Ninte followed Nevayi as the two guards led them through vast rooms with tall ceilings, up a flight of wooden stairs, and along several hallways decorated with ornate carvings. They passed tall archways and heavy doors that left Ninte wondering what other marvels the manor contained.

Nevayi and the guards walked fast, and Ninte was forced into an intermittent jog in order to keep up. Eventually, when Ninte’s breath was heavy from the pursuit, they rounded a corner and the distant sound of raised voices caught her attention. Nevayi sighed, and slowed her pace, allowing Ninte to catch up. She grasped her hand when she did so.

“Do not be afraid. However, it is perhaps best that you remain quiet for the time being,” Nevayi said as they approached a set of double doors made from polished dark wood that had been embellished with swirls of gold filigree. The guards paused for a breath, then, after sharply rapping on the wood, they pulled the doors open and Nevayi strode inside with Ninte following meekly behind. “Close the door, and wait in the hallway,” Navayi ordered the guards without looking back.

The heated conversation that had been going on ceased as Nevayi pushed between two men facing each other as she made her way to the wide bed situated in the center of the room. She knelt by the bedside and Ninte saw a man, deathly pale with graying, unkempt hair and a tangled beard struggling to look over at Nevayi. She whispered to the man for some time while Ninte stood awkwardly in the corner of the room. The taller of the two men who had been arguing glanced over and a hint of recognition glimmered in his eyes. He tilted his head to her in the shadow of a nod before returning his attention to Nevayi. The other man was shorter, and though both were lean and stood with a confidence that only comes from growing up in a position of power, a scowl sat permanently upon his clean-shaven face.

Eventually, Nevayi stood and turned away from the man lying motionless in bed and spun to face the men with a look that made Ninte shrink back. She marched forward, stopping abruptly before them and stared into their eyes one by one until each man lowered his gaze shamefully.

“What is the meaning of this?” She said at last, her voice low and steady, and Ninte could hear the anger bubbling underneath the surface of her words. “Why do you two insist on bickering while your father is ill.”

The shorter man was quick to answer. “Father became lucid for a moment this afternoon while I visited. He told me - as he did before - that he wishes for me to inherit the lordship of Velniya so it will remain safe. Yurgin is too stubborn to accept that I have been chosen, so he came here to try and pressure father into taking back his word,” he said, speaking fast and ignoring the other man’s attempt to interject.

“You see mother, it’s ridiculous. Father hasn’t said anything meaningful since he became sick and now Taymen expects me to believe father has taken away that which is rightfully mine as the elder and more experienced heir,” said the taller man, Yurgin.

“Because he has finally seen reason!” Taymen said, his voice growing louder. “He does not wish to see the haven he built fall into chaos under your inadequate leadership.”

“My inadequate leadership? Well, isn’t that rich coming from you?” Yurgin replied, bristling.

“Enough!” Nevayi commanded before the two could continue. They looked over to their mother, reluctant but obedient. It made Ninte wonder what kind of woman could control such proud men with just a single word.

“Out! Both of you,” Nevayi continued, and when both men opened their mouths to protest, she held up a hand that silenced them instantly. “I’ll send for you later. In the meantime, try not to act like such petulant children, because after this display, I would be ashamed to see either of you leading this town. Begone!”

The men grumbled and stormed out of the room. Ninte stepped to one side, unable to take her eyes off them as they marched away. Neither Yurgin nor Taymen looked at her, and as the door closed behind them, she could hear them arguing amongst themselves once more.

“I am sorry, Ninte. That was not the first impression I would have hoped for,” Nevayi said, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, exasperated.

Moving to take a seat on the side of the bed, Nevayi motioned for Ninte to join her. Ninte did so, and as she approached, she saw how truly ill the man lying there looked. His face twitched sporadically, contorting as though he was in great pain before fading back into an uneasy state of sleep.

“This is Lord Aviliyon Ariyon, and although it was he who convinced me to abandon you all those years ago, I wish you could have met him sooner. Although he is not your father, I know he regretted the decision as much as I do, and I think he would have liked to have raised you as his daughter,” Nevayi said.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ninte asked, still looking at the man’s pale face, sheened with sweat.

