The Cathedral still smelled like wax and blood.
Nozomi stood beneath the fractured stained glass,
a pale outline in the last of the candlelight.
Her expression was unreadable—
too calm for someone who had just clawed their way back
from the edge of eternity.
Behind her,
Amaranth lingered like a statue—
silent, protective, unsure.
They weren’t alone.
One by one,
the others had arrived.
A quiet call had echoed through the House.
Or maybe it hadn’t.
Maybe the House itself had pulled them here,
as if it knew this moment had been building
for far too long.
Enma’s voice was the first to cut the silence.
“You should’ve stayed gone.”
Everyone turned.
Her arms were crossed,
her boots heavy against the stone
as she stalked forward.
“I didn’t,” Nozomi said, calm.
“No,” Enma spat,
“you let her take you apart.
We were lucky you even came back with a mind.”
“Enough,” Amaranth stepped forward.
“No. Not enough.”
Enma’s gaze burned.
“We’re being hunted, corrupted, twisted—
and she just lets it happen.”
“She survived,” Amaranth said coldly.
“That’s more than most could have.”
“Survived?” Enma barked a laugh.
“Barely.
If the House has to carry her dead weight every time we’re attacked—”
“Stop calling me dead weight,” Nozomi interrupted,
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voice calm but sharp.
Silence.
Then—
Koko chimed in,
her tone light but too quick.
Too nervous.
“Maybe we should all just take a deep breath and—”
“You’re always taking deep breaths,” Enma snapped.
“That’s all you do.
Smile, nod, float along like none of this matters.”
“That’s not fair,” Koko frowned.
“None of this is fair,”
Miren muttered,
arms wrapped tight around herself.
“None of this was supposed to happen…”
Xyntra was perched on a broken bench,
twirling a silver spoon in her fingers like a dagger.
“This is so much better than cleaning.”
“You think this is a joke?” Amaranth snapped.
“Oh, I know it’s not,” Xyntra grinned.
“That’s why I’m enjoying it.
You’re all bleeding out and pretending it's a debate.”
“This isn’t about sides,” Koko said.
“We’re a team—”
“Says who?” Enma growled.
“You talk like you’ve already given up,” Nozomi said softly.
“No,” Enma stepped closer.
“I’m saying I am tired of being surrounded by weakness.”
The room cracked.
Not physically.
But something invisible shifted.
A thread pulled too tight.
A fault line opening.
Amaranth stepped in again,
voice low, tight.
“If you think you can hold this House together through violence alone,
you’re more deluded than you look.”
“And if you think prayers and candles are going to stop her,
you’re already dead.”
“Please stop…”
Miren’s voice trembled.
“No. Let it out,” Xyntra sang.
“Say all the little things you’ve been choking on.”
Koko’s smile flickered.
Her voice cracked.
“We’re falling apart.”
Nozomi looked around the room.
One by one,
the faces that had stood beside her
were turning away.
Amaranth had gone quiet.
Koko was wiping tears she pretended weren’t there.
Xyntra was grinning wider than ever.
Miren’s hands were trembling,
clutched tight to her sleeves
like she was holding herself together by thread.
And Himeko—
She stood at the far edge of the Cathedral,
half in shadow,
arms folded across her chest.
She had said nothing this whole time.
But now—
now that the silence was thick and ugly,
now that the air was split with fractures no one wanted to admit—
Himeko opened her eyes.
“This was inevitable,” she said.
Her voice was calm.
Cold.
Distant.
She looked at no one in particular.
Or maybe she looked at all of them.
“The House was never built to last.
Only to test.
And now…”
She turned her head,
the stained-glass glow glinting off her eyes.
“You’ve all failed.”
And with that,
she turned her back
and walked away,
heels echoing like gunshots in the quiet.
No one followed.
No one spoke.
The fractures stayed.
And above them all,
somewhere in the bones of the Cathedral,
the House began to shift...