Eddie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant

Josephine couldn't find an answer to her friend's rant about nothing changing. She was also victim of having the firm belief that she was stuck. Stuck inside four walls for the rest of her life based on status and overprotection. It was hard to imagine her father being almost paranoid about her at times, about her safety and well-being, but the honest expression of his care was rarely seen. He contributed with teachings more than feelings, although his understanding of them was sound. His problem was to share, moreso than guide.

But no one is stuck. Not until that person sticks itself in, right? Josephine didn't want to believe that. People could make change happen. One needed more than to wish it, but with effort there would be accomplishment, no? They couldn't just limit themselves on what others thought of them, on what limits another established before they were even born. As much good as civilization brought to Marin, the dark nature of humanity twisted most, if not all human constructs, for the languages that were erected together could go to war against each other.

Josephine shared the curiosity with which the silence in their bedroom was invested in the wooden planked hall outside. The heavy thuds on the floor made the noble's curiosity pique, large greens focused on the passages of people to and from their rooms. She glanced at a man she wanted to be Tagus, his successful return from the mission given to him. Was she brash in telling him to go immediately, without Lord Roderick around? Did they have time to consider it? Not really.

There was a warm rush of blood into the cheeks of Josephine. She was surprised when her friend started to call out and it was a name she never heard before. It didn't take long for her to realize Amaryllis was trying to get the attention of the knight who had just passed by their room.

"Do you know him, Ryllis?" Josephine asked as her butt slid off the bed to the side, where her feet met the floor and balanced her frame over them, standing straight. She hurried to the door in place of her friend, for Amaryllis was still recovering.

"Let me help you!" The girl said, turned to Amaryllis. Then she popped her head out of the bedroom and into the hallway, calling out to the knight as well.

"Sir Col! Sir Col!" The young girl exclaimed, hopefully getting the attention Amaryllis was trying to get. It seemed her friend knew this person and was quite happy to see him, so the least she could do was make sure this man saw her.

The wooden floor in front of the witch stirred. The black iron nails that boarded planks were undone, jutting out of their insertion to levitate in front of the old crone, followed by the snapping of wood and reform of its shape. Below the flat surface turned furniture was a cold wind that pushed the pieces upward in their assimilation, creating a small table and a stool, both made for the purpose of sitting the young knight in front of her. Like a moth attracted to flame, young Tagus sat on the stool and was guided to place both his hands on the table. His knuckles felt the hard and cold surface, fingers and thumb extended to allow the wizened woman to observe the lines of the calloused palm of the warrior. She slid the wrinkled fingers of her hands between strands of grey hair, then pulled them aside to reveal her full face and eyes, each directed at a single palm.

Tagus gulped at the sight of the pair of greyed orbs, each gazing at an opposite direction, left to left and right to right. The vision of the crazed woman became intense in such a way that he felt light headed, and then sleepy. Rolf tried to move, but he realized he couldn't. His hand was glued to the hilt of his sword, but when he tried to move it, his fingers and palm trembled, his arm shook. He grit his teeth and tried to speak out, but his tongue rolled up inside his mouth and clogged the back of his throat. The air he breathed was thinned, as rare as the possibility of breaking away from incomprehensible chains. A drop of sweat ran down from his bald head and through his temple, across the ebony cheek to fall to the ground from the side of his chin. The witch leaned her head forward. Her back hunched as her gaze hovered over the hands of the young warrior. She smiled and looked at his face, the burden of the past bearing on his shoulders.

Tagus' mind found itself in the grasp of an outside power wrapping tendrils around it like a cage, with tips protruding in a quest to make memory regress. His eyes were open wide and the hues of brown thinned to give expansion to their black pupils. The boy's head collapsed between his hands, inert, and the witch placed her own hands on his head, on its back. Her eyes were still distant of the center, right orb on left hand of the knight and left orb on his right. They sought the origin, birthplace in Raunkastel, Taemar. Her homeland as much as his. Tagus felt a rhythmic beat inside of his body and was made conscious of his heart and its blood pumping hot. Darkness surrounded him. A light distant and near caressed his face, made smooth and small, moldy and sweet. A baby's face, then a baby's body, the new being on a man's lap, covered in blood and placenta. The sharp knife cut the cord, the sound of flesh ripped muffled by the screech and cry of the newborn. He was passed from healer to assistant to mother, who embraced him with a bond knotted before birth, in the time he was inside her womb. The woman panted, her body ridden in sweat, inner thighs covered in blood and half a mind to fade to black. But her happiness for her baby was such, it reinvigorated her. She held onto that notion of strength and held him, held him until the door of the dimly lit room was opened and a man clad in steel rushed to her side.

