Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian arrived in Cloud Recesses just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.
He clutched the letter from Lan Xichen and the jade token of passage it had contained, one in each hand, as he rode Suibian over the long, white stairs leading to up the gate. There was probably a rule somewhere on that giant stone in the main courtyard that forbade such an approach to the tranquil haven that was Cloud Recesses, but Wei Wuxian was fuelled by enough urgency that any forthcoming lecture from Lan Qiren wasn't enough to faze him.
He remembered enough decorum to stop at the gate, however, nimbly hopping off his sword and letting it slot neatly back in its sheath. He approached the single cultivator standing guard and showed him the letter.
"Zewu-Jun has asked me to come to him immediately after I arrive," he explained, as the cultivator looked at the letter. "Where can I find him?"
Even outside the normal Lan calm, the cultivator showed no surprise. He had barely looked at the letter before he was ushering Wei Wuxian through the gate. The uneasiness that had been sitting in his stomach all the way from Lotus Pier only grew.
"This way, Wei-gongzi," he said, beckoning for Wei Wuxian to follow.
They moved at a brisk pace, almost fast enough to violate the rule banning running within the Cloud Recesses, and he didn't think it was due to the cold or the light flakes of snow that fell, the blanket of white that crunched under their feet. Wei Wuxian looked down at it, frowning. It wasn't unusual for Cloud Recesses to experience snow frequently and for a longer portion of the year than other regions, but this was out of season even here.
He put it out of his mind, along with the almost eerie lack of life and movement even in a place as serene as this, when they arrived at the Hanshi. He was ushered inside, where Lan Xichen looked up from the tea he was steeping. A fire was crackling discreetly in the pit, filling the room with the sweet smell of woodsmoke.
Wei Wuxian bowed to Lan Xichen, then took the seat opposite him at the table, as indicated.
"Wei-gongzi," Lan Xichen greeted with a smile, but Wei Wuxian thought he knew the man well enough by now to recognise the tension around his eyes, in the line of his shoulders. "I wasn't expecting you to arrive so soon."
"Zewu-Jun, your message was equally urgent and vague," he said, as he accepted a cup of tea. He had no intentions of drinking it; his stomach felt too unsettled, unsure what was going on. "Of course I had to come. Aside from it having something to do with Lan Zhan, I don't know, specifically, why you've called me here."
That was the main cause of his uneasiness. The Gusu Lan was a private clan; they didn't often invite in others to resolve their problems, and clearly there was a problem. That much had been obvious from Lan Xichen's carefully worded letter that conveyed just enough to let him know there was cause for concern, but not enough to tell him how bad it was, in typical Lan fashion. They were not ones to incite panic or undue concern, and they guarded their secrets closely.
Wei Wuxian very much thought the Lan as a whole could use some lessons on how a lack of information could cause just as much panic, but it was the least of his concerns right now. More than anything, he wanted to know what had happened to Lan Wangji and why it warranted summoning him all the way from Lotus Pier.
"Wei-gongzi, despite your age, you've already gained some notoriety among the clans for your ingenuity and... unique approach to cultivation, the new spiritual tools you have created."
Wei Wuxian was immediately struck with two thoughts: the first was that that was the politest way anyone had ever described his experiments and willingness to push the boundaries of accepted methods of cultivation, and the second was that, whatever had happened to Lan Wangji, their attempts to solve it using traditional means had likely failed.
His hand tightened around the cup.
"Since you are such a good friend of Wangji's," Lan Xichen continued, "I was sincerely hoping you would be willing to lend your insight and your talents to help us."
"A good friend?" Wei Wuxian couldn't help but echo.
"You don't consider yourselves friends?" The completely neutral tone of Lan Xichen's voice told Wei Wuxian his response to this question was being very carefully considered.
Wei Wuxian had met Lan Wangji a few years before, here in Cloud Recesses, when he had come with other disciples of the Yunmeng Jiang to study under Lan Qiren, an elder of the Lan clan considered to be one of the finest educators of his generation. He also happened to be Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji's uncle and had hated Wei Wuxian from the day they met.
