He was incredibly weak, something he never experienced before. But a man had bigger concerns when all that welcomed him from his dreams was the struggle to breathe.

Tiresome coughs brought tears into his eyes, as his throat pained with every movement. But he was awake again.

Carl opened his eyes. He was still in the school infirmary, though the nurses were nowhere to be seen. Only his mother was at his side, sleeping. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were swollen from her crying. Carl might have felt bad, if he had a chance to feel anything at all.

He opted to not feel anything whenever he awoke like this. There was too much to process and he had neither the strength or the will to face it at the moment.

It took his eyes a moment to escape the blur they created through his prolonged sleep. He wiped them clean, but it still took longer than was comfortable. Thankfully, he wasn't blind, his vision looked completely impaired. Unfortunately, that meant that he could see a lot. His hands were bony. His fingers seemed more akin to a skeleton with skin than the form he had before.

He dreaded to look further, so his eyes darted away from himself.

There was one more person in the room. His father. He was asleep too, sitting in an armchair, holding his treasured violin in his hands.

Carl gulped painfully at the sight of his favored musical instrument. He instinctively grabbed his throat in the pain. It was...wrong. It had big bumps were it should have been smooth, it was slimy and wet where his skin was always mostly dry.

The feelings that he kept bottling up started to overflow.

The memory of him singing quietly in his room, scared to be found by his warrior father.

The instrument that his father showed him, proud to share the same passion as his son. The joy that Carl felt when they first sang together.

The moment when his grandfather interrupted their session...

As his tears escaped his fickle grasp on his emotions, his father opened his eyes. He stood up and looked at his son, concern on his face.

Carl opened his mouth, he wanted to say how scared he was, how much it hurt. How he regretted the decision his grandfather forced him into. He wanted to say that his father was right, that he should have pursued what gave him the happiness in his life.

Instead, he let out a raspy croak.

Carl averted his eyes to his hands again. He took his blanket and threw it on the ground.

He was so thin. He wasn't this thin even as a child. His ribs were almost protruding from his body, only his skin keeping them from escaping. His stomach was deep. He would have been happy to lose some of his weight once...once. There was so little of him, so little and yet his legs might not have been able to carry it.

Now, he was scared that maybe there was nothing left of him. Nothing to recognize him by.

His father's eyes watered in a reflection of Carl's. He hefted his instrument at his shoulder and played the song that Carl loved most. It was a serene, yet sorrowful piece.

Carl tried as hard as he could but he did not hear the song. He didn't even notice how hollow he felt. Maybe he forgot he could have felt anything at all.

All he could do, was look at those bony hands.

They were following them for the better part of the last two months. Wherever they walked through, they left enough clues to lead Gavin and Captain Hank on.

Honestly, Gavin started to suspect that it was all planned by Cormac. That he wanted them to continue to follow. They were always just a village away, a mountain hike before them, on the other side of the lake.

Even now, Cormac mocked Gavin. The confusion and hatred gave way to wrath.

On most days, Gavin could only think of ways that they might execute Cormac once they found him. He dreamed of all the things he might be allowed to do, if Cormac didn't come clean. If he got to...interrogate him. Gavin instinctively licked his lips.

They tracked the pair to a yet another village. Gavin would have enjoyed being in such familiar settings, would he not be on a hunt. The way they were going though? He might have actually visited home. He wondered if the girl he used to think about still lived there. It was a long, long time since he was in Ingluvies, he would enjoy going there after he caught the murderer.

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His captain finally woke up and walked out of their tent. Gavin already prepared the coffee and some easy breakfast for him.

"Please captain," he motioned at the food near the bench. "I have scouted a little further, we will have a hike before us again. You need the strength."

"I already told you, just call me Hank when its only the two of us."

"Yes cap...Hank. I will try to keep that in my mind." he said, picking a plate for himself as well.

Hank let out a grunt as he stretched before sitting down at the makeshift table.

"Hike you said?" Hank stuffed his cheeks with bread.

"Unfortunately yes, they crossed another mountain pass again."

