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𝐄𝐕𝐘𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐓𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 with a hearty pull, concealing as much of her face as possible. She was wearing Vareia's mask, though the fabric was itchy, and she'd almost ripped it off her face multiple times when it rubbed against her skin in the wrong way. Vareia had profusely apologized, but Evylyn was just happy more of her identity could be kept a secret.

She was glad glowing eyes weren't considered out of the norm for Astanians, because she knew, even without a mirror, the lavender of her eyes was enough to softly highlight her red skin. Without seeing the imprints of her bones, she doubted anyone would recognize what she was–or who–but she didn't want to take any chances. Much of her walking had been conducted with her eyes shut and Vareia unhelpfully guiding her with delayed verbal responses.

"Don't look so nervous, Ev," Vareia said, looking up as her chubby cheeks and full lips spread in an animated grin. "We'll change this town soon enough!"

And she'd be lying if she didn't say her stomach was churning with every trepid step she took. Every time her leg moved, she was reminded of why she hadn't visited Ensceas any time recently; they wanted her dead, and she couldn't change that. She didn't want to change it, on some level. That amount of change was both terrifying and practically improbable.

"Yeah," she replied absentmindedly, gnawing on her lip. "I thought you said this Eaxnae lived on the outskirts."

"He does," Vareia said before taking a sudden sharp right. Evylyn nearly tripped over her feet as she skidded to a halt and followed Vareia, mumbling a string of curses under her breath.

Ensceas was... pretty when Evylyn could stop and look without someone shouting at her from behind about a bounty. It was a cluster of tight corners and dimly lit alleyways, with brick houses crowding the streets and the faint smell of burnt runespowder in the air. In terms of crime, it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the other cities Evylyn had visited, but she wouldn't be surprised if she left the city and her wallet had somehow been snatched from her purse.

She straightened her spine as Vareia knocked against the door. It didn't look like a blacksmith's house, but Evylyn supposed his business could have been further into the city.

After a moment of Vareia tapping her feet against the stone floor and smiling, and Evylyn waiting with clasped hands, the door swung open. Evylyn had to crane her neck to meet the eyes of the man; a burly, bushy-bearded hulk with tanned skin and piercing yellow eyes the same shade as the fire flickering in his forge further into his house. An... unconventional place to keep a forge, but Evylyn supposed she wasn't judging.

"Eki'na!" Vareia said, and if Evylyn thought she looked silly standing next to Vareia, that feeling was doubled seeing her next to this Eaxnae.

Eki'na tilted his head ever so slightly, and the soot marks smeared across his rough skin shifted as he frowned. He was soon smiling, however, as clear realization dawned on his face. Before Evylyn could blink, he'd scooped Vareia up and twirled her in the air.

"Vareia, my old friend!" he bellowed, and despite the deep baritone of his voice, his tone was as bubbly as Vareia's. "How have you been?"

As he gently set Vareia down, the Cimibil rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. "I've been good. That, uh, forest retreat was a miracle, really. Remember that?"

"That was... what, three hundred years ago?" Eki'na asked before laughing, a hearty, resounding sound that echoed throughout his large house. It was scarcely decorated, though Evylyn supposed having too much furniture around would be a fire hazard.

"Four hundred," Vareia said, smile broadening. "But what about you? Is Gryna still doing okay?"

Eki'na's grin faltered, shifting to a sullen frown. He fidgeted with his meaty hands, and Evylyn found herself stepping back at his sudden shift in mood. She already wasn't trusting this man, regardless of whether Vareia knew him, and for him to be so... sudden, was unsettling.

"They're... not well," Eki'na said, and despite his obvious attempt to mumble the words, they were still spoken with a resound that pounded at the walls.

Vareia blinked slowly.

"We figured we were immune to whatever disease has been plaguing the city for all these years, but..." He sighed, bright gaze dropping to his ash-coated floorboards. "It seems not. They've been sick for years."

"Can we see them?" Vareia asked gently, resting a hand on Eki'na's upper arm, seeing as that was as high as she could reach. Eki'na's tense posture relaxed before he gave a slight jerk of his head.

The further into his house they got, the hotter their surroundings grew. Evylyn pulled her hood away from her skin, uncomfortable as her skin grew slick with sweat, but she didn't dare take it off. Maybe Vareia could trust this man, but she couldn't. Not yet.

They were led into a small bedroom, considerably more packed with furniture than the rest of the house. There was a giant wooden chair next to the bed–next to the frail being laying under the covers.

Eki'na bit back another sigh as he plopped down into the chair, the legs groaning angrily as he leaned forward. He took the hand of whoever was in the bed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Vareia.

"What happened?" Vareia asked, walking to the other side of the bed. She did not sit as she watched the two.

Evylyn didn't approach the bed; she really didn't know if she was supposed to even follow them in here. But Eki'na lit a candle, bathing the room in an amber light and providing her with enough illumination to see everything she needed.

The Sulinar in the bed was frail. Their skin was unnaturally pale, almost a ghostly white compared to what Evylyn assumed used to be a smooth yellow shade. Their face was gaunt, with little meat to hold up their sharp features. And their messy brown hair spilled out onto the bed in disheveled clumps, like they hadn't been able to care for it for years.

