her gaze flicked past him and froze.
Nyelle stood awkwardly in the doorway, clutching her arm and looking down.
"…Who's this?" Lyra asked, voice gentler now.
Xion stepped aside and explained everything in a few short words. The alley. The men. The fight. He didn't describe the violence in detail, and he didn't need to. Lyra listened quietly, her hand still pressed to his arm.
When he finished, She didn't question his strength.
Instead, she walked past him and hugged Nyelle.
The street girl's eyes widened, her body tense.
"You can stay with us," Lyra said gently. "As long as you need. We have space. And I cook too much anyway."
Nyelle didn't speak. Her hands slowly raised and returned the hug trembling just slightly.
And for the first time since she could remember… she felt like she belonged somewhere.
---
Later that evening, the three of them settled in.
The home was dimly lit with a broken yellow lamp. Their couch was old, torn in one corner and patched with tape, but it held together. The floor hummed faintly with the electricity running through the station walls. It was far from luxury.
But to Xion… it was warmer than any palace.
He sank into the couch with a quiet sigh, muscles still aching. The smell of dinner wafted in from the kitchen sizzling oil, warm bread, and spices mixing in a pot. He could hear their laughter Lyra's voice soft and bright, Nyelle's more hesitant but beginning to open up.
He smiled faintly.
The danger hadn't passed. His questions were still unanswered.
But for now… he had peace.
He looked down at his hand. Opened and closed it slowly.
No burns. No glow. No cracking bones. But something in him had changed. Something deeper.
"I don't know what I'm becoming…" he whispered, "but whatever it is… I'll use it to protect what i love."
His body slumped deeper into the couch.
he drifted off to sleep hearing the soft laughter of two girls cooking in a kitchen.