In the little lodge nestled deep inside the dark cavern, the witch smiled. She could see the face of the gallant knight who stood by his wife's side.

"Durius." She muttered.
Bobby
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant

He flinched a little at the sound of his name in both the women's tones of voices. It was the last thing he expected walking into a place he'd never been before. Frankly, it was always a bit of a shock when people remembered his name at all. He also wasn't quite used to people addressing him as Sir yet. It still sounded wrong and part of him longed for the days of a simple *Hey, you.* 

He turned to get a glimpse of Josephine, but he didn't know her so he just stared for a second before he noticed Amaryllis on the bed behind her. It had been so long, and he still had some lingering guilt about leaving her after the shifter attack. He did attempt to go back to check on her, but his training schedule wouldn't allow it. He also assumed she either died of her injuries or she got married so someone would have to take care of her. To see her lying in bed, pale, seemingly sweaty from the little glisten on her forehead make him shake his head. 

She wasn't alone, so he stopped just short of entering the doorway before Josephine. He was polite and gave a quick nod of the head to her before he looked over her head for a moment to speak with Amaryllis behind her. 

"I thought we had an agreement, you were supposed to leave the fighting to me because it doesn't end well for you." He smirked a little, "I ought to make you train through your pain, so I won't have to see you recovering anymore." Col's mind always went to battle instantly. He assumed she was healing from another injury. "Tell me you didn't chase after that shifter... I don't like to risk my life for stubborn women." 

He looked back to Josephine with a raised eyebrow, "You an accomplice to her madness?"
Jeremy
Kharlyle Whylder

Undisclosed Location: Fargone

Kharlyle's men surrounded Rhoderick from his back, his his left, and his right, two men each grabbing his arms in such a way that they were fully extended out of his sides, his elbows and palms facing behind him. 
Despite the perceived and visible pain of the position Rhoderick was forced into, there was no evidence of it in his appearance, still maintaining his figure. 
"Al'wight, that looks fine, jus' bring im' up 'ere, yeah?" Kharlyle pointed to the empty space in front of him, at least six and a half feet in the air, as he was still upon his horse. The men without hesitation lifted him by his arms in such a fashion that they would surely both break at the shoulders. He was lifted far past his legs being able to touch the ground, his face maybe a foot away from Kharlyle's. Still, Albert maintained his composure, though almost certainly internally wincing at the pain.

Kharlyle sat back on his horse for seconds after his men hoisted Rhoderick, waiting for recognition of Albert's pain, which to his surprise, never came. A lipped smile crept along his face, as he squinted at Rhoderick.

"Hmm, do you remember the one compliment I gave you boy, about that, the one thing that made you stand out against every other man who's asked us to help us take Northwind?" Kharlyle waited response for this question he didn't see as rhetorical.
Frankie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant 

Amaryllis' eyes lit up with happiness at the sight of Col coming to the doorway. His tall, dark form seemed to block out all else, not that she minded. It was so good to see him again! She never would have expected that, in all actuality. She had come to believe that she would simply never see him again, and that she would never get to repay him or even thank him for saving her life. 

Yet, here he stood. A little giggle escaped her when he said that they had an agreement. She had never seen him smile! Granted, they hadn't exactly met under smiling circumstances. She was amused by his teasing and smiled back at him, her eyes shining with mirth. Really, this was the most life that she had shown since she came down with her illness. 

The excitement got to her and she sat up a bit in bed, giving him an impish grin as she said enthusiastically, "Oh yes! We're a couple of loons! Together, we chased after the shifters and, wouldn't you know it, they invited us to sit down to tea and enjoy a nice meal?" She giggled again, but the giggle soon turned into a groan as she laid back into the pillows again. Too much exertion seemed to rile up the illness again.

She closed her eyes for a few moments to compose herself, then said in a softer voice that was bereft of all mirth. "I don't think I'll be chasing after anything for a while... Have you heard of the wolfmen in the hills? Of their attacks on villages? And the slaughter..."
Eddie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant, Iron Gate

Although Josephine was absent minded of seeing the man when she called out to him, following him on the whim of her friend's calling rather than anything else, she had the opportunity to look him up close when he stepped back through the hall and short of the doorway where the young noble stood. She gazed at him with her large and round green eyes, jaded orbs that shimmered with the stricken reflection of candlelight on the irises and a stronger brightness of mirrored light of yellow in the black of her pupils. Col had the appearance of a knight, added the presence, if the armour was what made the man. He resembled her knights in a sense, with shoulders clad broad and strong and a stoic expression to his face that was only broken after he glanced over Josephine's shoulder and into the room. From that, he could peer at Amaryllis and recognize his friend, the girl he saved from the jaws of the shapeshifter.

