The worst part of returning to Camp Argos was, without a doubt, crossing the Feydra Crossroads. It was impossible that the human remains and temporary infrastructure could have been cleared in the time it took to find the mercenary caravan and the Mercer-Archeos, as well as sweep the area and restore free circulation of traffic. There was no way to do so, not even with a battalion dedicated only to that task.

  “Too many dead…,” Tristessa thought, covering her mouth and nose with her hand as the smell hit her once the military carriage entered the massacre area. “Urgh…!”

  You never get used to the smell. It only gets stronger with each passing minute, catalyzed by the discreet but inescapable speed of inexorable biochemical reactions.

  Tristessa didn't want to look out the window, grateful for the dark blue curtains that blocked the mortuary view on the other side. It wasn't easy at all for the Imperial soldiers to pick up the pieces of their comrades with shovels. Remnants of limbs, viscera, blood as if a dark red downpour had fallen over that area of the forest; mangled, bloodied, broken, cut, pulverized, and surrounded by excited insects. There was so much of it that it would take hours to clean everything, and surely once the decomposition process began, the smell of Death would become unbearable and make the harrowing task even more difficult.

  And in the end, when only the earth remained, damp from all the blood it had absorbed, only future rains would be able to return to the Feydra Crossroads a sliver of normalcy it had lost when the malice of the Coven was unleashed there.

  "I think I'm going to throw up..."

  Tristessa wasn't the only one feeling similarly ill; whether it was more subtle or dramatic, revulsion was something everyone had in common. Sitting next to her, at the far end by the door, Zephyr seemed to be suffering from a migraine exacerbated by the icy rage that consumed him since the witches’ escape. In front of him, Jin had his son sitting on his lap and closed his eyes for a moment, in an attempt to clear his mind of the necrotic odor.

  “D-Daddy!” Lucahn called to the hunter, covering most of his face with his forearm. “It smells awful!”

  “I know…” the hunter whispered, sighing. “Try to ignore it. It will be over soon.”

  His wife, sitting beside him, paid no attention to the smell that inevitably seeped into the carriage. She was focused on cleaning the blood from Reiden’s face—unconscious and held between her and the carriage wall—with a cloth and a vial of water.

  “I think he’ll need a healer. His breathing hasn’t improved,” she warned no one in particular, wringing out the cloth and letting heavy drops of blood diluted with water fall onto the wooden floor near the snout of a drowsy Vergil.

  “There are several very talented healers in the camp.” Finally, across from the mercenary and next to Tristessa, sat Auron. His hat in his lap, speaking with diplomacy instead of prejudice. Without showing any sign of disgust, although his headscarf made it difficult to notice. “I’m sure they’ll leave him as good as new.”

  An attempt to continue breaking the ice in that toxic atmosphere surrounding them. Taking advantage of the opportunity Tiara had unintentionally provided, which she made clear by giving the gunslinger her full attention.

  “When you speak to someone, the polite thing to do is remove your handkerchief from your face. You look like a bandit, not a Gunslinger.”

  “That won’t happen, ma’am. I’m not a holy knight anymore, and don’t take it personally, I don’t show my face to anyone: I’m very ugly, and I don’t want to contribute to the lamentable, tragic miasma that surrounds us.”

  Without giving Tiara a chance to say anything more, he reached inside his hat and pulled out three spent bullet casings. He leaned forward and dropped them into the confused woman’s free hand.

  “I don’t believe that old saying about the apple falling near the tree, if you know what I mean. But out of respect for a mother, I must give her the casings from the bullets with which I wounded her daughter. Surface wounds, specifically.”

  Not only was Tiara mesmerized by the three simple brass objects, but her husband and confused son followed.

  “Now I understand why you say you’re not a gunslinger: a real one would have slayed that fucking monster,” the pregnant woman hissed, spitting her venom at Auron but keeping the mementos for herself, stuffing them into the pockets of her worn and dirty dress. “How did you let her escape?”

  “We weren’t expecting another Priestess of the Black Eye to arrive and help her.”

