Adrian and Galtier stopped in front of a modest house. Ivy crept along the stone walls, and flower boxes brimming with vibrant blooms added a touch of warmth to the scene. Though for some odd reason, the air here felt heavy, slightly suffocating even.

Adrian glanced at Galtier beside him. “Is this your home?”

Galtier shook his head slowly, the metal of his armor barely creaking with the movement. “No. It belongs to my sister.”

“Are you sure you want me to go in? You mentioned your sister’s condition. I don’t want to intrude.”

“It is better for you to see, Adrian. There is a reason I brought you here now.”

Galtier led Adrian inside, pushing open the heavy wooden door. Adrian’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior, expecting to find signs of neglect and decay. Instead, he was met with an environment that was very well put together: a clean floor, surfaces dusted, and simple but well-kept furnishings.

Adrian took in the surroundings with a mixture of surprise and admiration. “You keep this place in good shape."

Galtier’s armor clinked softly as he shook his head. “Not by my hands. I hire help. They clean and tend to what they can. I tell them little of my sister.”

It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a plain door at the end of the hallway that Adrian felt a chill run down his spine. A sense of wrongness pressed against him, sending his senses on edge. There must be something unsettling inside of that room.

“Should I expect the worst when you open that door?" Adrian asked.

“Indeed, be ready.”

Adrian’s throat tightened, but he nodded. When the door opened, a wave of frigid air greeted him, carrying with it an oppressive energy.

Inside the room, a woman sat in a carved wooden chair, hands folded in her lap. Her skin was ghostly pale, devoid of warmth or life, and her long hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall of white. Bloodshot red eyes turned toward him, and strange, intricate markings crawled across her body. Adrian’s gaze eventually caught on her forehead, where a symbol pulsed with a malevolent light: an eye weeping bloody tears.

Shock punched through him. “That mark… it’s the same as yours during the dawnshade gathering.”

Galtier’s helm tilted, as if observing Adrian more closely. “Does it remind you of anything else?”

“It does, but what exactly are you getting at?”

“Tell me, have you encountered figures wearing masks that cry bloody tears?”

Adrian exhaled slowly, the memory of fire and pain fresh in his mind. “Yes. Recently. One of them… detonated himself."

Galtier nodded, as if confirming something to himself. “I thought as much.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward his sister. “Take a closer look, see what has been done to her.”

Adrian approached cautiously, each step heavy with apprehension. The woman’s eyes met his, and though they were bloodshot and unblinking, they held a flicker of pain, recognition, or perhaps a deep sorrow.

He knelt beside Galtier’s sister, studying the glowing, sinuous markings that crisscrossed her pale skin. The symbol on her forehead pulsed faintly, almost as if aware of his presence. He glanced back at Galtier, who stood motionless.

“Have you used the Dawnshade to try and cure the curse?” Adrian asked.

Galtier’s head shifted slightly. “No, I never intended to make a cure with it. The herbs were to be traded for a possible remedy.”

Adrian frowned, frustration clawing at him. “Do you think it will work?”

Silence stretched between them. Galtier’s posture stiffened, and he seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I don’t, truthfully, I have tried everything. Potions, enchantments, rituals I dare not speak of. Each one failed, but what choice do I have?"

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Desperation can drive people to drastic measures, Adrian thought. He stood, resolve hardening within him. “May I try something? I’d like to bring a small flame to her forehead.”

“And what sort of request is that?”

“Not just any flame. I plan on using my blue flames. When you… lost control last time, I noticed the flames affected your mark, even if only for a moment. When the mark disappeared, you returned to yourself.”

The silence stretched once more, and for a moment, Adrian worried he had overstepped. Finally, Galtier inclined his head. “If you believe it may give my sister a chance, you have my permission."

"Thanks, I'll do my best. And don't worry, I'll stop if things look like they're going south."

Adrian drew in a deep, steadying breath, feeling the air burn slightly in his lungs. He lifted his right hand, focusing until a small, bluish flame flickered to life at the tip of his index finger. The fire danced with a faint hum of energy, casting a cold light over the room. Stepping closer, his gaze fixed on Galtier’s sister. I have to be careful. One wrong move could make everything worse.