“Some unknown illness has befallen him. Even our best healers have no idea what ails him, and he grows weaker by the day. That’s why my sons are arguing. They think his time is over and that one of them should take power immediately.”

“Do you think they are fit to lead a place like this?” Ninte asked, looking up at Nevayi who sighed once again.

“I don’t know. Yurgin is just and kind, but although Taymen is hot-headed and rash, he is better fit to train and lead the guard. It’s as if they each inherited one of the two qualities that made their father great. I wish they would work together, but their egos will never allow it. At this point, I have lost hope of Aviliyon recovering, so now I’m afraid I’m simply delaying the inevitable conflict that will come with his death.”

Ninte looked back at Aviliyon and for a moment, the two of them sat there in a silence broken only by the faint moans of Lord Ariyon.

“If you will allow me, may I take a closer look at your husband? My abilities do not only consist of killing men. Rather the opposite. Perhaps I can help to ease his suffering,” Ninte said at last, suddenly overcome with a strange urge to help.

Nevayi looked at her and raised one eyebrow. She thought for a long while, glancing back and forth between Ninte and her bedridden husband before finally shrugging her shoulders weakly.

“I do not see what harm it could do. Please, do what you can.”

With Nevayi’s approval, Ninte closed her eyes and focused. Upon opening them, the silver dust that had grown to become a comfort swirled about her. She looked over at Nevayi who was watching her closely, her brow furrowed. The familiar strands of light shone through Nevayi’s body, glowing bright and healthy. Looking down at Aviliyon, however, Ninte saw something else. Pulling the sheets away from his torso she saw the strands that flowed through him were dim and sputtering. They seemed to pulse with every labored breath he took, growing momentarily brighter before fading once again. She had seen this before; it was similar to how her mare had looked before it had died giving birth to the stillborn foal. Opening her mouth, she prepared to break the news to Nevayi, then stopped.

Curling within Aviliyon’s chest were dark strands faintly glowing red. They were hidden below a thin layer of light, but once she eased them out of the way they floated to the surface. Knotted tightly together and writhing like snakes under his skin, Ninte saw that the strands were connected to healthy light, but the sickness had spread everywhere.

“I don’t know if you will believe me,” Ninte said at last, looking up at Nevayi, “but I don’t believe this is a natural illness. It feels as though he’s been cursed in some way. His body just feels wrong, as if some foreign substance is taking over from inside.”

“Teriyas,” muttered Nevayi after a brief silence. “It must be…”

“Teriyas?” asked Ninte, cocking her head to one side.

“I’ll explain later. If you can see what’s wrong, do you think you can help him?”

“I can try, but I don’t know for sure if it will work, or if he’ll even survive the process. I haven’t really done anything like this before.”

Nevayi looked down at her husband, his face glossy with cold sweat and his mouth ajar as he took shallow, raspy breaths.

“Do it. Even death would be a mercy for him now.”

Ninte nodded and placed her hands above Aviliyon’s torso. She was shaking. Clenching her fists, she willed her hands to be still, but they ignored her. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, when suddenly she felt a warm hand close around her own. Her eyes opened to see Nevayi squeezing her hands gently with a warm smile betrayed only by the sadness in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Ninte. Just do your best. I trust you, daughter.”

Ninte’s hand calmed. Her heart rate slowed, and she nodded before fixing her gaze on the mass of dark knots before her. Carefully, she reached forward and focused her energy on a single strand. Aviliyon winced as she touched him, and after a moment she continued, reaching forward with a light of her own that extended out from her hands and into his body. The strand she had targeted seemed to float away from her, as if it was trying to escape. She swiftly caught it and changed her focus to another, delicately easing them against one another and coaxing them apart.

