I wake up to searing pain in my gut, my eyes fluttering open, and my arms preparing for a fight. But the only thing that I see is a vantage point of the desert from Virgil's shoulder. Confusion hits me in waves as the pain repeatedly returns, only worsening as Virgil runs across the dunes.

"Stop…"

Weakly I mutter out my plea for them to stop. Thankfully, Virgil seems to hear me and turns his head to face me as he runs.

"What? You awake, Wyatt?"

Pain blossoms into agony that erodes my whole body and leaves me bereft of vigor. Once more, I try to get him to stop moving. Something is seriously wrong with my gut. Did the Bloody Palm not heal me from the wound?

"Stop…"

Virgil gets the message this time and comes to a quick break, ceasing his movements. Then, he sets me down on the dirt while at the same time placing Earl down as well. Only at this moment do I notice that Earl is unconscious as well.

It seems as though the discovery is reflected on my face as Virgil comments on it.

"We ran for quite a while after you fainted. Eventually, Earl ran out of steam and fainted as well. Gotta commend the kid. For a 1st Sigil, he's got some guts. So, I had to carry you both. Also, I know you heal real good, but I made sure to bandage you just in case. Never know if someone like the Phantom Pain has a way to prevent regeneration…."

I barely even register what he's saying as another wave of pain comes from my stomach; it feels like something is moving inside me. My brain does, however, connect his worry with mine. Did the Bloody Palm not work? Fuck! It hurts... The pain obviously shows on my face as Virgil goes from recapping what happened to kneeling beside me, searching for injury.

"Where's the pain?! Did he do something to you with that last hit? If you can't talk, just point."

Crippled by contracting pain that prevents me from speaking, I can only point at my gut with a finger still covered with dried blood from the previous fight. Virgil follows my indication and pulls off the bandages he had wrapped around me.

He looks at where I feel the pain and just shakes his head.

"I don't see anything wrong, Wyatt. You're completely healed. He about went through you entirely with his hand, but now there's barely even a scar left…."

Virgil stares at my now-healed injury with a thoughtful face as I squirm. Whatever is causing this pain is definitely inside my body, moving me from within. All I can do is grunt in pain and point at the faint scar again.

"Thr–!"

The Darkstalker takes a few more moments to think before seemingly getting an idea. Then, he pulls out his bowie knife, which makes me raise my eyebrows.

"I think he left something inside of you, Wyatt. Hold still. I'm going to get it out."

Virgil points the broad blade of his bowie knife down at my stomach before sinking it down into my flesh with a burst of force. The second he pierces through my skin, I feel a bit of relief, even with the pain of a dagger cutting me apart. After stabbing me, I see the man push his hand into my body and pull out something more significant than his entire fist.

It looks like a leather bag. One that would fit a small box of bullets or cigars. Not enough for really anything. But I do notice what was causing all my pain. Circled around the entire bag are small briars covered in my blood, flesh, and bits of organs.

"Got it! What the fuck!? What did he do to you?! I was starting to believe his stories, but after all that, I don't think I can."

I can finally speak now that my internals aren't being ground apart by briars. And I agree with him; my faith in the man is rapidly diminishing.

"Yeah, I don't think I can either. But open the bag, let's see what's inside. If he was willing to risk Hura noticing, surely it's important. Doesn't matter if he's telling the truth or not about his innocence; he for sure wants that thing dead."

"Okay, one second."

Virgil wipes off some of the blood around the top of the bag as he unties the knot that keeps it closed. How Alexos got that whole thing into my gut without anyone noticing is beyond me. Like, I understand his illusions are incredible, but no one? No one, not even me, who was inundated with a lake of Ether, could notice it?

My questions and concerns are pulled away as Virgil pulls out what's inside the bag.

Out comes a small familiar book. One that we were just introduced to previously has a piece of paper with a note on it beside the cover. "On The Shoulder" was within the bag. Surprise at the mundane nature of what was hidden within my gut hits both of us.

"What the fuck? Why even take the book back at that point? He's so sick in the head."

Virgil nods at my conclusion but doesn't avert his interest. He focuses on the note with minimal words that seem almost as if they were written by a printing press.

"Let me read the note, then we'll see. Maybe there is something different.

Once again, I must apologize both for the battle and for this. I realize how brutal and painful it would be to place a note inside your stomach, let alone a book, but I hope you can forgive me. What Graves couldn't handle a little bit of ramshackle surgery, though?--"

Virgil stops reading at that point as he looks at me. I realize what just came to his mind as the words in the note point to my history. But I also know he already thought of something similar earlier, and I just managed to push the talk back. For a second, I expect the man to be angry, distrustful, or even murderous based on all the others who have learned my heritage, but the man only seems to sigh in relief. Like he was worried, I was something else.

