Ray writhed in the Kael's arms, screaming until his voice cracked. His body spasmed, aura flickering like a flame caught in a storm. Every second the soul deterioration dug deeper, tearing at something no one could touch, no one could soothe.
Kael knelt beside him, hands hovering helplessly. He could seal a wound, align bones, even re-stitch flesh with mana if he had to—but this? This was the soul itself unraveling. No herbs. No potion. No enchantment. Nothing they could do.
Ray's scream broke into a choked sob. His nails clawed the ground.
Joren swallowed hard. He'd been pacing, eyes darting between Ray and the treeline as if some miracle would walk out of it.
It didn't.
Ray screamed again, louder this time—raw, animal, broken.
That's when Joren finally spoke.
"…Kael," he said quietly. Too quietly.
Kael didn't look at him. "Don't."
But Joren kept going, voice unsteady and yet… resigned. "We—we don't have anyone who can treat this. No potions. No healers. And soul deterioration doesn't… it doesn't ease up. You know that."
Kael's jaw clenched. "I said don't."
Joren's eyes glistened as Ray convulsed again, his back arching unnaturally as if something inside him was trying to tear its way out. The ground trembled beneath him. His aura flickered violently, unstable, burning him from the inside.
Joren whispered, "His pain is only going to get worse."
Ray screamed again, a sound that didn't sound human anymore.
Joren took a shaky breath. "We can't save him, Kael. And death by soul deterioration is one of the four worst ways to die. They say it feels like your entire existence is being peeled apart, layer by layer. For hours."
"…Joren." Kael's voice was ice.
Joren finally said it.
The thing none of them wanted to hear.
"…It might be kinder to kill him now."
The forest went silent.
Only Ray's desperate, ragged breathing filled the space between them.
Kael rose slowly, like a storm gathering in human form. Shadows pooled under his feet. His voice was a whisper sharpened into a blade:
"If you raise your weapon against him—
I will bury you next to whatever's left of his body."
Joren flinched but didn't back down. "Kael… I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm trying to be realistic. He'll die anyway. But if we act now, at least he won't suffer—"
"He is my son," Kael snarled. "You don't get to decide his fate."
Joren looked at Ray again—Ray, who was choking on his own breath, tears mixing with dirt, his soul visibly fracturing in shimmering cracks of light along his skin.
"…Then what?" Joren whispered. "Let him scream until his voice breaks? Let him die in hours instead of minutes? Kael, we can't—"
Kael snapped, "I will find a way."
"How?!" Joren shouted, voice cracking. "With what?! Our village in the middle of nowhere! No healers! No potions! No one who even understands this condition outside of little group!"
And that's when Kael froze.
Because the truth hit him like a knife.
There was someone.
Someone he never wanted to rely on. Someone he swore he'd never forgive. Someone whose blood ran in Ray's veins as well as his own.
Kael's expression twisted—pain, anger, bitterness, all tangled.
Joren noticed. "…Kael?"
Kael didn't answer.
He just whispered through clenched teeth, like each word cost him a piece of his pride:
"…There is one person who can save him."
Joren blinked. "Who?"
Kael shut his eyes.
"You don't need to know that"
After that he started running with all the speed he could mustered
Ray's body jerked in his hold, every spasm a dagger to Kael's chest. His eyes were half-open, unfocused, glowing faintly with fractured mana. His breath came in ragged, broken stutters against Kael's shoulder.
"Stay with me… stay with me…" Kael muttered under his breath, voice cracking despite himself.
Joren sprinted ahead, crashing through underbrush, shouting over his shoulder, "Kael! Hurry—he's slipping!"
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't.
If he spoke, he'd either scream or break.
The village came into view—the soft lantern lights, the quiet dirt paths, the wooden fences. Peaceful. Normal.
Nothing like the horror bleeding through Ray's veins.
As they tore down the main road, doors opened, people peeked out—then immediately stepped back when they saw the unstable aura flaring off Ray's skin like flickers of molten glass.
But one voice didn't retreat.
It cracked through the quiet like a whip.
NORA
"KAEL?!"
Nora was already running toward them, her apron still on, hands covered in flour. When she saw Ray—her Ray—her whole body froze.
"N—no… no, no, no… RAY!" Tears burst before the words were even finished.
Ray spasmed violently in Kael's arms, letting out a hoarse, broken scream. The lights of nearby houses flickered from the mana shockwave rippling off his skin.
Nora slapped a hand over her mouth, choking on a sob. "What happened to him? What—KAEL, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
Kael couldn't meet her eyes.
Not now. Not yet.
"Inside," he rasped. "We don't have time."
They crashed through the doorway. Nora cleared the bed with one swipe—pillows, books, blankets scattering across the floor.
Kael laid Ray down.
Ray arched off the mattress instantly, screaming through clenched teeth, his back lifting as if invisible hooks were pulling at his spine. His fingers shredded the sheets, aura flaring in jagged bursts.
Nora tried to grip his hand, voice trembling, "Ray, baby, I'm here—"
Ray screamed again, loud enough to shake the windowpane.
Kael grabbed her wrist. "Don't touch him—his mana's unstable. You'll get burned."
Nora's tears didn't stop. "Kael, he's—he's dying. He's—"
Kael swallowed hard. He couldn't tell her the truth.
Not now.
Not with Ray convulsing inches away.
Joren paced like a trapped animal in the corner, voice cracking. "Kael—Kael, if we don't do something now—"
"I KNOW!" Kael roared.
The room fell silent except for Ray's tortured breaths.
Kael turned away. There was no time for guilt. No time for fear.
Only one option left.
The one he swore he'd never take.
He headed for the cellar door.
Nora grabbed his sleeve, desperate. "Where are you going?!"
Kael didn't turn around.
"…To get help."
"What help? From who?!"
Kael paused.
Just a heartbeat.
"…Someone I hoped I'd never wish to see."
And then he yanked the door open and vanished into the basement.
The air was cold. Dusty. Filled with the echoes of memories Kael tried very hard to forget.
He crossed the room fast—or tried to. His steps faltered when he reached the far corner.
A small wooden chest sat there.
Undisturbed.
Unopened for years.
Exactly where he'd thrown it.
Kael knelt. His hand hovered over the lid.
His throat tightened.
He had vowed never to rely on that man.
Never to acknowledge his blood.
Never to use this.
But upstairs, his son was screaming like his soul was being carved apart.
Kael opened the chest.
Inside, wrapped in a strip of faded cloth, lay the crystal—smooth, pristine, pulsing faintly with dormant power.
A lifeline.
A curse.
A reminder.
Kael gripped it, fingers trembling.
"…Damn you, old man," he whispered. "If you don't come—"
Another scream echoed from above.
Ray's.
Kael closed his fist around the crystal.
And activated it.