Runes of white chalk outline the stone table and the surrounding floor. Though the room’s well lit, the experience reminds me of the dark place I come from—and the dying man, activating runes of magic, his power as crimson as his blood.

  “Precision is the key to runes,” Edrine says as he draws, stopping often enough to correct any small deviation from the notes on his desk. “Patience is not a virtue of the young, demon, nor an attribute I would expect of your kind, though your restraint among the villagers is praiseworthy.” He finishes a perfect circle. “Anyone can craft a rune, but it takes a specific [Skill] to render these archaic lines as power.”

  Though unable to move, my earlier effort to face Denet gives me a view of the potion cabinet and the desk. I study the runes and diagrams laid there. I only see one side of the table I lie on, so I must gauge his progress from that alone.

  I encourage Nox out of the shadows, closer to the table. Edrine’s focus is on his runes. He’s overconfident in his immobilization magic. Nox finds a new hiding place under the cabinet, close to the outer line of the interlocking runes.

  When Edrine circles to the other side of the table, my prepared command echoes on repeat to Nox: ruin the chalk line, then hide.

  Nox obeys, scuttling out of the darkness and running back and forth over the chalk, just as I envisioned. But his small feet do little to scuff the thick line. It won’t be enough.

  Destroy it. Please.

  I’m greeted with hesitation. Nox is confused.

  Edrine finishes a swipe of chalk out of view, then his feet scrape the floor.

  I beg Nox to hide, but he remains, confusion twisting its way back to me in a loop.

  Then, before Edrine can return to his desk, Nox explodes.

  Wait, not explodes. Something explodes from him. I see his little body scurry back under the cabinet. He continues deeper until he is snug against the back wall. I only sense pride emanating from our bond. Now I am confused.

  I glance down to where he appeared to have exploded, then see why my little friend is so proud: acidic droplets stain where he stood, blurring the line of chalk, but not noticeably. I share Nox’s emotion of pride—pride in my powerful ally of a beetle.

  Edrine returns to his notes and runs a finger along the diagram, then glances back at the many chalk lines that encircle and twist around the stone table. It’s a passing glance. I can see certainty in his hollow eyes.

  “I’m afraid your waiting has come to an end,” Edrine says. He takes measured steps toward the table, only stopping when he stands in a smaller circle within reach of me. “The life you now lead will not be an easy one, but you will find many rewards in serving me. Do not resist, and this will end quickly.”

  His hands glow, first white, then gold, then black as night. The lines of chalk darken to match, originating from his feet and following connections, one rune at a time, until they converge on the stone table at the same instant.

  Icy pain cuts into my back and legs, anywhere touching the cold table.

  I cannot scream. I cannot move. My mind is a turbulent nightmare of visions. Snakes as black as night wrap around me and raise their heads, poised to strike. A hand appears out of one mouth, beckoning to me, reaching for my hand to pull me to safety.

  I glimpse at the real world between bouts of pain and visions, and the black runes flare like glowing flames. Edrine stands in the fire, untouched, eyes glowing darkly.

  But a gap stands in the corner, behind Edrine. There the flames flicker, a weak link in the chain of power, where Nox disrupted the chalk.

  Though frozen in place, I mentally reach for the opening. I do not accept the hand of snakes or other nightmares. In the visions I search for the flicker of weakness until I see it, a crack of light, widening as I focus on it.

  In reality, the flickering gap expands, extinguishing flames, leaving disturbed chalk lines behind.

  Edrine sees it too, and suddenly the entire room fades to normal once again. His eyes regain color. The icy pain recedes, but I cannot banish the feeling.

  “It seems I have miscalculated,” says the cleric. He towers over me, eyes searching mine. “Are you a demon or not? I was certain your [Skills] were sign enough…” He paces the room, glances at me once more, then unlocks the room and exits. The door locks behind him.

  I don’t know what Edrine plans to do next, but I must not be here to see it.

  Nox senses my call and lands on my chest.

  Push the disc off, I plead with him.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He circles the pottery before knocking into it. The magical disc budges an inch. Nox headbutts it harder, and it moves two. I encourage him with feelings of gratitude, and my beetle rams the disc repeatedly, pushing it closer to the edge of my body.

  With one final slam at full force, the disc launches from the edge of me and onto the floor. It shatters louder than I’d hoped. Edrine might investigate.

  [Spirit Bond] has reached Level 6.

  Time to put our bond to the test. I call Nox back for a new plan. He understands his role quickly.

  He bites me once, then releases. The infusion of strength outpaces the parasite—only for a second—but I’m prepared. I twist myself to my side. Then Nox bites again. I twist a second time and fall off the table.

  The landing hurts no worse than the icy runes, but the distraction throws me off and I miss my next opportunity when Nox bites.

  He stops, confusion passing to me. He had expected me to do something. I apologize and encourage him to try again. His own strength has limits—we need every bite we can get.

