Moran opened the wooden door and slid into the "clinic."

The room was surprisingly well-lit, with half a dozen glowing jaws spread across shelves and tables, casting warm, flickering light.

When Moran had first encountered the makeshift "lamps" with the wildlights, or whatever these glowing creatures were called, he’d wondered how they managed to survive trapped inside glass jars for weeks.

The thought had struck a strange chord with him, almost a sense of camaraderie, but still he had wondered how a creature could survive for so long without food, water or light to sustain itself.

Every system needed energy to function after all. At least that's how the world should work according to the informations that his brain had allowed him to know.

No one wanted to tell him anything while he had been imprisoned and after a week he had simply accepted their existance as it were as fact.

It shouldn't be possible, but so shouldn't walking on water or Aurora's healing.

The painfull truth was that maybe his knowledge was the thing that was wierd in this world.

Despite of it he decided he should ask someone about the lights later. He wanted to know how they worked.

Taking a step into the room his gaze glided to Aurora.

The blonde healer stood hunched over a patient. The missing antlers and fur indicated she was in... Base was it called? Noshape?

Whatever she was not in Halfshape, Moran finished his thought.

She held a large scalpel in one hand and a pair of plier-like tongs in the other.

Hearing him approach, Aurora placed the tools onto a dented metal tray nearby and turned toward him.

Her apron,a black, well-worn thing,hung heavy on her frame, splattered with reddish-brown stains. Some were old, faded to an almost rust-like color, while others were fresh, smudging faint streaks against the material.

She unwound the scarf from her mouth, revealing her sharp features.

For a moment, Moran froze.

Something about her appearance, her blood-speckled attire, and the coldly efficient air around her tugged at a half-formed memory.

Images flashed in his mind. Cold, white light. Pale walls, the sharp tang of antiseptic, and figures hunched over lifeless forms, taking them apart to learn of their fate.

The thought slipped away before he could pin it down, leaving only a faint image.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Moran asked finally, leaning against the doorframe with his arms and legs crossed in an attempt to look casual.

"Yeah," Aurora replied, curt and to the point. "Yesterday."

Moran shrugged.

"Vestiya told me to come when I had time."

For some reason he felt the need to justify himself, but he tried his best to keep his voice calm.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, angry irritation flickering across her face.

"You have no profession, what could you do thats so important?" She asked, her tone cutting.

The condescension in her tone set Moran’s teeth on edge. He placed a finger at his lips, his eyes wandering to the ceiling in an exaggerated thinking pose.

"Hmm, how about eating the first real meal since I came here? Oh and getting some quite sleep and taking the first bath in over a week."

He said with more venom in his voice then he had intended.

Aurora opened her mouth to no doubt make a cutting remark but closed it a gain before unleashing an annoyed sign and beckoned him closer with a wave of her hand.

"So....hmmmmm....You know what forget it. Come here."

Curiosity eventually won out over sulking, and Moran pushed himself off the doorframe, and did as he was told.

With his own body and clothes being clean Moran was able to smell other people again and thus the musk of death, decay and rot oozing out of the patient behind Aurora and her apron hit him full force.

"Urg," He choked, plucking his nose with his fingers.

This reaction earned him an amused snort.

"Pff, you should have smelled yourself four days ago. Compared to that this is flowery."

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Aurora opened her mouth, ready with what was sure to be a cutting remark, but she stopped herself, letting out an annoyed sigh instead.

She waved him closer with a flick of her hand.

"So... hmm... you know what? Forget it. Come here."

Curiosity eventually won over his irritation, and Moran stepped forward, leaving the doorframe behind.

Now that his own body and clothes were clean, he could smell his surroundings again.

Right now this however was more curse then blessing.

The stench of the room hit him like a brick wall once he fully entered.

It was the unmistakable, gut-churning mix of death, decay, and rot emanating from Aurora's patient as well as her stained apron.

"Ugh," Moran choked, instinctively pinching his nose.

This earned him an amused snort.

"Pfft. You should have smelled yourself four days ago. Compared to that, this is practically flowery."

Before he could retort, she grabbed a brown scarf from the table, one similar to the one she wore, and tossed it at him.

To his own suprise, he managed to catch it.

"Here. That should help."

She adjusted her own scarf, pulling it up over her nose once more.

Moran reluctantly wrapped the scarf around his mouth and nose, surprised to find that the fabric was soaked with some sort of minty-smelling perfume.

It dulled the stench enough for him to breathe without gagging.

The material was suprisingly breathable, while being dense at the same time.

Aurora stared at him, waiting for her reaction.

He gave her a nod, which seemed to satisfy her.

Without a word, she turned back to face the patent lying behind her.

Curious, Moran circled the bed to get a better view that this patient.

He quickly realised that this bed was really a table, and the patient was really a corpse.

So she really was doing an autopsy, he thought, grimacing.