He leaned in, inching the flame closer to the dark symbol etched on her forehead. The mark responded almost immediately, releasing a hiss of steam and exhaling tendrils of dark, wispy vapor. The stench of burning air mingled with an acrid, metallic tang that made Adrian’s stomach churn. This corruption runs deep.

The markings across her skin twisted and writhed as if alive, and her bloodshot eyes snapped wide open, filled with pain and horror. A bone-chilling screech tore from her throat, reverberating off the walls with a force that made Adrian’s chest tighten. She thrashed violently, limbs jerking with a strength that defied her frail appearance. Shadows writhed along her body, clawing at the air as if to lash out.

Adrian’s pulse hammered in his ears. No… this isn’t right. “That's… enough."

He pulled his hand back quickly, extinguishing the flame in an instant. The room dimmed, shadows closing in once more. “I’m sorry, I pushed too far.”

Galtier met Adrian’s gaze with a somber nod. “It’s fine, you did what you could.”

He stepped forward between Adrian and the still-twitching form of his sister. Slowly, her movements ceased, and she fell into a dormant state once more, her breathing shallow but even.

Meanwhile, Adrian steadied himself, exhaling the tension that still coursed through his body. His hands shook slightly, the memory of Galtier’s sister’s tortured cries echoing in his mind. He met the hollow gaze of the armored knight, searching for words that might offer comfort but finding none.

Instead, he forced himself to speak. “Are the masked figures who attacked me, the same ones who cursed you and your sister?”

Galtier’s armored form went rigid, the air around him charged with the weight of bitterness that had festered for far too long. “You are correct, Adrian. They are known as the Mourne.”

The words struck Adrian like a physical blow, fury roaring through him with such intensity that it felt as though molten fire coursed beneath his skin. Pain lanced through his skull, sharp and relentless. The Mourne.

His mind fractured with a surge of memories: visions of burning villages, flames devouring homes, and people’s screams echoing into the night. Towns reduced to smoldering ash, cities crumbling under waves of merciless destruction. And everywhere, in every vision, that accursed mark loomed, eyes that wept crimson tears, mocking and unyielding.

Metal hands soon clamped down on his shoulders, anchoring him against the storm raging inside. “Are you all right, Adrian?”

Adrian forced himself to breathe, each gasp drawing him further from the brink. “I’m… fine."

He clenched his jaw, willing his body to obey. “But I need to know more about them. The Mourne.”

Galtier’s grip on Adrian’s shoulders tightened momentarily before he released him. “They are a secretive organization. Even after years of trying to track them down, I know little. What I do know is this: they have a strong presence in the criminal underworld."

“Do they have connections to bandits? Or mercenaries?”

“Absolutely. Do you remember the Crimson Vipers? The bandits who ambushed us in the forest? They are among their pawns.”

“The Vipers sold both me and my sister to the Mourne, we were meant to be slaves I believe."

Adrian’s fists clenched until his nails bit into his palms. “How did you escape?”

The knight’s gaze turned inward, as if reliving each moment of their torment. “They did all sorts of experiments on us. With me specifically, the Mourne managed to bind my soul to this accursed armor. Luckily, there was one day when their watch was weaker than usual, and I managed to break free and bring my sister with me… for all it's worth."

"I… I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine, the past is over. Now, I must continue to look to the future for answers."

“In that case, do you have any leads? Anyone who might know more about the Mourne?”

Galtier’s helm tilted slightly, the darkness within impenetrable. He shook his head slowly, the motion deliberate, a testament to the frustration that gnawed at him. “If I had such leads, I would have pursued them long ago."

Adrian crossed his arms, brow furrowed in thought. “Then we’ll have to be patient. We’ll keep moving, stay alert, and follow any lead that might appear.”

Galtier inclined his head. "If either of us finds a thread worth following, we share it. But for now, let's keep all of this between us.”

Adrian nodded. “Agreed."