It was Col's remark that made Josephine remember how Amaryllis had the limp on one of her legs. He spoke quite openly with her, even though the shepherdess was just that - a peasant with a flock. Well, she had flock no longer. Yet, he did naught to divide their ranks, their status or the difference in their lives and worth. If he was a knight, he was a true one, barred from the influence of the higher castes of nobility. At least, that was what the man transpired. The young girl was glad that he was like so and not like the regular guests of the Gallant Pheasant. Aristocracy could be plain pompous and arrogant, easy to avoid those donning little else but rags. Her blond hair was unkempt, for the young girl found no time to enjoy the relaxation of a bath as long as her friend was in such a weak condition. Ever since Amaryllis' collapse at the rhythm of the caravan, the young Merovingian didn't leave her side once.

Josephine was face to face with the man that saved Amaryllis when she was attacked. There was a sense of awe in her deep stare, perhaps because she never thought she'd meet her friend's hero in the flesh. Her soft skin wrinkled and the fine features of her face curved in the manifestation of a smile, genuine and welcoming- warm. Josephine nodded when Col asked her if she was an accomplice to the shepherdess' madness, making the dirty and curly strands of her unwashed hair wave and flow in the rhythm of her affirmative gesture. "Ryllis has been our guide and friend for the past few suns!" She said, her spirits high and her tone sweet and friendly. "Please, come inside! No need to stay at the door and leave room for gossip!" Such was the existence of the high class. For them, a man standing at the door of a woman's room was suggestive. Were he to disappear and the door to be closed, the eyes could not reach and the whispers could not be threaded.

Amaryllis inserted the words where Josephine left a blank past the affirmation in her nod. The shepherdess was giggling, enthused and beaming with life. The noble was especially happy when she saw the expressions in Amaryllis take form, only to be shot down by the sudden groan. She hurried to her friend's side- not running, but barely walking either. Her steps were true and swift, which led her to stand beside the other girl, the young woman, and lay her left hand on the forehead of the recovering girl. She wasn't burning hot like earlier in the morning, but she was far from being in a zone of comfort. The progress of recovery was a slow one. Though in contrast to the people dying from the wolfman disease, Amaryllis was doing quite well and gaining her strength back at a nice pace.

She didn't want to think about it, but Amaryllis' questions to the knight about the wolfmen made her remember the still fresh memories of the barbarian raid on Midde. A town was turned to ashes because of the savages, and her friend was in this state because of it. Neither had any fond memories beyond the late evening spent at the tavern. How cruel for such a pleasant night to turn dark and sour. The brightness of joy in Josephine's eyes was shadowed by the concern for her friend, deep-rooted in her heart. She was also worried for her knights' sake: Tagus and Rolf, for whom she could only hope and pray their safe return from Camira and their promise, *His* Promise.

"Please help yourself to the food we ordered! There's not much left because Amaryllis ate most of it, but we can always ask for more!" She said. It was an effort to remove the sad frown on her face and swipe a short but honest smile at Sir Col. It was also a joke.

Josephine's hand was idle on the forehead of her friend. Her thumb caressed the soft skin over the hard bone of the skull. Her gaze met with Col's and then Amaryllis' as she observed and absorbed, for the moment was one to cherish, and Sir Col was a person to remember. A friend of her friend is her friend. But it was then that it hit her. She knew Col's name, but he didn't hers. Josephine didn't know if he cared at all, truth be told, but she was still lacking a show of proper manners.

"My name is Josephine, Sir Col. It is a pleasure to meet you!"

The girl kept her last name to herself. It was likely that Sir Col didn't know of her family, but likely all the same that he did. She just wanted him to continue talking with them like so, three individuals, with status be damned.
Bobby
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant

Col picked up on Amaryllis' sarcasm, but he could only scoff because he could almost believe it. She was so determined to protect that flock that she was trying to fight off the shifter with a pitchfork stuck out of her leg. He nodded, "Well, I'm delighted to hear things ended amicably." Josephine said that Amaryllis had been a guide for her for a little while, and it was nice to know that she was up and running again after her injury. He was about to comment on that, but Amaryllis seemed to be ill. He wrinkled his brow a bit at her groan and the sight of her sinking back into her bed. He was extremely curious when she mentioned the wolfmen, he'd heard of them. He had yet to have an encounter with them though. "Aye, I've heard." 