It was a long and exhausting process. What Ninte was attempting felt like trying to untangle a ball of twine, except instead of hands she was forced to do it with extensions of her energy that fumbled clumsily around, grasping hold of the wrong strand more often than not. After almost an hour of continuous, frustrating work, Ninte was able to untangle the mass of dark red glowing strands. As the light began to flow through them fully, she focused on the darkest point and extracted it, drawing it into her hand as if she was sucking poison from a wound. Aviliyon gasped and lurched forward, clutching at his stomach.

Ninte had fallen backwards away from the bed and was staring at the darkness that wriggled in her palm. Disgusted, she channeled everything she could into her palm and squeezed her fist closed. The mass made a faint popping sound, and it was gone.

Clambering to her feet, Ninte dusted herself off and looked over to Nevayi who had dashed forward and was sobbing at Aviliyon’s side. Ninte’s heart dropped; she had killed him after all. She took a step forward and Nevayi twisted her head to look at her. To Ninte’s surprise, a smile still shone on Nevayi’s face. Tears also streamed down her cheeks, leaving large, round droplets of dampness on the bedsheets, but she looked to be almost laughing.

“Thank you. Thank you for this. You cannot even begin to imagine my gratitude,” she said, stepping forward and enveloping Ninte in a brief but sincere hug before returning to her husband.

Aviliyon craned his neck forward to look at Ninte and whispered something in Nevayi’s ear. She nodded, and he continued to speak softly to her for a moment. Then he reached up with one hand and brushed the tears from his wife’s face, after which he lifted himself up with great effort, and planted a kiss on her waiting lips. Ninte smiled contentedly. Adriyan and Irlana had never shown such affection, she thought. This must be what true love looks like.

It was clear from the exhaustion on Avilyon’s face that the brief maneuver upwards into his wife’s arms had depleted what little remaining strength he had left. Noticing this, Nevayi gently helped him back into a comfortable resting position, delicately lowering his head back towards his pillow. Avilyon continued to gaze wearily into Nevayi’s eyes, albeit this time with more of an aura of peace and painlessness than Ninte had witnessed beforehand. This time, it was Nevayi’s turn to softly caress her husband’s face and, as she did so, Avilyon continued to speak to her in slow murmured tones, which Ninte simply could not decipher. Ninte could barely see Aviliyon’s face from where she was sitting, but she was certain his eyes were now closed as he proceeded to quietly comfort his dear wife.

The subsequent sound of Nevayi sobbing caused Ninte’s smile to falter. She didn’t have to summon her power to know why. Lord Aviliyon Ariyon lay still, and as Nevayi slumped back cradling her head in her hands, it was clear he was dead. Ninte lowered herself beside Nevayi and placed an arm over her shoulder. The woman leaned into her and Ninte could feel her shaking, silently sobbing as the pain of her loss overcame her.

Raised voices interrupted the ominous peace of the room, and Ninte’s temper flared as she anticipated the two brothers barging in to continue arguing over their father’s corpse. Nevayi heard it too, and in a swift motion that left Ninte in admiration, she stood and wiped her tear-stained cheeks. Her face became a mask, her eyes were suddenly hard and her lips were pursed.

The door was flung open and Yurgen rushed in, flanked by Nevayi’s guards who looked apologetic. Yurgen stopped abruptly and paused as he took in the scene before him. His face turned white and he swallowed hard.

“Is he gone?” He asked in a voice thick with emotion.

Nevayi nodded.

“We’ll have to arrange his burial later,” Yurgin said. “Taymen has gathered the men loyal to him and is on his way to seize power. They are in front of the manor.”

“If you intend to be the next Lord Ariyon, then I advise you to organize your own force and do it quickly. I’ll take two guards, and we’ll flee out the back.”

A sudden clash of weapons rang out from downstairs, quickly followed by a yell that sparked others. Yurgen nodded and turned to leave the room when Nevayi called his name. He looked back at her.

“Be careful Yurgen, he is still your brother, regardless of the anger that clouds his mind,” she said.

Yurgen nodded. “Make sure Lady Ariyon is taken to safety,” he said to Nevayi’s guards. Then he stormed out of the room.