Syryn visited the village headman in the morning with Dinah. Rei had already informed the man about the probable connection between the strange sickness and the necrosis in the builder's brain. Taking the matter seriously, the alarmed headman called for a meeting of all the adult men in the village.

When Syryn arrived, he dubiously took in the sight of the crowd that had formed outside the courtyard of the headman's house. He felt it was safe to assume that some of the people there were already infected. Fear apparent in their watchful eyes, the crowd of village men observed Syryn and Dinah approach them.

"Distinguished guests-"

Syryn did not have the patience for the man's formal chit chat. "I need as much manpower as you can spare," he cut off the head man and looked around at the listening crowd. "Volunteers anyone?"

"I'll come," an older gentleman raised his hand. "What help do you require, healer?"

Syryn's gaze moved to Dinah. The priestess received the meaning in his eyes and stepped up to explain what they had found near the forest line.

The villagers paid rapt attention to the priestess' explanation about what they had to do.

"And so we need a large number of people to determine the boundary around which the deaths have been happening."

Murmurs spread through the crowd and people began to volunteer in larger numbers.

"Will we get sick too if we go there?" A voice asked.

"Maybe," Dinah answered honestly. "I've been there thrice and have not fallen ill yet."

"That's because the goddess' strength is in you!" Another voice declared. "You're a priestess."

"If we find out what's causing the disease then can you cure us?"

"I'm not risking my life for this. My wife and children need me alive."

"Coward! We're doing this for the village as a collective. Do you think we dont have our own families to worry about?!"

"Your sons are grown men while my children are still fourteen and sixteen years old! It's not the same thing!"

"That's no excuse for not helping the rest of us!"

Syryn stood up and addressed the arguing people. "Nobody is forcing you to come with us. It's a good thing you've exposed your selfishness to the other villagers so that they know better than to help your family when you need aid in the future."

"An outsider like you doesn't have any right to participate in this meeting," the same selfish man retorted.

"An outsider like him figured out what was happening before any of you did. While you were wasting time blaming ghosts and devils for the deaths, he was out investigating, putting his life at risk to help this village." Dinah's speech was calm but forceful. Her words carried the weight of a priestess, an identity that they respected. "So instead of arguing amongst yourselves and looking for problems with Syryn, why don't you put your energy to some use and help us solve the problem that plagues your village."

"It's fine Dinah," Syryn answered coldly. "We can leave them to their fates if they wish to reject our offer. We should have left the day we arrived. I have done the best I can so even if I leave now, I won't have any regrets when I hear about the village that lost all its members to a brain-eating disease."

Syryn's words had their intended effect on the terrified villagers.

"Brain-eating?!"

"Cover your faces with a cloth and dont touch any of the bugs that we find. Do you all understand?" He continued to speak while he had momentum.

Syryn then turned to look at a person standing at the front of the crowd. "You there, why aren't you wearing sandals?"

The young man without sandals turned red as all eyes focused on his mud-caked feet. "I like to walk barefoot," he answered meekly.

"Wear your sandals or you might fall sick. Some creatures are known to enter the bloodstream when you walk over them barefoot," Syryn warned him. "Everyone, wear sandals and ensure that not a single part of your exposed skin comes in contact with the ground or the insects."

----

A horde of village men marched to the forest line and they were led by the headman, Syryn, and Dinah.

"Are you sure it eats the brain?" The headman asked Syryn with trepidation in his eyes.

The alchemist merely gave him a cold glance and a nod before looking away. What did they know about necrosis? Unless they were all experts at biology and anatomy, Syryn could bullshit all he liked and they would be none the wiser.

"Thank you, healer."

"Thank me when we've found the cause of the sickness." Syryn was relieved that the villagers hadn't continued to insist that it was a ghostly possession. They were a superstitious lot but at least they weren't stubborn when shown the way.

As soon as they'd arrived, the men were divided into groups and made to spread out in the area. Syryn had shown them the insects that had died under the grass and many of them were afraid.