When Josephine invited him in to keep the gossip down, laughed shortly. Clearly, she was some sort of high born. People didn't gossip about people they didn't care about. No one cared about people like Col. He did as she asked though. He walked into the room and shut the door, sticking by it while Josephine helped Amaryllis. Clearly there was something wrong with her, she looked so weak. "The wolfmen did this?" He asked curiously. He could see clearly now that she wasn't exactly injured, and poison didn't seem to be a good weapon for a bunch of wild men from the North. It was strange. This was something he hadn't heard about them. 

Josephine was kind enough to introduce herself, and he would have liked to introduce himself but she already knew his name. "Josephine," He repeated her name, "Just Col." He took a few steps closer. He definitely wasn't a nurse. He was useless in illness. Honestly, he'd rather hoped she had another pitchfork stuck in her. He could deal with that easier. He looked down at her then asked, "What's wrong with her?"
Frankie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant

Amaryllis reached her hand up and took Josephine's hand from her forehead, giving the younger woman a tired little smile as she said, "I'm alright, Josephine." She didn't want her new friend to worry, but she didn't want her old friend to worry either, so she turned her attention to Col as she said, "I was in Middle when it was attacked, along with Josephine and Tagus. Ended up in a scuffle with the wolfmen," She said "Scuffle" So as to make it sound like less than it was, "And ended up cut by their blades or something. I don't know. It seemed like a small wound at the time, but as we joined the caravan and came here, I grew sicker and sicker. Collapsed in the middle of the caravan, and Tagus picked me up and brought me to a healer. Whether through his efforts or some miracle from the gods, I don't know, but I seem to be getting better. Really, I'm fine now. Just... Tired easily."

She gave him a little smile as she said, "Though I think I shall do my best to stay away from anything remotely like a wolf from now on. First it was a shifter in the form of a wolf, then it was a bunch of... *Beasts* That seem to worship or honor wolves in some sense. I would much rather meet a real wolf!" 

She shook her head and then gestured for him to take a seat on the chair near her bed as she said, "Please, sit down, if you have the time. I don't want to hold you up. I'm sure you must be busy! I... I..."

The humor was gone now and tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at him. She felt rather embarrassed for getting so emotional all of a sudden. Gods, she seemed to be running through all the emotions in the course of this conversation! "I never... I never got to thank you for saving my life, Col. I... Those words sound so little and unimportant in comparison to what you've done for me. I owe you my life, Col... I want to do whatever I can to repay you for what you did."

Lord Albert Rhoderick
Undisclosed location: Fargone

Rhoderick gritted his teeth in pain as he was surrounded by the men and taken hold of. The pain only heightened when they hoisted him heavenwards by his arms, leaving him outstretched as if suspended upon a cross. The pain was intense, burning through his shoulders and sending white-hot agony through him as his shoulder blades ground against one another and tendons groaned from being pulled as taught as a string on a bow. Worse than the pain in his shoulders, however, was the fact that he couldn't breathe correctly. As the Whylder men lifted him heavenward, his shoulders were scrunched together and he was left dangling, unable to push himself upwards for more air. He could only get faint gasps of air into his lungs, but it was enough. 

Yet, it seemed as if Kharlyle would require a sacrifice, and if it meant that he would one day rule Northwind, then Rhoderick was willing to make whatever sacrifices were needed to win that throne. He knew, of course, he would never just waltz in and take the throne, especially with De Burgh's conniving way of marching an army in for the funeral and making claim to head of council on the basis of "The good" Of Northwind. No, the throne would only be won through pain and suffering; through bloodshed and a cloaked hand. At the end of this, it was entirely likely that he would either find himself crucified by his own deeds, or John de Burgh would lie dead at his feet.

He kept his face stoic throughout the agony he was enduring, never letting on how much pain he was in. His father had taught him that one. If you showed pain, you only fed the fury and the blows would rain down upon you harder than ever before. 

