Chains was still on her knees when the shaking started. Not the floor. Not the tower. Her.
Her breath caught in her throat, and her vision narrowed at the edges, just for a second.
Then she saw the wound.
It wasn't a stab. Not clean. The jagged edge had torn, not pierced—ripping through skin and muscle like someone had sawed through meat. The edges of the gash were shredded, flayed just enough to make stitching a nightmare. Blood kept flowing. Too red. Too wet. Her makeshift bandage soaked before it was even secure.
She pressed her hand to it harder.
Blue didn't scream. But she trembled. Her entire frame was locked tight from the pain, her face pale and lips parted slightly, breath coming in shallow gasps. Chains watched her jaw clench, trying to suppress the sound.
"Just keep breathing," Chains muttered. "You're not dying here."
She finished the wrap, tying it off tight. Her fingers were sticky with blood.
Then she looked back at the thing she'd kicked apart.
It was still slumped near the rocks. Small. Still. Half its skull caved in. Limbs twisted. Blood soaked into the moss.
Chains' mouth was dry.
That hadn't been a monster. Not really. Not like the slimes, not like the skeleton. That thing had bled. It had screamed when she'd hit it. It had looked at her, just before the last kick, with something that could've been fear.
She had killed it.
On instinct. Without hesitation.
Her stomach twisted.
She wiped her hands on her pants and stood, wincing as her leg threatened to give again. Her arms burned. Her mind spun.
But Blue was still on the ground. Curled up. Bleeding.
Chains forced her voice steady. "I'll be right back. Not leaving. Just grabbing the knife."
She turned and limped over to the body.
It was still warm.
She knelt slowly, not trusting her knees, and pulled the jagged blade from the dirt. It came free with a sick sound. The metal was old, rusted, the edges not just serrated but broken. This wasn't a tool. It was something made to hurt.
She turned it once in her hand. Then again.
Then she turned back toward Blue.
She couldn't stop shaking.
Her hands pressed against the wound, but the pressure barely helped. Her whole arm felt on fire—too hot at the shoulder, too cold at the fingertips. The bandage throbbed with her heartbeat.
The worst part wasn't the pain.
It was the quiet.
She'd watched Chains tear that thing apart. Not fight it. Not defend herself. Just… destroy it. There had been rage in the way she moved. Purpose. Like she needed it to stop existing.
Blue had seen the thing's eyes. It had looked human. Not fully. But enough.
And Chains had kept going.
A noise behind her made her flinch. Footsteps.
Chains knelt beside her and set the knife down between them.
"Yours now," she said, voice quiet. "Might as well keep it."
Blue didn't touch it. She watched Chains instead.
The blood on her knuckles. The red streaks on her pants. The tightness in her face that hadn't been there before.
Chains wasn't calm. She was pretending.
Chains rubbed a hand over her mouth and looked at the trees.
"We need to get you off the floor," she said, scanning the treeline. "Somewhere I can block you in while I check ahead."
Blue tried to sit up, groaned, and collapsed again.
Chains didn't comment. She just pulled Blue's uninjured arm over her shoulders and helped her up.
They limped together toward a patch of boulders near the edge of the clearing. Chains sat her down between two of them—low, tight, almost like a natural nest of stone. She unwrapped another strip of cloth and wedged it into the space. Cover. Not great. But it would do.
"You stay here. Keep pressure on the wound. I'm just going to check the path up."
Blue looked at her. No question. No protest.
Just a nod.
Chains gave her one in return. Then turned and walked into the trees.
As soon as she was out of sight, her legs gave out.
She leaned hard into the first tree she found and gripped the bark until it splintered in her palm.
Her breath came fast. Too fast.
The creature had screamed. It had looked up. Its face—
She shoved the thought down.
Now wasn't the time to fall apart.
She forced herself upright and started walking again.
Away from the body. Away from the blood. Toward whatever came next.
But she didn't feel like the same person who had climbed the last stair.
Not anymore.