At first he thought he was sleeping, more rather the focus in his skull was diverted into hanging on the cocktails of a waning dream. Yet, the harder he tried to hold on, the less Kenan could recall. Leading only to images and scenes being obscured into a homogeneous gray fog that morphed into solid black. The only tangible thing Noctis could hold on to was a vague message that only consisted of a singular emotion. Anticipation.

Then came the realization that the darkness he was suspended in was only produced by his shut eyelids. Perception traveled down from his brain, once again occupying his full body. Noctis felt his sore muscles and depleted qi stores. His right shoulder was in a constant pulsing affliction. He felt alien movement for a moment as the pain multiplied before residing.

Noctis’ senses came back to him, excluding sight. Smells swirled. The metallic tinge of blood, scents both old and new. Sounds of bustle muffled through a barrier of sorts. Cries. Kenan somehow knew they were either for, or from the dying. Lastly, he felt a light pressure that took over the majority of his lower body and went up to his chest.

He opened his eyes to find Dion's muzzle on his chest, sleeping soundly. Around was the scene of a medical tent, separated from the rest only by a few hanging sheets. Just knowing, different from the physical and metaphysical perception. Noctis slightly reached down with his left hand and grabbed the hilt of his blade. From the slight movement he made, Dion woke. First the dirus whined, and then let off a growl finished by a huff.

“I know, I know.” Kenan moved his right hand to pet Dion. It hurt in the process, but not enough to cancel the action.

Noctis sat up, forcing Dion to lay on his master's legs. Kenan only had pants on, to the side was his boots and his now ruined gambeson. On his right shoulder, where the pain was, a small green root grew from his flesh. “Oh. Great.”

Large footsteps and a faintly familiar alcoholic smell. A sheet parted to let enter a wide half-giant. Oz. “Bout’ time you woke up.” He stepped through fully. “You should’ve gotten back up.” Noctis shrugged, but mentally denied such a motion. Last time he did so, he let his allies die because of his weakness.

Oz went to the side of the bed, and sat on the ground. Due to his giant prowess, he was still above eye level with Kenan. “What do you want first? The bad news, worse news, or the moderately okay news.”

Dion hoofed. Kenan accented with him. “Worse, bad and moderate.”

“Well. We are currently under siege. There is a bigger and badder horde than last time circling the walls. Next, you are cursed. The same as the animals. Lastly, the curse is conveniently blood tied. Because you don’t have a heartbeat, which is something we're gonna talk about, and somehow you have tied mana into your system. The curse is taking its sweet time to take effect.”

“That seems like good news.”

“Well it would be. If we had a cursebreaker at hand, and we knew how much time you actually had. However, from what the healers and my brother tells me. You have about 2 months. Maybe more, maybe less.”

“Is there any other way to get rid of this?”

“By killing the shaman.”

“Then…” Connections made, information stored and understanding came. “Oh. Not great.”

“No. Your uncle has told me to tell you how stupid you were. By the way.”

Noctis picked his brain about the previous events. “Do you know about Shel the Twisted?”

The Goliath thought for a moment. “Yes. I believe I do. An orc captain, just a bit lower in the pecking order than Roshu. How do you know about… oh. Wow. All of this makes a lot more sense.” Silence came. Then it passed as the two dived into their thoughts. “What do you plan to do?”

Noctis got up, put on his belt and attached his blade to his side. “How long can this city last?” He picked up the necklace Lucy gave him. For a moment grazed the symbol with his finger, then put it on.

“A few weeks. At the most.”

He picked up his gambeson, looked at it, and then put it down. “I’m going to need new armor.” Kenan said absently. “We have three weeks to break a siege of mutated monsters. Two months to kill another orc captain. I think we have the advantage.”

“What?”

“The worst thing you could possibly do is give your enemy time. Time to observe, prepare, and act. That is exactly what Shel has done. Have they taken care of the dead yet? Burial or a pyre?”

“They plan to burn the dead tonight. Why? You're not planning to eat their souls, right?”

Kenan shook his head. How do random people keep on guessing his abilities? “No. Nothing like that.”

***

The fire lurched and built. Hovering over its fuel in an endless hunger and consumption. The red and orange light illuminated Kenan's face. He was separated from the large crowd of people surrounding the mass pyre. He figured his visage would not be welcomed at this time. So instead, he climbed on top of a building overlooking the occasion. Dion had somehow joined his master, Noctis didn’t look into the specifics.

The black blade laid on his lap. Shirtless with nothing more than pants. The dirus laid at the back of his master. In between the smell of ash, and the terrible scent of burnt sentient flesh, was the sudden introduction of old leather and a comforting bitter smell. Followed by a light landing of feet.

“Uncle.” Kenan said without turning.

“What have you learned?”

“I need to be stronger.”

“You need to be smarter.”

“One in the same.”

“Hmpf.” Silence ensued as they watched the flame. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Noctis closed his eyes. He flushed the warmth of the large fire from his system and replaced it with a solid chill. Sound and smell dissolved into nothing. Feeling fell, along with pain. Through the connection, he knew Dion joined him in Nonesthic. Kenan opened his eyes.

He was in a black landscape, but that was second to the tens of people and animals fighting against a horde of vines. Noctis and Dion looked at each other, and then understood. The black blade formed in his hands, as they both took a step forward.