Dark clouds had gathered in the skies above, a warning of impending rain. Arvenus cast another glance around the hills and sighed. “I see no sign of their passing,” he said at last, scouring the miles left before them.

Yarnus shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “We’ve been to many estate villages this past week, yet none of them will give us what we want.”

“You cannot blame them,” Arvenus said, cracking the leather reins in his hand. With a sharp tug his horse turned about, letting out a scandalized snort in the process. “Were it the other way around, our village would be reluctant to give up any names,” he continued, digging his heels into the horse’s sides. She kicked into a lazy trot, throwing her head in protest. “They fear Kenderik One-Arm’s reprisal. If we were as defenseless as they, I doubt we would be so eager to divulge his whereabouts or reveal the identity of any of his men. Let us put this to rest brother,” he suggested, not for the first time. “We can protect the village, protect Analin, and help Sadus in his quest to purge Daron’s lands of the crop plague. Is that not enough?”

“No, we should continue to seek to end his infamy,” Yarnus said, hurrying his own horse to follow suit. The sound of their hooves clattering against the hard-packed earth filled the air. Yarnus argued, brows drawn together in a scowl. “He killed our parents. Or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Arvenus said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I want vengeance as much as you, but running around in circles trying to coerce answers from the unwilling, hardly seems a fitting use of our time. Rather than continuing on this path, let us return home where we can put our abilities to use.”

After a moment’s pause, Yarnus sighed. “Perhaps you are right,” he acquiesced at last. “I will not give up this chase - never - but I cannot deny that the information we’ve gathered thus far has been pitiful at best.”

Arvenus gave him a sad smile. “I swear to you brother, we will find Kenderik One-Arm, and when we do he will pay for what he has done.”

After a moment of silence, Yarnus broke the quiet between them. “I must say, I didn’t think it would be possible for us to be friends. I… I have spent so much of my life vilifying you for things that I now see were out of your control. Your beauty, your ease with women… your ease with the world. Gods, how I envied you when we were children. A normal boy with a normal face. You could blend into any crowd, could disappear into the throng and no one would bat an eye. My scars made me bitter. For that I am sorry.”

Arvenus shook his head. “We were both envious. I should have spent my time protecting you from the ills of the world,” he admitted, eyes downcast. “I should have seen your jealousy for what it was. I should have taken you under my wing and made you a part of my life, rather than casting you out as did so many others. In truth, brother, I have always envied you. From the time you were born, I felt mother loved you most. She doted on you, and father did too. After the fire that ravaged you so, they grew even more dedicated. I became the afterthought, the appendage they no longer needed. I worked the farm for them trying to win back their love, instead of pursuing my own dreams…”

Yarnus shook his head. “Being brothers, ours was a doomed childhood,” he agreed. “From the moment our house went up in flames. Our destinies were changed that day. Irrevocably changed. I thought it was only my world that shifted, but I see now that yours did as well.”

“Aye,” Arvenus nodded. “Perhaps that is even more reason for us to be good to each other now, with mother and father gone.”

Yarnus nodded, though he said nothing. The first droplets of rain began to fall, cold and biting on the skin. Arvenus peered up at the clouds. Their bellies were black and swollen, a dam waiting to burst.

“Let us hurry on back home,” he said, pulling the hood of his gray Watcher’s cloak up as he spoke. “The skies are angry.”

As the first raindrops fell, they rode back to Daron’s estate. When they reached the estate village, Arvenus accompanied Yarnus to their parent’s farmstead. They brought their horses to the stables in the barn and dried them off. Arvenus and Yarnus did not grant themselves the same luxury, but went out in the rain again to inspect the land behind the farm. They tore through the muck, the sallow earth sucking at their boots as they crossed the fields. Despite Sadus' efforts, the plague had spread rapidly, the almost constant downpour of the last few days providing a perfect breeding ground for the sickness.

“The earth is blackened, poisoned,” Yarnus said. “If we cannot find a way to turn back the clock, the soil will remain unusable for many years to come.”

Arvenus knew the truth of his brother’s words. He could feel the disease beneath his feet, the rampant sickness that rooted beneath the soil. It seeped from every stone pore and every grain of dirt. It flowed with a life all its own, digging its tentacles deeper and deeper into the earth. He could feel the wrongness of it writhing below him, and it sent a shiver up his spine.

“We need to suck the sickness out,” he murmured. “To drain it out of the soil.”

Yarnus was silent for a moment. “Perhaps we can,” he conceded at last. “With Psikar’s blessing.”

Arvenus looked at his brother. “And how does one go about ridding their land of plague? Sadus has been unsuccessful so far. Even with Psikar’s blessing, I’m not certain I would know how to begin.”

