The Thorned Garden was suffocating tonight. The Fog stuck to the hedges like old breath. Somewhere, a gen sparked—then fizzled out with a harsh clang.
“Seriously?” Meg’s voice cut across the map. “We’re doing everything! Just hide in a locker or something if you’re gonna be useless!”
The Obsession sat huddled behind a cracked greenhouse wall, barely responding. Their limbs felt too heavy. Their stomach twisted with hunger and guilt. Their fingers trembled—more from exhaustion than fear.
They hadn’t touched a gen in nearly ten minutes.
Claudette passed once and paused. “You look pale. Maybe… just stay here, okay?”
They nodded, head down. Everyone had stopped asking if they were okay. Or if they were even trying.
But Noirette hadn’t.
She watched from the stone balcony above—silent, still, half-shadow. No heartbeat. No footsteps.
Just her eyes, locked on them.
And when the others left again, she dropped down without a word.
The Obsession flinched, but didn’t run.
She didn’t draw her rapier. Didn’t move like she was there to hurt them. She just… stared. At the tremble in their hands. At the way they leaned on the wall like standing had become too much.
Then, slowly, she crouched beside them. Quiet. Unsure.
“You’re not okay.” Her voice was barely more than breath.
The Obsession laughed bitterly. “What gave it away?”
She tilted her head. Reached into her coat, pulled out a small folded napkin tied with black ribbon. Inside: a few crackers, a piece of cheese, and a red hard candy.
“I made this,” she said softly. “Well—Adrien made it, but I watched. I thought… if I saw you again, I could give it to you.”
The Obsession stared at it, then at her. “You’re supposed to hook me.”
Noirette blinked, looking away. “I know.”
She shifted nervously. “But you don’t look… hookable. You look like I used to. Before Mama Ari told me I was worth something.”
They took the food with shaking hands. Ate slowly. Quietly.
She watched each bite with open, worried eyes. When they finished, she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the entire time.
“You looked like you might disappear,” she said. “Like the Fog would take you if I blinked.”
Then, without thinking, they reached forward and hugged her.
Noirette stiffened. Arms at her sides. Breath caught.
“Oh,” she whispered. “You’re… hugging me.”
It took a few seconds, but she finally wrapped her arms back around them. Gentle. Unsure.
“You’re soft,” she said, like it surprised her. “And warm.”
When the hug ended, her hands lingered for a moment too long. Then she stood, eyes hardening—not at them. At the others.
“They hurt you,” she murmured. “I’ll fix it.”
What followed wasn’t loud. It wasn’t cruel. It was surgical.
One by one, the other survivors fell.
Meg went down with a scream. Claudette tried to run but didn’t make it to the vault. The third survivor begged—but Noirette said nothing as she silently drew her rapier and completed the ritual.
She returned at the end. Blood drying on her sleeves, but her expression soft again.
She sat beside her Obsession and pulled something else from her pocket: a small, fabric flower—black with a silver pin.
“I used to wear this when I was scared,” she whispered. “Mama Adrien said it made me brave.”
She pinned it gently to their jacket, brushing her thumb just under their eye.
“You’re brave too. Even if no one else saw it.”
The Fog thickened around them. The trial was ending.
The Obsession shifted like they were about to stand—but Noirette stayed seated, eyes on the ground.
“You can go,” she said. “If you want.”
A pause.
“But I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
They didn’t speak—just took her hand.
Noirette blinked down at their fingers in hers, stunned. Then… she smiled.
A little uneven. A little unsure. But real.
“I’ll make more food next time,” she whispered.
And when the Fog swallowed the map, she did not let go.