Evylyn took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. If Eki'na knew she was the accused source of this disease, he'd rip her in half. To the town, she was the believed source for suffering like this. They wouldn't hesitate in putting her down given the chance. There was no cure for this disease, and because Gryna was immortal, they'd never meet the sweet embrace of death to free them of their suffering unless Eki'na killed them himself. Perhaps that was why their hair was so messy–Eki'na was too scared to touch more than their hand in anticipation that he could somehow kill Gryna with the brush of a loving hand.

Her eyes burned, though tears did not prick at them as she covered her mouth with a hand. Her hot breath tickled through the scratchy fabric of her mask, ragged and desperate, as she did her best to contain herself. To show weakness here would mean potential death.

"It must be because they're immortal," Vareia said, her melancholic tone so unfamiliar to Evylyn she nearly broke into tears at that. "That's actually why we're here."

"What do you mean?" Eki'na asked, his voice breaking before he cleared his throat.

"Ev and I," Vareia gestured to Evylyn, and didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, flooding Evylyn with temporary relief, "are in the city to fix this disease. We were wondering if you could help us. If you could, then... we could help Gryna, too."

"And you could... you can use them to help, can't you? Because they're immortal?"

Vareia hesitated before looking to Evylyn.

She supposed it was her turn to speak, though she wasn't going to waste her time with introductions. "It's far safer if we can... well, test cures on them. They won't die from anything I make, and even if I can't find a cure, there's a potential they'll be helped, regardless."

Vareia frowned as Evylyn said this, though Evylyn hadn't a clue why. So she glanced up at Eki'na, whose bright yellow gaze had transitioned from doleful to hopeful.

"If you help us with this, I'll be indebted to you," Eki'na said before smiling and sliding his eyes over to Vareia. "Again."

"Don't worry," Vareia said, clapping Eki'na gently on the back. "If we're able to do this, we'll be even."

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"So, what are their symptoms?" Vareia asked, tapping her quill against the table. Eki'na had led them out to his living room, a blur of red and brown accompanied by the soft roar of his forge's fire. A single candle amplified by Eki'na's magic was enough to light up the entire room.

"They've had a horrid cough ever since they caught the disease," Eki'na said, picking up his fork and shoveling a mouthful of his dinner into his mouth. He'd offered a serving to the two women, of which Vareia accepted and Evylyn rejected. "Let's see... At first, it just sounded painful. But then they started hacking up blood, as well."

"And how long has that been going on for?"

"Hundred years, maybe?" The response sounded casual, but Evylyn still grimaced as she looked away and rested a hand on her skirt. "Sometimes, I wish they weren't immortal. Then they wouldn't be suffering. But whenever I asked them whether they... you know, they tell me they can't serve Liysus without my love in the afterlife."

Vareia's lips tightened into a straight line before she sighed and placed her quill on the table. The ink smeared on the paper, though Vareia didn't seem to care. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Eki'na replied, voice jubilant despite the dampened spirits. "We can all fix this horrible disease! Together!"

Perhaps this house was where Vareia learned her incredibly upbeat behavior. After all, she did say she used to be like Evylyn, and there was only so much meditating in a patch of dirt and looking at pretty flowers could do for a soul. Evylyn already knew that.

Vareia exhaled, the corners of her lips curling into a sliver of a smile as she giggled. "You're right. Are there any other symptoms?"

"At least once a day, they'll typically writhe in pain. I don't know why, and it's always random. Can be while we're sleeping, can be while I'm making dinner. Oh, that's another symptom. They can hardly keep anything in their stomach, and they practically live off liquids now. Guess we're lucky they don't need as much substance as a mortal does."

I wouldn't call suffering lucky...

Evylyn supposed she was biased, seeing as she was practically made from the essence of death, but she didn't see the point in allowing someone to suffer like Gryna had been for hundreds of years in the name of love. Perhaps those who could live forever were just as scared of death as mortals were.

"There are other smaller symptoms, but..." Eki'na tilted his chair back, and the floorboards beneath him creaked angrily, "that's the gist of it. I'm assuming it's different from how a mortal would fare."

"And how have you been during this?" Vareia asked, leaning forward as she met Eki'na's gaze, who quickly ducked his head. His eyes flickered to Vareia for a moment before falling back to the floor.

"We can talk later," he finally said, voice a mixture of gruff sadness and feigned optimism. "Other things are more important right now."

Vareia shrugged slightly, cheekily smiling. "Alright, Eki. We'll talk later. It's good to see you again after all these years, though."

"Same can go to you, little lady." Eki'na was silent for a moment before rubbing a hand against his beard. "I forgot to ask earlier. Who's your friend?"

"Oh, E..." Vareia paused before her jaw went taut and she met Evylyn's gaze out of the corner of her eye. She remained silent, to which Evylyn sighed quietly–she supposed she would have to introduce herself at some point, and now was as good an opportunity as ever.

"My name is Evylyn," she said after a moment, and her hand instinctively strayed to where it would be concealed if she had to draw a rune in case of a fight.

And, as expected, Eki'na replied with a shocked, "Evylyn? Evylyn the necromancer?"

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Word Count: 15,426/20,000

A random bolded word in a chapter indicates where I've passed a milestone!

QOTC: What do you think of Eki'na and his partner? Do you think they'll be helpful in figuring out a cure for this disease?

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