  “Who? Benedicta, Vanika?” Jin asked, joining the conversation and hugging his son tighter upon mentioning those names.

  “Tatyana Salomé.”

  Zephyr’s response projected an aura of intimidation, demanding silence with effectiveness.

  “We never even had a chance to arrest them. All we can do is pray that at least Tatyana died after using her Divinity.”

  Hearing the General speak like that, so disappointed, made Tiara snort in disdain.

  “If even with the help of one of the Dominion’s most powerful warriors you couldn’t kill that thing… Do you think you can keep the promise you made to Karla Luchie? To kill the Dead End King?” Tiara asked Tristessa, tempted to let a smile spread across her face at the girl’s uneasy expression.

  “Tiara…”

  “What’s best for you is that the old demi-human doesn’t survive her pursuit, or she’ll end up killing you…”

  “Tiara!”

  It wasn’t her husband’s shout that startled the woman and made her fall suddenly silent: Zephyr had punched the wall sideways, making the entire carriage shake so much that the vilecross pulling the chains outside roared in protest. Even Vergil had raised his head, alarmed, but the beast refrained from any further reaction upon seeing who was responsible for the commotion.

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  “Daddy, I’m scared…”

  Tristessa saw Lucahn curl up closer to his father, seeking protection from this terrifying, villain-like man. Of course, reality dictated otherwise, but that didn’t change the fact that Zephyr looked like a bloodthirsty killer at that moment, judging by the cold, calculating way he regarded the pregnant woman.

  “Tiara Archeos, shut your mouth. And be grateful that I haven’t arrested you or your family yet for violating the established limits of the exile that Lady Eramisaptor imposed on you.”

  “You say that, General Nostromos, but here you are after saving our skin. If you hadn't repelled the monster, sooner or later she would have found us and butchered us.” Tristessa had to admit that Tiara was very brave to dare question Zephyr's authority, while everyone except Reiden watched the exchange in tense silence. “If you don't mind, I'd like to know what generosity led Eramisaptor to send his General to save poor wretches like us who have nowhere to go.”

  “First: in front of me, you will address Lady Aurelia Eramisaptor with respect, do you understand?” That reprimand sounded like a threat that made Tristessa's hair stand on end, causing her to hold her breath, tainted with the miasma of death within her, for a moment. “Second, Lady Eramisaptor’s kindness is reflected in the fact that you still have your head attached to your neck. It was Lord Jonas Youngblood who ordered the rescue of Madame Karla Luchie’s caravan. You’re just lucky to be part of that group, although a temporal circumstance.”

  “Lucky, huh…”

  Tiara leaned back. With care, pursing her lips and gently stroking her belly. She pondered on that particular word, as all the eyes of those present turned to her, and Jin’s right hand intertwined its fingers with hers.

  “I’ll ask one more thing and then I’ll shut my damn mouth,” she said, letting out a long sigh. It seemed the smell outside was becoming so unbearable that even she couldn’t stand it, paling and beginning to sweat from nausea amplified exponentially by her pregnancy. “That monster…”

  “Your daughter.”

  “…that monster.” Tiara's hiss, meant to contradict the reality Zephyr had made clear, wasn't going to intimidate him. Not someone who, just hours before, had come face to face with two of the Coven's lieutenants. “Did she sing?”

  “Sing?” Tristessa repeated, not understanding what she meant until, from the dark sea of ??her recent memories, two specific circumstances resurfaced, ones she would never forget. “...”

  "She liked to sing. From childhood until she graduated from university, whenever she achieved something she set her mind to, Daiana would sing. It was her way of celebrating. It made her very happy.”

  It was interesting to note how Tiara named her daughter for the first time, with such disgust, as if the mere act of doing so were worse than smelling Death from outside. And evident sadness, no matter how much she tried to hide it; her maternal instinct overcoming the mythical hatred she felt for her own daughter, reminding her of somewhat happier times.

  “And she still enjoys doing that,” she added. “I can’t get her damn voice out of my head. Singing about how my children and I were going to sleep forever. Whole days and nights listening to her voice from the darkness…”

  Jin and Lucahn were just as tormented as the woman. Terror etched on their faces, regardless of age or psychological strength.

