Nalion was absolutely delighted. They had managed to find several herbs from his list and his backpack was now packed to the brim with freshly picked plants. They would be a great help with his spells, as some required a specific type of plant which the spell then consumed. This was particularly important when it came to the more advanced healing spells, in case he’d ever need to heal something more strenuous than simple cuts and bruises. He hummed an ancient elven melody under his breath, thinking about the old leather book safely stashed at the bottom of his backpack.

He’d been thinking about the book a lot lately, spending nearly all his free time pouring over its pages. He couldn’t understand anything of what was written within. He was quite unsure if it was written in another language or perhaps some kind of code. Regardless, he was determined to find out. Something about the book was drawing him to it. Even when he’d first laid eyes on it, he had felt compelled to pick it up. Must be some kind of sixth sense thing. He was a man of science, of logic and rationale, but not too narrow minded that he couldn’t admit the role instinct could play.

Nalion was sure once he could read the book he would find something of value hidden inside, maybe even something to help with his quest. He would exhaust all and every possible source of information to find the “willing blood of the Maker”, “the first poison” as well as where to find “the eye of the world”. He’d do it, he had to. There was no other choice, no other possibility.

Nalion was brought out of his thoughts by a salty, fishy smell drifting up his nostrils. He frowned slightly. That’s weird. Some animal had probably grabbed a fish out of some pond and left some of it uneaten nearby. Yeah. That must be it. Even as the scent began to fade, it had still been enough to bring him back to the present.

John was walking ahead, dry branches crunching under his boots as the human didn’t seem to care whether they were heard or not. He also kept chatting as he went. Nalion hadn’t realized the hunter was speaking, yet John appeared perfectly content to just talk by himself. Now that he thought about it, Hama was also a bit chatty sometimes. He wondered silently if this was an inherently human quality. Or perhaps simply something that depended on the individual. He’d need more data before he could support either hypothesis.

When they stepped out of the forest Nalion’s spirit was high. It changed quickly as some loud noises reached them, coming from one of the houses near John. It almost sounded like… A fight? A not-so-much-yelling-more-stabby-stab kind of fight to be precise. They looked at each other, alarmed, and hurried towards one of John's neighbors houses where the sounds were coming from. The door was swung ajar, almost violently so. Nalion blinked. Then all of a sudden a gray rat ran out of the open door with great speed, as if its very life depended on it.

They were nearly at the house, when a blood curdling scream pierced the air. For a moment Nalion was unable to move, as if frozen or paralyzed. All he could think was that it sounded a lot like Hama. It took a while for his feet to remember how to move again. As he regained control over them he ran as fast as he could. He stepped inside, only to be confronted by chaos.

Hama was lying slumped in a corner, clutching their shoulder. Their eyes were tightly shut and their features were twisted in pain. There was some bright red blood gushing out from underneath Hama’s hand, dripping on their leg. On the floor in front of Hama was an ugly creature. It resembled a somewhat deformed human with long sharp, yellow and pointy teeth. The creature's tongue was lolling out of its snout as blood oozed out of the several lacerations on its fur-covered body.

It seemed to be dead, or at the very least unconscious and dying. On the other side of the room there were three other dead or dying rat creatures. As well as Erevan. The ranger was clenching his teeth as a pitchfork held by yet another rat creature impaled his abdomen. Nalion didn’t even have time to react or be shocked by this by the time Erevan had returned the favor with his shortswords.

Nalion wanted to grab his head, tug his hair and scream. Or faint. He turned his back for the briefest of moments and his companions were instantly getting themselves killed.

Inhaling shakily, he sprung into action. He slung his backpack in front of himself even as a cold, paralyzing fear swirled in his stomach. He was so scared. More scared than he’d ever been before. He trusted that John could take care of the last, severely injured rat creature as he shifted his attention to the contents inside the bag. Nalion urgently rummaged through it, looking for a specific plant. Come on now, come on… THERE!

He briefly held it up in triumph, then turned his worried gaze towards Hama and Erevan.

A quick calculation resulted in the resounding fact that Erevan was in more dire need of medical attention. The stoic ranger's face was pale and drawn, his whole body swaying slightly as blood began pooling by his feet. Nalion hurried to his side and began casting the most advanced healing spell he knew. He would be drained after this, but it would be worth it if he could save the duo. He closed his eyes with trepidation, trying to remember his lessons. He had never needed to heal wounds this bad.

The worst ones so far had been small, stray animals with broken limbs he’d encountered in the woods. His hands were shaking. They were quickly stained with sticky, red blood as he laid them on Erevans body and began chanting the words he’d memorized a long time ago.

