The warmth had barely returned to Kael's limbs. His fingers still shook. His shoulder still burned. His breath still came uneven.
Yet all he could do was stare.
Stare at the old man's lifeless body slumped against the stone sarcophagus — eyes half-open, mouth still parted in a final, unfinished sound. Blood spread beneath him like a dark, widening halo, seeping into the carved symbols as if the coffin itself were drinking it in.
The crystallis wound was small.
But the death was not.
Across from him, the boy crouched quietly, wiping the crystallis with awkward, almost childlike movements, smearing the worst of the blood off on a patch of his sleeve. He handled the shard with surprising care, as though it were a fragile glass figurine rather than a murder weapon.
Only when he finished did the boy finally lift his gaze toward Kael.
"You look disappointed," he said softly.
"But it's either him or me. And I, for one, was not keen on dying today."
His voice lacked venom and triumph. It was merely a statement of practicality.
"Besides…" He glanced at the corpse, then back at Kael.
"He already had an entire lifetime to see the world. As for me… I'm barely getting started."
Kael swallowed. His throat felt raw.
"So… does that mean I'm off the mark now?" he asked, voice cracking with exhaustion.
"Sure," the boy replied immediately.
A long pause stretched the space between them.
"Of course…" the boy added, tilting his head, "that's if you bring me another body to replace yours."
Kael stared at him, blank. "What?"
The boy sighed lightly, as if Kael were being slow on purpose.
"You see, the ritual requires two corpses. Not one. Two."
The boy tapped the crystallis against his palm. He then motioned toward the old man's lifeless body sprawled at the foot of the sarcophagus.
"He is the first corpse."
Then the boy's eyes slid to Kael — steady, expectant, almost bored.
"Which means you will be the second."
Kael felt his breath leave him in a sharp, bitter exhale.
"And why does it have to be me?" he rasped. "Why can't it be you?"
The boy let out a soft breath — not a sigh, more like someone amused by a question they've heard a thousand times.
"If I die, the ritual breaks," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.
"And everything we've done becomes pointless. You, on the other hand…"
He pointed gently at Kael, as though indicating a volunteer in a crowd.
"You weren't brought here by choice. You were caught. Taken. Dragged along. You're already… halfway removed from the world."
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
"Between the two of us, you're simply the… easier variable to solve."
At the remark, Kael let out a short, broken laugh — sharp and bitter.
"Of course," he muttered, pressing a hand to his throbbing side. "People always have a way of deciding whose life weighs less."
The boy didn't react to the bitterness.
He simply stepped aside, clearing the space before the immense stone sarcophagus. Blood still trailed down its carvings, glistening like fresh liquid.
"At the very least," the boy said quietly, "I won't let you end like him. His death was… unpleasant."
He gave a soft gesture toward the coffin.
"Yours doesn't have to be..."
Kael stared at the sealed stone with a heavy breath.
"And if I refuse?" he asked, voice barely steady.
The boy's answer came gently. Almost kindly.
"Refusal doesn't stop anything," he said. "It only makes what follows slower."
He pointed to the sarcophagus again.
"Open it."
At that, Kael moved toward the sarcophagus one dragging step at a time.
Up close, it was even larger than it looked from afar — a slab of stone thick enough to bury a family, not a single man. The iron bands encircling it were rusted but unbroken; the carved sigils along the edges were worn down but still humming faintly with some dormant intent. He ran his eyes along every groove and every crack.
Finally, he lifted his shackled hand and placed it on the cold stone surface.
The metal cuff clicked faintly against the lid.
And he stopped.
He didn't move to lift it. He didn't even brace his stance.
He simply stood there, breathing hard, the shackle biting deeper into his raw wrist as he pressed his palm flat.
Behind him, the boy's patience snapped.
"Open it." A beat. "Now!"
Kael didn't turn. The boy stepped closer, fury tightening his voice.
"Don't test me. I said open it!"
Kael still didn't move.
Before the boy could snap again, a sound tore through the chamber — sharp, shrill, and familiar.
A screech, echoing from the corridor they had come from. A sound Kael knew far too well. The boy's head snapped instantly toward the passage, narrowing his eyes.
That was Kael's moment.