There was a pause before he responded as he tried to gather some composure, for he didn't want the pain to creep into his voice and make him falter. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and gazed intently back at Kharlyle, his own lips curling into a twisted smile. "I already knew that I was different from anyone else," He replied rather haughtily. "But I'm glad you opened your eyes enough to see it."
Eddie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant, Iron Gate

The red hues of sunset pierced the window into the bedroom. The few candles scattered around cupboard and table were not yet lit. At dusk, the bedroom fell into penumbra when the sun nestled beyond the hills to the west of Iron Gate. Light dimmed, then became null. The telling of tale made Josephine's subtle grey darken with worry. Amaryllis was not telling the truth, though the noble understood the motive. Perhaps. She guessed it could be the idea forming *With* The word spoken. Memories brought from ashen cloud to lungs to rake the throat and make one choke.

Their faces were many.

Some angry, some grinning foul, others—droolers. They had beards, some, full blown black and brown. Others, the resemblance of one. They were young and old, some older than most, rarest in warborn packs. Those used to die first. From the youngest, none without a hint of fur true. Their eyes were black, all black of night and dread. They wanted to harm and to abuse, to strike fear and let none live. In the end, they wanted to kill. Josephine felt an exalted breath inward and breathed out heavily. She grimaced first, then frowned and looked at Col.

"It was not a scuffle, Col." She said, her chin trembled, lips quivered. "We were—we were overwhelmed..!! If it weren't for Lord Roderick we'd be dead!" Young Josephine spoke true. "And Amaryllis was-she is so selfless and caring!" Her eyes wriggled open wide and sprouted tears from under the right orb, three crystal drops, swollen on her lower lid. They dropped, to the skin of the arm and the back of Amaryllis' hand. "But we made it! We all did!" The young girl was having spikes of radiant joy, or attempts at molding the atmosphere stomp heavy to a lighter mood. Instead, Amaryllis opened up to a flood of raw emotion. She thanked Col for saving her life. She was so humble and-

Light.

Darkness tried to sweep the room clear. Josephine nurtured the young woman with a caress of her knuckles and fingers against the battered and sweaty face of her friend. She pulled her hand away and took a step back, leaving the two for a conversation more private, though she'd remain in the bedroom. Josephine also had light the candles, and perhaps the fireplace. She didn't shirk from using what was available to her rental of the room.

Time after time, a beacon was lit. It was small, flickering meek, but soon it was joined by its kind. Brightness from fire. The same fire that brought Midde to ash.

Josephine gazed at the candle. Tagus wasn't back yet.
Bobby
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant, Iron Gate

Col looked back and forth between the two of them as they spoke. Amaryllis was trying to lessen the impact of the story it seemed, by Josephine's contradiction anyway. From what he'd heard of the wolfmen, it seemed like Josephine's version was more likely. However, all his rational thoughts went out the window at the display of tears. 

He didn't do well with tears. He was offered a chair, but he couldn't exactly remember how to sit. His brain just fired rapidly when people, especially women cried in front of him. All he could do was wait for it to be over. He watches Josephine walking around the room lighting candles for a moment before Amaryllis mentioned repaying him for saving her life, "Stop crying and don't die." 

It was brief, but he was proud of it. 

He ran his hand through his hair for a moment to try to piece together the story. They were traveling somewhere, attacked, rescued, unbeknownst to them poisoned. Amaryllis had the worst luck in all of Marin and she seemed to be spreading it to the Lady lighting the fireplace which... Almost was enough to get a chuckle out of him because in his experience Ladies didn't often light fireplaces. 

He looked at the chair again, but decided to remain standing once more. He let the tone of the room die down a little before he asked Josephine, "Are her symptoms getting better or worse?" He looked over to Amaryllis, "I'd ask you, but you seem to think I can't handle the truth. That, or you're delirious from whatever illness or poison you've come into contact with. Do we know which it is?" 

Frankly, he was hoping for poison. There were antidotes available if you knew where to look. Illness was an entirely different animal.
Frankie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant, Iron Gate

Amaryllis wiped her eyes and her nose with the sleeve of her dress and sniffled a bit. She could see Col's discomfort at seeing two weeping women. Lord knows he didn't hide it very well! There was a pause as she tried to compose herself, and once the flow of tears stopped, she looked up at Col and said, "I'm sorry, Col. I didn't mean to get all emotional and weird and make you uncomfortable. I just... It's been a lot. You saved my life... By all rights, I should be dead. And now I should be dead twice over!"

The tears that had dripped from Josephine's bright green eyes had already dried upon her skin, mingling with the tears that Amaryllis had wiped away. Although Amaryllis couldn't explain why, she felt a bit better after crying. The pain she had felt a moment ago had subsided, and she felt stronger again. This time, however, she didn't push herself. She didn't rise from the pillows or exert herself in any way. She didn't want another flare-up, certainly, especially not with Col and Josephine here to worry about her. 

