"Goods certainly don't breathe," a voice rasped.
"If you come to steal, I'd rather die than let you take people's belongings."
Ren heard something scratch against a surface. His chest heaved up and down in fear.
Ren turned slowly. Opposite him, a man sat with his back against a crate, coat drawn tight around him. His shaky hands held up a lighted half-burnt candle. His skin had a dull, sickly sheen even in the low light. His veins were dark and swollen at his neck. One hand shook as he pressed a cloth to his mouth.
He sneezed and wheezed into it, wiping his mouth when he was done.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Who are you?" Ren asked, nodding at him.
The man wheezed again as he tried to adjust.
"I'm Asaph Niran. I'm a collector... was a collector."
"I'm Ren. I was a collector too at the mines."
"Hmm," the man grunted, "Are you running away too?"
"No. I'm leaving to search for something that can't be found here."
"Which is?"
"Freedom, I guess."
Asaph coughed—a miserable attempt at laughing. The hand that held up the candle couldn't stay up anymore.
"Let me hold that for you," Ren adjusted, stretched out his hand and took the light from him.
Only then did he see the tar on his skin and his red, swollen eyes clearly. He realized that Asaph was just a young man like him, probably with dreams to find freedom like him, judging from the spark in his eyes.
"Shit... You don't look very good, man."
"I'm fine," Asaph looked away.
Ren smiled as he watched him.
"I know you are fine. But I have to tell you something."
Asaph keep staring away.
"There's a cure for this."
He snapped his head back in Ren's direction with a questioning look.
"Yes. An old noble man told me when I was rancid. I thought he was lying, but I actually got cured."
"There is no cure in the world for this demonic plague."
"The cure isn't in this world either. It's a path that cleanses you. But I think not everyone finds it because they don't hear about it, that's why I'm telling you about it now."
"How do I find it? I don't want to die."
Asaph's breathing was becoming ragged. Ren waved the light over his face. The black pigment was gradually creeping out of his clothes, and covering his neck.
"You can't find it. I believe it finds you when you hear about it..."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I want you to believe that it will find you even if you die."
"What?"
"Fight that disgusting demon when it threatens to take you. Tell it that the path is real."
"Stop saying shit!" Asaph grunted loud, coughing, wheezing and fighting for air.
Ren went silent, staring at Asaph as he scratched the parts of his body the black pigment had covered. He slanted the candle, allowing the liquid to drop on the floor, and set the candle on it.
They both sat silently, not even able to stare at each other, until Ren dozed off.
The days at sea blurred. Ren counted the rising of the sun about three times through the slats and tiny holes in the roof above them. At night, lantern light drifted down between the slats above in the same thin, dirty lines.
The ferry creaked and groaned as it cut through the water, and Asaph grew quieter. His cough worsened, to a point that it rattled in his chest like something was fighting to claw out from his throat. The black pigment crept higher each day, staining his collar and crawling to his face. Despite his silence, he was kind of enough to share his supply of food to Ren while they journeyed on.
By the fourth night, the ship slowed.
Ren felt the subtle change in the hull and the way the boat felt like it wasn't moving at all. Above them, bells rang faintly and voices followed, giving commands and asking merchants to get ready.
Zenith was close.
Asaph stirred around in the dim light of the candle.
"What did you say your name was again?" he asked.
Ren looked at him. "Ren."
Asaph nodded slowly, as if he was storing it somewhere in his head. His eyes were glassy now, unfocused, but still alive.
"I never hated being a collector," he murmured. "I used to count every valuable we took from the pits with so much joy... like I picked diamonds out of the dirt."
He took a weak breath.
"Until my last collection..."
Ren said nothing. He took another laboured breath.
"It was so hard collecting it from someone I never thought would be in such place. And I lost my happiness, every bit of it." Asaph continued, "That was when I wanted leave. But my decision was late," he stared down at his hands.
"You really walked it?" he asked suddenly. "That path you talked about."
Ren swallowed.
"I did."
"Was it hard?"
"Yes," Ren replied, the memory of having to be hunted by a large rock monster and bounty hunters resurfacing.
Asaph exhaled shakily.
"Then… maybe it's real. Because life has... never been easy..."
His words trailed off and silence settled between them once again.
Ren leaned closer.
"Asaph?"
Asaph said no words. The black pigment covered his entire face. He was now a "shadow of himself".
The candle burned low between them, its flame dancing mildly. Ren reached out and touched Asaph's wrist. It was cold and hard, and he felt no pulsing beneath the layer of black.
Ren closed his eyes, then withdrew from him. His eyes rested on the leather satchel lying by Asaph's side. He stood up, his legs shaking like they carried an elephant. He hesitated before lifting it up.
Ren opened the satchel. Inside wasn't just coin. He gasped, but when he heard footsteps overhead, he quickly closed the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the staircase.
The hatch to the lower deck creaked open and three men walked in. Ren crouched behind a crate.
The men carried torches, pointing them from one crate to another.
"You sure it was here?" One asked he scanned around.
"Yes. A hundred percent," another said, bending around a corner... the same corner Ren was hiding.
Ren held his breath and held on to any hope he could find, that he wouldn't be caught while they searched for whatever it is they were looking for.
"Ahh! There's a curse down here," the third man shrieked a few crates away.
He must've found Asaph's body.
He was Ren's saving grace. The other man, who was already rounding the crate he was hiding behind, turned back.
"You can't be serious."
"What in hell! Get the captain!"
Ren seized the opportunity even though his heart was beating a thousand times per second. There was no opportunity better than what he got. He ran to the stairs and ran up to the main deck. He rushed past some traders who were looking up at the port. Zenith City was close.
He quickly made his way to the railing. He paused and looked back once, down into the dark where a collector had waited for freedom and found only faith, or death perhaps. When one of the men popped out with horror in his eyes.
Ren climbed over and jumped. The sea swallowed him whole with a huge splash. There was no other choice at that point.