Cecilus' family had already returned home. Unlike the rest of the guests, they left almost immediately after midnight.
The manor was silent now. The kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful, but hollow—like a breath held too long. Cecilus sat on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the faint moonlight bleeding through the curtains. His parents and siblings slept soundly, unaware of the plan that would drag their eldest son away before dawn.
He tightened the straps on a small pack by his side and pulled a black cloak from the chair. The fabric clung to his fingers, heavy and cold. With the hood drawn low, he slipped into the halls. Aldo's spectral form glimmered faintly beside him, guiding his steps between the shadows, past sleeping guards and flickering lanterns.
The air outside bit at his skin as he passed through the front gate and started down the dirt road toward the village. The world was quiet except for his boots sinking into frost-dusted soil.
He arrived at Efrain's house and knocked twice. The sound echoed too loudly in the still air. When the door opened, Cecilus froze—Efrain's mother didn't even flinch.
"Uhh… hello, madam," he said, uncertain. "I have something I'd like to discuss."
"Oh! Don't worry," she said cheerfully, as if she'd been expecting him. "Efrain's already explained everything. I've packed his things. He's ready to go."
Her smile didn't waver. Her tone was too calm. She's acting like this is some pleasant trip.
"Thank you," Cecilus replied carefully. "For trusting me."
"Your mother is a noble woman," she said. "Everyone here respects her. I know her son will protect mine."
The people here really do respect Mother...
Efrain brushed past his mother, his pack slung over his shoulders.
"You ready?" Cecilus asked.
"Yes, Sir!" Efrain saluted, trying to sound brave.
He gave his mother one last hug and stepped into the cold with Cecilus.
"Just one more member left to retrieve," Cecilus said with a faint smirk. This one might take some effort.
The two walked the moonlit path until the Forwhilst manor loomed in the distance. But at its gate, something was wrong—Marina was already there, sitting on the ground with a blanket draped over her.
"What? How are you out here?" Cecilus asked.
Efrain ran forward. Marina looked up, eyes dull and tired. "I don't know. My brother left me here with this blanket. He said I was allowed to come inside, but… I just waited. No guards ever came."
Cecilus frowned. That's… strange. Did Trey know? Did he plan this?
He shook the thought away. "Never mind that. Let's go."
Efrain grabbed Marina's hand, and the three of them started toward the road.
"Are we walking the whole way?" Efrain asked.
"No. There's a merchant route ahead—we'll catch a carriage," Cecilus replied, showing him a few gold coins.
"That's great! Right, Marina?"
Efrain turned to Marina, and he was still holding her hand despite her apparent discomfort.
Marina nodded slightly. Her eyes didn't move from the dirt road.
C'mon, Efrain, Cecilus thought, you're pressing too hard.
They walked in silence until Efrain slowed to a stop. "Sir, can we rest? Just for a bit?"
"It's only been half an hour," Cecilus sighed. "But fine."
They gathered wood and lit a small fire. The flames flickered weakly, painting their faces in orange and shadow.
Then Efrain coughed. Once. Then again—harsher, wetter.
Cecilus looked over. "You alright? Were you sick before we left?"
"No—no, I—" Efrain's words broke off into a violent cough, and when his arm came away from his mouth, it was smeared red.
Blood.
"Shit!" Cecilus lunged toward him. "Efrain, what's happening?"
"I—I don't know," he gasped, clutching his stomach. "It hurts—"
What am I supposed to do?
Return?
Do I even have enough time?
Marina covered her mouth as Efrain coughed again and blood began to drip from his mouth.
Efrain stared at Cecilus with a helpless expression.
He quietly mouthed out words.
Words only Cecilus could hear.
Through the thoughts of his friend.
"I don't want to die."
Then came the sound. A wet tearing noise. Efrain's body convulsed, and his abdomen ruptured open with a horrifying rip. Blood splattered across the snow-dusted grass.
Marina screamed. Cecilus froze.
The smell hit him—iron, bile, something burnt. He couldn't even tell where Efrain's face ended and the blood began.
"Efrain?" His voice cracked.
The corpse twitched. A faint, purple shimmer rose from the mangled body, wavering in the air. Then, a whisper—soft, trembling—filled Cecilus's mind.
"I don't want to die."
Cecilus stumbled back, eyes wide. "Efrain?"
"Save me, Cecilus… please…"
Marina covered her mouth, shaking. Cecilus stared, unable to blink.
"I want to go on the adventure with you and Marina."
"Where is my body?"
"Why can't I feel anything?"
The voice grew distant, fading upward with the rising light.
"Cecilus?"
"Can you hear me?"
Cecilus's chest heaved. "I CAN HEAR YOU, EFRAIN!" he shouted into the night. "I'M LISTENING!"
But the soul didn't respond.
"I CAN HEAR YOU!" he screamed again, voice cracking.
Only silence. The dead had no ears.
"Damn it!" He kicked the ground, hands trembling. It has to be poison. Something powerful—magical. No disease does that. No one dies like that.
He turned to Marina, his expression sharp. "We're going back."
Marina hesitated. She didn't care about Efrain—but Cecilus's tone left no room to argue.
They ran through the darkness. Cecilus's steps pounded against the earth like thunder; Marina trailed behind, lungs burning.
When he suddenly stopped, she nearly collided with him.
He pointed to the tree line. Above the distant horizon, faint purple lights shimmered like dying stars.
"Marina," Cecilus said quietly. "Your manor's that way, isn't it?"
"Yes… why?"
His voice faltered. "They're all dead."
"What?"
"Everyone in the Duke's manor," he whispered. "They're all dead."
Then he ran. Faster than before, leaving her behind.
Marina stood frozen, staring at the glow above her home.
"My family is dead?" she murmured. "So am I free?"
She almost smiled. Do I even need to follow him?
But then—Trey.
"Is Trey dead, too?" she whispered, turning toward the manor. She needed to see.
***
Cecilus reached the village, and his heart sank. Purple lights flooded the sky. Souls—hundreds of them.
It happened here, too.
Their voices poured into his mind all at once—children crying for their mothers, elders wondering why they couldn't move, parents screaming for their children.
The streets ran dark with blood. Glass windows were shattered, doors broken, and every doorstep held a body—limbs twisted, skin burnt, eyes open but unseeing.
He clenched his jaw, fighting back bile as he stepped over the carnage.
At the medical building, the corpses were stacked like refuse, piled in front of the door. Cecilus ordered a golem to move them aside and stepped in.
Celtis sat slumped over his desk. Dried blood darkened the wood beneath his face. His stomach hadn't burst open like the others, but his veins were black.
Cecilus's breath caught as his eyes fell on the wall. Smears of red traced shaky letters into the plaster.
It was Trey.
Cecilus stared. His pulse roared in his ears.
No.
Why would he...
But the blood on the wall didn't lie.
He works for the council, and I killed Regnier. They must've retaliated.
But why wait this long? Why use Trey?
His hands curled into fists. My family.
He turned, eyes burning. If Trey's done this, he's not stopping here.
Cecilus bolted out the door.
***
Marina reached the manor. The gate stood open. No guards, no sound.
"Maybe true evil really does disguise itself," she whispered.
Inside, the halls were quiet—eerily pristine except for the bodies. A butler slumped against the wall, a gaping hole through his waist. His eyes were wide, glassy.
Every step she took revealed another corpse—slaves, servants, guards.
Finally, she reached her father's room. The door creaked open.
The Duke's body lay sprawled on the floor, eyes frozen in terror. Her stepmother's corpse rested beside him on the bed, twisted unnaturally.
Marina stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
Then—slowly, faintly—she smiled.