Whilst persevering with the chanting he silently thanked all the gods as the wounds slowly began to close in tandem as his energy seeped. There, good enough. It wasn’t fully healed, it would still be tender and sore for a day or two and it would scar. But Erevan would be alright.

Nalion snapped his head towards Hama. They gave him a pained wave on the uninjured side, wincing afterwards. He stood up, feeling a bit dizzy but walking through it. His patient was waiting. He gently lifted Hama’s hand, which was currently covering the wound, in order to examine it closer. It didn’t take long for him to deduce that it was a bite mark. The skin was already red and puffy around it as if it was getting infected.

Which it shouldn’t be, not yet. Not this fast. He repeated the spell. As his energy waned he noticed in growing trepidation how it did not work the same way it had with Erevan. The physical wound was healing, as was evident by it no longer bleeding, but the mark remained red and puffy. It wasn’t helping anymore. He stopped his chanting and carefully poked at the bite.

“Ow, dude what the hell,” Hama hissed, face still twisted. So it was still painful as well. Nalion’s worry increased. It was bad. This was beyond his capabilities.

He pulled back, opting to sit down before he fell as faint black spots began dancing in his vision. Pressing his llips thinly together he leveled a serious stare on the duo. At least they had the decency to look ashamed. He presumed. His vision was still a little blurry.

“What were you thinking!?! You could have died, why didn’t you wait for us!? It was so reckless!” Nalion exclaimed, letting his worry color his words. It had been a close call. If they’d been in the forest a bit longer, maybe he would have been greeted by corpses instead. Hama might still become one, if they didn’t figure out how to fully heal the bite. Nalion’s stomach twisted, the cold fear morphing into anxiety. His bloodcovered hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

Erevan looked away, clearly sheepish. If the situation hadn’t been so grave, Nalion might have chuckled at the role reversal. Instead he glared at the others while trying to calm down himself. Deep breaths. Focus on the feeling of your body rooting you to the ground. His eyes briefly fluttered close as he exhaled, sluggishly opening again as he continued:

“Whatever has happened, I couldn’t fully heal the bite. I don’t know why, but you’re going to need help Hama. More than what I can offer.”

Hama made a face, possibly a grimace.

“We should get going immediately, I don’t know how much time we have,” Nalion added.

Erevan walked over to Hama, offering a hand. Hama took it without hesitation and Erevan proceeded to yank them on their feet in a rare demonstration of solidarity. Then the ranger repeated the gesture to Nalion himself. Thankful for the help, he let Erevan pull him up. The world spun around him for a moment. With the steadying hand of Erevan, however, he quickly regained his balance. The blurriness of everything had yet to abate.It probably wouldn’t until he got some actual rest.

“We better get going then,” said Erevan gruffly as he let go. Nalion strained his eyes as he willed his body to focus on the ranger. His gaze was steely and steady, not reflecting the inner panic that Nalion was still grappling with.

The trio hastily bid farewell to poor, shocked John and began making their way out of the village as fast as they could. Hama kept clutching their shoulder, grimacing and walking slowly as if in pain. Which was probably true. It was very anxiety-inducing. What if there was nothing that could be done? What if something could be done but they’d be too late? Who should they even contact about this? Should he try to write to Master Tathallan?

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

By the time they reached the forest Nalion was still stuck catastrophic-thinking, his thoughts becoming more and more frantic. For once there was no room left in his mind to try to solve the mystery of the book.

As they walked on he could all of a sudden see two figures that were nearing them in the woods. Erevan seemed to have seen them a while ago, based on the distrustful-yet-probably-not-quite-hostile glare the ranger shot their way. And the fact that they were already surprisingly close.

One of the newcomers was sitting on top of a large black horse and the other one was on foot. Soon Nalion realized that the person riding was indeed the very same warrior priest who had originally sent them here. Good thing they were close or he might not have recognized the priest. The other was a stranger.

As they were drawing nearer, he could see the stranger with more clarity. He was dressed finely, reminding Nalion of the mayor's clothes. That probably meant that he was rich, or from a rich family. His skin was a noticeably darker shade than the priests. Or Hamas. Or Erevans for that matter. The stranger's blond hair was in stark contrast with the color of his skin. The ends of the strands reached the human’s jaw, the hair neatly kept and cascading down in wavy curls.

The reason Nalion could be fairly certain that this was indeed a human male was the well groomed and short-clipped goatee on his chin. Despite the small beard, the stranger's face betrayed his young age through the faint boyishness of some of his features. Almost as if some sliver of baby fat was still clinging to his cheeks. Which made him look young. Really young. Or, that was at least how Nalion felt. But then again all humans were very young compared to him.