Wei Wuxian had thought Lan Wangji shared the same opinion, at first, and so he sought to ruffle the perfect student's feathers at every opportunity, with varying degrees of success. To both their dismay at the time, Lan Wangji had been assigned to oversee all of Wei Wuxian's punishments - and there had been many - and so they had spent a lot of time in each other's company during those summer months.
Lan Wangji had eventually stopped trying to pretend he didn't exist, had started to engage him in conversation and became annoyed with his antics less, and they had gone on many night hunts together in the years since, but there was still an aloofness about him that sometimes made Wei Wuxian uncertain of where he stood, of how much his company might still be simply tolerated.
He wondered, at times, if Lan Wangji had merely grown used to him, and sighed.
"Sometimes, I'm not sure what he thinks of me," he replied honestly. "I've been told more times than I could count that he clearly hates me and I should stay away. I don't believe that's true," he continued on, before Lan Xichen could interrupt, "but just what he does think is sometimes... unclear."
"I see," Lan Xichen said, and there was still that careful neutrality to his tone, a more obvious lack of inflexion than was usually typical for the Lan. "And you, Wei-gongzi? How do you regard my brother?"
"Your letter arrived at Lotus Pier yesterday," said Wei Wuxian, managing a wan smile. "I'm here today."
He didn't need to explain to Lan Xichen that the journey should have taken two days by sword. He didn't need to explain that he had pushed hard, harder than was perhaps wise, and foregone sleep to make it here so quickly. Some of the tightness in Lan Xichen's expression, nearly impossible to detect until it faded away, relaxed as he smiled.
"Zewu-Jun, you still haven't explained why Lan Zhan needs my help."
"Wangji has... been cursed," he admitted gravely, and Wei Wuxian felt a chill run down his spine.
If it was a curse that a prestigious clan like the Lan were utterly unable to break, with all their vast knowledge and their great library of cultivation manuals spanning back generations, then this curse was no small thing. It was something dangerous, likely previously unseen, perhaps even life-threatening.
"How is Lan Zhan?" he asked, not surprised to find that his voice came out slightly hoarse. He swallowed. "How fast is the curse progressing?"
"At a steady pace," Lan Xichen replied, and it did not escape Wei Wuxian's notice that he ignored the first question. He felt cold in a way that had little to do with the weather outside.
Instead of repeating himself, he said, "Tell me what happened, Zewu-Jun."
"Wangji was sent to investigate a haunting in the southern part of Gusu, in a small fishing village called Xijiang..."
~*~
Lan Wangji arrived at the village early in the afternoon. It was small and rural, but bustling with life, full of people hurrying here and there with clear purpose. Children played in the streets and dogs chased after them, dodging through legs and around the carts that meandered slowly along the dirt roads, carrying vegetables from the surrounding farms and fish from the wide river upon whose bank the village had grown. It appeared like so many villages Lan Wangji had visited in the years since he had begun night hunting.
He was met in the central square (which, in reality, was a central point in the village where all roads connected around a stone well) by three elders. Their top knots were all sterling grey, their faces lined deeply with age in the way that hinted of a youth spent working outside in the sun. One felt it more keenly than the others, bent over a thick stick that helped keep him upright.
"Lan-gongzi!" the first greeted with a bow, without him needing to introduce himself. Anyone native to the Gusu region would recognise the ribbon wrapped around his forehead, even if they were unable to identify his position within his clan from its decoration alone. He felt no need to inform them. "Thank you for coming so promptly. My name is Liu Ying."
Lan Wangji nodded.
"Here we have also Hao Mingyu and Liang Hai," he added, gesturing to the other elders beside him. "Lan-gongzi, would you like us to show you to your room? We have made sure it was prepared specially for your arrival."
Lan Wangji shook his head. "No. I would like to investigate first," he decided.
While most ghosts were active at night, as seemed to be the case with the spectre that haunted this village, there were often valuable clues to be found in the daylight as well. Lan Wangji's hope was always to glean a way to help a spirit pass peacefully on to its next life without the need for violence.
