Seven days. Seven days until Myles and Sebbeh's fight.
Myles sat in meditation on the observation deck of the ship.
It was quiet. Not empty, but gently alive. The low hum of the vents threaded through the space, blending with the soft sound of flowing water beneath him. The plants here were strange, their shapes unfamiliar, yet they carried a quiet sense of home. Their leaves whispered against one another in the artificial wind.
The bridge he sat on was sturdy, though it creaked faintly beneath him, like an old thing remembering motion.
Slowly, his mind dissolved into his surroundings. He let go of himself, stretching his awareness outward, sinking into the life around him… or at least its imitation.
Time passed.
Then—he saw it.
What he had only ever felt before.
The criole lines.
Not as a vague presence brushing against his senses, but clearly, undeniably there. Within and without. Their glow was faint, almost shy, yet impossible to ignore. Beautiful.
And deeply unsettling.
Myles exhaled and rose to his feet, turning slowly as his new sight unfolded.
The trees were laced with red, yellow, and green lines, weaving through bark and leaf like living veins, slipping in and out of existence like serpents beneath the surface. The water carried cooler threads, pale and fluid, flowing with the current and unraveling into vapor as it rose.
Even the metal was not empty.
Dim reds, muted yellows, strands of white—criole ran through it all.
He looked down at his clothes.
There too.
Everything.
And as he continued to look… more appeared.
His breath.
His hands.
The walls.
Even distant rays from a passing star stretched into long, radiant strands as the ship drifted by.
More.
And more.
And more.
Until—
Saturation.
The world collapsed into lines.
Countless, endless strands of criole flooded his vision, weaving over and through everything until nothing else remained. No shapes. No edges. No meaning.
Just light.
Myles staggered.
He was blind.
Directionless.
He couldn't tell what anything was anymore. Couldn't tell up from down. Couldn't even tell where his own body ended.
And worst of all—
He couldn't turn it off.
A cold panic surged through him.
Was this forever?
How am I supposed to live like this?
Why doesn't it stop when I close my eyes?
Darkness didn't come.
The lines were still there.
Always there.
Pressing in.
Tightening.
He began to spiral—
"Breathe."
The voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
Lia.
Not present.
A memory.
But sharp. Grounding.
He clung to it.
Myles inhaled.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Again.
He focused—not on what he saw, but on what he felt.
His feet against the bridge.
The air brushing his skin.
The quiet hum.
The water below.
The world… beyond sight.
And then—
It shifted.
The lines receded. Not gone, but no longer everything.
Form returned.
Space returned.
Himself returned.
Myles stood there, steadying his breath, realisation settling in like a weight finding its place.
He hadn't just gained sight.
He had drowned in it.
Somehow… he had poured all of his perception into that single sense.
Or perhaps—
It was something deeper than sight.
He let out a deep sigh. "Is that how she sees the world?" he asked himself quietly, holding his head. His fingers pressed into his temples as if he could squeeze clarity out of the chaos.
"Much worse." Kaelen cut into his thoughts, walking toward him, her steps steady, unhurried.
She stopped just short of him, waiting for him to stand upright. The moment he did, her hand snapped across his face.
The sound was sharp. Clean.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked in an even tone, as if she hadn't just struck him. "First, you pull a crazy stunt and challenge Sebbeh, and now you are trying to kill yourself."
Myles' head turned slightly from the impact, but he didn't retaliate. He looked at Kaelen, his eyes filled with a firm, unsettling determination. He exhaled slowly.
"Yes, I might be a little crazy," he said, a faint smirk creeping in despite the tension, "but suicide is definitely not on my cards."
A pause.
"I figured it out." His voice lowered. "I saw them… all of them."
He lifted his hands slightly, turning them as if expecting something invisible to still cling to his skin.
"Do you know why I picked you to help me get an edge over that jumbo-sized piece of shit?"
Kaelen gave him a questioning look, her gaze narrowing just a fraction.
"It was simply a gut feeling," he continued, "and it was right." His fist tightened, the muscles in his forearm tensing. "Those days were gruelling… oh, but so worth it."
He looked back at her, more focused now.
"Lemme ask you a question. You are probably not old enough to know about them, but humans used to write novels about vampires." He tilted his head slightly. "In most of those books, the longer they lived, the stronger they got. Have you ever thought of why?"
Kaelen smiled with interest and folded her arms expectantly, her posture shifting from irritation to curiosity.
Then he continued.
"I, of course, most definitely have," he said, almost amused, "and at first I thought you and whatever I have turned into would probably be the same."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow. "We are though."
Myles smiled faintly. "Perhaps… but there is more to it. What I saw confirmed it."
Kaelen leaned forward ever so slightly. "Do tell."
"Well, our power is based solely on criole, correct?"
"What else?"
"Yes, though that is true," he said, pacing a step to the side, "even people like me, who have so much of it, still fall to more experienced fighters like Sebbeh."
He paused, glancing at her.
"At first, I thought it was my skill with criole control." His brows furrowed. "Then I reached a crazy theory… thanks to your victory over him."
