Kael sat alone in the loft.
The others had left to gather surface samples from the northern fields.
Marshal Herin had insisted.
He'd stayed behind. Claimed a sore foot.
No one questioned it.
Not out loud.
On the table before him, the cloth was unwrapped.
Inside lay the vine root he had pulled from the silent clearing two nights prior.
It hadn't dried.
Hadn't shriveled.
It looked fresher now than when he found it.
Worse—
It pulsed.
Not visibly.
But in rhythm.
As if it had found something to sync to.
Kael removed his gloves.
Touched the root directly.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then—
A flicker.
Not vision. Not sound.
Just pressure.
Like something leaning too close inside his thoughts.
A face.
His brother's?
No.
Elric's voice?
Almost.
But fractured. Shifting.
He yanked his hand back.
The root stopped pulsing.
Kael wrapped it again.
But his breath came quicker now.
His fingertips tingled.
He turned to the bottle.
Still sealed.
Still warm.
The glow at its center had spread slightly.
No longer just green.
Nowthreaded with veins of gold.
Faint.
Slow.
Growing.
Kael whispered, "What are you reacting to?"
Of course, no answer came.
But the warmth spread to his palm.
It wasn't threatening.
Not exactly.
But it was present.
Focused.
For the first time, he wondered—
Was it watching only because he was holding it?
Or was it… remembering?
A crash outside the loft.
Shouting.
Kael moved quickly, stuffing the root back into the pouch, bottle and all.
By the time he stepped into the hallway, two disciples were dragging a boy past.
Younger than the others.
Brown hair.
One eye bruised.
He was laughing.
Not joyfully.
Not madly.
Just… emptily.
Like someone laughing at a joke that wouldn't end.
"Help restrain him!" someone shouted.
Kael stepped in, helped bind the boy's hands.
He resisted, but not with force.
With rhythm.
Twisting in ways a body shouldn't know.
The laughter faded into whispers.
Then sobs.
Marshal Herin arrived minutes later.
Saw the boy.
Didn't ask for details.
Just said, "That's the third."
Later that evening, Sariel cornered Kael.
"You knew it was different," she said, eyes sharp. "Whatever you found. You didn't tell Herin. Or Varra."
Kael met her gaze.
"I didn't trust them."
"You don't trust me either."
Silence.
Then:
"I wanted to understand it first."
Sariel looked like she might argue.
Then didn't.
She sat across from him, arms folded.
"You still have it?"
Kael nodded.
"You planning to use it?"
"No."
"Good."
She didn't move.
Didn't speak again.
Just stayed there, watching him work as he ground herbs into powder.
That night, Kael couldn't sleep.
He didn't try.
He sat with the bottle beside him.
This time, he didn't unwrap it.
But he didn't look away from it either.
The glow inside it pulsed.
Not randomly.
But like breathing.
Like memory.
He whispered to it:
"You remember, don't you?"
The bottle didn't answer.
But it didn't deny it either.