Chapter 145

Serin reached up and tugged the thick, golden braided cord hanging from the carriage ceiling, and with a sudden lurch, the vehicle rattled to a halt by the roadside. Almost immediately, the door swung open to reveal Irish, the knight in charge of the outriders.

“Is something the matter?” Irish asked, offering a quick, respectful bow to Elena before shifting his gaze to Serin.

“Find the location of the well in this village,” Serin commanded.

Irish blinked, clearly taken aback. “The well, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Why the sudden interest in a well? If it’s drinking water you need, we have supplies in the luggage wagon. Shall I bring some to you?”

“It’s not for drinking,” Serin snapped, his tone impatient. “The Lady has something she needs to verify, so go find it. A large group like ours moving together will only draw unwanted attention, so do it quickly!”

Realization dawned on Irish, and he nodded curtly before disappearing into the gloom.

***

It wasn’t long before Irish returned from his scout. Under his guidance, the small procession—the escort, Elena’s carriage, and the supply wagon—crept into the village square. Darkness had completely swallowed the plaza; not a single lantern flickered in the windows of the surrounding huts. Instead, the pale moonlight revealed heaps of what looked like discarded luggage scattered across the ground, only to be revealed as bloated, rotting corpses upon closer inspection.

“Oh, heavens… how can this be?” Cura gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head, unable to bear the sight.

“You can stay in the carriage,” Elena suggested gently, preparing to disembark.

Despite her trembling and her refusal to look at the carnage, Cura shook her head vigorously. “No, my Lady. I must accompany you.”

Reluctantly, Elena stepped down, leaning on Cura’s arm for support. A gust of wind, heavy with a sickly, sweet stench, caught the veil of Elena’s hat, sending it fluttering. She caught the edge of the lace with her hand, keeping her face obscured as they picked their way across the square. Serin walked ahead, hand on his hilt, his eyes scanning the shadows while the knights formed a tight perimeter around the two women.

The well sat in a corner of the square. As they drew closer, the odor intensified, becoming so foul that Elena felt a wave of nausea roll through her stomach. While she fought to remain composed, Cura and the knights were visibly struggling, covering their mouths and noses to suppress the urge to retch.

Reaching the lip of the well, Elena motioned for Cura to step back. She gripped the stone railing and leaned her upper body forward to look into the depths. The shift in her weight sent a sharp jolt of pain through her unhealed shoulder wound.

“Ngh!” she hissed, pressing her palm against her shoulder to stifle the groan.

“It’s dangerous, my Lady!” Serin exclaimed, reaching out to pull her back by the arm. “Please, be careful.”

“My apologies,” Elena murmured, offering a faint, sheepish smile before turning back to the group. “Could someone provide a light?”

At her request, Irish took a lantern from one of the knights and stepped forward.

“I want to see inside the well,” Elena directed.

“Of course, my Lady,” Irish replied, extending his arm over the dark opening.

Perhaps due to the recent persistent rains, the water level was quite high. However, the liquid below looked less like water and more like a thick, bubbling mire of liquefied coal. Tangled branches, rotting leaves, and tattered scraps of clothing choked the surface, but more disturbingly, the carcasses of several animals floated among the debris, swollen with decay.

“Ugh,” Irish groaned, his face contorting as he looked away. “Did you suspect the drinking water had been contaminated?”

Serin, whose brow was furrowed even deeper than Irish’s, forced himself to stare down into the muck. “It’s been raining for a long time, and with the recent floods, it stands to reason that mountain beasts would flee toward the village and fall into the wells. If they rotted in there, the water would naturally become poisonous. This has happened before.”

“True,” Elena replied softly. “Wild animals usually avoid human contact in the forests, but natural disasters drive them to seek shelter near settlements.”

Serin straightened up, his eyes searching hers. “While it’s likely the plague stems from these rotting carcasses, as you say, I’ve rarely seen a death toll this high from simple contamination.”

“It’s more than just simple contamination,” Elena said grimly.

“Then what is it?”

Elena scanned the silent, corpse-strewn square. “The blood and fluids from the human victims likely seeped into the ground, worsening the spread. But…” She trailed off, pointing back into the well. “Look closely at the necks of the animals.”

Serin and Irish followed the line of her finger, squinting at the floating carcasses.

