Consciousness came slow, unwilling. Redmun blinked his eyes open, but could see nothing but the dark. Someone let out a soft breath beside him.

“Master Possessor, I think you should stay put,” an aged voice said. The man beside him was lit only by candlelight, and the shadows danced on his face unflatteringly, but there was a sternness there. Long, white hair fell down in a tight, military-style ponytail. “Been asleep a while.” He shuffled closer, frowning down at Redmun. “You're better off than your friend, by some miracle. She's in the infirmary, and will be for a while, so relax.”

Redmun nodded, and sat up. They were in a small, square room carved into the mountain, with nothing but the rug he lay on, a pillow the man sat on, and a table, carved of stone. An enclosed candle hung in a lantern from the centre of the room, barely casting shadows.

The man offered a cup, and Redmun reached to take it. His hands were whole. Yet, hadn't the Sky-Star dripped it's acid on…

In a flash it all came crashing back to him. Of course his hands were healed. The Evil would be pleased with him. Pleased that he'd used its powers. Pleased that he'd killed Layla with it. The innocent woman was gone. After weeks of suffering, of starving and dying, just gone. Purified, whatever that meant.

Redmun controlled his face as the true extent of his failures came crashing down on him. He sipped at the water, smiling in thanks to the old soldier as he considered how utterly pointless his position was. Resist the Evil, and I'm little more than the man before him, no use against anything stronger than a single Mird. Accept it, and I get to kill people myself. What can I do? Am I just doomed to become an abomination, like my father?

That dream – what right had it to give him freedom? Gods, he wished he had something to tear apart, something he could do to hurt it. But short of tearing out his own heart, what was there to do?

“Name's Brooker. I'm the Captain here in Lutmouth,” the man was saying, taking the cup away. “Gave my men quite a scare, arriving in the night like that.” He rubbed the thick moustache covering his lips. “Mind telling me what you were doing, travelling at night?”

Redmun rubbed at his eyes, trying to peel his thoughts away from the depressing realizations. What were they doing travelling at night? “Running. Did Jessa tell you about Potsdoor?”

The old man breathed deep, and sighed it out. “Told us nothing except to fuck off. What about Potsdoor?”

“It's gone,” Redmun said, looking into his cup. “We were there, but couldn't do much more than get away. It was the Walking Corruption.” Redmun's father. He failed to stop it.

Brooker nodded. “Heard of that. Didn't think it was real. Then?”

“We lost all our equipment, our horses, most of our food. So, we headed here.”

“Coulda headed east,” the man said. “Edged the Plains, stayed away from the trees. You'd have been in Hollow grove inside a week, without much hassle. Why get yourself nearly killed crossing the Plains without horses?”

“Because, we need to get to Khelvorias,” Redmun said. Was this man interrogating him? Did he think Redmun had done some wrong? Well, he had, but nothing the Captain of Lutmouth's guard need worry about. “Can I see Jessa now?”

Captain Brooker stood, and offered a hand, which Redmun took. “Sure, but she don't seem in the mind to see anyone. Damn near knocked out the Physiker when he started poking at the wound.”

That put a smile on Redmun's face. “I'll be fine. Please.” He really needed to see her, to know just how much she'd suffered for his failure.

Brooker nodded, and moved towards the door. Adjusting the hem of his dark uniform, brushing the dust off his legs. He led Redmun down a long, low ceilinged corridor, similar rooms on each side. After a short walk, they entered Lutmouth's Great Chamber.

Redmun had been there before, as a youth, only a year after becoming a full Possessor, and with Master's interest in teaching, he knew almost every inch of its history.

The man himself, Lut had been the first to start carving a home for himself after losing hope and part of his mind, chipping away at rocks with tools first, then other rocks, somehow managing to survive on the Plains. Over the years – after finally seeing Lut's success– more joined him. Now, after a few hundred years, there was an entire world under the mountain, and Lutsmouth was one of the major settlements in the Forsaken Continent. Others had attempted a similar thing elsewhere, but all failed. None had the legendary tenacity – and positive attitude, apparently – of Lut himself.

The Great Chamber was a long, curved half-tube. Enormous stone pillars rose every fifty meters on each side, supporting the great mountain above, each holding a brazier, giving light to the entire room. The entirety of its length was full of Lutmouth's famous market. Without wood, many of the stalls had been carved from the rock itself, handed down from generation to generation, cobblers peddling their goods beside master tailors. Further down the space opened out into a wider sort of forum. From this main chamber, countless caverns and corridors spread out, like the one behind Redmun, a spider's web of tunnels that dug far into the earth itself.

