Ezekiel once again took off his shirt. Milo handed Calawit his magnifying glass, but she waved it away. Instead, she got up on Milo’s shoulders and used his height to get closer to the cleric before touching one of the marks on Ezekiel’s shoulder.

“Black mana, right?” Milo asked.

“Undoubtably.” She wiggled her fingers at Ezekiel. “Hand me your medallion.”

Ezekiel paused, then reached up to undo the small chain that held the silver medallion of the Great Lady of Light. He eased it into Calawit’s palm. “Be careful with it, please.”

“Always.” It was big enough that she had to hold it with both hands. She eased it toward the center of the bite mark and placed it against his skin. Ezekiel sucked in air. His knees quivered as he grabbed his shoulder, leaning against a bookshelf. Rafael winced.

Calawit brought the medallion back toward her, searching Ezekiel’s face. “That’s promising.”

Milo glanced at her, slightly alarmed. “Promising?”

She nodded. “If it was deeply infected, he would have turned already.”

There was a moment’s pause as everyone looked at her. Milo placed her back on the shelf. “You tried that before knowing he might turn?” He shook his head. “What the hell, Cal!”

Calawit simply smiled. “Oh, stop. He would have turned back once you all knocked him out. The big guy over there could’ve taken him.” She glanced at Hraktar. “You might want to stay by Ezekiel’s side as much as possible.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue,” Alejandra said. “Rafael and I are brother and sister and live under the same roof.”

Calawit nodded. “Good.” She handed Ezekiel back the medallion, and he secured it around his neck again.

Derek glanced at Rafael. “You didn’t roll a nat one on his saving throw, did you?”

He shook his head. “No. After the modifiers, it came out to twelve. I think I needed a thirteen to save, since I rolled a thirteen on the first bite.”

Derek winced. “Just missed it, then. Well…” He scratched his forehead, looking again at the bite mark. “At least it wasn’t a nat one.”

Calawit scrambled over the bookshelves before finding something on the lowest level. She climbed back up, holding out a piece of hard cheese to Ezekiel.

“Cheese? Is it because of rats?” Rafael couldn’t help it and looked at Derek. “Seriously?”

His old friend shrugged as Ezekiel studied the sliver of hard cheese, frowning before he glanced at Calawit.

“Tell me every thought entering your head. It will help me assess your condition better,” Calawit said.

Ezekiel gave the cheese a sniff. “It smells nice. But I have no urge to eat it. Though the longer you hold it close to me, the more likely I will buy it from you. Extra coin, if you asked.”

“I adore your honesty.” She flipped it toward him. Ezekiel caught it, a smile on his face. “Take a bite.”

Ezekiel did. While he did, Calawit took Milo’s hand and sliced his palm deep. Milo let out a shout of surprise more than pain, though four hit points dropped from his health bar. The mana fusor grabbed his bleeding hand, eyes wide. “Calawit!”

“Forgive me. I might have gotten a little carried away.” She grabbed his wrist and pushed his blood-covered hand toward Ezekiel’s face. He nibbled on the cheese, staring at Milo’s hand. His nose crinkled as he gave her back the cheese, ready to heal Milo.

“No, no. Let me. I’m the one that cut him.” Even as Calawit said that, gold mana lifted from her hand and entered Milo, stitching his wound together. The four hit points returned, and Milo rubbed his palm, grumbling.

Calawit then brought up a book, with Flannigan Jones on the title. Ezekiel’s eyes widened and filled with a sense of wonder. “Is it…”

“Yep. Next one in the series.”

Ezekiel giggled like a child and pulled out a gold piece, slapping it in Calawit’s palm as he snatched the book, flipping it open to the beginning. He stuffed the rest of the cheese in his mouth and began reading. Rafael glanced at Calawit. The sorceress leaned over with her dagger, making a cut into one of the black marks on his shoulder. Again, she got carried away and four hit points dropped from Ezekiel’s bar. Considering the cleric was at level one, it was almost half of his hit points. He braced against the bookshelf, already looking haggard from a dagger cut. Yet he still kept focusing on his book.