"We did not take Jomer's warnings seriously and now we've paid for them," one of the men said to the others. Syryn assumed he was referring to the village healer.

"Stop wasting time and start searching." The alchemist said to the crowd very loudly. "Leave no stone unturned, no patch of grass unchecked."

"We should help them as well," Dinah said before she joined the head man who was crouched not too far from them.

It had taken them less than an hour to draw a boundary around the insect graveyard. Stakes were hammered into the soil to mark out points on the boundary that was drawn out through ropes. And when it was all done, Syryn looked around in satisfaction. Not even the cloying sweetness of the perfume that invaded his nose could dampen the excitement that he was feeling. Syryn was close to figuring out the puzzle and he knew it deep in his bones.

"Send them all home," the alchemist told the headman. "I will slowly comb the area and see if anything catches my eyes."

"But won't the search go faster with more eyes on the ground?"

"Not if they don't understand what they're looking at. If I fail to find anything, I'll let you know so we can all search together." Syryn was amicable since the headman had been so helpful.

"Alright then young healer, let us know when you need our help." The adage of too many cooks spoiling the broth was what Syryn was afraid of. A bunch of villagers stomping around without any care was to be avoided at all cost.

The villagers were quick to disperse. Fear tended to do that. Syryn was once again left alone with Dinah.

"What are we looking for?" She asked the alchemist.

"I don't know. Just look around and call me if you spot anything that catches your eye."

What was special about the area? The boundary extended to the inside of the jungle. Syryn could not find any common ground between the jungle and the field. Just as he was losing his patience, he had another realisation. The alchemist was inside the forest, eyes following the ropes. It appeared that the ropes formed a semblance of a circle around the insect graveyard. Didn't it mean then that a centre existed? One which was surrounded by a locus of points where the wooden stakes had been hammered? And was there something interesting at the centre?

Syryn's anticipation began to rocket as he walked towards the fencing that surrounded someone's garden. Disregarding the thought that he was trespassing upon private property, Syryn climbed over the tall wooden fence.

The alchemist landed at the foot of the fence and looked around at the countless flowering trees. The tops of the tree trunks were connected by an expansive net that spread out below the canopy like a giant spider web. Syryn looked above his head and saw heaps of petals that had fallen onto the nets. The smell that plagued him was even stronger inside the garden.

"Syryn," Dinah's head popped up from behind the fence. "What are you doing there?"

"Looking for something. Come follow me."

"Did you get permission to trespass?" She asked him.

"I'll get permission later."

When a soft breeze came his way, Syryn nearly fell to his knees from the potency of the smell that hit him. The sweetness went straight to his head and he was struck by nausea.

"Syryn, not again." Dinah stopped beside him and rubbed his back. "You poor darling. Where's your favourite scarf?"

Syryn was upset. His frequent use of Rowan's scarf was erasing away the anti mage's scent faster than the alchemist had anticipated. He wrapped it around his nose and took a deep breath but the smell of flowers permeated the fabric.

Eyes hardening into cold chips, Syryn whipped the violence in his heart. He was burning down the garden whether Dinah liked it or not. "Let's go."

The priestess smiled at the image of the teenage boy whose face was covered up with the scarf like he had on a beehive.

"Syryn, what are we looking for?" Dinah asked him. "Just tell me already."

"The centre of the boundary we set up around the grave. I feel like we might find something there."

"But there are too many trees here."

Accurately finding the centre involved having vision of the ropes which could no longer be seen.

"It's fine."

"Oh wow that smells really strong," Dinah commented and blinked her eyes.

Rowan's scarf had done its job blocking out the potency of the smell so it didnt bother the alchemist as much. "Why does it feel like we're getting closer to the source of the smell?" He asked the priestess.

"That's because we are," she pointed to a gorgeous looking plant that was blooming with all the glory of a flower at the peak of its season. Five beautiful snow-white flowers with deep red throats hung down from their stems like trumpets.

"That's the source of your misery," Dinah told Syryn.

"And the centre of this entire fiasco," the alchemist answered. Had they found the culprit?