He stepped closer again.
"He is much younger than Rai, but still way older than you, correct?"
Kaelen began to answer, her confidence steady at first. "Yes, he beat me first, but then I realised his criole density was way weaker than Rai's, so I—"
Her words stalled.
Something clicked.
Kaelen stood there in shock, her arms loosening slightly.
Myles' grin widened, not mockingly, but with the thrill of realization.
"Exactly."
He lifted a hand, gesturing faintly as if outlining something unseen.
"My new theory is that over time, as we absorb and expel, criole-dense pockets… or knots, are created within us." He paused, letting the word settle. "Now, you would think they would restrict flow."
Myles let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"But just now, I saw the criole essence of everything… water, trees, even the stars." His voice softened, almost distant. "They were covered in them."
Kaelen's eyes widened. "Wait—"
Myles raised his hand, stopping her.
"Before you say anything."
He turned sharply and leapt toward a nearby tree, the movement sudden and decisive. His fingers gripped a branch, snapping it clean off with a dry crack.
He stepped back, holding it between them.
Then he closed his eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then slowly, faintly at first, the branch began to change. A thin layer of his criole spread across it, like an invisible coating pressing into its surface. The air around it felt heavier, denser, as if the space itself resisted.
Myles opened his eyes and extended it toward her.
"Here. Break this."
Kaelen didn't hesitate.
Her fist shot forward.
Crack.
The sound echoed, but not cleanly. There was resistance… a strange delay in the break.
Then silence.
Myles blinked, staring at her hand as blood ran down her knuckles.
He reached up instinctively, wiping some of it off his face where it had splattered.
"Umm… why?" he asked, genuinely confused, a hint of disbelief slipping through.
He sighed.
Kaelen smiled.
Her mangled hand twitched, then began to heal, slower than usual. The delay was noticeable. Intentional.
"So," she said, flexing her fingers slightly, testing them, "is this your plan?"
Myles turned away from her, his gaze drifting outward to the vast stretch of space beyond. The quiet hum around them seemed louder now, like the world was waiting.
"Let me show you instead," he said. His voice was calmer now, grounded. "There are many things you have taught me over the past weeks… and I would rather show than tell."
A brief pause.
Something settled in him.
Kaelen stepped closer and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light but deliberate.
Then she walked away.
Seven days have passed, and Myles stands before a burly man grinning from ear to ear. The arena feels strangely hollow, the absence of a crowd making every breath, every shift of weight, echo louder than it should.
"Very nice of you to give me a reason to beat you up, pest." Sebbeh spits, rolling his neck as if this is nothing more than a routine.
Myles just smiles in response, calm… almost too calm.
Sebbeh's smile disappears. "Hmm." His eyes narrow slightly, as if something about Myles is not sitting right with him.
Myles' stance changes, subtle but intentional. His feet adjust, his shoulders loosen, his grip shifts like he is preparing for something precise rather than brute.
"You don't mind, do you?" Myles pulls out a small beam from his back, and it suddenly extends into a staff with a sharp, mechanical snap. The faint hum lingers in the air. "If I hit with a stick, that is."
Sebbeh's face scrunches up in disgust. "Do what you want, worm." He flexes his fingers slowly, the joints cracking, impatience creeping into his posture.
Myles' gaze falls on Irva and Rai, who are seated in an observation room overlooking the arena. The glass between them reflects faint outlines of the arena lights, but their figures remain clear.
She requested that there not be an audience other than herself, her sister, Irva and Clav.
Rai sits forward slightly, her expression tight, distant. There is no excitement in her eyes, only a quiet weight.
Myles thinks she looks quite sombre, so he gives her an encouraging smile. A small one, steady, meant only for her.
She turns away as if pouting, but the movement feels heavier than that.
He looks down at the ground as if defeated. His shoulders drop, his grip loosens, and for a moment, he looks like someone who has already accepted the outcome.
The arena grows quieter.
Kaelen's voice rings in the Arena, clear and cutting through the stillness. "There will be no death today, victory falls to the man with his heart still in his chest."
The words settle heavily, lingering longer than they should.
"Quite brutal, don't you think, Kaelen?" Myles says inwardly, a faint trace of amusement threading through the thought.
"Hey, worm, I give you first strike," Sebbeh says mockingly, spreading his arms slightly as if inviting it, daring him.
"Elders first." Myles retorts, his tone light, almost casual, but his grip on the staff tightens just enough to betray readiness.
Sebbeh smirks, but it doesn't last.
A deadly aura escapes from his imposing figure, thick and suffocating. The air around him distorts, pressure building as if the space itself is reacting to him. His body blurs—
—and suddenly a crack is heard.
The impact causes an explosion, violent and abrupt, the ground rupturing outward as dust and fragments burst into the air, swallowing the point where Myles stood.
The shock travels through the arena floor, climbing the walls, reaching even the observation room.
Rai is shaken by the sight before her, her body leaning forward instinctively, her breath catching.
"Myles?" her voice shaky and quiet.
The dust lingers, hanging in the air, refusing to settle.
For a moment… nothing can be seen.