“Nor am I,” Yarnus shook his head. “But it would be worse to do nothing at all, don’t you agree?”

Arvenus grunted, though he said nothing. Perhaps Yarnus was right. They had been deemed Watchers by the God of the Spirit himself, Watchers imbued with his light, his power. What good would it do to shy away from those gifts, when, perhaps, they could do so much more?

Arvenus dropped to a kneel, placing his palms flat on the earth. He felt the sickness roiling beneath the surface, slithering outward towards the crops, rivers of poison splitting over and over until they had taken over the breadth of the fields that had been under their parents’ care.

Closing his eyes, Arvenus focused his mind only on the blackness he felt beneath him. He let his mind probe through the dirt, deeper and deeper, until he was sure he found the threshold where the sickness could not go any further. He imagined drawing the sickness towards him, pulling it inside himself, letting it slip between tissue and bone, muscle and sinew, until it was one with him.

“Keep going,” Yarnus urged, though to Arvenus his brother’s voice sounded very far away.

Arvenus continued to pull the sickness back, to draw it inside himself. He could feel the plague within him, could feel it eating away at his insides, turning his bones black, his guts to mush. He let it rage within him, pulling in more and more, but as he took the sickness in he knew he alone was not strong enough to stop it.

“Help me brother,” he choked out between gritted teeth. Seconds passed into an eternity as he waited for aid, until, at long last, he felt a sliver of relief. When, only moments before he had been drowning in sickness, he now felt able to draw breath once more. He opened his eyes only to find Yarnus at his side.

His brother was a grotesque sight. As he kneeled with his palms pressed to the dirt, great veins of black slithered beneath his pale skin. They wound up his arms from the bowels of the earth, slipping and bulging beneath his flesh. Arvenus knew that he, too, would look the same.

“Can you feel it, brother?” Yarnus asked, jaw clenched against the torturous plague. “The fields are healing.”

Indeed, they were. Where once there had been blackness and death, now only healthy soil remained. Heartened by the sight, Arvenus closed his eyes once more. Together, he and Yarnus dug deeper and farther through the earth, scouring the worlds below the surface. Soon the sickness in their parents’ fields had ceased to be, and the brothers sat back, pale-faced and exhausted, bodies glimmering with sweat.

“I feel weakened,” Yarnus muttered. “Brittle.”

Arvenus laughed. “But we are immortal, you and I,” he reminded. “This sickness will wither and die in our veins. It may sting like a dog’s bite, but it is not harmful to us. Or so I imagine. With Sadus’ help, we might be able to purge this sickness from all of Daron’s lands.” He smiled at his brother. “Let's go bring Daron the news.”

With their clothes covered with stains from the wet soil, they walked through the village to the mansion and entered the garden gate.

“Aren’t you getting a little too old to play in the mud, boys?” a churlish voice called to them. Analin waved at them from the mansion's porch, her other arm propped on her belly.

Arvenus walked towards her and up the steps of the porch, followed by Yarnus. “Well met, wife,” Arvenus said with a smile, bending down to kiss her still-smiling lips. “We have good news for your father.”

“Well met, husband,” Analin grinned. “But you both might want to clean up before you meet your landlord.”

“Mmm,” Arvenus said amused, while he looked at his brother. “We might not be thinking straight, because our minds are still addled with sickness.”

Analin’s brow furrowed. “Sickness? What sort of sickness?”

“His words are in jest,” Yarnus said, shaking his head. “We have just cleared our parents' fields of what was plaguing them.”

“Truly?” she asked, turning her eyes to Arvenus.

Arvenus nodded his reply. “We were able to rid the soil of disease here, and will continue to heal more of Daron’s lands. Thank Psikar, God of the Spirit.”

All of a sudden, Analin drew in a sharp breath and pressed her hand onto the side of her belly.

Arvenus gathered her in his arms as her knees buckled and her body sagged against him. “Analin,” he begged. “What’s wrong?”

“The baby,” she moaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders. “Something… something is wrong… I need my mother.” A shriek tore from her throat; a guttural, frantic scream.

Arvenus watched beads of sweat forming on her brow, her face pale as a ghost. “Lanika!” he hollered, his voice thundering across the grass. “Daron!” He pushed into the house.

Lanika stepped into the hallway, drying her hands on a towel. “What’s happened?” she breathed. Daron came barreling through the door behind her.

“The baby.” He shook his head, Analin beginning to writhe in time to her cries.

Without so much as a word to spare, Lanika and Daron pulled Analin from Arvenus’ arms and carried her to her bed, in the room they shared.

“Arvenus, Yarnus, leave the room,” Lanika said. “Now.”