  Being stalked for days by that madwoman with whom they shared such a personal and primal connection was something Tristessa didn’t envy them at all.

  It filled her with a burning desire to make sure Daiana never crossed paths with them again, whatever the cost.

  “Answer me: was she singing when she fought you?”

  “No… She didn’t, had no reason to,” Tristessa replied, before Auron or Zephyr could speak. A small, satisfied smile flickered across her face, marked by both nausea and insomnia-induced exhaustion. “We ruined her plans and prevented Moebius from fulfilling his agenda. But…”

  Her newfound smile faded.

  “We couldn’t save Rykard and the others.” Sighing, Tristessa shook her head. Deeply disappointed in herself. “If only…”

  “If only what, Miss Irandell?” Zephyr interrupted, his gaze icy and intimidating. “I think I told you before that there’s a world of difference between humility and patheticness.”

  “G-General…?”

  “If you hadn’t intervened, not only would my soldiers have died, but the Fireclaw Company’s caravan too. There was nothing you could have done once the witches infiltrated the outpost: they were all dead, sitting on powder kegs ready to explode. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be back at the camp, grinning like an idiot for having been so easily fooled.”

  Thus, the General admitted his naiveté and his willingness to share the blame. He comforted Tristessa so she wouldn’t torture herself over the inevitable deaths. Unaware that she had already experienced the methodical evil of the Coven, and yet had still failed to outwit Daiana Mercer-Archeos on that chessboard they’ve been playing in through all those loops.

  “General Nostromos is right, lady. You did what you could, and I dare say that thanks to you, we’re both alive,” the gunslinger added, giving her two friendly pats on the arm. “Your knowledge and your Divinity almost got us to take down that lunatic.”

  “And speaking of Divinities, I wish I had known beforehand that you’re a necromancer, or that Daiana Mercer-Archeos can manifest a supernatural weapon… That goes for both of you,” Zephyr scolded them, focusing particularly on the parents of the person speaking. “You withheld crucial information from the Entrana’s military goverment.”

  “Leave my husband out of this: only I knew about Daiana’s Divinity, and you exiled me before even questioning me about her. Or does your dear Lady Eramisaptor not remember how eager she was to banish us?” the woman asked, a smug smirk playing on her lips as she watched the General shift in his seat, as if that might quell some of the anger he felt. Without replying. “Now that I know Daiana didn’t sing while fighting you, well… I think that’s the only victory I’ll ever have against that monster. Now at least I can enjoy some silence before Aurelia Eramisaptor decides my family’s fate.”

  Tristessa watched as Tiara tightened her grip on her husband's hand, her head resting against the back of the carriage, staring at him and Lucahn without a trace of emotion. It was as if she wanted to etch them into her final memories, knowing that once they reached Entrana, the gallows awaited them.

  “I won't allow it. You'll have to keep living with hope, Tiara. You'll see...” she thought, feeling a tightness in her throat as she saw the brown-haired woman unable to hide the trembling in the fingers of the hand that caressed her full-of-life belly. Shaking with the purest fear. “I didn't come all this way to fail you all.”

  The ignominious atmosphere lingered. The dark future loomed over them, making the silence that had materialized inside the carriage overwhelming. Maddening, slowly gnawing away at the fragility of their minds.

  For the Mercer-Archeos, it was knowing they had escaped one hell only to arrive in another, where a she-devil armed with a black metal glaive waited to do what she hadn't done eleven years before.

  For Tristessa, it was knowing she had to ensure the well-being of that family with the help of Jonas Youngblood, despite having failed to subdue the Priestess of the Black Eye.

  No plan ever goes exactly as intended. Things weren't going as she had planned, but those she had learned to love after six loops full of anguish and despair were still alive. That was all that mattered.

  She had to keep fighting until the end, to stop smelling that sickening scent of Death that lingered. Even after they had left the dead zone far behind on the path, along with the Feydra Crossroads. Only no one had noticed.