“If they had simply fallen in and drowned, their fur wouldn’t be stained with blood like that,” Elena explained, her voice steady. “If you pull them out, you’ll find that every single one of them has an identical wound on its neck.”

Both men snapped their heads toward her, eyes wide.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Serin asked, one eyebrow arching in suspicion.

Elena reached out and took the lantern from Irish’s hand. She began to lower it, tracing the light along the inner stone wall of the well. As the glow touched the damp rock, a series of grotesque, twisting patterns emerged, etched into the stone.

“What in the world is that?” Irish whispered. He leaned over so far he looked ready to tumble in, his eyes following the light as Elena moved it.

Cura, drawn by the shock in Irish’s voice, crept forward to peer over the edge as well. Having completed a full circle with the light, Elena straightened up and handed the lantern back to the knight.

“Dark sorcery,” Serin muttered, his hands gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white.

“Exactly,” Elena confirmed. She stepped away from the well, her gaze moving slowly from Serin to Irish, then to Cura. “From this moment on, do not touch your eyes or your mouths. Use the water from the supply wagon to wash your hands immediately. If possible, change your clothes as well.”

Serin’s jaw tightened, and he gnawed at his lower lip. “Did you expect this from the beginning? Is that why you insisted on coming yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Then shouldn’t that have been the very reason you stayed away?” Serin’s voice rose with repressed agitation. “Who else would perform such sorcery? It must be the White Fox Tribe. You know you are their primary target, so why—”

“The Grand Duke might be in danger,” Elena interrupted. “If the wells in every village are like this, then the areas where his troops are stationed won’t be much different.”

“Surely not,” Irish interjected. “No matter how bold they are, they wouldn’t dare pull such a stunt where the Grand Duke himself is camped.”

“They aren’t just trying to kill,” Elena said, taking a deep, shaky breath. The very air felt thick with the taint of decay, offering no relief to the tightness in her chest. “This serves multiple purposes. They can wipe out the people of the Baruchella Empire quickly while simultaneously weakening the military. Furthermore…” She paused, her expression turning bitter. “Even if the Grand Duke wins this war, the people will believe so many died because of him—and because of me. Those rumors are already spreading. The White Fox Tribe wants more than just my life; they want to ruin everything he builds. Azis… he is more than capable of such malice.”

“You seem to know him well,” Serin noted.

Elena offered a sad, hollow smile. She knew Azis all too well. It was Azis who had first discovered that her blood could be used to fuel powerful hexes. It was he who had planted the seeds of fear in her father, Rosou, and manipulated him from the shadows to slaughter anyone who challenged the chief’s authority.

Memories of her mother’s suffering—the woman driven to madness by the horrors she witnessed—threatened to overwhelm her. Elena gasped for air, her body stiffening as a chill ran down her spine. It was a past she desperately wanted to erase. But she was tired of running. She wouldn’t hide behind a shattered memory anymore.

“Prepare the things I’m about to list,” Elena said, her voice turning clinical as she began to rattle off various herbs.

While the other knights stood in a dazed silence, Serin focused intently, committing each name to memory.

“I also need candles, beeswax, charcoal powder, salt, a bear’s claw, and the fur of a white rabbit,” she added.

Serin, who had remained silent during the list of herbs, felt his expression souring. “What do you intend to do with those?”

“I am going to break the curse.”

“Is that even possible?” Irish asked, stepping forward. He searched her face, his expression a mix of awe and skepticism.

Elena hesitated. To be honest, she wasn’t certain. Her expertise didn’t lie in dark sorcery, and she had never attempted to dismantle a hex of this scale before. Furthermore, she hadn’t mentioned the most vital ingredient yet.

As if reading her mind, Serin let out a long, heavy sigh. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Sir Serin—”

“I said no! Not this time, under any circumstances,” Serin barked, his eyes flashing with a ferocity Elena had never seen. He reached up to rub his temple, then dropped his arm in a fit of temper. “Your sorcery… it requires your own blood to function, doesn’t it?”

A collective gasp went up from the knights standing nearby. They stared at Elena in the darkness, their eyes wide, appearing as though they had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. Elena bit the inside of her cheek, unable to find a ready answer.

“My Lady?” Serin pressed, his voice demanding a response, though his face already mirrored a grim certainty.