As the man revealed the markings on his back, he was extremely terrified. He had no idea why he had done it, why he had bared his greatest secret to a woman who could end him in a heartbeat.
There had only ever been two other people who had gazed on his back, his mother and grandmother.
The man turned and faced Aeloria, who was now seated on the bed with the blanket pulled up to her chest, covering her completely.
"My name is Hanon," he said as he put his shirt back on, his voice was steady despite the fear still flickering in his eyes. "A thornsleeper who follows Ishnore—the pathway of the venomless viper."
"It doesn't matter which pathway you follow," Aeloria said with a suspicious look in her eyes. "Once word gets out, you know you'll be killed, don't you?"
"I do," Hanon answered, meeting her gaze for only a moment before looking away.
"So then, why tell me?" Aeloria asked, now confused, she tilted her head as she studied him.
"I don't know," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
"But one thing I know is that you don't need a mob to kill me, Aeloria."
"And you're not afraid I might kill you?" Aeloria was trying to make heads and tails of what game the man before her was playing. This was no minor secret, and he had just casually revealed it to her like it was the perfect thing to do.
"You wouldn't believe just how terrified I am of you," Hanon answered with a firm expression, though his hands trembled slightly.
"But please don't let it bother you. I always tend to keep a very good distance between myself and anyone able to kill me with ease. I don't know why I told you my secret, but strangely enough, I don't regret it. I assure you, I'm mostly cautious because I have a weak body. I've never been this reckless. "
The man said as he took deliberate steps forward, leaving room for escape, just in case.
"I already told you I won't hurt you," Aeloria said, irritation creeping into her voice. "You're starting to annoy me."
With those words—that he had annoyed someone who could kill him with ease—he rushed to the door with such speed it was difficult to follow, feet stumbling over each other in panic.
Aeloria burst into laughter, the sound bright and unexpected in the small room. "Now that I think about it, even if someone wanted to report you being a thornsleeper, they would be laughed at. I mean, just how can a coward like you be a thornsleeper?"
"Does that mean I'm safe?" Hanon asked, half of his body already outside the door, one hand gripping the frame like a lifeline.
"Yes, Hanon," Aeloria said, still smiling. "I promise I won't harm you."
With those words, he walked back toward her, but with calculated steps, eyes never leaving her face, ready to flee at the slightest movement.
..
Once he got close, he noticed that Aeloria was sleeping in the sitting position she was in.
Strange, she was all conversational a while ago. With how she's sleeping, she'll only strain her neck.
"I should help her lie well," he said quietly as he positioned the pillow.
Just as he held her arm to help her lie down, Aeloria—who had been feigning sleep just to scare the poor man—opened her eyes wide.
Then their eyes met. Split pupil stared into round pupils.
"Booo!" Aeloria screamed.
Hanon collapsed on the floor with his eyes rolled backwards, body going limp from sheer terror.
Aeloria's laughter wasn't the sound of a monster, but of a woman who had finally found something to find joy in—even if it was at the expense of a man's heart rate.
Aeloria burst out in a thunderous laugh that echoed through the small room, bright and unexpected.
She laughed for a while, the sound rolling out of her like something long held back, but Hanon showed no signs of waking up, still sprawled on the floor with his eyes rolled back.
She stood from the bed and took a few steps toward the unconscious man.
"Is he... dead?" she murmured, kneeling beside him. She poked his shoulder once—no response. Again—no response. On her third poke, Hanon's eyes snapped open and he scrambled backward across the floorboards like a crab, crashing into the wall.
"I don't understand," she said, walking back to the bed and sitting down with a lingering smile. "Aren't thornsleepers supposed to be dangerous and cruel?"
"Please don't scare me like that again," Hanon gasped, hand clutched to his chest. "It's not good for my health."
'The first time she opened her eyes, she had been desperate to get outside, to go somewhere urgent. But now she's all too quiet. It's almost as if she's forgotten about that place,' Hanon thought, watching her carefully.
Aeloria did not even bother to think about Runevale or Orin. 'He's dead, and thinking about it will only hurt me.'
Hanon stood from the ground and walked toward the woman now sitting on the bed, her gaze fixed on him. When he was a few steps away, he spoke.
"Please turn around."
Aeloria complied with his request, shifting to face the wall.
Hanon traced his index finger down her spine, gentle and clinical.
"It's amazing," he commented, voice full of quiet wonder. "I've never seen anything like it. When I first brought you here, every bone was broken—especially your spine and neck. I was certain you'd be a cripple even if you were to recover. But now, your bones look stronger than before."
"Hey, Hanon?" Aeloria called.
"Yes?"
"How are you so skilled in Herbworking? I thought you said you were a thornsleeper."
Aeloria asked as she sat facing the wall with her back to the man.
