Auren stared at her, his expression blank.
Then he glanced at the black water… and back to Asenya. And asked flatly:
"You want me to go inside this well?"
Asenya smiled—slow and seductive.
"You said you'd earn your keep."
"Yeah, no shit. But I'm terrible at swimming."
She tilted her head, arms folding beneath her chest, golden eyes narrowing with a glint of serpentine amusement.
"Well, that's just perfect then. There'll be no need for you to swim."
Auren frowned, his gaze shifting warily between her and the well.
"That makes no sense. It's a well. I'm supposed to climb in and… what? Drown? There's no ladder, no hint of a bottom, and you're acting like I'm supposed to just dive in blind."
Asenya chuckled lightly.
"Well, boy, step by step. Swimming won't take you anywhere. You'll keep swimming, and you'll never stop swimming. That's the problem with water. It lets you think you're in control."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping with unsettling sweetness.
"You need to drown. Let it take you where it must... hopefully you don't die before you get there."
Auren's expression tightened, a shadow crawling across his face.
"…Take me where?"
"To the other side of the Night," she answered, smiling again.
Her smile was beginning to irritate him—subtle, superior, and always two words away from mockery. But Auren held his composure.
He had no idea how powerful she truly was. And that, in itself, demanded caution.
She stepped around him slowly, like a teacher circling a stubborn student.
"What do you think lies on the other side of the Night?"
Auren frowned.
"Day?"
Her smile deepened.
"That's nonsense, boy. Day is its own existence. Entirely different. Think bigger. Take the Night as a singularity, not just a time, not just a cycle, but a being. A presence. A force."
She stopped beside the well, casting her gaze down into the black water that reflected nothing.
"What do you think lies on the other side of that kind of reality?"
Auren lowered his eyes, silent.
The things she said—they weren't riddles. They were cracks. Cracks in logic, in perception, in the way the world was supposed to make sense.
He raised his gaze again, this time more serious.
"…Darkness."
His voice came softly.
"A twisted, ugly kind of darkness."
Asenya's eyes gleamed faintly at his words.
She stared at him without blinking, her expression unreadable, a quiet tension hovering behind her smile.
Then finally, she spoke.
"That's a strange response. Why do you say that?"
Auren shrugged slightly, his eyes drifting to the surface of the well.
"Well… you said to take Night as a singularity. If something reflects something into the world, it must first hold it in abundance. You can't give what you don't have."
He paused, his voice steady.
"So if Night reflects darkness, then it is darkness. And not just any kind—it must be an ancient, merciless one. Ugly. Because... the worst of people find comfort in the Night. The worst acts are carried out under it. If that's the mirror it holds up to the world… maybe it's because the Night has seen too much of it. Or maybe it is the source."
For a second, Asenya didn't move.
She was still—like her entire being had stilled in response. Her golden eyes widened, just slightly. Then narrowed again. Still staring.
Auren looked at her, puzzled.
"What?"
She tilted her head, amused.
"Gods… how old are you?"
She whispered:
"You don't look it. Are you a hundred?"
Auren frowned, stepping back slightly in disbelief.
"What? No! Who even lives that long?!"
Asenya blinked. Then slowly raised her hand and pointed to herself, her face caught in an odd expression.
"Me?"
At first, Auren didn't take her seriously. He glanced away, about to dismiss it.
But something about her expression made him look back.
And keep looking.
"…You're not serious… are you?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she began counting on her fingers with exaggerated focus, lips moving silently. Then she stopped and looked back at him.
"I lost count at five hundred and forty-something…"
Auren's eyes widened—violently.
"You… you… you're over five hundred years old?! How does that even make sense?! Look at you! You look like you're in your late thirties! You look so young!"
A faint red crept onto Asenya's cheeks. She squirmed in place, wiggling slightly in a way that made Auren recoil internally.
She asked coyly:
"Is that a compliment? Are you complimenting me? You think I look very young?"
Something twisted in Auren's gut.
The thought hit him like a punch: a five-hundred-year-old hag, wrinkled and hunched, pretending to flirt like a teenager. His imagination betrayed him, and nausea crept up his spine.
Nope. That was mental poison.
He clenched his jaw.
Thankfully, Asenya composed herself with a shrug, brushing off the strange moment.
Her voice brightened.
"Anyway! That's not the point of anything. It changes nothing."
She smiled again—this one calmer. Quieter.
"Your answer… was insightful. There's nothing I could add. You've described the Night itself. In all its truth."
Her eyes turned back to the well.
"And you've also described the place the well is taking you."
Auren's brows drew low, his voice dropping with tension.
"…To the true darkness of the Night?"
He paused. The words tasted heavier in his mouth than he expected.
"Isn't that… borderline world-level dangerous?"
Asenya beamed with delight.
"You are the one who said you'd earn your keep."
Auren's expression turned harsh, his eyes darkening with anger.
"So, what? You're just going to send me to my death for that?"
She rolled her eyes like he was being dramatic.
"Oh, stop being so grumpy. You're going to die anyway. Whether it's at the Paladin's sword, or mine, or maybe the Temple itself will kill you. Or me—again, if I feel like it."
She flashed him a mockingly sweet smile.
"Either way, death is on the horizon. So why not be useful before you fall off the edge, hm?"
Auren stood frozen, stunned. His mind blanked for a breath. Then two.
She continued, unconcerned.
"All you need to do is kill a very, very black and red creature. Bring me its heart."
She leaned in just a little, lips curling.
"Who knows? If you survive, I might even help you kill the Paladin."
She grinned wide.
But her words washed over Auren like cold, black water.
None of it felt real. The room itself seemed to fade into shadow, a creeping numbness crawling across the walls of his mind.
Why had he come here?
Why didn't he fight the Paladin instead?
Why did he think—just for a moment—that staying in this cursed Temple was safer?
'Why…?'
"Off you go!"
Her voice cracked through the air like a whip.
Auren barely had time to react before his world spun.
'Was I… pushed?'
The thought barely formed before the sensation hit—his head plunging into the black water. Cold, soundless, absolute.
And then—
—nothing.