Derpy didn’t remember hitting the ground.
He remembered the window.
The cold slap of fog air.
The humiliating fact that he’d jumped because two women in maid outfits had made his brain short-circuit so hard it turned into weather.
And then he was outside, moving fast through Whisperfen like the town itself could swallow embarrassment if he walked far enough.
Behind him, the inn’s lantern light faded.
Ahead, the fog thickened into something that felt less like weather and more like a boundary.
His wrists warmed under his sleeves—Celica’s mark pulsing faintly, like it was amused by his panic.
Derpy clenched his hands in his pockets. “Stop,” he muttered under his breath.
The bracelets warmed again.
Not angry.
Not obedient.
Just… pleased.
Mia padded beside him, silent and alert.
Sphinx moved ahead like a shadow with intent, slipping between barrels and posts without ever looking back.
Derpy followed anyway.
He didn’t know if he was following the cat or the tug in his ribs.
Or the guilt.
Or the memory of the mouse girl’s eyes when she’d been bullied earlier—hope flashing for half a second before she buried it like it was dangerous.
Whisperfen’s streets narrowed.
The cobblestones were slick with mist, and the gutters whispered with runoff that smelled wrong—like wet stone and something old underneath it.
Lanterns glowed weakly through filmed glass.
People moved like they were trying not to be noticed.
Derpy slowed, scanning.
Calamity book, he thought. Find the pull. Find the—
A soft sound cut through the fog.
A muffled sob.
Derpy froze.
Sphinx stopped too, tail flicking once—then stepped into an alley like he’d been waiting for Derpy to catch up.
Derpy’s stomach dropped.
He followed.
The alley was narrow enough that the fog pooled thick, heavy as wool.
The lantern light didn’t reach the back.
The stones were damp, stained dark in the corners.
And pressed against the wall like she wanted to merge with it—
Lewd.
Her red hair was tangled, clinging to her cheeks.
Her big round ears trembled—one dark, one pale—flattened in fear.
Her green eyes were swollen with tears.
Her cloak was torn.
Her dress was ripped at the shoulder.
Bruises colored her skin like fingerprints that hadn’t faded yet.
She clutched a book to her chest so tightly her knuckles were white.
Derpy’s breath caught.
The cover was wrong.
A skull motif stared back at him—black and slick-looking, like it had been carved into the world instead of printed.
The corners were ornate, gold catching what little light existed.
It wasn’t fear.
It was recognition—like his bracelets had ears.
Derpy didn’t understand why his palms went cold.
He only knew his wrists warmed under his hoodie like the mark recognized something it shouldn’t.
Lewd flinched when she saw him, eyes wide like she expected him to turn away.
Derpy lifted his hands slowly, palms open, and crouched so he wasn’t towering over her.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s me.”
Lewd’s mouth trembled.
She tried to speak.
Only a broken sound came out.
Derpy swallowed. “What happened?”
Lewd stared at him like she couldn’t decide if kindness was real or just another trap.
Then her words came out in fragments—spilling like she couldn’t hold them in anymore.
“The… the cats,” she whispered, voice shaking. “They— they chased me. I ran. I— I didn’t—”
Her breath hitched.
“The sewer,” she said, and the word sounded like it hurt. “I fell. I couldn’t— I couldn’t get out. It was— it was—”
She gagged, swallowing hard.
“The smell,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t leave. I tried to wash. I tried. It didn’t—”
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling.
“My job,” she choked out. “They told me to leave. My friends— they— they crossed the street. Like I was— like I was—”
Her tail curled tight, trembling.
Derpy’s chest tightened so hard it hurt.
Lewd’s hands shook around the book.
“And I have debt,” she whispered, voice small and terrified. “A deadline. And Whisperfen doesn’t— it doesn’t forgive—”
Derpy’s jaw clenched.
He glanced at the book again.
Lewd followed his gaze and flinched like she expected him to recoil.
“I found it,” she whispered. “In an alley. It was just there. I didn’t want it. I didn’t— I didn’t mean—”
Her breath came fast.
“It… it grabbed me,” she whispered. “Not like hands. Like… like smoke. Like it went inside.”
And then—like a tide pulling back—the sewer-stink thinned.
The book drank it like it was starving.
Lewd’s shoulders sagged as she said it, relief and terror tangled together.
Derpy’s wrists warmed again.
Stronger.
Not burning—recognizing.
The air in the alley felt sour for a second, like rain on rot.
Sphinx sat between them, lantern eyes unblinking, like he’d led Derpy here on purpose.
Mia’s ears pinned back, a low growl rumbling in her chest—not at Lewd.
At the book.
Lewd’s shoulders shook.
Derpy reached out slowly, palm open, careful.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”
Lewd stared at his hand like it was a miracle.
Then she surged forward and hugged him so hard her small body shook.
Derpy stiffened in surprise, then gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Lewd clung like she’d been drowning and he was the first solid thing she’d touched.
“Please,” she whispered into his hoodie, voice muffled. “Please don’t leave me.”
Derpy’s throat tightened.
He looked up, helpless, like the fog might give him permission to save her.
That’s when he felt it.
A shift in the air.
Not footsteps.
Presence.
The alley’s mouth darkened.
Vespera arrived first.
She didn’t need to run.
She simply appeared at the entrance, black dress neat, rings shifting—subtle, predatory.
Lenora followed a heartbeat later, silent as a bad memory.
Black armor.
Greystone scars.
Heavy shoulder guards catching the weak lantern light.
Her bunny ears twitched once.
Her hand hovered near her sword.
Both of them locked onto the book in Lewd’s arms.
The air tightened—two hungry hearts in the same breath of fog.
Lewd’s grimoire pulsed.
Not with light.
With awareness.
A sickly green shimmer crawled across the cover like mold blooming in fast motion.
Vespera’s rings rotated, reacting.
Lenora’s jaw tightened.
Derpy felt heat under his hoodie—his yellow bracelets warming against his skin.
He didn’t know why.
He only knew his pulse jumped, and his palms went cold.
Two calamities in the same breath of air.
Lewd gasped, clutching her book tighter.
The alley filled with a thin, sour scent—like rain on rot.
Vespera’s eyes narrowed.
“Blight Vein,” she said, voice low.
Derpy’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t even have time to ask what that meant before the fog outside the alley seemed to inhale.
Whisperfen smelled like wet stone and old secrets.
Somewhere beyond the fogline, something answered—quiet at first, then certain.