The priest's features morphed into some kind of emotion as he took in the state the trio, or most likely Hama, was in.

“You’re injured,” he stated, eyes roaming over them in search of more bodily trauma. “Tell me what happened.”

Nalion carefully lowered himself down on the cool grass. He listened patiently as Hama slowly began recounting the events after they had split up, with Erevan sometimes emphasizing a point with a few words or a grunt. Most of what was said flew past him, though he did his best to follow the story.

The priest's facial expression remained the same, until the duo started to describe the room underneath the house and then the rat people. It was disturbing enough to penetrate the tired fog enveloping him. They had apparently been looking like actual humans, before transforming into giant rat-like beasts in front of their very eyes. One of them, John's neighbor Amelia, had turned into an actual rat-sized rat. Nalion thought of the gray rat he’d seen madly dashing from the house.

“They sound like lycantropies, in this case I’d guess were-rats. And you were bitten by one, it is no wonder it gives you trouble. This is quite a serious matter,” the priest paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in for a moment. “Without care, if my suspicions are correct, their curse will take a hold of you too. It is a matter of time before you shall be turned into one of them. Fortunately I have colleagues at the capitol who can heal you with the help of the mages, but we’ll need to get there fast. Before the transformation takes place for the first time.”

The anxiety kept merrily swirling around in Nalion’s stomach as a touch of guilt joined in. He couldn’t help but partly blame himself. Maybe he could’ve stopped this, if he hadn’t gone herb-picking with John. If he’d just stayed with his companions. Or been better at breaking curses. What if he’d made it worse by closing up the wound?

The priest turned to look at him and Erevan. “I can take your friend, my horse can carry us both. We should be able to make it in time if we take minimal breaks. However, I was on my way to the town of Yolkshire. They are running out of food, but have devised a solution. One that was deemed too dangerous for the townsfolk to depart on. I humbly ask that you will help me with this as I help you friend. My travel companion can follow you, he has expressed the will to help with what he can.”

It showed how worried Erevan must have been as well as he did not make a move to correct the priest’s assumption that they were friends. Or maybe that meant that they were friends? That would be nice.

“As long as you’re prepared to pay, their expertise doesn’t come cheap,” Hama rasped, gray eyes twinkling despite the somber mood.

Nalion didn’t quite trust his voice so he settled on an unsteady nod instead, effectively ignoring Hamas words and making the world spin a little again. Erevan chose another path and turned to glare at the stranger standing next to the priest who was listening in on the conversation. Meanwhile, the large human seemed to accept Hamas premises as he helped the latter on top of his horse. He then bent over as he gave a map to Nalion with Yolkshires location clearly marked.

“Then I bid you farewell, and good luck in your endeavors. I hope we can meet at the capitol later on. May the Maker’s will be with you.”

And then they were off. Nalion stared after them until they disappeared behind the trees.

Taking this to be his cue, the young human gave a slight bow to their direction. “My name is Ilias of House Westley. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a strange look on his face as his eyes flicked over towards him still sitting on the grass. Nalion was too tired to even begin to try to puzzle out its intended meaning.

He could only manage a weak, “Nalion”, as Erevan intensified his glare. Something flashed across Ilias’ face, though it happened so fast Nalion wasn’t sure if he’d just imagined the whole thing. The silence drew on and the trio stared at each other awkwardly. After some time Erevan sighed, features softening for a moment as he glanced at Nalion before hardening again as the ranger looked at Ilias.

“Erevan,” the ranger grunted and then continued, “You should probably run off home to your parents and leave the work to professionals.”

“I may be younger than you, but that’s probably true to most people,” Ilias countered amicably, an easy smile still on his lips. “Last I checked, 18 was legally an adult. And is three not better than two?”

“Besides,” and then Nalion could see a spark of eerie light blue, the color almost unnatural in it’s hue, twinkling in the human’s iris’ at the same time as he heard a voice speaking within his mind, ‘I do have a trick or two up my sleeves that could be useful.’

Ilias’ lips made no movement even though Nalion was fairly certain that the voice had been his. His earlier trepidation and weariness gave room to fascination as it happened. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He had never encountered magic like this before. Imagine the research possibilities! He could be on the verge of new discoveries, new ways to further develop magic and its many uses! He opened his mouth to fire a dozen questions about Ilias’ magic, but was interrupted by a sudden movement from Erevan.

