Dren's mind was a storm of unanswered questions—questions only Thadeus could truly unravel. But tonight, the search for answers would have to wait. Sleep, whether welcome or not, would have to come, even as his heart remained tangled in knots of confusion.
Night draped itself over Celestis Rise like a heavy cloak, stitched from shadows and secrets. The city appeared calm, but beneath its surface, desires clashed and quiet schemes whispered in the dark—unseen, but deeply felt.
Weeks had slipped by since Kael and Lyria set out on their journey to the monks' temple in the south. Their path had been swift, largely untroubled, though they allowed themselves little rest between their relentless gallops. Lyria, ever the spark in their silence, made sure the journey never dulled. She teased Kael at every turn, filling the long hours with playful jabs, mischief, and moments that almost made them forget the weight they carried.
As the sun melted behind the trees, they had covered a considerable distance.
"We'll camp here for the night," Kael said, slowing his horse.
Lyria surveyed the clearing and smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. "Not bad. Probably the best spot you've picked so far."
"Shut up and saddle your horse, hag."
"Who are you calling a hag?" she shot back, promptly knocking him on the head with just enough force to sting. "Call me 'hag' again, and I'll carve your jugular out myself. I swear."
"Understood," he winced, rubbing the sore spot, though the corner of his lips twitched into a half-smile.
Lyria saddled both horses with practiced ease, set up the fire, and arranged their campsite like she'd done it a thousand times. Meanwhile, Kael struggled to stand, his movements stiff and strained, one hand pressed tightly against his burned side.
"I'll go find us something to eat," he muttered, his voice low, trying to grit through the sharp pang gnawing at his ribs.
Lyria's gaze narrowed dangerously. "Sit your stupid ass down. You're in no shape to squash a mosquito, let alone hunt something with teeth."
"You don't know that. I'm in top form," Kael insisted, but his trembling hands and ghostly pale face betrayed him.
"Sure, top form," she deadpanned, folding her arms. "Listen carefully. I'm going to hunt for meat. You? You're going to sit that stubborn ass of yours right here until I get back. Got it?"
Without waiting for another word, she slipped into the woods, her steps swift and silent like a shadow with purpose.
Kael had picked a flat clearing surrounded by dense clusters of mid-sized trees—prime hunting ground for wild boars and Karnox. He lowered himself onto the grass with a pained grunt, his body heavy, every movement dragging against the throb in his side.
"Damn it…" he hissed, carefully peeling back the cloth over his burn. His stomach twisted. The black veins that had once barely fringed the burn's edges had now crept farther along his torso, spreading like cracks in fragile glass. "This was supposed to be a minor burn… If I don't find a mage soon… I'm done for."
He clenched his jaw, swallowing the rising wave of panic as he sat in the stillness, waiting for Lyria. Since leaving Ms. Miller's home, he'd pushed through the agony, stubbornly relying on the herbs she'd given him to dull the pain. He'd hidden the truth from Lyria, convinced he could manage it.
But now… now it was slipping out of his control.
Time passed in long, dragging moments, each second stretched by the pulse of burning pain, until Lyria finally returned—her silhouette fierce against the firelight. She had slung a fully grown wild boar over her shoulder, its head dangling in her right hand, blood still dripping from it.
Kael, ever the stubborn fool, tried to stand to help, but she shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel and waved him off. "Sit down. Seriously, just… sit. I've got this."
She didn't know the full extent of his burns yet, but she wasn't blind. The sheen of sweat on his brow, the tremble in his fingers—he was getting worse. And soon, even Ms. Miller's herbs wouldn't be enough to keep the pain at bay.
"Be sure not to burn the damn thing," Kael called out, forcing a cocky grin as he watched her prepare the boar over the fire.
"Oh, please. Last I checked, the less privileged don't get to complain about the menu," she quipped, not even looking up as she skinned the boar with quick, practiced strokes.
"It's just a burn, for fuck's sake. I'm still in perfect shape. Honestly, I'd say I'm more privileged than you right now."
She raised a brow, glancing at him with playful suspicion. "Oh? Is that so?"
"Yeah. You must be dying to know what it's like—being treated like royalty. Like me."
"That's it. You're starving tonight."
"Wait, hey—don't be like that, Lyria. I'm sorry."
"Nope. You've crossed the line. No meat for you."
"C'mon…"
Their banter drifted through the night like smoke, wrapping them in something that, despite everything, felt like comfort. There was almost never a dull moment between them.
They ate their fill, teased each other until the fire burned low, and traded stories about nothing and everything. Eventually, exhaustion crept in, soft and heavy. Kael drifted off first, Lyria following soon after, her breathing slow and even.
The night was still, but Kael's sleep was far from peaceful.
His burn throbbed violently, black veins writhing like something alive beneath his skin. The pain gnawed at him, vicious and unrelenting. He clutched his side, his breathing ragged, struggling to sit upright as agony clawed through him.
Frantically, he dug through his bag, his trembling hands barely managing to pull out the bundle of herbs Ms. Miller had given him. He peeled back the cloth, his vision swimming as he smeared the paste over the wound, desperate for relief.
It was like pouring water on open flame. Useless. The pain only burned hotter, the black veins spreading as if feeding on his desperation.
Panic seized him. He applied more paste, far more than the recommended dose, but it made no difference. The searing pulse only worsened, devouring him from the inside.
The agony consumed him.
A guttural scream tore from his throat, raw and brutal, shattering the silence of the night.
Lyria jolted awake, her heart slamming against her ribs. "Kael? What's going on?" She scrambled to his side, panic bleeding into every word.
Kael wanted to answer, to push through the pain and explain—but all that escaped him were broken, agonized gasps.
"You're scaring me, you idiot—what's happening? Talk to me!" Her voice cracked, fear unraveling her usual sharp edge as she grabbed his face, her touch firm but trembling.
She pushed his trembling hand aside, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes locked onto his side.
What she saw drained the color from her face.
"Oh… shit."