The corridor groaned under their steps. Conus and Owen followed behind Modret, the old butler's trembling hand carrying the candlelight. Conus had given it to him deliberately, not out of generosity, but suspicion. Better to watch the flicker of flame in Modret's grip than risk turning his back on him, since he was not sure who was now possessed by this plague spirit. Besides, the man knew the castle better than anyone.
Their shadows stretched tall across the walls in the wavering light. Dust floated thick in the air, stirred by every footfall, and the smell of mildew clung to the stone. Somewhere deeper in the castle, wood creaked as if something moved with them.
"We should not wander here," Modret whispered suddenly. His voice cracked under its own fear.
"The shrine is safer. If Loran lurks here, he will strike. Better we keep close to the goddess."
Conus's lips moved cooly. "I am hoping for Loran to find me."
Modret stopped mid-step, his shoulders stiff. He turned, his candle shaking in his hand. "You don't understand. You underestimate the plague spirit. It's cruel, strong, and above all, it's cunning."
Conus's voice was cold. "Keep walking."
But he did understand Modret. It was normal to feel fear. But, he cared little, the spirit could not possess him yet anyway, at least that was what his system had insinuated. Not until his six hours was up or if he broke the rule and killed the wrong person.
Since this was a trial set up by Lord Darkness, the plague spirit was probably also aware of the rules Conus was playing by and it would definitely use that against him. If he could guess, it would most likely try to deceive him into killing one of the staff, an Innocent.
However, this mattered little if he could not find it first. Yet, no matter how long they searched, silence ruled the halls. The shadows yielded nothing. The spirit was too quiet.
They turned into the third wing. A draft slid down the corridor, carrying the faint stench of rot. Then Modret stumbled, crashing to his knees with a strangled cry. The candle toppled, nearly snuffing out. He scrambled back to his feet, picking the candle and turning the flame toward the floor.
His voice broke. "Mercy… no…"
Loran lay sprawled across the stone, stiff as wood. His body was pale, veins blackened and thick across his throat and jaw, spidering toward lifeless eyes that stared wide at nothing. His lips were spread wide into a callous unnatural smile.
Conus knelt, his dagger glinting faintly as he examined the corpse. No blood. No wounds. No fight. Loran truly had been possessed, but not anymore. He was dead now, and the spirit had chosen a new host.
Modret clapped a hand over his mouth. "Goddess above… the spirit is gone. It…it isn't me! I swear it isn't me!" His words tumbled out in gasps, his fear reeking more than the rot.
Conus's eyes narrowed as he turned to look at Modret, more irritated than suspicious. Owen's deep voice cut the silence, slow and grave. "The shrine."
Conus froze. His stomach dropped like a stone.
He had been played.
The spirit had baited him out of the shrine.
Conus wrenched the candle from Modret's hands and surged forward, the wax burning hot against his skin. His boots pounded stone as he sprinted, shadows chasing him. But at the next turn he paused, realizing he no longer knew the way. The castle's paths were too complex.
His head whipped toward Modret. "Lead us back. Now!"
Modret staggered ahead, candlelight trembling. They weaved through dark passages, the floors groaning with every hurried step. Finally, they reached the shrine door.
It was open wide.
Conus's blood ran cold.
He burst inside, and the sight struck him like a blade to the chest. Blood painted the stones, thick and black under the candle's glow. Veronica, the head chef, lay sprawled in a crimson pool, her apron soaked through. Hughes was facedown, his thick beard drenched red, his back filled with so many stab wounds.
And then, Mara.
Her body was slumped against the wall, her dress torn and stained red with her blood. A knife wound carved deep across her abdomen.
Conus dropped to her side. As he leaned close, her chest rose in a shallow gasp.
She was still alive.
"Hey!" His voice was sharp, commanding. "Stay with me!"
"Ohh no! Oh no!" Modret rushed towards the bodies, his hands shaking as he checked to see if they were still alive. One would think he would have gotten used to losing people with the history of this place but seeing him cry, Conus could not help but feel some sort of pity. Owen on the other hand stood still, unbothered by any of this. If Conus had not been with him all this while, he would have suspected him.
"Modret, get something we can use to stop Mara's bleeding. We can still save her." Conus said, his voice urgent.
Modret fumbled desperately through the shrine's cupboard, his hands shaking as he pulled bottles of liquor and rolls of cloth. The shrine smelled of old gin and stale incense, offerings long since abandoned to the goddess.
Conus tore the fabric from her wound, his hands firm but steady. He poured liquor over the gash. The moment it touched, Mara's scream split the air, raw and shrill. Her body bucked beneath his grip, her nails digging into his arm.
"Hold still," Conus said, his tone low but sharp, forcing calm through her pain. He pressed the cloth into her wound, binding it tight with quick, practiced hands. Slowly, her breathing steadied, the fire of her scream breaking into weak sobs.
Then, her hand shot up, clutching his wrist with surprising strength. Her eyes, glassy and wet, locked onto his.
"It was Sammy," she gasped, her words trembling. "It was him all along. He deceived us. Deceived me." Tears streamed down her face, streaking through the grime. "Now… they're dead. Veronica and Hughes. Dead because of me. Because I brought him back."
Conus's gaze softened, though his jaw remained hard. He squeezed her hand, silent, steady.
"What of the others?" he asked.
Her lips quivered. "They ran… when he turned on us. Sammy. He stabbed me and went after them. He was able to kill…" She paused as she stared at the corpses of Hughes and Veronica.
Conus nodded once, a grim shadow falling over his eyes.
Mara tugged his hand again, her voice breaking. "Please… save them. They're all I have left. The only family I have."
Conus leaned close, his voice low. "Just focus on getting better. I will do what I can."
He rose, his shoulders heavy but resolute. Turning to Modret, his voice cut sharp. "Keep her alive. Barricade this door. Do not open it for anyone but me."
Modret bobbed his head frantically, clutching the candle with one hand and scraps of bloodied cloth with the other.
Conus's eyes slid to Owen, the towering gardener who stood like a specter. "You're with me. Candle."
Owen stepped forward, his long fingers curling around the wax. Conus looked back once, at Mara trembling on the floor, at Modret kneeling beside her. Then he turned away, his dagger glinting cold in the light.
The shrine door slammed shut behind them.
And the hunt continued.