Noticing Moran’s questioning look, Aurora let out a huff and rolled her eyes.

“Since you look like you’re about to ask something stupid, let me save us both the trouble,” she said, gesturing to the corpse on the table. Her voice was muffled by the facbric.

“Our clan is under attack by a foreigner like you," the last word sounded almost like an accusation.

"A very old one. We call him the Alchemist.”

Moran's gaze slid over the body in front of him.

It was a Shapeless without a Heart.

It's a piece of it's scalp was missing, exposing the greyish brain inside.

Next to it, a strange helmet rested on the table.

The thing looked ancient and bulky, shaped like something meant to seal someone’s head entirely.

Multiple tendrils of fabric extended from it like grotesque vines

“That helmet thing... it's capable of animating the dead,” Aurora said, following Moran's eyes.

“The Alchemist likes to turn compses into puppets. It's one of his wicked inventions.”

She nodded towards the body laying between them.

Her voice oozed with spite.

It was clear should she ever get the chance to harm whoever the Alchmist was, the person would not surivie the occasion.

“Dead soldiers." She spit.

"This one was caught by a hunting group yesterday. Her name is ... was Galadia. She went missing four weeks ago and juding from the lack of aura around her body I assume she was dead just as long.”

Moran looked between her and the corpse.

What she said was vile, disgusting and cruel. But also strangely fascinating.

Some kind of morbid curiosity arose in Moran, like a child wanting to poke the dead dog it had found with a stick.

“And you’re trying to figure out how it works?” Trying not to sound too excited Moran spoke very slowly.

His voice was muffled like hers, reverberating in his own ears.

With every word his hot breathe brushed over his cheeks. It was disgusting.

“Obviously,” Aurora said, her eyes tightening.

Moran tilted his head. "And I am assuming you want me to help. Why?"

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the healer said, her voice as dismissive as before.

“You don’t have a profession, you don’t contribute so no other work in the village is paused, and as it is you’re just taking up space and eating up our food. And also...,”

She hesitated, her jaw tightening as if the words physically pained her to say. She took a deep breathe and tried again.

"Your treatment of Vestiya was completely nonsensical, and yet it worked. You clearly have some kind of insight or knowledge on how our bodies work, or at least you act like you do..."

Moran had to supress a smug smirk. It was hard but he did it. Her next words however whiped the upwards twitch of his lips away in an instant.

"My Heartshape allows me to heal bodies, but that's all that I can do. This...,"

She gestured towards the helmet. "Is beyond anything I ever delt with."

Her eyes met his and he found something familiar inside them.

Something he had felt only four days before and was feeling permanently since then,

Frustration, about someones own limits.

Aurora opened her mouth, no doubt to choke out a plea for help but Moran beat her to it.

"So you want a different perspective? Sure, I am in. What are we looking for?"

He asked, leaning forward to bring his eyes on level with fleshy windo into the corpses brain.

Admittedly he didn't like the woman but he understood her emotion and could emphesize.

She felt just as lost as he himself, and he wouldn't make her plea for something he would love to do anyway.

“We need a way to ward them off,” she said finally, her voice heavy with unspoken frustration.

“Or kill them more efficiently. Or…” She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.

“Find a way to make people without Hearts immune to it. We Heartbearers can fight them off as long as we’re not outnumbered, but those without hearts are defenseless. Easy victims."

She sights, rubbing the base of her nose. "We can’t even bury our dead anymore. Burning them is the only option.”

Moran nodded. Assingment understood.

“It doesn’t look like a disease,” he began, running his fingers over the strange tendrils attached to the helmet.

“So I doubt we can vaccinate anyone against it.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow as he leaned closer to the helmet, inspecting it was made of.

Inside the dome’s roof, a small metal plate was smeared with brain matter, the tissue clinging to it like wet ash.

“We can’t make people immune,” Moran tried it in different word, sensing Aurora's confusion.

“but if we understand what this thing is made of… maybe we can find a weaknesses.”

His words trailed off, his thoughts scattering in multiple directions.

Animated corpses.

A metal plate that seemed to have been pulled off the exposed brain.

All he could think of was electricity.

Jolts of current could make a dead limb twitch.

“I’m guessing this whole thing runs on electricity,” he revealed his fist suspicouns, glancing at Aurora.

Her brow furrowed.

“Lightning. You have that here, right? The bright bolts that shoot out of the sky during storms?”

To his surprise, Aurora nodded.

“Yes. Zaspa,one of the Heartbearers, can conjure it. She also said everyone has some lightning inside themselves and that these," She pointed towards the corpse. "Have almost four times as much as normal people, with it mostly concentrated in the helmet. Whatever that means.”

She crossed her arms, her voice growing sharp again.

“But it can’t be enough to make them alive.”

Moran tilted his head, scratching his chin.

"You would be suprised," he said, grabbing the oversized scalpel form the dented metal tray and spun it in his hand.

For some reason it felt familar.