Audren had not seen the Cursed in person before, but he hadn't expected them to look good or pretty. His mind had created a disturbing image of the undead: growling, snarling monsters, naked and rotting with disfigured faces, bloodied claws for ripping human skin off and sharp teeth to tear throats out and devour people with ease.

The reality managed to be worse.

The farther the ferry travelled down the river and away from the mountains, the more Cursed began to show their faces. They roamed about riverside villages and wandered the surrounding woods alone or in groups both big and small. Most of them took notice of the lord and the mage crossing their territory.

How they knew, neither Audren nor Terry could tell; whether the creatures relied on their hearing, sight or sense of smell the most remained unclear to them. But while the ferry traversed the river, the Cursed approached the banks, drawn to those two living humans. Audren felt like a juicy piece of steak on a silver platter.

The Cursed didn't like the water, though; they didn't set foot in it at all. Why, he couldn't explain either: fear of the current's force, an inability to swim or an inexplicable aversion to water? It could be anything, but in all honesty, he didn't care: to him, it simply meant the water provided safety and comfort, which at least ensured a smooth trip to the Free City.

How they'd manage once they had to get out of the river and move onto land remained to be seen.

The Cursed gazed longingly at their food drifting by, most almost rooted in place, spectators in a macabre parade. Some were persistent: they stumbled along the riverbank parallel to the river, following Audren and Terry in hopes they'd eventually come ashore. They were not, however, the most patient of creatures and gave up eventually, when it became apparent their prey wouldn't come to meet them. Audren could study them in their closeness and didn't like what he saw.

In some ways, the Cursed resembled the monsters he'd imagined: their skin was pale and in varying states of decay, likely depending on how long it was since they'd first been afflicted by the curse. Their eyes had rolled back into their heads, leaving only bloodshot whites staring back at him. The bodies of former men, women and children alike were covered in blood, especially around their mouths, filled with rotting teeth painted red.

In Audren's imagination, humans had turned into true beasts under the curse's influence. That wasn't the case. In a way, they still looked like people. Their clothes, though dirty and torn, were the ones they'd chosen in life. Their faces, though decomposing, still sported the features they'd had when they were persons, unique individuals. No claws or fangs or other such monstrous assets; just warped evil inhabiting the bodies of hundreds of innocents, making them feel a hunger the gods condemned. The sight of the Cursed hit Audren hard because it reminded him the Cursed had been human, like him.

The line between human and monster had grown awfully thin to his liking.

He wondered if he'd walk among the corpses before the day was over. It was so easy to picture himself becoming one of them. Too easy.

"That girl over there," he remarked, pointing out one of the Cursed limping along the riverbank as they passed another small village. He couldn't keep the sadness from sneaking onto his face. "That is… Was Laverne. Don't know if you knew her. She was one of the five scouts I sent out." He doubted any more of those would return to Anahill in his absence. It was more likely the other three had met Laverne's fate as well.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Terry replied. "I didn't know her. Guess now I never will."

Audren looked at the monster that had once been Laverne for the last time, swore he briefly saw it raise its hand as if greeting him. But when he blinked, it was gone. No raised hand. No greeting.

That sliver of humanity still left in the empty shells was getting to him.

He turned to Terry, looking for some way, any way, to take his mind off the Curse's horrid effects. "There's actually something I've been wondering about," he began.

Terry looked at him and he saw pain on her face. Why? A side effect of using rusty elemental magic? Had she seen someone she'd known herself? He considered asking, but she was faster than him. "Tell me all about it," she said, rubbing her temple absent-mindedly.

Headache?

Audren decided to leave it be for now. He didn't know if she'd get angry again if he pried and he preferred to be on good terms with the woman. Their survival depended on it. Thus, he stuck to the question that had initially been on his mind. "You're a mage, so perhaps you can enlighten me," he explained. "It's just… I know you need both talent and considerable wealth to get educated in the magical arts, and not everyone possesses the combination of both. But there's still a good amount of mages in Avondor. If we've got so much magical talent… How come not a single mage has broken this curse by now?"

The thoughtful look Terry sported meant he'd asked a good question. "I think I might be able to explain that," she said slowly. "But none of it concerns my speciality, so my knowledge on these matters is elementary. I'll do my best to keep it simple, though."

Right. Not her speciality. Audren's old friend the curse-breaker, the one he'd gone drinking with, had occasionally told him about how the Institute for the Magical Arts at Chekshaw functioned. The first five years of education were dedicated to studying the basics of practically all major branches of magic; the last five, the young mages picked a branch to specialise in. He didn't actually know what Terry's speciality was. Not elemental magic for sure. Maybe healing, considering the fact her father was a surgeon. Would she be able to heal bites from the Cursed? It wasn't likely, but-

"How much do you know about how spells are made, Lord Audren?"

Audren shook himself out of his thoughts. "Um…" He considered making himself look smarter than he was, then chose honesty. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Terry nodded in understanding. "That's fine. The making of new spells, charms, incantations, and… curses is one of the toughest branches of magic to work with. It's formally named experimental magic, but we tend to call it spell-stitching."

The young lord frowned. "Spell… Stitching?"

"Precisely. I'll grossly oversimplify for both my convenience and yours, but… Well, there are the old spells, the basic ones, classics. Spells for making fire or curses that cause disease. Now, if you want to make a new spell, you need to use old, already existing ones to do so. By combining them in certain ways, sort of stitching them together, you can create new spells. But it's very difficult because magic is unpredictable and the tiniest mistake can have grave consequences. You mess up, it means things could end badly for you."

