Traitor

A soft, rhythmic melody drifted through the camp, guiding Neon toward a large tent where warm light flickered behind the fabric.

He hesitated at the entrance, catching the unmistakable notes of a song he knew, though played with a rougher, earthier cadence. It was the kind of melody that existed in Nyxia too, but there it would be stripped of its raw imperfection.

This? This felt human.

He stepped inside and was instantly hit with the scent of warm food and the sight of bodies moving in sync. The space was alight with makeshift lanterns, their dim glow casting an amber hue over the gathered soldiers in their night dresses.

The tent's center had been cleared, where men and women spun in rhythm, their bare legs pounding lightly against the ground as they wove through a dance that looked almost rehearsed yet effortless. Around the edges, others lounged on crates, passing around tin cups filled with something that smelled vaguely sweet. A group played instruments made roughly from metal strings stretched over hollowed-out wood, drum surfaces repurposed from armor plates. It was a crude but effective makeshift ball. 

He turned and caught Aria watching him from the entrance behind him. She was unreadable for a moment, but then her gaze flicked to someone else.

Lina.

Neon barely had time to react before she was in front of him, grinning. “Hey there, new boy.”

He frowned, taking a slow step back. “I didn’t exactly come here t-”

“Dance with me,” she interrupted, grabbing his wrist.

Neon blinked. “What?”

Aria visibly tensed, her expression stunned.

Lina rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so scared. It’s just a dance.” Then, with an amused smirk, she leaned closer. “Unless you’re afraid you won’t keep up.”

Something about the way she said it irritated him. Neon glanced at Aria, whose brows had shot up in disbelief. He let out a sigh, resigned. 

“Fine," he said. "We can dance together next,” he added loudly over the music, glancing over at Aria.

He didn´t like the look he got back.

Lina wasted no time pulling him toward the middle. The rhythm shifted slightly, a new tune starting up, a beat easy to follow yet deceptively quick. Neon stiffened at first, unused to the closeness, the way her hands dictated the turns, but soon enough, muscle memory took over. It wasn’t so different from dodging an opponent’s attacks. Step, pivot, adjust.

The only difference was that this time, no one was trying to kill him.

Or so he thought.

Lina spun in his arms suddenly, and as he moved, her fingers brushed against the bandages on his wrist. Before he could react, she gave a sharp, deliberate tug. The bandage loosened, falling away just enough to expose the underside of his wrist. 

The Nyxian insignia inked deep into his skin from birth.

Neon felt the shift before he saw it. The way Lina’s muscles tensed, the way her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before something colder replaced it. Her fingers tightened around his wrist like a vice, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"I knew it," she whispered.

Neon stopped moving.

The music still played. The others still danced. But in that moment, everything else faded.

They’d been found out.