A hallway so dark, even the mushrooms failed to light it. The faint bioluminescence from their stalks barely brushed the damp stone walls. Everything else was shadow. A viscous blackness.
"With all that blood, you'd think she's dead. But she's still alive."
The body of a woman lay on the ground, slumped against the rocky wall behind her. Her torso, sunken as if crushed by a blow, rose and fell with an uneven, clumsy rhythm. There was blood beneath her waist, on her legs, on her chest. It wasn't a clean wound. It looked like something had torn her apart from the inside.
She was breathing. Slowly. With difficulty. As if every exhale might be her last.
Eilor stood in front of her, silent. He didn't move closer. He didn't speak. He just stared. His boots—torn but steady. His hands hung at his sides beneath a worn coat.
Then, a hand rested on his right shoulder.
A light touch, but enough.
Eilor barely turned his head. He didn't recognize the person. The other's hood covered their entire face… just like his own. Even so, he didn't step back. He remained there, waiting. The air between them felt dense. Thick like wet fabric.
Then, a grotesque sound tore through the silence. Something between a sigh and a gurgle.
Eilor snapped his head forward.
The woman was moving.
First, she trembled. Then jerked her arms. She tried to pull away from the wall, but collapsed sideways with a dull thud. Then she turned over, face down.
She began to crawl.
There was no strength in her movements. Her knees buckled. Her arms scraped against the floor. Like she was trying to flee.
But there was nothing there.
Only darkness.
"Black stains..."
Eilor frowned. For a moment, he stepped back—but stopped. A sigh escaped his mouth. His pupils dilated.
He didn't understand what he was seeing. But worse than that, a pain bloomed deep within his psyche.
Stains appeared on the woman's body. Small at first. Then larger. Thick, misshapen drops, like corrupted oil.
Not just on her.
Also on the blood.
And then… on the stone floor. On the wall.
As if something invisible were dripping from the ceiling.
Neither of them moved.
Fear was like an invisible wall. They could only watch.
The woman stopped.
She didn't scream. She didn't groan. She simply went still.
But she was still breathing.
The stains covered her legs. Then her torso. Her arms. And finally, her head.
All that remained was a dark shape. An empty silhouette. Like a shadow carved into the air. It held every contour, as if she were still there.
Then, new stains appeared.
These were not black.
They were translucent.
And what could be seen through them… was what should've been underneath.
The floor. The wall.
The figure began to blur.
As if something were erasing her from the world, layer by layer.
The texture of skin vanished. Then the bones. The hair. The clothing.
When it was over, there was nothing left.
No flesh.
No bone.
No clothes.
Not even blood.
But something did remain on the ground.
A gray wooden branch. No... two intertwined branches, forming one.
The pain faded. His mind cleared again. But he felt different.
Eilor's companion took a step forward. He crouched slowly, as if afraid that the simple act of moving might shatter the balance of the entire place.
He picked it up without expression. Without a word.
Eilor watched in silence.
The man's hands rose. Grasped the edges of his hood. Pulled it down.
And then he felt it.
He didn't see it.
But it was there.
Beside him.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a smell. It wasn't heat or cold.
It was presence.
One that shouldn't exist.
Like a needle grazing his earlobe.
Like a breath that wasn't his.
As if the darkness had taken shape, but couldn't be seen directly.
His eyes trembled.
They wanted to turn. To confirm.
But he refused.
The back of his neck burned.
His throat tightened.
Every fiber of his body begged him not to do it.
Not to look.
Not to acknowledge it.
His fingers trembled. A drop of cold sweat slid down his temple, crossing a scar he no longer remembered having.
The creature—if that's what it was—was still there. Waiting. It didn't breathe. Didn't move. Didn't touch him.
It simply was.
Eilor clenched his teeth. Slowly lowered his arms. Pulled the hood back over his face.
The other man did the same, just to be sure. As if it were part of a ritual. As if, with that single gesture, both could avoid being noticed by it.
But they weren't sure.
There was no way to know.
All they could do was turn back and not look behind.
Even if it weighed on them.
Their expressions made it clear.
They wouldn't go back that way. They had to choose another path.
Even if now they were one less.
Knock. Knock.
Blink. Blink.
Eilor opened his eyes at the soft taps on his right arm. He had dozed off, sitting beside Vin.
Vin was tapping him with the book, holding it out to him.
Eilor blinked, confused, then looked down.
It was a book... if it could still be called one.
The spine was dried skin, covered in black scabs like old burns. The corners were cracked. The cover pulsed. Like an involuntary spasm.