  Increments of movement carry me to the cabinet until I lie beneath it, stretched out along the floor.

  Nox has much more to do. He flies up and lands on the side of the cabinet door, then works his small legs into the cracks, pushing with all his might. I feel helpless lying on the floor below him.

  Eventually, the door swings open a crack, then more as Nox headbutts the door in midair.

  My poor friend lands on the first shelf of the cabinet, his little body trembling with exhaustion. I’m not sure we can do this. I don’t want to hurt him.

  My fears must leech into his mind, because Nox rests no more. I order him to take a break, but he ignores me. It’s as though he senses the danger here. He shuffles along the top of the cabinet. He’s unable to read the labels.

  I cannot flinch when the first bottle falls from the shelf and lands on my stomach. It rolls off to the side of me. I inch my head over to read the label—

  Dawnspirit Tonic - Restores 50 Vitality

  I encourage Nox to find another one. Maybe of a different color, if he can distinguish that. Nox shoves another bottle and it lands on my throat. I cannot see the label or the potion, as it rests under my chin.

  Nox flies down to bite me through the movement until my eyes reach the glowing blue bottle.

  Radiant Mana Brew - Halves mana consumption for two minutes

  I’ll be lying on the floor with a hundred bottles by the time we finish this.

  Nox hurries back up to send another bottle down. This one lands on my chest and remains in place. I can tilt my head with enough effort to see the green liquid slosh in its globular bottle.

  Dewdrop Cural - Purge status aliments

  Edrine does have a cure.

  Nox returns to help me move my hands when the door clicks. Edrine pulls the door open to find me off the stone table.

  His bewildered expression may be the first I’ve ever seen from him. His eyes trace the path I must have taken, and the shattered disc that had immobilized me. Three potions and an open cabinet are even more shocking. He spins to search the room. For someone, anyone, who might have helped me, but Nox hides in my shirt.

  “Demon or not,” the cleric says after he collects himself. “You are more peculiar than I had imagined.”

  Then he spies the green potion, with my hand inching toward it with each bite from Nox.

  He takes a step toward me. “More clever, too.”

  He’s about to stoop over to collect my cure when a voice rasps, “Don’t move a muscle, cleric.”

  Edrine obeys, his back remains arched, though I can see his eyes calculating.

  Taren stands in the open doorway, bow taut, a glowing arrow ready. His hands are bloody and covered in splinters. “You know I won’t hesitate, not like before.”

  No one arrives to restrain him this time. Edrine’s eyes harden. “This is much different than with your—”

  “Don’t speak. I’m too tired for lies today.” Taren shuffles further into the room. “Back into the corner, cleric.”

  “You are making a mistake. If you knew what this creature—”

  “Enough,” Taren growls. “I have a quiver full of arrows. Don’t make me find out how many it takes to end you.”

  Edrine complies, taking even steps until he reaches the far corner.

  Taren remains by the door. “How do I heal him?” he demands.

  “I told you—”

  “No, you scrapping didn’t. Don’t play with me.” Taren glances over at me and the bottles. Even from a distance, he should be close enough to sense the potion names. His eyes widen. “All along you had something. You’re just a charlatan.”

  Edrine straightens his back, but doesn’t respond.

  I can sense Taren’s hesitation. If he moves to help me with the bottle, he exposes himself to an attack from Edrine. I encourage Nox to strengthen me and I move in slow motion toward the potion.

  Taren looks exhausted. His hands quiver. He bounces his gaze from me to Edrine as the seconds tick by—any moment someone might realize he’s raiding the chapel again.

  My fingers grip the bottle, then the cork comes loose. Edrine now watches me, maybe wondering how I escaped his immobilization disc.

  The bottle tips toward my mouth one inch at a time, finally touching my lips while Taren and Edrine look on. I swallow once, twice—flames of life stir in my belly, then stretch out to my limbs. The essence parasite is no more.

  My stamina trickles up, a bit at a time. My mana ring encourages replenishment.

  I shove my hand into my cloak and [Leech Grip] moss for a burst of vitality.

  With little effort, I rise, whole again. Edrine’s eyes darken. He and I both know there’s no going back to what was—I will never enter this chapel again.

  Taren almost drops his bow when I walk towards him.

  Edrine takes a step, then backs off when Taren focuses on him again. “You make a mistake,” the cleric says in his clear, undisturbed voice. “You should not make an enemy of me, young Taren.”

  “I’ve been your enemy since my father died,” Taren says. “Maybe you haven’t realized it until now.”

  I walk out first, with Taren backing out beside me, one step at a time, until we’re both free of the chapel.

  Orlen and Honep stand guard at Taren’s home.

  Taren circles to a blind spot, where he’s broken through the wall. When I arrive, Orlen lets me inside, claiming that Edrine worked a miracle, that Taren should’ve trusted the cleric.

  We don’t correct him. I stay on the floor of Taren’s home that night in case Edrine comes looking.