"How can you be so sure? We saw some signs before, but it's been dead dry for some time now."

"I am a wizard, don't forget."

"Sure," replied Hank, a few berries escaping the confines of his mouth. "How does that exactly work if you don't mind me askin'. Cuz all I see is you walking like a dog sniffing the ground."

"It is surprisingly similar actually. I just follow the thread that seems...touched? Yeah, lets go with that. Touched by Cormac and Aviana."

All Gavin received as a reply was a very confused captain, so he continued, even though he explained this precisely three times already.

"Imagine it like this. All you see here, around you, you, me, we are like a big giant tapestry. And magic is manipulating that tapestry. Maybe you combine a few threads to make a fire, maybe you shape them into a...flask? There is a lot of things you could do with it."

"So you see their thread?"

"I don't see anything. Who knows what I would be capable of if I could. Unfortunately, I have to go by instinct. Like all wizards. Even you could theoretically do magic. It is just very reliant on the instinct. On a gut feeling you could say."

"Ok, I know of those."

"I know you do Hank, but I still disagree." countered Gavin, already aware of were the conversation was heading.

"He really doesn't seem all that bad Gavin. You heard all the people we talked to over the pursuit. They sang nothing but praises." Hank gently put his food on the table and peered at the young man's eyes. "I don't doubt what you saw, nor do I think you are a liar. But maybe there is more to it. You said it yourself, magic is instinct. I have my instincts too and they are flaring about this whole thing. Saying that its wrong."

"Even if that was true." cut Gavin into it. "Their testimony would still help us. They seem to be walking with purpose, you can't tell me you don't see that."

"Almost there..." gruntled Cormac as he finally conquered the little mountain. The air was fresh and his victory flowed joyfully through his veins.

Aviana was - of course - already waiting at the top of the mountain. Cormac's physique improved greatly during their travels. Not only did he walk all day everyday, he also trained with Aviana in the mornings and evenings.

It was...astonishing. For once in his life, he felt like he was making progress.

It started with little things. First, Aviana taught him discipline, that things don't change nearly as fast as one would want them to. She praised him for training even though he was getting nowhere. Suddenly though, he was starting to improve.

Now, after more than a month of training, he never really lost his breath when running anymore. He even put on a little muscle. It was motivating.

But still, Aviana was at the top first.

"What are you doing back there, slowpoke?"

"Looking for all the stuff that must have fallen from your backpack."

"Hey! That was just that one time!"

"Yes, but it was everything from the backpack."

"They were on our heels! I had to run!"

"Yeah, yeah."

She gently bumped his shoulder with her fist with a giggle.

"Look. Do you see it?" she gestured over the view. Cormac saw his fair share of views during their travels and this one was...okay? Nothing great, but definitely not bad. He was searching for a while before Aviana grunted and pointed towards behind one of the hills. Cormac looked over there, searching in between the trees, but he couldn't see anything special. There was a forest, a body of water, a few other...hills. A lake...that was...

"Salvatoris?" he quickly turned to Aviana. Excitement all over his face.

She nodded in agreement, grinning like an idiot. Then they both erupted into cheers.

They were searching for so long and walked through so many dead ends, they though they would never find the place.

In the joyful moment, Aviana hugged Cormac and he embraced her back quickly. The rush of new, beautiful emotions overtook him. They parted, but only to look at each other again, when Cormac got closer again...and Aviana took a step back.

"I uh." coughed out Cormac. "Sorry."

"No, I am sorry. I didn't mean to... you know? But it's just...you know?"

"Yeah, yeah. No worries. I was just..." Cormac straightened his back and the straps of the pack. Than he took a deep breath and calmed down. "So, are we going?"

"Yes, yes. Lets go." she replied, her face still hot.

The sun had yet to come over the hills in the distance, but the first rays seemed to illuminate their path. The path, to Ingluvies. He was incredibly weak, something he never experienced before. But a man had bigger concerns when all that welcomed him from his dreams was the struggle to breathe.