The fog thickened until it swallowed the place whole. Shadows vanished, shapes smeared into gray. Rocco clung to Renny's arm, trembling as the first shrieks split the haze, cracks of whips, cries of pain, voices begging and breaking.

"They are here…" Rocco whispered, his grip tightening on Renny's sleeve. "Madonna mia… they are here. We must run!"

Renny's eyes hardened. "No. We're not going anywhere."

The mist parted with a rush of motion, three pitters burst through, gaunt and snarling, their whips cracking as they unfurled, lashing at the air. Their hollow eyes locked on Rocco, and they charged.

"Stop," Renny commanded, his voice firm and low. "I am a demon. This limbomite is with me for good reason. Move along."

The pitters hissed, their voices layered, scraping like rusted metal. "Fate of limbomite… never free. Must lash. Must suffer."

Renny's eye narrowed. "I understand. And I do not aim to change his fate. But I have business with this one. For now, you will let him be."

The pitters circled closer, whips dragging lines in the dirt. Their words tumbled out crooked. "Your business… not matter. We only fulfill. Always fulfill. Limbomite must scream."

The pitters snapped forward in unison, whips cracking through the fog. Renny moved faster, his body a blur. One strike of his hand sent the first sprawling. A twist of his heel shattered the second's jaw. The third barely drew breath before Renny's fist cracked across its temple, folding it to the ground.

He straightened, exhaling through his nose. "I warned you. You should have listened."

But the fog stirred. More pitters slithered from the haze, half a dozen, then more, their whips dragging like chains across stone.

Renny's jaw tightened. "Tch. This is becoming its own task." He glanced back at Rocco, who was frozen in terror, legs shaking.

Without another word, Renny swept him up, hauling him into his arms. "Hold on."

Rocco yelped, clutching at his coat. "What are you doing?!"

"Getting us out of here," Renny growled, and bolted through the fog toward the signpost, the pitters howling at their heels.

***

Ol Man Baro followed Maeril into her small chamber, tucked neatly inside the limbomite house. The air smelled of spice and smoked meats, a lingering comfort. She poured him a drink, and they sat close enough that her arm brushed his sleeve whenever she shifted.

Baro raised his glass, his weathered lips tugging into a smile. "Maeril… I have wandered long on Earth, and now here in Hell. But I swear to you, in all my days, I have not seen beauty surpassing yours."

Color rose to her cheeks. She tried to wave him off, flustered. "Please, old man. Spare me such flattery."

"Flattery?" Baro wagged a finger, his tone warm, steady. "Ah, no. Flattery is sweetened lie. What I speak is plain honesty. And I did not know demons had room for honesty, until I looked at you."

Her blush deepened. She busied herself with the pitcher, though her hands trembled faintly.

"How long," he asked, leaning forward, "have you been here, cooking, feeding these poor wretches?"

Maeril's eyes softened. "Since my making. This is my purpose. I tend the souls when the fog lifts. I love it. Their hunger, their desperation… the way they cling to every bite. To give them that... ah, it pleases me more than I can tell."

Baro watched her intently. "And what of you, Maeril? What of your own hunger? Your own… feelings?"

She tilted her head, uncertain. "Feelings? I feel joy when I cook. I feel content when they eat. Beyond that… nothing more is needed."

He reached out, gently taking her hand. His palm was rough, warm. He guided it to his chest. She gasped softly at the solid thrum beneath.

"This," Baro said quietly, "is the beat of a heart caught in love. A tender force, born here." He tapped his chest with his free hand. "It drives us beyond reason... makes us long for the presence of another. Makes us wish to see them… not merely exist, but shine."

Her lips parted, a whisper escaping. "Love? That is… what you feel for me?"

Baro chuckled low, leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touched. "Eh, ragazza… I cannot name it yet. But I know this... I would dwell in your presence more. If you allow me."

The room grew hushed. Their breaths mingled. She did not pull away. Slowly, cautiously, they leaned in. A kiss, tentative at first, then hungry. One garment slipped, then another. And soon, in the small chamber filled with the scent of smoke and spice, Maeril tasted something she had never once known: the intimacy of choice, of desire freely given.

***

Renny's breath came sharp as he carried Rocco, the pitters snarling and cracking their whips behind them. The fog thinned, and ahead loomed the crooked signpost.

Rocco writhed in his arms, panic twisting his face. "Stop! Stop… I cannot go past this point!"

Renny's eyes narrowed. "Because of the Sentinel?"

"Yes!" Rocco's voice broke, high and desperate. "If I cross, it will kill me! We must turn back... we must find another way!"

Renny paused, gaze fixed on the signpost. His jaw clenched. "Hmph."

"Tell me, Rocco… are you certain William and his friend will make it back?"

Rocco froze, confusion flickering across his face. "Why… why you ask this?" His voice trembled, but he nodded quickly. "Yes… sì, they will return. They must pass through great ordeal, but they come back. Unless... " He swallowed hard. "Unless the bird catch them."

Renny tilted his head. "But if not… they'll return here, right?"

"Y-yes," Rocco stammered. "Yes, they return."

Renny sighed, his grip tightening. "Then forgive me, Rocco. For what I'm about to do. It's for research purposes."

Rocco's eyes went wide. "No! Dio mio… what are you saying?!" His panic cracked his voice, nails digging into Renny's arm as he thrashed.

But Renny dragged him forward anyway.

The instant Rocco's body crossed the post, the air split.

A shadow fell.

The Sentinel appeared... vast and dreadful, wings stretching like walls of blackened iron. Its arms gleamed under plated metal, sandals bound with ancient ropes. A blade hung at its side, pulsing with a sick glow. Its burning eyes locked instantly on Rocco.

The pitters, who had just arrived, whimpered at the sight of the Sentinel, vanishing back into the mist.

"No... no, please...!" Rocco's cry cut short as the Sentinel's gaze ignited, fire lancing through him. His body convulsed, skin blistering and falling away into ash. In moments, nothing remained but drifting dust, scattered into the fog.

Renny stood frozen, the stench of scorched soul thick in his nose, Rocco's terrified words echoing in his mind.

Then those burning eyes turned to him.

"You are fortunate to stand beyond the signpost. Should you be caught dragging a soul from here, none shall spare you. Be warned."

And just like that, it was gone. Silence claimed the air, broken only by the faint hiss of Rocco's ashes dissolving into the mist.

Renny shook his head, guilt weighing heavily, and turned away from the aftermath of what he had done. Slowly, he headed back toward the house.

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