The forest was quiet—eerily so. Not even the birds dared to sing. Mist clung to the earth like cobwebs, curling around boots and branches, blanketing the path in a spectral haze.
Caius walked at the front, silent as usual, but his steps had a different rhythm now. Off-beat. Slower.
"Isla," Lyra said softly from behind. "How much further is this Vale of Echoes again?"
"A few days still," Isla replied, eyes fixed on the trail. "If we keep pushing, maybe less."
"You said no stops." Finn panted, hoisting his pack higher on his back. "So we're just going to keep going until we collapse?"
"That's the idea," Caius muttered.
"Wow," Finn scoffed. "Love the enthusiasm."
Isla glanced at Caius. He hadn't looked at any of them since morning. Sweat dotted his temple, and his hair clung to his skin.
"You okay?" she asked.
He gave a short nod. "Fine."
"You don't look fine," Lyra said bluntly. "You've been buttoning and unbuttoning that shirt for the past hour."
Caius glanced down, confused, then looked at his shirt as though surprised to find it partially undone. He fastened one button slowly. "Just hot."
"It's freezing out here," Finn muttered.
Melody trotted beside them, nose to the ground, tail twitching. She paused occasionally to sniff the air before catching up again.
"Maybe we should stop," Lyra said, looking to Isla. "If Caius is—"
"We agreed. No stops unless absolutely necessary."
"And if one of us dies before we get there, then what?"
Caius swayed again. Isla noticed it this time.
"Seriously, Caius," she said, stepping closer. "You're not just tired, are you?"
He didn't answer. Just kept walking.
"Okay," Finn muttered. "Now you're worrying me. You're pale—like corpse-level pale."
"It's nothing," Caius said. But his voice was thinner now. Brittle.
"Don't lie," Isla said sharply. "You look like you're about to—"
Caius stopped.
His knees buckled. He collapsed face-first into the damp earth with a dull thud.
"CAIUS!" Isla screamed, rushing forward.
Lyra was at his side in seconds, turning him over. His face was ghostly white, flushed with a feverish glow. He was burning.
"He's hot," Finn said, pressing a hand to Caius's cheek. "No—boiling. He's—gods—he's burning up!"
Melody barked and began pacing frantically. He whined and nosed at Caius's arm, ears pressed flat.
Lyra unfastened his shirt. "What the hell is happening to him?!"
"He didn't say anything," Isla whispered, brushing damp hair from his brow. "He didn't even warn us."
."
Melodias whined louder, pawing at the earth beside him.
"We have to move him," Lyra said, panicked. "We can't help him out here."
"To where?" Finn looked around at the dense trees. "We don't even know where we are."
"We find somewhere," Isla snapped. "We don't leave him here!"
Finn nodded quickly. Together, they lifted Caius's limp form between them, Melody trotting nervously behind.
Each step was agony—Caius's weight, the fear, the cold.
>>>>>>>>
After hours of walking beneath skeletal trees and through choking fog, they reached it—a crooked cottage nestled against the roots of a cliffside, almost hidden by ivy and shadow. The roof sagged under the weight of time, and a crooked iron lantern swung by the door, its flickering flame casting strange shapes on the wood.
They stopped a few feet from the entrance, breathless, with Caius still burning between them.
Lyra hesitated at the doorstep, raising a hand to knock but pausing mid-air. Her eyes flicked back to Isla. "What if—what if no one's home? Or worse?"
"We don't have a choice," Isla said, stepping forward, voice tight. "He's dying, Lyra. If we wait any longer—"
The door creaked open before Lyra could knock.
A hunched old woman stood there, framed by the pale light of a hearth behind her. Her skin was parchment-thin, eyes sharp and pale as glass. Her gray hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she leaned on a twisted wooden cane.
She looked them over—four strangers and a sick boy steaming with fever.
"I don't keep company," she said in a low, dry voice.
"Please," Isla said quickly. "He's burning up. We've been walking for hours. We just need help."
Morwenna's eyes landed on Caius. Her brow furrowed.
"…Bring him in."
The door opened wider.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of dried herbs and ash. Jars lined the shelves—bones, roots, powders Isla didn't dare guess at. Dried bundles of lavender and thornroot hung from the beams.
They laid Caius on a low cot beside the fire.
Morwenna moved with surprising precision for her age, gathering vials and leaves into a bowl. She crushed the herbs with a stone, added drops of black liquid, then filled the bowl with water from a copper kettle hanging above the flames.
"Make him drink," she said, handing the bowl to Isla.
Isla knelt beside Caius, lifting his head gently. "Caius," she whispered. "Come on, drink this. Please."
He groaned, teeth clenched. His skin was flushed and burning.
She pressed the bowl to his lips. He took a few mouthfuls, but his body trembled violently. His eyes rolled back, and the bowl slipped from her fingers, spilling onto the floor.
"It's not working," Finn said.
Morwenna frowned and moved closer. "Let me see him."
She leaned down and pressed her hand to his forehead, then his chest. Her fingers paused near his neck, then slid beneath his coat, tugging gently.
"I need to see his skin. Help me get this off."
Isla and Lyra hesitated for a moment, then began unfastening his jacket and shirt.
When the fabric fell away from his arm, they all saw it.
A spiral-shaped sigil, faintly glowing beneath the skin—ink-like, but alive, shifting gently with a sickly red hue.
Morwenna recoiled.
"No," she whispered. "It can't be…"
"What?" Isla breathed. "What is that?"
The old woman's face had gone pale. She backed away, as if she'd seen a ghost. Her voice shook.
"That mark… It's the Seal of Atrigan."
They stared at her.
"Who's Atrigan?" Finn asked, frowning.
Morwenna sank onto a stool, clutching her cane. Her voice was thin now, almost reverent.
"There was a tale," she began, "passed down in pieces… from the days of the Sorcerer War. Hundreds of years ago, when magic split kingdoms and the skies bled fire. The war was lost—until Merlin himself bound a demon named Atrigan, the Slayer, into the body of a mortal man."
Isla's breath caught.
"That man should or aswell was Caius's ancestor. One of the first Lords of Emberhollow. A soldier who broke sacred laws to gain power. His punishment was becoming a vessel."
Morwenna stared into the fire, her voice low.
"The bloodline was cursed from that day forward. Every generation, when one vessel dies, the sigil passes to another—marking the next in line. If what I'm seeing is true…" She looked at Caius again. "Then he is the current vessel."
Lyra stepped back, her face pale. "You're saying there's a demon inside him?"
"Yes" Morwenna said softly. "I'm saying his body and his soul are at war. If the two cannot find balance, he'll be consumed. Either by the fever… or by what's bound within."
They were silent.
The fire crackled.
Isla looked at Caius's face—his pain, the trembling, the sweat beading like rain.
"He didn't know," she said quietly. "He never said a word."
"He may not remember," Morwenna said. "The sigil chooses when to awaken. But now that it has…" She looked up. "We must act quickly. I know of a remedy. A rare one—but it might give him time. Might keep his soul tethered."
"What do we need to do?" Isla asked.
Morwenna stood slowly, cane tapping on the floor.
"I'll tell you what you need. But it won't be easy."
>>>>>>>>>