Calawit circled her hands, saying something in an ancient language. A white light glowed from her palm before sprinkling into the dagger wound and glowing against the black marks. Then the whiteness went away, and the black remained. Calawit sniffed, her nose moving around. With a flick of her wrist, Ezekiel had his four hit points back.

Rafael rubbed his chin, watching Calawit. She leaned back. “You may put your shirt back on if you wish.”

Ezekiel tore his gaze from the Flannigan Jones book as Milo handed him his shirt. He slipped it on, ready to dive back into his book when Hraktar placed a hand on it. “Maybe wait until Calawit tells you how to cure yourself before you return to reading?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Oh, right.” Ezekiel reached behind him, placing the book in his inventory. “Of course.”

Calawit sighed, sitting down on the top bookshelf. “Well, there’s no doubt about it. You have lycanthropy.”

There was a long enough pause that Rafael leaned in a little closer. “Is that it?”

Calawit shrugged. “The kind of lycanthropy that a remove curse spell cannot cure.” She opened her hand, and a book flew into her palm. She flipped through the pages, then nodded. “The next full moon is close enough that my tests should have triggered something, but they didn’t. The lycanthropy is still new and finding its way into Ezekiel’s system.” Calawit closed her book, and it flew back to its position. “There’s still a few more weeks for it to settle into you, though. My guess is since you’re a cleric, you’ll get the extra help needed from your deity on October fifth.”

“Of course,” Ezekiel said. “The Great Lady of Light always helps those who ask.”

Calawit nodded. “Right, I… to be certain you stay in your human form and not transform into a wererat, you better pray. A lot.”

The cleric smiled. “No problem.”

Calawit hesitated. “No, I mean… you pray. Every minute the full moon is in the sky, you better be on your knees communing with the Great Lady.”

Ezekiel nodded. “I will.”

Calawit blinked. “The moon is in the sky a good twelve hours.”

He clicked his tongue and gave her awkward finger guns. “Twelve hours praying is novice numbers, Cal.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I forget who I’m talking to. Be careful, alright? I’m not sure what this group would do if you transformed into a wererat once a month. Or turned into a wererat completely.”

Rafael took out his phone, plugging in information on the next full moon. “It looks like it won’t rise in Arizona until… six-thirty at night.”

Calawit raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at Rafael’s phone. “Fascinating things.”

“It’s only the light of the moon, right?” Rafael glanced at Derek. “Even though this says it’s officially a full moon at 11:30 am, it won’t hurt him until it rises here?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. It’s the light. And I doubt keeping Ezekiel inside or in the shadows would work. The moment the moon rises over the horizon, it’ll start.”

Rafael checked his phone again. “So, until six-thirty at night until seven-twenty in the morning, you’re going to be praying. Are you okay with that?” He glanced at Ezekiel.

“You all need to stop worrying about my length of prayers. I have many things to tell the Great Lady. I can tell her about this world and the adventures we’ve had so far.”

“Alright. We’ll stop worrying about you in early October.” Calawit headed toward the bookshelf. “Early November, however, is a completely different matter. By that time, no amount of praying will save you from succumbing to lycanthropy.”

“What’s going to happen if we don’t cure him in November?” Milo asked.

Calawit held out a hand, the book she needed landing in her palm. “He must perform a cleansing ritual. If the cleansing succeeds, then everything is fine. Ezekiel is back to his usual self, and the lycanthropy disappears from his system. If the cleansing partially succeeds, then every full moon he will change into a wererat, but back to his normal self once it sets. If the cleansing fails completely, he will be a wererat forever. A creature so far from what you know that he’s not even the same person. Wererats are paranoid little things, and he will no doubt attack if startled.” Calawit glanced at Hraktar. “So…”

The fighter kept his arms folded. “Try not to scare him?”

“Try not to… anything. You’re an intimidating guy, big fella.”