His following words surprise me and show me just how different the Boone brothers are compared to all the other Hunters I've met.

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"That… makes so much sense, Wyatt, Wyatt Graves. I was honestly beginning to think you were a runaway son of an Estate with your natural gifts and the Blooming Spider Lily. The last people who had it were Grimes, but before that, it was your father, if I recall. Not going to lie; a bit of frustration was reaching deep at the thought of working with the Estates. You are technically, but not really. No one thinks of the Graves as an Estate despite your family having that privilege. None of the Estate families have a higher death rate in battle than the Graves. 100% of all fallen Graves, those born with the name at least, die in battle or go missing during a mission. I'm glad to have one of you with me. Glad to have you with me, Wyatt. But why haven't you ever told me? There have been several opportunities."

Virgil puts his hand on my shoulder towards the latter half of his monologue, where I sit quietly like a grounded child. After he ends, though, I answer his question hesitantly.

"I–. Well, I–. I didn't want to say who I was. Every time I have, it's only ended poorly. The first made a man much more important and powerful than me die to keep me alive from those who wanted me dead for my name alone. The second got a bomb strapped to my arm, and while that situation is better now, I still don't want to risk it again. I figured you and Vernon would treat me differently, something I didn't want."

I pause for a moment as I find my words.

"...I enjoy just being a normal Sigiled fighting alongside other people. And I've heard so many stories about my ancestors; they all make me uncomfortable. They are people greater than I can probably ever be. I don't want people to hold me up to their standards. After all, I'm just a kid from the boonies. I never even knew Sigils existed until two months ago. I know I'll fail if I'm held up to their standards."

The man before me listens intently to what I have to say, but he laughs when I mention people holding me up to my ancestors. His laugh hurts deeply, but once he notices the hurt on my face, he tries to rectify it.

"Hey, hey, I'm not laughing because I think you're worse than your ancestors. Hell, if anything, it's the opposite. You've been through some crazy shit, and you're not even a full man yet, Wyatt. I can't imagine a single person would look down on you compared to those who came before.

Do you know what your father was doing when he was your age?"

I shake my head at his question, not fully understanding where he's going with this. So far, though, he hasn't been too convincing. I mean, it's just one man compared to all those out there. And all those other people know about my family, but none know about me.

"If I remember correctly, he was a grave keeper, working on digging graves for the fallen and keeping others from digging them up. He never even gained his 1st Sigil until he was eighteen. Then he joined a famous Hunter group, the Sableyes. Your father slowly worked his way through the Sigils and ranks within his group. It took him half a decade to reach the 4th Sigil, which is still incredibly impressive. Most who bear the 4th take a decade or so, like me. How long have you had a Sigil for, Wyatt? A year? Two? Wait, no. You said two months... And you're already a 3rd Sigil…."

Virgil runs his eyes along the sand, his voice trailing off.

"There is no point in you being worried or concerned with how you are doing. All people take time to grow. And from what I've seen, your Sigil's central aspect lowers that time. Drastically. To the point where it almost doesn't exist. Ironic, huh? The enhanced Ether limit allows a Philosopher to grow faster than any other Sigil. While all others have to wait or survive multiple near-death experiences with Concoctions to reach the point to advance, all you have to do is answer a question and find a Sigil."

The Darkstalker pivots and forces my attention toward his face.

"Don't compare yourself to people who have had decades to grow, learn, and evolve. You are but a child. Tell me, I don't think I've ever asked, how old are you, Wyatt?"

His words bring me comfort and make me realize just how dumb I've been. I've been subconsciously comparing myself to my ancestors and their feats without ever thinking about mine or how little time I've had.

I answer Virgil's question with a bit more confidence.

"I'm sixteen. Born in the summer of 1668."

Virgil nods at my words and continues.

"See? You're but a child thrown into a war of men. You're nearly my baby sisters' ages, and you've been fighting alongside me for a while now. Have confidence, Wyatt, in yourself and in your ability. Don't let the ass beating we just suffered bring you down or what anyone else says. I am not entirely sure what object of yourself you lack like all other Graves, but whatever it is, I think it's the best. Otherwise, I think you'd be long dead."

Virgil's pep talk, which I expected to actually be an argument when he found out who I was, breathes confidence into me that I didn't think I needed. My shoulders sit just a bit higher than they did before as the man holding the bag covered in my organs pats my shoulder once more.

"You're a good kid, Wyatt. Don't let anything take that from you. I know you've done some grim things; we all have, but enjoy life. You might not have noticed it, but I've seen your face lately. You have been rash yet hesitant, energetic yet sad. Like the world has slowly been beating you down."