She smiled a bit at is forthright and brisk, "Stop crying and don't die." That was so like Col, really. She remembered how bewildered she had been by his brisk nature and matter-of-fact ways. She could still distinctly remember him saying, "You're lucky for the snow too. It's probably the only reason you're alive, so ask yourself. Do you want to keep living or do you want to go shifter hunting... In the middle of a blizzard... While half your blood is pooling around your arse," And how he had ripped out the pitchfork on two, even though he said it would be on three. But that was what she had needed at the time. Anyone else wouldn't have kept her alive, most likely. And perhaps he was, in part, what she needed now. Someone to ground her to earth again.

She rolled her eyes a bit when he said she didn't seem to think that he could handle the truth, and in spite of his attempt to circumvent her, she replied for Josephine.

"I'm getting better!" She replied firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You should have seen me just a short while ago. I mean, I don't know exactly what I looked like, but I remember a lot of screaming and terrible dreams... And darkness... So much darkness..." She shook her head and continued after a brief pause. "I don't know whether it's poison or disease. I don't think anyone does... But only those that have been cut by the wolfmen are displaying symptoms, and nobody here in Iron Gate is getting sick."
Eddie
Amaryllis, Col, Josephine
The Gallant Pheasant, Iron Gate
Tagus
A Cavern in the Mountains

It was curious how the Weave threaded laces between strings. Peering at the flickering flame of a single candle, Josephine whispered a prayer. The short versed words ended and grounded her to the conversation next to her. She realized a bit too late that Col asked her a question, for Amaryllis was speaking for her and herself, regarding the matter. She liked how Amaryllis was outspoken with her condition, though it was truly more of a mask donning strength at the moment. The blisters may have well vanished from her body, or the regions affected were much better so. Josephine joined the circle, standing once more beside Amaryllis. She had meek smile under the gloomy frown of her brows. Her eyes peered at Col Jude's, then at Amaryllis'. She nodded at the words of her friend and turned her attention to Col, speaking her mind.

"We know of a cure, we hope." Her face was ridden with worry. "Tagus is out there, trying to find the Winter's Fire." But then her face brightened. She smiled warmly. "Ryllis dreamed of the flower. We might be able to help the people suffering from this affliction!" Her eyes were ridden with the candle lights, dilated gleam in the hope, or maybe it was the trust, in her friend's vision.

Cold.

The first thing Tagus thought about was cold. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. His left cheek was against something rough and cold. Rock. He made the effort of opening his dark brown eyes to see the glowing mushrooms on the rocken walls of the tunnel's dead end. In front of him sat the witch, eyes covered by her long grey strands of dense hair. She was grinning behind the veil, her eyes wide, bordering insane. Or was it lucid?

The second thing that Tagus thought about was the headache from thinking, which made him try not to think, but think more, because his mind was riddled with questions and worries. How long had it been since he passed out? All he remembered was birth and a word. What was that word? He was always in the dark then, he never really knew who held him except his mother, maybe his father.

Maybe?

Why was it hard to remember who his father was? He couldn't draw a face, it was blank. The boy was anxious. His face did nothing to hide his fear. He wasn't able to look away from the witch after lifting his head from the rock table. It was as if the ground jutted up to fit purpose. So was the hard stone his rear sat at. Strange. Frightening. The green glow of mushrooms made everything ever more eery. Was it all... A hallucination?

"Questions, questions, and time. Your friend is gone already. So much of a knight!" She cackled an excited laugh. "It was entertaining to break his will."

"Who are you? Wh-what did you do?" Tagus asked, then immediately gulped. Bitter. It was a bitter taste.

"I just laid a finger. We will see if I can arrange all the ingredients for the concoction." Her lips stretched a smile. There was a tiny sparkle of fondness in her pupils. It didn't strike her ashen hues.

"Wh-what?" Tagus shook his head and clenched his eyelids. His lips were pursed. It was almost like a wild spasm in the aftermath of deep scrying. He felt overburdened.

"Nevermind. Take the bag by the exit. It will be what you seek. Remember the word."

The mushrooms swelled and then popped. The green clog became a hazy mist of paleness in the color naturally associated with nature.

He jolted from his seat awake.

His eyes scoured the now dark Cavern. He stood up and took one hand to his head. It hurt. He couldn't see well. But he could see silver light, of the illusion of it in his will. It was still the same cave after all.