Captain Brooker took a quick right, away from the gated entrance. They stayed behind that side's set of columns, passing by similar corridors every so often. There were not many people there, most busy buying and selling, but what few there were frowned suspiciously at Redmun.

“Don't mind them,” Brooker said over his shoulder. “Just not often we get Possessors staying more than a day.”

“More than a day? How long have I been unconscious?”

“Three days.”

Redmun grit his teeth. Who knew how far away Gelstadt was now?

They turned right into the second-to-last corridor, which took them immediately into the infirmary. The smell hit first, a mix of alcohol and rot. The room was as unattractive as any Redmun had seen in that place, a square place with nothing separating the countless cots shoved in there, save for the odd nurse, though some did have curtains near the back.

The Captain pointed to one of those. “There she is, Master Possessor. I wish you both the best.” They nodded to one another. Brooker spun, and marched back down the tunnel, disappearing behind the pillars.

Redmun stepped between the cots, trying not to hurry. With a sick feeling in his gut, he pulled open the curtain.

Jessa lay on the bed, dotted with sweat, eyes closed and peaceful. The remains of her foot dangled in the air, more than half of it missing under that already bloodied bandage. Her arm was bandaged where acid had glanced her, and nothing else.

“Jessa.”

Her eyes shot open, fixing on him. “About time!” She lunged, got a handle on his breastplate, and dragged him close, wrapping her other hand around his neck. He didn't resist. “The hell was all that, Redmun? I mean, fucking hellfire! Fight like a damned pansy, too scared to use your Evil – like you promised! – and then kill the damned girl! Nearly got me, too, you fucking idiot!”

He met her glare, not offering any resistance. “Yes.”

She held him there, looking into his eyes, looking furious beyond words. “Yes what?” She threw him to the floor, and he went willingly. Nurses were crowding round, at a distance. He waved them off, and picked himself up, coming to sit on the bed beside her.

“Damn you, Redmun.” Jessa sighed, rubbed her hands down her face, and looked at her foot. “The thing took my toes.” Redmun just nodded, let her glare at him for a while. She huffed and sighed. “What about you?” she asked without looking up. He looked away from her, ashamed. Her hand grabbed his, holding it tight, not letting him go. “Look, I'm sorry I got angry, alright? Tell me.”

“I'm fine,” he said. “I mean, I'm not. Not even close. But I'm alright for now. Just… Doesn't matter.”

“No, Redmun. I think it does matter.”

Redmun frowned at her. “I thought you were the one that wanted to keep emotions quiet?”

Jessa smirked, gesturing to her leg. “Yeah, and then I lost a foot. I'm feeling emotional.” Her eyes lingered on it, hateful and sad. “Just tell me what happened.”

Redmun pressed at his cheeks, trying to think it through. “I guess finding Gelstadt is spurring the Light-Evil on, because it keeps doing things it's never done before. Or rather, it had been. It told me it would stop doing things without my permission.”

“How kind of it,” she said, sounding as convinced as he. “That's why you're meant to have a pact, Redmun,” Jessa said, not for the first time. “So the damn things can't play these games.”

“I know that, Jessa. Believe me, I do. You were always better at Pact-Making than me.” He gave her a mirthless smile. “But… honestly what worries me is, why now? Why does it care about Gelstadt? What does it care about the Corruption? What the hell is it?” He fell silent, wishing the answer to all this would just come. Wishing he could be free of the thing, and its whispering, and its burning, and its constant, mocking kindness. He brought his hands to his face. As if he could hide from any of this. “Gods, I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. But I won't use its powers like that again. Never again.”

“You know… my Banshee doesn't like talking about it. I think she's afraid of it, and she hates it when I touch you, even look at you.” She laughed. “Not that I let that stop me.” She brought her left hand over, which would have seemed pale for even a northerner, and deathly cold to the touch, and it joined in holding his hand. “Know what I think? I think we've gotten lazy. All this chasing about Gelstadt, never quite catching him. Won't say it was easy, but we've gotten… careless. Both of us. We need to do better.”

Redmun brought his free hand to his head, trying to rub a solution into his mind. None came. Maybe it never would. Again he was lost for words. He forced a grin onto his face. “I think I might be fucked.”

“Oh, sweet Redmun,” Jessa said, her accent extending into a flourishing roll, and reached for his cheek, “I think we were all fucked to begin with.” Her grin dropped to a smile, which was both warmer and more Jessa, and she squeezed his cheek like a child. “I'm just amazed you hadn't noticed.”