In a blink of an eye the seasoned ranger advanced with more speed than Nalion would have thought possible, considering the wounds he’d suffered so recently. As his mind played catch-up, Erevan had already expertly pinned the young mage against a nearby birch. The blade of a presumably-sharp knife glinted as it was held in a steady grip, pressing on the delicate skin of the human's throat. Erevan’s other forearm blocked Ilias’s chest, effectively keeping him in place.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head,” the crossed ranger threatened slowly with a low, deep rumble. A sneer twisted Erevan’s face as his jaw closed tightly, nostrils flaring in anger.

The human’s now-completely-dark-brown eyes had widened in alarm. He stayed very still, not resisting, which was probably the best decision he’d done all day. “I -, I was never in…”

Worried that Erevan might not be seeing things clearly at the moment, Nalion shouted a weak “Don’t stab him!” while trying to get up on his wobbly feet. He really didn’t think Ilias had had any ill intent.

Erevan let out a growl as he pushed himself off of Ilias, shooting a final warning glare at the young mage’s direction. The fuming ranger turned with a huff and stalked his way to Nalion. He was roughly pulled up. Then Erevan wrenched the map out of the elfs grasp with a bit more force than necessary before continuing to walk in long steps. Nalion needed to speed up to a half jog in order to keep up with the pace. Or he would have, if the black spots hadn’t made a reappearance as he staggered forward as quickly as he could. He almost did a nosedive. Though Erevan was nice enough to stop his fall.

The still-furious-but-based-on-recent-evidence-probably-not-angry-with-him ranger made sure that Nalion was steady on his feet, giving him an incomprehensible look, before stomping away again. Nalion offered a weary and sheepish smile to Ilias while he swayed slightly in a particularly vicious gust of wind. The young mage had yet to move from the tree. Gesturing for the human to follow, Nalion turned towards Erevan’s retreating form. The ranger would mellow out with time.

Ilias seemed to hesitate, but then hurried up to a brisk walk by his side. He then silently offered his arm to help Nalion stay on his feet, which the drained elf accepted gratefully.

“Are you alright?” the young mage asked softly with a low voice.

“Just exhausted. I’ll be better after some rest,” Nalion answered honestly.

The human nodded, and they started to walk after Erevan.

“I swear I was never in your heads, or reading your minds. And I do have a permit so you do not have to worry about that. I promise, it was just telepathy,” Ilias said after a while.

“How did you do that?”

“It’s magic,” the young mage answered with a smile whilst gently wiggling his eyebrows.

“But not just any magic. I would know since I have been practicing and researching it for a while. Or, well, what must be a long time for you humans.”

“So you are an elf?” Ilias said with what seemed like wonder in his voice. Nalion nodded. “And Erevan is your Keeper?”

At the mention of his name Erevan’s head whipped around, his brown hair getting in his eyes as he scowled at Ilias. The young mage flashed a small smile towards the bristling ranger. Erevan huffed, rather unkindly, and continued brooding as he led the way.

“What’s a Keeper?” Nalion questioned, practically vibrating with curiosity despite the state he was in.

Ilias turned towards Nalion, some kind of emotional expression on his face. “You don’t know what a Keeper is? And you’re a mage? At least tell me you have a permit.”

Now Nalion was confused. What would he need a permit for? Maybe it had been illegal to gather the herbs. But how did this human know that he’d been gathering herbs in the first place?

“What kind of permit?”

The human looked at him as if he’d just sprouted a second head. A head that was screaming particularly unsavory obscenities.

“A permit to practice magic without the supervision of a Keeper,” he stated, speaking slowly and taking care to properly enunciate each word, as if Nalion was not very bright or possibly hard of hearing.

Nalions eyebrows shot up. This was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard. A permit? To practice magic? And all this talk about keepers? What were they keeping? Why were humans so weird?

“Well I don’t have a permit, I’ve never even heard of something like that. Do I need one?”

Ilias looked away for a second. Then the young mage nodded, as if he’d made up his mind.

“It won’t be an issue. We’re so far away from the capitol that many might not even know about that. And those that do are likely to turn a blind eye since you’re helping them. If someone does decide to give you a hard time you can just be included in mine.”

“Oh, so one permit can be applicable to multiple mages?” The metaphorical cogs were turning in Nalions mind as he tried to make sense of the new regulation. He should probably write all this down. Though maybe it could wait until tomorrow.

“Well, no. But I doubt people here know that. I’ll just say so and act so. You’d be surprised how easy it is to fool people if you just act confident. Regardless, it’s probably for the best to use as little magic as possible whilst amidst us humans anyway. It should be fine,” Ilias shrugged, not appearing to be very concerned any longer.

Nalion shook his head in bewilderment. Why did humans have to have so many rules about everything? He should add “very likely to adhere to rigid rules” to his notes.