"I guess that makes sense?"

"It's all rather theoretical, abstract and boring. Important, though." Terry pointed at a squirrel, zipping across the branches of a tree they passed. "Say I wanted to transfigure that squirrel into a phoenix, but there's no spell for it. I'd have to make a new one, then. For a phoenix, you'd probably want a fire spell, but also one for flight. Like I said, this is oversimplified, so it's not actually that easy, but you get the idea. Though I guess I shouldn't try to make that spell, because I don't know nearly enough about it and I think I could lose my right arm or another limb I'm fond of."

It began to dawn on Audren where this was going. "No mage has broken the curse because it's a new one? Stitched?"

Terry nodded. "That's what I think. If a mage stitched it, only they know how to break it unless they've told others about it. In this case, I doubt they had a motive to do that."

Audren had to agree with her there.

"It seems a highly complicated curse, too," Terry continued. "Probably contains elements of plague curses for contagion, but also of necromancy and spells that induce aggression and biting in animals."

"Lovely."

Right? In any case, this has to be the work of a master. Which makes the rumours you told me about all the more intriguing. House Acestor's advisor was one of the most revered spell-stitchers in Avondor."

Which makes it all the more likely he's behind this. Audren's eyes widened, surprise taking over. He'd met the mage once, ages ago, when on a diplomatic visit to Santon with his father and Dyna. Hadn't he? Yes, he was sure he'd seen the man, who'd served House Acestor for a long, long time. What was his name again? Audren couldn't recall; it was like trying to dig up the name of a stranger you passed on the road once and never again. He could still picture bits and pieces of the mage if he concentrated: thin, shaggy blond hair, nervous eyes and an awkward, almost unsettling smile.

They'd shaken hands, he was sure, but it had to be fifteen years ago at the very least.

"Forgive me," he said, "I've met the man, but I don't remember his name. It was so long ago."

"Rosangelo Credi," Terry supplied. "He got invited to give guest lectures at the Institute occasionally. A kind man. Eccentric, but kind."

"Kind men don't curse their fellow humans," Audren replied with conviction. "They don't try to bring about the end of civilisation. Maybe Credi was kind once, but not so much in the end. Any idea why the man may have snapped?"

Terry bit her lip, gazing into the river. "Not really. I guess… Well, you know how Santon was these days. How House Acestor seemed to have stopped caring for and about their people. They cared more about lining their pockets and living in the lap of luxury than for providing safety and an overall good quality of life. Master Credi was an idealist and he didn't make a secret of how much he despised the state of affairs there in his lectures. Could be he wanted to just… wipe Santon out entirely when his many suggested attempts for reform weren't getting anywhere."

There could be truth in that theory. If one thing hadn't surprised Audren, it was that the curse had supposedly started in Santon. He was sure there wasn't any other place in Avondor prone to such decadence and moral decline. House Acestor, once so great, had lost its touch: the nobles had sat by while crime, disease and poverty increasingly took root in the once-glorious city. Audren had often avoided Santon for precisely those reasons; on the occasions he had needed to stay there, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in the inn he'd spent the night in, too afraid someone would break into his room to kill him and steal the mountain gold his ears had been pierced with.

"But why do it like this, then?" He gestured at the Cursed, who growled at them, decayed gazes leering. "If Santon was the problem, why make this, this… Horrible, contagious curse? He must've known it would spread all over Avondor and beyond."

"True," Terry replied, "and there's more that doesn't add up. One of my friends actually attended his most recent lecture months ago and she said Credi was… Optimistic. Countess Limnaia had just risen to power after her father's death and Credi truly believed she'd do good for Santon. If he thought things would get better… Why place the curse then and not earlier?"

If Audren could have asked Credi, he'd have taken the chance, but the man's whereabouts were a mystery, if he was even still alive. In his place, Audren would probably have fled Avondor months ago. If the Countess lived, she'd be easier to find. He hoped. Audren sighed, looked around. He felt they'd almost reached their destination.

He was right.

"Terry," he ordered, "please be so kind to halt here."

The mage did as he said, but gave him a confused look. "Lord Audren, I can see the Free City in the distance and I'm sure the same goes for you. That means we're not there yet."

Indeed, the Free City, its majestic canal houses now inhabited by the dead, loomed ahead of them; if they stayed on the ferry, they'd soon find themselves right in the middle of it. Audren doubted there'd be city guards left to potentially deny them entry. But he did not want to be in the middle of a Cursed-taken city.

There was another route he wanted to try.

"Look to your right," he told Terry. "The Hasswater Caves."

Terry looked to her right as Audren did. While they'd left the mountains behind, the landscape was still made up of rocky hills, and the man-made Hasswater Caves could be found in them. In wartime, Audren knew people would hide there; the Caves also served as a final resting place for the bones of the dead, for whom there was no place in the Free City's congested cemeteries. A gaggle of Cursed hung about the entrance, creepy eyes drawn to the humans on the ferry, waiting for them to move closer.

"I don't think I understand," Terry muttered, unconvinced.

"Look," Audren said, "I'll explain later, alright? I think the caves can bring us where we have to be in a… Safer way. Will you trust me?"

Terry stood up from where she'd been sitting after hesitating briefly. "You've given me no reason not to so far and there might be less Cursed in those caves than in the heart of the city. If you think it's safer, I'll give you the benefit of doubt."

"Good." Audren unsheathed his sword and glared at the Cursed in front of the cave entrance. "Then get ready to deal with those."