Yarnus had to pull Arvenus with him back to the hallway, after which Daron closed the door from the inside. Slumping to his knees, Arvenus dropped his head into his hands. His stomach weighed down by a stone, he struggled to breathe.

“Hush brother,” Yarnus whispered, dropping down next to Arvenus. He placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight. “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

Every moment that passed felt like eternity, and he waited anxiously. After a while Arvenus stood up again, unable to stop himself from walking about the hall in a ceaseless loop.

His heart in his throat, Arvenus only stopped when he heard the door handle click.

Lanika appeared there, her eyes swollen and red. She reached for him, and he wrapped her in his arms, all the fear and worry choking him as he held her.

“Please just tell me…” he croaked, his voice quiet and broken.

“Analin will be fine,” she assured between shuddering breaths. “But the baby… Gods I’m so sorry, Arvenus… the baby… Analin lost the baby.”

He felt as though his body had been plunged into the icy depths of the Large Inner Sea. The world around him seemed to slow, to shift imperceptibly from what he had always known, into a wide emptiness. It was as though a great chasm had opened within him, a black hole of nothingness that swallowed him. Unable to think, Arvenus pushed past Lanika and entered the room. Daron did not stop him. The sight that greeted him was grizzly. Blood covered the bedsheets, pools of crimson that dripped down the sides. Analin lay wrapped in several brown furs, her eyes vacantly staring out the window.

“Analin?” he murmured, moving to her side. He sat gingerly next to her, afraid any slight movement might cause her pain.

“Lanika told me…”

“I lost the baby,” his wife confirmed, her affect blank, emotionless. “Yes.”

Arvenus gazed out the window. Words failed him in his sorrow. He watched the grasses as they danced lazily in the breeze, swaths of mauve coloring the twilight sky.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when at last he could speak. The hot prick of tears stung his eyes and clouded his vision. He let them fall, dribbling down his cheeks freely.

“Leave me,” Analin said at last. Her words were cold, demanding. She didn’t look at him, didn’t grace him with any care.

“Love?” he whispered, placing a hand on her arm. She stiffened before drawing away from him.

“I share your pain,” she said, her words still devoid of emotion. “But I cannot console you. I cannot hold you and care for you when the life within me was just ripped out. I cannot care for your fragile feelings and tell you it will be alright when a piece of me has died. So, leave me. Please. I cannot bear to look at you, cannot bear to see you in such a state.”

Arvenus stared at his wife for a moment, his mouth open as if he were going to speak, but he couldn’t. He watched her turn away from him, watched the flash of disgust that she didn’t deign to hide. His stomach turned hard as a stone, a painful pit in his gut that tormented him.

“If that is what you wish,” he whispered at last. He turned from her and left the room, as every fiber of his being screamed for him to turn back to her. He closed the door with a soft click.

“Is she alright?” Yarnus asked. Concern lined the furrows of his brow and deepened those around his mouth. “What of the baby?”

“We lost it,” Arvenus murmured, hardly able to believe the words as they escaped him.

Yarnus was still. “And what of Analin?” he pressed, though Arvenus sensed nothing but concern.

“She will be alright…” he informed. “But she does not want me to mourn with her. Why would she not want that?”

For the first time in decades, Yarnus reached forward and embraced his brother. Unable to stop himself, Arvenus crumpled into his brother’s arms. He sobbed against the younger man’s shoulder until he was empty, sobbed until there were no tears left within him to cry.

“She is not lost to you,” Yarnus soothed. “She just needs some time. I’m confident of that.”

Arvenus gulped down air as if he was drowning. “She will never have my child, now that I have received Psikar’s blessing,” he said, pulling away from Yarnus. He wiped away at his face, the hollow, lifeless mask returning to him once more. “I shall never have a child.”

“I’m sorry,” Yarnus whispered, still holding Arvenus by the shoulder. “You should get some rest,” he suggested. “Sleep. You will see, things will be better in the morning.”

“And what of Analin?” Arvenus croaked. “She is in no state to be alone. But I cannot be with her.”

“She has her parents,” Yarnus reassured him. “But if you wish it, I will stay with her as well,” he offered, a sad smile gracing his lips. “Losing a child is a terrible fate that none should have to bear. I hope to ease the pain you both share. Even if it means sitting silently in a corner as she sleeps. I will do what I can, so that you may rest easier this night.”

Arvenus hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Aye. It would ease my mind to know that at least one of us is with her. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Then go and rest,” Yarnus said, giving his brother a gentle shove. “I will watch over her, and when morning comes I will wake you.”

“Thank you, brother,” Arvenus mumbled. He took his steps haltingly, leaving the hallway with much chagrin. Yet as he found his way to the spare room he had used before, he collapsed into the waiting arms of the bed, and let the blackness of sleep take him.