My fault. My fault.

Cedric hadn't moved in three days. As soon as he'd descended upon some nameless forest clearing at the crack of dawn, the dark energy cloaking him had dissipated like smoke. He'd then collapsed into a useless heap and remained there.

He'd slipped in and out of sleep, barely aware of the shift between the states of consciousness. For once, the nightly terrors did not seize him--the waking world had become its own nightmare.

Cedric's hand still clenched around the remnants of the black diamond, which had crumbled into white dust upon his return to human form. He'd spent all its power at once, but hadn't had the strength to face this newest setback with anything stronger than numb resignation.

Perhaps I could simply die here.

A small fly crawled along the length of his arm, and he couldn't even muster up the will to swat it away.

The sun set for the fourth time since he'd landed. Soon, night fell upon the forest yet again.

*

Eventually, the painfully familiar pangs of thirst and hunger were what ultimately forced Cedric out of his unmoving apathy. Just as his intractable survival instinct had saved him as a prisoner, it again pushed him inexorably forward, indifferent to what his conscious mind might have desired. As he'd learned long and well at the Dead End, the physical needs of the flesh superseded all else, including any high-minded notions of pride or dignity.

Cedric forced himself upright and slowly stretched out his stiff, cramped muscles. He needed water and food. For now, this would solely occupy his attention.

He opened his right palm and let the white dust of the spent diamond flutter from his hand. He carded his fingers through the rat's nest that his hair had become and tied it into a fresh ponytail. And then, as he'd done before, he closed his eyes and cast his mind out into the depths of the night. His depths. His territory.

Once again, the night responded gladly to his unspoken desire. Not far to the east, somewhere in the forest, Cedric sensed the gentle bubbling of a small creek.

His legs shook with every step.

The water was cold and clear, and Cedric drank deeply from the shallow creek. After his thirst was finally quenched, he began his search for food.

Alvir had taught him well in the art of identifying certain leaves, roots, and herbs, specifically the art of discerning what was deadly and what was not. Cedric carefully combed through the area surrounding the creek, and among the soft fuzz of moss that coated the forest floor, he managed to find a few small, white roots. They were dry and flavorless, but somewhat filling.

He discovered a collection of berry bushes further on and picked a berry to inspect it closely under the limited light of the moon. It looked indistinguishable from the delicious yallowberries that Grace had introduced him to, seemingly a lifetime ago. Cedric popped it in his mouth, anticipating the familiar burst of sweet tartness upon his palate.

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Instead, the berry was sour, bitter, and hard. He reluctantly collected a heaping handful and returned to the creek, where he washed them down with frequent gulps of water. But as unpleasant as his meal was, it did restore some semblance of strength to his body.

And with Cedric's lowest needs now met, the events of the past few days crashed in on him like wallop to the gut. He curled into a fetal position on the ground and began to sob, heaving his sorrow out into the depths of the deserted forest.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

But not even wrenching anguish could last forever. Steadily, Cedric's sobs quieted, and the torrent enveloping his mind slowly began to recede.

No matter his reluctance, he needed to decide on his next course of action.

Cedric's last semblance of a plan lay with Candra Relictus in Borne, the exiled Dark Apostle who would teach him how to properly wield the dark power. For now, it served no use to speculate beyond that point; such an objective was already daunting enough on its own.

He would require a whole new set of supplies, along with a steed. His stomach twisted at the thought of Clover, who'd been left alone and unknowing of what had happened to her masters. She could easily leap the pen and find her own way if hunger drove her to it. Or perhaps Grace would take her in when she stopped by the cottage someday and found--

Cedric furiously banished the thought.

Focus.

And most problematic of all, he would need to somehow acquire another black diamond, the priceless, forbidden treasure that carried a death sentence upon discovery.

Cedric kneaded his forehead, truly appreciating the magnitude of his foolishness for the first time since his inadvertent transformation into the nameless winged creature. In that form, he'd been feral, bestial, no smarter than any wild animal. He couldn't even remember what had become of Kestrin.

But finding another diamond was the most distant problem among a sea of more urgent ones.

Supplies first.

*

Cedric travelled by night and slept by day. In darkness, he could reliably gauge his environment with that unique exterior sense that he came to rely on, its most valuable aspect being the ability to find water. To somewhat appease his hunger pangs, Cedric filled his stomach with whatever plants, berries, and roots he could find. While meat would have been far preferable, the few creatures that crossed his path always scattered upon his approach, and he lacked both Jana's hunting skills and knowledge.

Cedric headed for the nearest settlement, which was a few days' walk from his original location. He'd sensed a distinctive impression of warmth and movement somewhere to the north that he'd intuitively understood to be the presence of other people. And upon the third sunrise, nursing a hollow belly and viciously aching feet, he indeed came upon a small cottage on the distant outskirts of an unknown town, planted beside a well-worn road.

A young girl stomped out of the barn beside it and roughly tossed aside the empty bucket in her hand. She then caught sight of Cedric's approach, and froze in place.

"Ma!" she hollered while keeping her eyes fixed on him. "There's a strange man here!"

Cedric stopped walking and held up his hands, hoping to convey peaceful intent. His clothes were filthy, his hair a tangled mess, and his shoes little more than tatters. He no doubt resembled a beggar or a fugitive; the latter, at least, was true.

A woman with tired eyes and graying hair emerged from the cottage. She stood behind the girl and draped a protective arm over her shoulder.

"Well met, stranger," the mother said, though her tone was tight and drawn.

"Well met, er… madam," Cedric said, clumsily tapping into his limited repertoire of etiquette. His voice croaked from lack of use. "I mean no harm, I swear it upon the Goddess. I--" He trailed off, suddenly spent of all energy at once. He staggered.

The mother shifted a half-step closer. "Lad, are--are you all right?"

Cedric's vision began to swim, and the rapidly-approaching ground was the last thing he knew.