The pages... weren't paper.
They were flattened muscle fibers, dry, layered in strips.
"I'd rather not."
—but he said nothing. He took it.
As soon as he held it, the pressure inverted. The book seemed to suck the warmth from his fingers. His flesh barely sank into the soft surface, as if it were the one holding him.
He couldn't ignore it. His face stayed still, but every cell in his body begged him to let go.
Still, he opened it.
The pages were hard to read. The text, etched into the fibers with scorched incisions, twisted as his eyes passed over it. Disjointed words. Fragmented notes. Descriptions of bodies, creatures, diagrams… and a list of names, many crossed out.
All of it was chaotic.
"This thing's a mess..."
"Whoever had this before the old man was a disaster. How the hell does Vin even make sense of this? Now that I think about it… who had it before him? The redhead? Maybe?"
A page turned on its own.
A small vibration ran up his arm. He closed his fingers. And immediately felt a heartbeat. Not his own. A different one. As if the book remembered things.
He handed it back to Vin, his hand still trembling.
—You didn't even turn a page? Vin asked, eyes fixed on the tome.
—I couldn't, Eilor replied, avoiding his gaze.
—What?
—I don't understand the book.
"But more than that, this book messes with my mind in a disgusting way, like my brain's a dirty rag that needs to be wrung out."
—he looked at his still-trembling hand—
"I thought that, after almost two years, I'd be able to read it. But there's no way."
—he couldn't help but swallow hard.
Vin nodded slightly. Then returned his focus to the book.
—I get it. It disgusts you.
He turned a page. Another. Another. Each one opened with a wet, sticky sound. Like flesh peeling from flesh.
The content about the Oclusero kept appearing. More sections. More annotations. More diagrams. As if the book, recognizing who held it, chose what to reveal.
Eilor just watched in silence. His pulse still erratic.
And deep down, while listening to the wet sounds of each turning page, he couldn't shake the feeling:
That book wasn't made for them.
It was a vessel.
An organism.
A trap pretending to be useful.
But it remembered every pair of hands that had ever held it.
And...
"It seems to like Vin."
He's really focused. Vin's not what he used to be, thought Eilor as he turned and started walking in the opposite direction.
"Tamara's still with Ban... she looks more relaxed. He looks asleep."
"Sol is with Norlick. Good that the younger ones stick together." —hahh— "I guess I'm one of the older ones now... but it's strange. I'm only a year older than my wife. Does the age of the body affect the mind?"
He shook his head, dismissing the thought.
He walked past a few glowing mushrooms placed on the ground. He stared at them.
"When did we place these mushrooms?"
"With all the tension, I forgot... if we were going to stay still longer than expected, we had to place them here."
Turning on his heel, he noticed the place was already surrounded by several mushrooms, forming a circle around them.
Then he saw it.
Sol was holding one of the mushrooms while talking to Norlick.
"Maybe Sol did it." —uff— "Good thing she handled it."
He approached one of the backpacks leaning against the wall. He opened it and checked inside: a few canteens, rolled-up hides, pieces of dried meat ranging from purple to greenish tones.
One object caught his attention.
A branch made of two twisted twigs.
He lifted it. Turned it around. Examined it.
He remembered it.
He remembered the girl's face. Delicate features. Eyes of a certain color...
He couldn't remember. Not her eye color. Not her hair.
But he remembered her ears. They were pointed.
A pang of nostalgia hit him.
He looked sad.
"I'm starting to forget even faces."
He stored the branch in the mushroom pouch hanging from his belt.
He unrolled the belt, slung it diagonally from his left shoulder to his right hip. Tightened it firmly. Checked the fit. Ready.
With the two canteens on the lower front and the mushrooms on the upper half.
He started walking.
He looked at the group—Tamara with Ban resting, Elena with Thomas, Sol with Norlick, and Vin, who was likely reading—he couldn't quite tell from behind.
And he kept walking, while the others remained seated.
The echo of his footsteps bounced off the uneven walls. Sometimes it returned with delay. Other times, not at all. As if parts of the corridor swallowed the sound.
"I think that's enough."
He approached his wife and son. Curious, he saw Thomas still resting on her lap. He was calm. Seemed asleep.
Elena's hand rested over the boy's chest.
Eilor turned. Looked at the others.
Everyone looked more relaxed.
Kneeling, Eilor reached out a hand toward his son.
His skin sensed something.
As soon as he touched the child's forehead, he felt it.
The sensation was subtle, but different.
Something around him had changed.