"You seem to know little about us, so I'll tell you," he said as he stood, allowing Aeloria to lie down properly. He then brought a bucket of warm water for the usual cleaning routine.
"I'm good now," Aeloria said. "I'll do it myself."
"While it's incredible that you're recovering at an alarming pace," Hanon replied, "there's no need to push yourself. Leave the small things in my hands."
He dipped the towel in the water and squeezed three-quarters of the water out. He then began to wipe her forehead gently.
"While oakliners study the art of healing and treatment from scholars," he began, "thornsleepers are chosen."
"Chosen?" Aeloria asked as Hanon wiped her cheeks.
"Yes. You may know of the eight most deadliest vipers. While they're just any other species of snakes to everyone else, to a thornsleeper, they're like gods. All eight are deadly. Only when one survives the venom of one of the eight do they receive a bite mark, along with the markings. They're then able to hear the voice of the viper they're chosen by. In my case, it was my mother who got bitten, but I was the one chosen."
He was now wiping her thighs as he spoke.
The warm towel moved carefully across her skin, carrying the faint scent of machnilla herbs. The room was quiet except for the soft splash of water and Hanon's steady voice.
Aeloria listened, eyes half-closed, the pain fading to a dull ache.
The man's touch was careful, respectful.
She let the silence stretch, letting the warmth sink in.
Hanon continued his work, his voice low and even, as if telling a bedtime story instead of explaining the dark path he had walked.
The lamp flickered on the table, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
Outside, the wind rattled the shutters, but inside the room felt strangely safe.
Aeloria's breathing slowed.
After a while, she spoke.
"So those markings appear on their own?" Aeloria asked in surprise as she shifted on the bed.
"Yes," Hanon answered, dipping the cloth in the water for the fifteenth time.
"Among the eight vipers, all the other seven are like evil gods. Only one stands to keep them in check—the Ishnore viper. Just like its venom cures the poison of the other vipers, its pathway stands in opposition to the others."
"I see," Aeloria said, her curiosity deepening. "But how does it work? How does being a thornsleeper work? Why do you go around killing people?"
Hanon was now wiping her legs.
He then dipped the cloth in the water again.
"Please turn around," Hanon asked, and Aeloria complied.
"Remember what I said about the other seven being evil gods?" he asked as he wiped the back of her neck down to her right shoulder.
"Yes," Aeloria replied. She no longer felt uncomfortable by Hanon's care. She perceived it as the work of an herbworker, nothing more.
Once you hear the voice of your chosen viper, it isn't a whisper—it's a command that resonates in your very marrow. The seven pathways hear the song of slaughter. But Ishnore? Ishnore is the discordant note
"Once you hear the voice of your chosen viper, you start to receive commands—it's a command that resonates in your very marrow. My command is always to protect that individual and to kill the other thornsleepers after it."
He was now wiping her waist up her hips.
"There are all kinds of things in this world," Aeloria said quietly. "I never would've known any of this if I hadn't met you."
Hanon took the bucket of water away. He then brought a different bucket filled with boiled herbs and a different towel.
He dipped the towel in the water and squeezed one-third of the water out.
"Please turn around," he said.
Aeloria turned around again, lying on her back, completely exposed.
"You were always unconscious during this treatment," Hanon warned, "so I have to tell you—it's a very painful treatment."
"Okay," Aeloria answered with a bored expression.
'She's not taking this seriously. My patients always screamed in agony, and their herbs weren't mixed with Ishnore venom,' Hanon thought, watching her face for any sign of distress.
He started from her chest this time.
He watched her face for signs of agony but found just a blank expression. To a woman who had survived the barren lands and the agony of Šërēĺįťh, pain of such caliber was only a suggestion.
'I'm sure I prepared it right, but why is she so calm? The herbwater is absorbed immediately through the skin when it comes into contact. It then makes its way into the bones. It forces its way through the bones in different directions. With no tubes for smooth flow in the bones, this process is quite agonising—yet she's so calm.'
Ignoring her expression, Hanon continued with his work.
After a while, he took the bucket back and brought one of the bags he had carried into the room. He placed it at the edge of the bed.
"What is that?" Aeloria asked.
"I don't know much about women," Hanon said with a sheepish shrug, "so I bought a few varieties of dresses. Please check the one that suits you best. In the meanwhile, I'll go find us something to eat downstairs."
He said as he left Aeloria alone in the room.
"A thornsleeper, huh?" Aeloria murmured, looking through the bag and taking out one of the gowns the man had bought.
"With how cowardly he acts, I don't see him being able to protect anyone, let alone kill someone."
Meanwhile, far away from the room, in the heart of Runevale…
Orin knelt before the queen with an absurd request.
"Can you repeat what you just said, Orin?" Nyxelene asked, resting her head on her palm, her crimson eyes fixed on him with unreadable intensity.