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Lily watched him quietly for a while, then spoke again, voice softer.
"When I saw you in the fight," she admitted, "I thought I was hallucinating."
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed.
"You did not hesitate," he said. "You recognized me and kept fighting."
Lily nodded.
"I recognized you," she said. "But you looked... different. Taller. Harder. Like your shadow became part of you."
Sekhmet’s throat tightened slightly.
He did not like that description.
It felt too close to the truth he refused to say out loud.
Lily continued, "I almost called your name, but you shook your head."
Sekhmet nodded.
"We were in danger," he said. "Talking would have gotten someone killed."
Lily’s gaze held his, steady.
"And after the danger," she said, "you still did not explain anything."
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened again.
"I do not owe explanations," he said carefully.
Lily nodded slowly, accepting.
"I know," she said. "And I am not asking for everything. Not tonight."
Sekhmet’s eyes flicked to her, surprised by her restraint.
Lily’s lips curved.
"I learned patience," she said quietly. "It took seven years. It was terrible. I do not recommend it."
Sekhmet’s mouth twitched again.
He felt a faint, reluctant amusement.
Lily leaned back, looking at the stars again.
"I missed you," she said.
The words were simple.
They landed heavy.
Sekhmet’s chest tightened.
He did not know what to say.
He did not know how to respond to that without sounding cold.
He stared at the fire, watching flames fold into each other like living hands.
"I did not think anyone would miss me," he admitted quietly.
Lily turned toward him.
Her expression was not teasing now.
It was serious.
"You always think that," she said. "Even when you were twelve. You always acted like you were alone even when you were not."
Sekhmet’s jaw tightened.
He did not deny it.
Lily’s voice softened further.
"You were never alone," she said. "You just kept walking away before anyone could stand beside you."
Sekhmet swallowed.
The words cut, not because they were cruel, but because they were accurate.
He had always been like that.
He did not know his mother. He did not ask questions forcefully to his father. He did not push. He accepted silence and kept moving forward, because asking questions felt like weakness.
He grew up around merchants, around deals and numbers. Emotions were not a currency he traded.
Yet Lily had always tried to trade them with him anyway.
Lily reached out slowly, not touching him yet, just letting her hand hover near his.
Sekhmet’s muscles tensed automatically.
Not fear of her.
Habit.
Purgatory habit.
Lily noticed the tension and paused.
Her voice stayed gentle.
"I will not force you," she said softly. "I am not a monster."
Sekhmet’s throat tightened.
He almost laughed at the word monster, because if she knew what he had done, what he had drunk, what lived inside him now... she might choose a different word.
But she did not know.
So he let her hand remain there, hovering.
Then slowly, he relaxed his fingers, letting his hand open slightly.
Lily’s hand lowered and touched his knuckles.
Her skin was warm from the fire.
Her touch was careful, like she was touching something fragile without insulting it by treating it too gently.
Sekhmet’s breath slowed.
Ba - dum... Ba - dum...
His heartbeat sounded louder for a moment, not because of danger, but because his body remembered what it was like to feel something other than hunger and pain.
Lily’s thumb brushed lightly over his knuckle.
"You are real," she whispered.
Sekhmet’s voice came out rougher than he intended.
"I am here," he said.
Lily nodded, eyes shining faintly.
"I am here too," she replied.
The silence that followed was not empty.
It was full.
Full of things unsaid.
Full of memories that tried to crawl back into the present.
Full of the simple fact that two people who once knew each other had found each other again in a place meant to swallow lives.
The guards kept watch.
They did not interrupt.
But a few glanced toward the fire and then looked away again, pretending not to see.
Sekhmet’s mind tried to remind him of every practical concern.
They were still in purgatory.
There were still predators.
There were still raiders.
There was still the city one months away, now closer but not close enough.
There was still the blood thirst.
There was still the system.
There was still the keystone in his pocket, heavy as fate.
But Lily’s hand on his knuckles made all of that fade for a moment.
Not disappear.
Just... soften.
Sekhmet looked at Lily’s face, firelight making her look both softer and sharper at the same time.
He spoke quietly.
"You should sleep," he said.
Lily’s brows lifted.
"You are telling me what to do," she teased lightly.
Sekhmet’s mouth twitched.
"I am telling you what is smart," he corrected.
Lily’s smile softened.
"And what about you," she asked. "Will you sleep."
Sekhmet’s gaze flicked to the ridges.
"I will rest," he said. "Not sleep deeply."
Lily nodded, understanding. She had learned survival too.
She pulled her hand back slowly, but not fully away. Her fingers brushed his once more as she withdrew, like a small lingering promise.
Then she rose and walked toward her guard’s side of the camp, where a bedroll had been laid out.
Before she lay down, she glanced back at Sekhmet.
He watched her.
Their eyes met briefly.
Lily’s mouth curved into a small smile.
Then she lay down and pulled her cloak over her shoulders.
The guards shifted positions, one moving closer to her, another stepping outward, keeping the perimeter balanced.
Sekhmet remained by the fire. Bat Bat snored on his thigh.
Snrrrk... Snrrrk...
The night deepened.
The fire dimmed.
Sekhmet stared into the flames, mind trying to settle.
But the quiet made space for thoughts. And thoughts in purgatory were dangerous. His mind drifted back to the fight. He killed the eight-thousand battle power leader.
He had blocked the cleaver. He had taken hits. He had not died. He had won.
That meant something. It meant his real battle power might be close to that leader’s level.
"So my real battle power is over eight thousand."