His grip tightens as he offers some advice.

"Take a page from my younger brother. He's always cheerful, well, almost always cheerful. His injury shocked him a good bit, but I guarantee by the time we get back, he'll be back to usual, buggin' me 'bout random shit. Life isn't all about survival like Johnny makes it out to be. There is no point in being alive if it isn't worth enjoying. That's my take, anyway. When we get back to town, take a break. Take a whole day off, not just a nap or night's rest. Ignore the impending doom for just a while. That's the only way you'll be able to fight with all your strength. Your emotions have been holding you back because you've never addressed them. Trust me, I would know. I've been in a similar position."

A long sigh drags out as Virgil admits a part of his past that raises my eyebrows.

"A young man tortured by his internal demons beset by many who want him killed and a few who want his strength. Take a few days to figure it all out. Spend time with your friends, and relax."

I nod to what he's saying, I can see the logic, but in all honesty, I don't entirely agree. I think I'm fine. The past is the past. I don't have to worry about it. People die. It's just what happens. I need to help prepare for the break when we make it back.

But Virgil doesn't take this short agreeance and presses me for a promise to do what he says. He does it with such insistence that it shocks me.

"Hey, I'm not messing around! Promise me you'll take a break longer than just a few hours. If you don't, I'll make you."

Finally, I notice just how serious Virgil is being, and I make the promise back to him. Maybe he's right. It has been a long time since I've rested for more than a single night. I've been on edge ever since Edmund died. How long ago was that, anyway? A month? Two? I'm not sure; everything has just kind of blended.

"Yeah, I promise. I'll take a break. Can we just finish the note? I want to know what's on it."

Virgil takes a lengthy glimpse at me before sighing and returning to the note left with the book. His eyes scan the page as he restarts just before where he left off.

"What Graves couldn't handle a little bit of ramshackle surgery, though? I hope you find this note quickly; I did leave briars around its container so it wouldn't just be lost in your internals. Anyway, to the meat of the bone, as one might say. Get it?

I prepared this using my Ether while we were fighting and while I was arguing with Hura. Only when his ego is stoked or threatened does he lose any kind of focus or calm. I hope you all now believe me of the Death's Lantern that enchains me. I just wanted to show it to you despite how risky it was.

Please, deliver the map to Johnny and feel free to read the book I left with the note. Earlier, I did not give you a true copy but instead an identical illusion of it. I would apologize, but it'd be empty. It is hard to give away something that means so much to you, but in the end, I figured it would be of more use to a young man who has not yet met his greatest demons. I have already met mine.

The wisdom of the First is everlasting. The things he had seen, done, and felt so much more than we could ever imagine. I do give one warning; however, do not pry deeply into the parts that are crossed out. I found the book like that, and I believe some things are better left unknown.

This note is not all just information and pleas, however. I've spent many years mastering a type of illusion. One that can be placed on an object and that is so versatile it holds no sense of my Ether. Eventually, I hope to develop it to affect reality itself, but that is still far beyond me. I have infused this skill, Illusory Script, into the note.

All that you must do is infuse a tiny bit of your Signature and throw it with an image in your head that you want to form. The more detailed the picture, the more convincing the illusion the note will create. This gift is given in hopes that it will help fell Hura, do not take this item lightly. The Illusory Script upon this note took weeks to create.

Now, I hope the next time I see you all is when the Demon Of Storms falls from the sky and into the earth below."

Virgil finishes reading the note as we both look at the small piece of paper in awe. Alexos was able to infuse his Ether into an object??? I didn't even know you could do that. And by the look on Virgil's face, he is even more surprised than me.

I hear an almost inaudible whisper come from him.

"Living…"

I turn to him and ask what he said, as I could barely hear him.

"What did you say? Is this note that impressive?"

Virgil just shakes his head and answers me slightly.

"It's impressive, yes, but I'll have to talk to Johnny to be sure. Until then, I don't want to freak you out. For now, let's just get back. Is your gut healed up yet?"

I nod back to him as I run a hand across the wound that has been stitched together with my own flesh, the Bloody Palm going to work. All my skin is back as well from when Alexos skinned me like a bear.

"Yeah, I'm good. Most of my saturation is gone as well."

Virgil laughs and pats me on the back.

"Then it's your turn to carry Earl. I've done it long enough, but remind me to apologize to him. I was wrong. He was useful. His tricks kept Alexos off of us long enough for me to reach the Nightmare and almost long enough for us to escape."

"Yeah... I will…"

I sigh as I pick up the unconscious Gambler, careful not to shake his pack. Who knows what wild shit he's got in there. I shoulder him before pushing Ether into my body to begin running at full speed. The sun is rising, and we need to get back as soon as possible.