The air was warmer. Not as warm as when the old man was near. Not like when Norlick manipulated the temperature.
It was gentler. Like the first leaf of spring.
But the change lingered.
"Mana..." —he whispered to himself.
He lifted his gaze and met his wife's eyes. No words were needed. She had felt it too.
That change. His mana.
It was starting to form.
He felt joy.
He touched his son's forehead again, a faint smile forming on his face.
"Something good... for once."
He stood up. Gave a signal. The gesture was clear: move forward.
Eilor stepped ahead. Stopped next to Vin.
Vin closed the book and slipped it into his coat.
He looked at him, then turned his gaze forward.
But something made him look back at Eilor.
—Did something good happen? —he asked.
—You'll see, old man... something good is about to happen —Eilor replied with a small but sincere smile.
Vin looked at him, silent at first. Then gave a slight nod.
—Yeah? I hope so —he replied, without much enthusiasm, but not with skepticism either.
—It will, old man.
That was as close to optimism as they could manage.
Eilor turned his head. He saw Norlick sitting on a rock, stretching his legs, then raising his arms.
Eventually, he stood up and continued with more stretches.
Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a small pocket watch. The thin chain disappeared into the seams of the fabric.
He stared at it for a few seconds. Closed it. Picked up one of the backpacks. Walked toward them.
He looked at both of them. Straight on.
—I guess it's just us now with combat capability —he said, resting a hand on his belt.
Eilor looked at him in silence. Then nodded.
—How long have we been still since you got back? —asked Vin.
—About twenty-two minutes... plus the time I was ahead waiting.
—Must've been at least five more —Eilor interrupted.
—Enough time to absorb the purple water. Though with Ban... I'm still concerned —Vin added.
—Far as we know, the water can handle wounds. But Ban's left hand will take time to heal, even with that water...
All three turned their heads. In the distance, Tamara helped Ban put on his backpack. His right shoulder carried the full weight. The left arm hung bandaged.
—The water is a miracle —Norlick commented—. For the mind, for the body... to think he's recovering from a trauma like that...
He paused.
—You did well to cut the hand —he added, looking at Eilor.
Eilor didn't respond. Just nodded.
Norlick looked at him, slightly curious about the silence, but let it go.
—Did he raise his voice at any point? —he asked.
—I held him down as best I could —said Vin—. Though he did make some noise. I'd say, about the level we usually speak.
—Whisper level...? —Norlick was surprised—. Impressive —he faked applause.
—What did you see ahead? —asked Eilor.
—Nothing. Absolutely nothing... except mushrooms.
—The Oclusero, no doubt —Vin commented.
Norlick frowned.
—I have a theory —Eilor interrupted.
Both turned to him, attentive.
—Here's my theory:Maybe there were never monsters in this area to begin with.I'd love for that to be true. But if the Oclusero's here, that theory falls apart.
An Oclusero made the other creatures vanish from the zone.
—Also... —Eilor added suddenly—. Last night, a monster was behind you while you stood guard.
Silence fell immediately.
—What...? —Norlick said softly, visibly surprised.
—And when were you planning to tell me? I don't remember that —he added, rubbing his head.
—Sorry. I hadn't consumed the purple water yet. I was weak. And I had a dream that left me really shaken. I was worse off than I thought —Eilor raised a hand as if asking for calm.
—Thanks to my son, I was able to drink a little. That helped me regain control —he gave a thumbs-up.
Norlick clenched his jaw. Nodded.
—And what did it do? How...? At that distance it should've killed me, right? —he asked, regaining composure.
—I don't know. That dream left me completely disoriented. I just know it was behind you. Way too close —he replied.
—Uff... forget it —Norlick said after a few seconds, trying to calm himself—. It's disturbing. Doesn't help now that things are getting better.
—I wish we had a way to consume the purple water constantly —Norlick said.
—Seriously...? —Vin gave him a look—. You really want that awful taste in your mouth and throat all day?
Norlick didn't answer. Eilor nodded in agreement.
"That thing's taste is... grrr... awful. And the liquid is like it washes your mind... no, more like it infects it. Like a parasite."
"Still... in small doses, it's like we reset. Like a painkiller for the body. And a walk under the sun, for the mind."
Eilor lifted his head. Looked at the stone ceiling. Closed his eyes.
He imagined a clear sky. The wind rushing freely. Brushing his skin like a warm breeze.
On his legs, something soft. Ticklish.
He looked down. Wheat.
More wheat.
A vast golden field, bathed in a similar light, stretched out before him.
"What a beautiful... golden sight."