He lunged — or tried to. His exhausted body stumbled more than sprinted, but momentum carried him toward the boy anyway, desperate hands reaching for the crystallis.
The boy pivoted sharply, faster than Kael could ever match in his condition. He slipped out of Kael's path, almost gliding aside, and in the same motion drove the crystallis forward.
It struck Kael just below the ribs.
Kael's scream tore itself from his throat, raw and broken.
The boy twisted the shard only enough to warn.
"That should've punctured nothing vital," he said coldly. "Stop—"
But Kael didn't pull away.
He grabbed the boy's wrist, and with his shackled hand, he forced the embedded crystallis deeper into his own side.
The boy's eyes widened — just a fraction.
"What are you—!? Let go, you — are you insane?!"
Then a shape burst out of the darkness above the corridor — leathery wings, matted fur, yellowed teeth: a winged rat, larger than a dog, starving and wild-eyed.
It saw them struggling — saw blood — and dived. Straight toward the two.
Kael did the only thing he could.
He jerked his body aside at the last possible second, dragging the boy's arm with him — twisting their positions.
The winged rat smashed into the boy instead.
The impact knocked them both flat. The creature latched on instantly, jaws clamping around the boy's shoulder with a wet crunch. The boy's scream ripped through the chamber — raw, shocked, unbelieving — before it dissolved into choking sounds as the rat tore deeper.
It didn't stop.
It bit again, and again, ripping flesh in frantic, ravenous motions. Claws raked across his ribs. Teeth cracked bone. The boy struggled for all of three seconds — and then horror overtook strength. His limbs spasmed helplessly as the creature devoured him alive.
This time, Kael moved.
Blood slicked his grip, pain flared with every breath, but he forced himself forward. The rat was too absorbed in tearing into the boy to notice him creeping behind it.
Kael lifted his shackled hand.
And brought it down.
CRACK.
The rat jerked but didn't turn.
He struck again.
CRACK.
And again.
CRACK–CRACK–CRACK.
Bone gave way beneath the metal cuff. The creature convulsed once, twice… then slumped over the half-eaten body, twitching, leaking dark blood onto the stone.
Kael staggered back, watching for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
Only then did he collapse onto the cold floor, gasping, sweat and blood soaking through his clothes. For a moment, he simply breathed. Or... tried to.
A faint voice gurgled beside him.
"...how…?" The boy — or what was left of him — blinked up at Kael with one still-lucid eye. His skin was shredded, his throat was half-torn, and his bone was exposed in places no bone should be.
"How… is… there… an abjection… down here…"
Kael looked at him, equally breathless and equally ruined.
He raised his palm — the one bleeding from some earlier cut he couldn't even remember receiving.
"Abjections…" Kael exhaled shakily.
"Most of them get drawn by the scent of blood, but they have a specific quirk when they first turn."
The boy's single remaining eye widened as Kael continued:
"It's a neat little trick, you know? If you pour your blood into the nose of a human corpse before the change takes hold, the creature that rises becomes dead set on hunting the origin of that scent. It's a blood-bond, of sorts."
The boy's gaze dropped weakly to the floor — to the long, uneven blood trail Kael had left through the corridor. A realization flickered across his battered features.
Kael gave the boy a grim, tired smile.
"You catch on quick… for a dying man."
The boy coughed, spasming. "But… where… did it come… from…"
Kael's eyes drifted toward the hallway, back toward the dark path they had traveled.
"Oh. Him?" Kael murmured. "He was actually one of us, you know…"
Another realization hit the boy, colder and deeper.
"…the… locksmith…"
Kael nodded.
"I didn't actually burn his body. I noticed the infection spreading through his corpse — slow and faint, but there. It was just a matter of time before he turned, so I gave him a little taste of myself to wake up to."
Silence.
Only the boy's rattling breath filled it.
Kael pushed himself up, wavering, blood still running down his side. He stepped closer, casting a shadow over the boy's mutilated form.
"Rest assured…" he said softly, almost kindly,
"I've heard the stories. About how the human mind sometimes stays… aware… while turning into an abjection." His eyes darkened.
"How agonizing it is. How long it lasts."
The boy stared up at him with trembling pupils.
"So don't worry." Kael's voice lowered to a whisper.
"I won't burn your body either."