They made camp as the first sun set (the second one was still arguing about timing). The location Varos chose was defensible—backed against a cliff face with clear sightlines and several escape routes. Professional paranoia at its finest.
The guards worked with practiced efficiency, setting wards and preparing defenses while Mayfell reinforced the protective circles. Ren tried to help and was politely but firmly told to sit down before he hurt himself.
"I'm not completely useless," he protested. "I survived this long."
"Through cosmic fluke," Elanil said, building the fire with movements that looked more like a martial art. "Not skill."
"Cosmic fluke is a skill. Very specialized. Can't be taught."
She snorted, but he caught the smile she tried to hide.
Camp established, they settled around the fire for a meal of travel rations that tasted like someone had described food to someone who'd never eaten. Ren chewed mechanically, rating it a generous 2/10 on the edibility scale.
"So," Mayfell said, looking far too comfortable for someone on a potentially suicidal mission, "tell us about this facility we're seeking. What did the texts say exactly?"
Ren pulled out his notes, squinting at his own handwriting in the firelight. "第七研究所—Research Facility Seven. Then characters for 'dimensional anchor' and 'Protocol Seven.' The coordinates were corrupted, but the pattern suggested—"
"Suggested one of twelve planned sites," Mayfell finished. "I've been thinking about that. Twelve facilities for a planet your size seems... sparse."
"Unless they weren't meant to protect everyone," Ren said quietly. "Just the important people. The ones who could afford it."
Silence fell, broken only by the fire's crackling and something in the distance that sounded like a jazz trumpet being murdered.
"Your people built shelters for the few and left the rest to die?" Lysara asked, horrified.
"Sounds like humans, yeah. We were really good at 'I got mine, screw everyone else.'" He stared into the fire. "Probably why I'm here and seven billion other people aren't. Cosmic joke. The least worthy human survives."
"You don't know that," Elanil said firmly.
"Don't I? I was buying cup noodles while the world ended. Not helping, not trying to save anyone. Just... existing badly."
"And yet you're here now," Mayfell observed. "Translating texts we couldn't read. Risking your life for people who aren't even your species."
"Technically, according to the prophecy, you're risking your lives for me. I'm just along for the ride."
"The prophecy says many things," Mayfell's expression turned thoughtful. "But prophecies are tricky. They show what might be, not what must be."
Guard Four finally spoke, voice rusty from disuse: "The Pale Walker brings doom or salvation. Two paths. But what if there's a third?"
Everyone turned to stare at him. He shifted uncomfortably but continued. "What if the prophecy isn't about choosing? What if it's about balance?"
"Keiran's right," Varos said slowly. "Every prophecy I've studied has hidden interpretations. We see destruction or salvation, but..."
"But maybe it's both," Ren finished. "Destroy the old world to save the new one. Very human thinking, actually. We were good at breaking things to see if we could build them better."
"Is that what you want?" Elanil asked. "To break our world?"
"I want to eat real ramen again and sleep past noon without cosmic guilt. But since those aren't options..." He shrugged. "I guess I'll settle for not letting reality collapse."
The fire popped, sending sparks into the darkening sky. Above, the crack had spread like a purple web, and things moved behind it. Shapes that hurt to perceive directly.
"Tell us more about your world," Seylas requested. "While we can. While there's time."
So Ren talked. About Tokyo's neon nights and convenience store runs. About failing tests and disappointing parents. About a grandfather who believed in him anyway. He described trains that ran on time (mostly), food that came in vending machines, and a million small conveniences they'd taken for granted.
The guards listened with the intensity of people memorizing something precious. Even Mayfell seemed captivated, her ancient eyes reflecting the firelight.
"It sounds wonderful," Lysara said wistfully. "And terrible."
"That's humans in a nutshell. Wonderful and terrible, usually at the same time." He yawned, exhaustion hitting suddenly. "We could split atoms and couldn't split restaurant checks without arguing."
"Sleep," Elanil commanded. "I'll take first watch."
"I can—"
"Sleep." Her tone brooked no argument. "You're useless exhausted."
He wanted to protest, but his body vetoed the motion. The bedroll was lumpy and the ground hard, but after hours of hiking, it felt like luxury.
As he drifted off, he heard Elanil and Mayfell talking quietly.
"You care for him," the princess observed.
"He's my assignment."
"Assignments don't usually involve that much staring."
"I don't stare."
"You're staring right now."
"I'm... checking his breathing. Humans might breathe differently."
Mayfell's laugh was silver bells in darkness. "Two hundred thirty years old and still making excuses like a teenager. It's adorable."
"Shouldn't you be reviewing maps?"
"I am. I'm also enjoying watching my friend discover feelings. Multi-tasking, remember?"
Rating: 10/10 for eavesdropping, 10/10 for Elanil having feelings, -10/10 for pretending to be asleep while my face burns.