Minutes turned into hours. Meeyn's brow furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead as he poured more of his will into the abyss. The mass grew slightly, taking on a vaguely insect-like shape—segmented, with thin, twitching legs.
For a moment, he thought he had it. His heart leapt, a flicker of excitement breaking through his focus.
But then, just as before, it collapsed. The shape dissolved into a puddle of inky blackness, splattering onto the stone floor with a wet, useless sound.
"Tch." Meeyn clicked his tongue, his frustration mounting. He leaned back against the wall, wiping the sweat from his face. "Still not enough control. Or power. Or… something."
He tried again. And again. Each attempt was a variation on the same failure—blobs that twitched but didn't live, shapes that formed but fell apart, darkness that refused to hold together.
The Living Abyss was alive, yes, but it was stubborn, like trying to sculpt water with his bare hands. At 1.9% synchronization, he was still too weak to force it into true life.
But by the time the first hints of dawn began to creep around the edges of the sheet covering the window, Meeyn was still empty-handed. The floor was littered with the remnants of his failed attempts—small, lifeless smears of black that dissolved into the stone as his concentration waned. He let out a long, irritated sigh, slumping back against the wall.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'll get you next time."
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest. The darkness was still his ally, but he was pushing his limits. He needed to be sharper, stronger. And for that, he needed to increase his synchronization.
...
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a faint orange glow through the edges of the sheet over the cell's window, the heavy iron door creaked open.
Two Garrison soldiers stepped inside, their armor clinking softly. One carried a lantern, its weak light barely pushing back the darkness Meeyn had cultivated.
"Oi, you," the taller soldier barked, his voice gruff but tired. "You're free to go. Orders from above."
Meeyn opened his eyes slowly, red-tinted irises glinting faintly as he unfolded his legs and stood. He stretched casually, like he'd just woken from a nap. "That was quick. What's the occasion?"
The second soldier, shorter and sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek, snorted. "That Yeager kid—Eren. The one who crawled out of a damn Titan. They held his trial today. Got off light, if you ask me. Now he's under Captain Levi's leash with the Survey Corps."
The taller one shook his head, muttering as they turned to leave. "Still can't believe they're letting a beast walk away. Crazy bastard might save us or eat us. Who knows?"
Meeyn followed them out, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. The soldiers' chatter faded into the background as his mind raced. A trial already? Levi's got him? Did they retake Trost the same damn day? The timeline felt warped, events colliding faster than he'd expected. Trost's breach must've been sealed—likely Eren's doing.
"Guess it's time to get to work," he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Meeyn stepped out into the evening air, the faint bustle of Trost's recovery efforts humming around him. The streets were alive with soldiers hauling debris and civilians scurrying to safer quarters, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.
The sky was a deepening purple, the last traces of sunset fading fast. Wall Rose loomed overhead, its shadow stretching across the district.
He rolled his shoulder.
His red-tinted eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar figure. Where's my blonde bodyguard? he thought, a playful glint in his gaze.
It didn't take long. Through the throng of soldiers and carts, he spotted her—Annie, moving with that quiet, purposeful stride of hers, heading toward a narrow alley away from the main gate. Her blonde hair was tucked neatly under her hood, but Meeyn's sharp eyes caught the subtle tension in her posture. She was avoiding attention.
"Perfect," he muttered under his breath, a grin creeping across his face. He slipped through the crowd, weaving effortlessly between people.
He caught up to her in the alley, falling into step a few paces behind. "Well, well," he called out, voice light and teasing. "Didn't expect to see you sneaking off, partner."
Annie's shoulders stiffened, but she didn't stop walking. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging him without turning. "You again," she said flatly, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation.
Meeyn chuckled, closing the gap to walk beside her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "What, no 'welcome back'? I just got out of a cell, you know. Could use a little warmth."
"You seem fine," she replied, her voice dry as ever. She kept her eyes forward, navigating the alley's twists with practiced ease.
"Oh, I'm more than fine," he said, leaning in just enough to test her patience. "But seriously, you're just gonna ditch me after all we've been through? I thought we had a moment back there."
Annie shot him a sidelong glance, her blue eyes sharp and unamused. "You talk too much."
"And you don't talk enough," he countered smoothly, undeterred.
She didn't respond, but Meeyn caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth—gone in an instant.
They emerged from the alley into a quieter street, the noise of the main district fading behind them. Annie slowed her pace slightly, her guard still up but less rigid. "Why are you following me?" she asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.
Meeyn shrugged, playing it casual. "Bored. Plus, you're the only one around here who doesn't scream 'Titan' and try to stab me. Figured I'd stick with a winner."
Annie stopped walking, turning to face him fully for the first time. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes searched his, like she was trying to peel back the layers of his easygoing facade. "You're not normal," she said quietly, almost to herself.
Meeyn's smile didn't waver, but his red eyes glinted with a flicker of something sharper. "Normal's overrated," he said lightly. "Besides, you're not exactly Miss Average yourself, are you?"
For a moment, they stood there. Annie's gaze lingered, then she turned away, resuming her walk. "Do what you want," she muttered, echoing her earlier dismissal. "Just don't get in my way."