Ezekiel shook his head. “Don’t worry, Calawit. We’ll get this curse lifted long before the lycanthropy takes hold.”

Calawit snorted as she opened the book. “Famous last words.” She flicked her wrist to turn a few pages. “Lycanthropy cures have the same three components for each were creature. One, a claw or tooth from the hybrid’s mortal enemy. For your wererat's mortal enemy, you’re looking for some feline monster. You, and you alone, Ezekiel, must kill it by yourself and extract the tooth or claw.”

“Be happy you’re not getting a fang from a vampire,” Derek muttered.

“The second component is a beloved item from your mortal enemy. The more powerful, the better. And finally, purest silver pounded into powder by a god or goddess. Or one of They’re minions.” Rafael stared at Calawit, terrified. She straightened her spectacles. “All this must be done by the next full moon, in this case, the one in November. Then, and this is the most dangerous part, you must have all three components and begin the cure ritual right at the moonrise of the full moon.”

“Why right at moonrise?” Alejandra asked.

“Starting the ritual then gives the lycanthropy and your humanity time to wrestle it out during the shift. A chance for the spell to work.” Calawit lifted the tome toward him. “Are you familiar with the cure ritual?”

“I believe so.” Ezekiel glanced through the pages, nodding a few times. “I might need a refresher right before, but this looks right.”

The sorceress took the tome back. “You work on getting those three items, then we’ll chat rituals.”

“So… a tooth from a cat monster that you need to kill all by yourself. Grounded up silver by a deity, and something from your enemy?” Milo asked, counting on his finger. He then frowned, studying Ezekiel. “Do you even have an enemy?”

“Akshi, of course,” Ezekiel said.

The room was silent as everyone looked at the cleric.

“Please no,” Derek said.

Ezekiel frowned. “He is. Akshi is my enemy. So is Torraq, but Akshi is the one that’s here.”

Rafael had his hands in his hair. “Ezekiel, we can’t possibly approach him. Ever. You’re level one. You almost died from a bunch of demon rats, and you still didn’t level up. If Akshi even looked your direction, you’d get annihilated.”

“And that is something I completely understand. But… it feels right,” Ezekiel said.

Derek covered his face. “Goddamn clerics.”

“It sounds like the easiest thing to get is to kill a cat monster all by yourself,” Milo said.

Derek grumbled as he pulled out his phone, tapping on some things.

“What about silver?” Rafael asked. “Is this silver from our world? Because that might be… impossible.”

“I could dilute silver coins down to a pure bar, but it’s making it into a powder that will be difficult.” Milo scratched the back of his head in thought. “Pounded into powder by a deity, you said?”

Calawit nodded. “Or one of their minions. The idea of this cure ritual is balance. Ezekiel has two things battling inside him. A rat, and himself. He must sacrifice both sides of himself and choose the God or Goddess who will show the most mercy on him so he can keep himself.”

“Poetic,” Milo said.

“Poetic, but is it possible?” Hraktar asked.

“Saber-tooth tiger. Suggested combat is level two,” Derek said out of the blue. All gazes focused on him as he held up his phone and gave it a shake. “Torraq’s list of baddies from his lair. There are a few saber-tooth tigers on there, and the more you level up, Ezekiel, the easier they will be. The only problem is they’re not native to the desert. We’ll have to see if Princess Clarissa can lure them here somehow. Better a saber-tooth tiger than a black sphinx.”

Calawit shuddered, and she was the only one. She simply turned and headed toward her desk. “Best of luck to all of you. You’ve got a little more than a month to figure it out.”

Rafael watched her disappear. While getting stuck on a puzzle, Tyler often said he never gave impossible missions because then the game wouldn’t be fun. Did the true game masters believe this same rule? Because all of this felt unachievable.

Another chilling realization trickled up his spine. There was a hidden, overarching mission to curing Ezekiel. They might not be able to do it without all working together. And that, more than silver, more than teeth and claws, more than stealing something from Akshi, made this feel impossible.