Gray dawn replaced the night like ink being washed out from a used palimpsest. The rustle of raindrops over the tiled roofs enveloped the temple complex like a silken shroud, cutting it off from the rest of the mortal world. The drizzle gathered in the grooves between the cracked stones and deformed metal supports before streaming down from the damaged ceiling of the cathedral. The monotonous droning of the waterfall echoed throughout the empty hall akin to an otherworldly ison, mixing with the funeral psalms that rang under the old vaults. The mourning chants permeated the temple, reaching even the most remote corners.

Death had spread its wings over the holy grounds.

The cloth covering Lorelei’s mouth made her strained breathing even heavier. Despite the sweat trickling under her habit’s hood and running down her shoulder blades, her whole body shivered. Her gloved hand picked the end of the blanket, pulling it over the distorted, bloody face.

“The third one in six days.” The muffled voice of Bishop Petronius reached her like through a cotton wall. “Did he show any symptoms this time?”

All she could do was shake her head in response.

Just like the novice girl, the Red Plague’s victims had died suddenly, drowning in their own blood. For now, the deaths were amongst the heavily injured from the steeple’s collapse but it was only a matter of time before even the strongest amongst the knights and priests fell victim to the insidious disease. And she was helpless to prevent this from happening.

Closing her eyes, Lorelei searched in her memory for a hint. A book she had read. A teaching of Master Levi that could give her a clue on how to cure the Red Plague. Was there something among the Binshi medicines or rituals that they could use? Maybe if there was, she could convince Bishop Petronius to let Rasha out of her prison to help them.

Alas, it was all wishful thinking. And the more she strained her mind to find a solution, the emptier her head felt.

Next to her, the old priest began to chant quietly.

“May Father Norn reshape his remains into a new, glorious form.” His tone was as leveled and matter-of-factly like he was holding the daily sermon. “May Father Lustris accept his soul amongst the blessed spirits. May this earthly dwelling be cleansed from the miasma of sickness and decay. Lux-Nostris!”

“Lux-Nostris,” whispered Lorelei languidly.

Silence fell over the large hall and only the slight rustling of the linen curtains separating the patients’ beds could be heard. With a lot of effort, Lorelei managed to squeeze out of her throat:

“I’ll send Bessie to call the Infirmarian’s apprentices to sew the blankets and take the body to be burned.”

“Do so.” Bishop Petronius lifted the linen curtain and stepped to the side, making way for Lorelei to exit the small, makeshift cubicle. “It seems that House Orten has been blessed by the Fathers with compassion. Your Highness’ sister has done us a favor, graciously lending us her personal maid in these difficult times.”

“We all do what we can to help.” Lorelei was grateful for the veil hiding her sour expression. She wouldn’t believe even in a million years that her sister would do something like this out of the goodness of her heart. But despite her misgivings about Pricilla’s intentions, it was true that Bessie had turned out to be a big help in taking care of the patients.

Lorelei snaked her way on the narrow path dividing the two packed rows of linen cubicles and the bishop followed behind. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she mused for a moment how mutual adversity could bring upon unexpected miracles. If the two of them could put aside their grievances, maybe it wasn’t as impossible for Binshi and Limerians to find a common path as the Church believed. Under other circumstances, she would have liked to renew her discussion with Bishop Petronius but both of them couldn’t afford such a distraction right now.

Closing her eyes and exhaling, Lorelei willed herself to concentrate on her task. She dove into another cubicle, this one occupied by a nice old lady who had both her legs broken from the spire’s falling debris.

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What welcomed her was a guttural shriek and a pair of bulging eyes peeking from between a nest of messy hair.

“No! No! Don’t come! I ain’t sick! Begone, demons! You won’t have me!”

“Calm down, Madame Gilbert.” Lorelei rushed to her cot, trying to placate the terrified woman. “You know me. I am-”

“I know you! Demon! Death! No! Stay away from me! You won’t have me!”

“My child, take a deep breath.” Bishop Petronius leaned in and spoke to Madam Gilbert in an unusually gentle tone. “Everything will be-”

Before Lorelei and the priest could react, the woman threw herself at them and started clawing at them like a wild beast.

“You think you can hide behind a veil?” she screeched and tore the covering from Lorelei’s face. “I know you. I recognize your steps. Your stench in the air. I’ve heard the rustling of your skirts. Last night. The nights before. You are Death. You are here for me too. Just like them. But you won’t get me! I won’t die!”

Screaming her lungs out, the old woman spat in Lorelei’s face before returning to her kicking and scratching spree.

Time stopped.

Lorelei stood petrified, her eyes - staring blankly at Bishop Petronius who was trying to subdue the struggling woman. His own veil hung torn alongside his right cheek. She saw his lips move as he shouted for help, but no sound could penetrate her ears. Someone pushed her to the side and her nose was filled with the dreadfully familiar smell of herbs and walnuts. In a second, nightmares and reality overlapped and her heart was locked in a painful spasm.

She heaved and coughed. Her knees gave out and she crashed to the ground. Her ears rang with the scream of the dhrowghost. She felt its touch again - the cold and unyielding grip of death and desolation.

“N-no!” she muttered. “N-no, please…”

She saw the silver mask of Master Argente. His fingers dug into her shoulders.

“Duchess! Come to your senses!”

Lorelei blinked and in place of the silver mask, the bloodless face of Bishop Petronius reappeared. Behind him, she recognized the silhouettes of Bessie and one of the infirmarian’s apprentices who were fighting to subdue the hysteric Madam Gilbert.

“Your Highness!?” The bishop pulled her up and steadied her body. “Let us get out of here first. You two, tie her up and find a calming potion to give her.”

After barking his orders, the priest dragged Lorelei out of the cubicle and guided her to a small door at the far end of the main infirmary hall. As the two entered the room, they were engulfed by the aroma of drying herbs and the pungent smell of medicine.

Putting Lorelei to sit on a low stool, the old man leaned over her.

“She spat at you, didn’t she?” His voice was full of dread.

“She missed.” The lie rolled off of Lorelei’s tongue before she could formulate any other thought.

The bishop looked at her with some doubt. He stood up and fetched a cup and a bottle of strong wine. Pouring in some of the alcohol, he took out an ornate dagger and slit the tip of his thumb.

“It might not work, but better safe than sorry,” he said, letting several scarlet drops fall into the cup. “My blood still carries the blessing of Saint Emina.”

He handed Lorelei the wine. She rewarded him with an empty look.

“Forgive me, but you need to drink it all.”

Lorelei took the cup from him and gazed into its red depths.

“I have a feeling that I’m becoming more of a bloodsucker than the Binshi from the folktales,” she whispered.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing.” She downed the wine in three big gulps.

“You… did good,” he said, trying to prevent his eyebrows from going up. “Your Highness should now best return to your quarters and I’ll report to the Duke.”

“No. I’ll give him the report.”

“I can’t allow that! If you were infected-”

“I wasn’t.” Lorelei stood up and handed him back the cup. “Madam Gilbert was scared and hysterical, but these are not symptoms of the Red Plague. Besides, if I have no physical contact with the Duke and wear a fresh veil, and gloves, there will be virtually no chance of transferring the disease should I be infected. And I’m not.”

Bishop Petronius stared at her, but Lorelei rewarded him with a glare just as stubborn. After a couple of silent minutes, the man nodded stiffly and handed her a fresh piece of linen to cover her face.