Liu Ying nodded emphatically, as though he expected no less. "Very well, Lan-gongzi. Liang Hai will show you the way." He turned to the elder furthest away from him, the one bent over his walking stick. "Liang-bobo!" he all but shouted.
"Eh?" the old man barked, swivelling round to face the direction of the voice.
"Show Lan-gongzi to Zhou Xiu's house, would you?" Hao Mingyu said, also speaking loudly. "He needs to take a look around!"
Liang Hai grunted, which the other two men took as acceptance. Liu Ying smiled confidently, as though he had placed Lan Wangji in the care of the finest guide in the province. Lan Wangji was not so convinced.
He was somewhat perturbed when Liu Ying and Hao Mingyu bowed their farewells and left him behind. He could hear them talking about how relieved they were for his presence as they walked away, giving him no chance to interrupt them. Left with no choice, Lan Wangji turned his attention back to Liang Hai.
The man was looking up at him from his stooped over position with a frown etched into his weathered face. "A cultivator, are you?" he asked rhetorically, sounding less than impressed. "Well, come this way. And hurry up, now! I don't have all day!"
Liang Hai set off at a brisk pace - or what was a brisk pace for him. Six of his shuffling steps were easily covered by the most relaxed and casual of strides of Lan Wangji's long legs. It was impolite to either walk ahead of him or try to hurry him, which left Lan Wangji walking very slowly behind Liang Hai, exactly one step at a time.
The minutes stretched on as they made their way slowly through the village. Lan Wangji had no problem with long periods of silence, but there was no indication they were drawing any closer to the house he was to investigate and he felt strongly that his time would be better spent trying to do something practical.
Steeling himself, he drew up beside Liang Hai and asked, "What can you tell me about Zhou Xiu?"
"Eh? Speak up, son!"
Lan Wangji was, for a moment, unsure what to do. Not for the first time, Lan Wangji wished Wei Wuxian was with him. He would never have trouble communicating with anyone, would never be stymied by the idea of having to raise his voice. All aspects of Wei Wuxian were naturally loud and vibrant. He would be able to help, would charm free the answers he needed in a way Lan Wangji never could.
Even more than that, he simply wished Wei Wuxian was here, with him. He missed him, it was that simple. It had been many months since they’d last seen each other, weeks since he’d last received a letter from Lotus Pier. It wasn’t unusual; Wei Wuxian would often become distracted, preoccupied with night hunts and his experiments, then send him sheets of rambling letters about everything he’d gotten up to in between, how much fun he’d had, what exciting discoveries he’d made, including new talismans he’d perfected.
Lan Wangji loved to read about his adventures, but couldn’t help wishing he was there to share them. The night hunts they went on together, regardless of the complexity and intrigue, never seemed to drive Wei Wuxian to paper, to tell others of their exploits with such enthusiasm. He was content to return to the quiet after the battle was done and the mystery solved, but it was never enough to make him stay and Lan Wangji was too much the coward to ask. He didn’t know how to appeal to Wei Wuxian’s need for adventure, didn’t know how to be other than he was; he was the moth, not the flame, and could do nothing but resign himself to that fact.
However, now was not the time to be distracted by these old, familiar regrets. Lan Wangji let out a long breath and tried again, slightly louder, bending down toward his guide. “Zhou Xiu? Who is she?”
“Who?” Liang Hai demanded, but before Lan Wangji could give in to despair, he continued, “You mean the girl? Poor thing, dead six months now. All because she set her sights on that rake, Cai Yaoting.”
Lan Wangji knew that these hauntings had been happening almost as long, so it seemed likely they had a connection to Zhou Xiu’s death. The why, however, had yet to reveal itself, but it was a place to start.
“Was Zhou Xiu unwell?” he asked.
“In the heart, maybe,” the old man said, his tone disgusted. “That boy, he up and left her right before they were to be wed. Shamed his entire family, he did. They left the village shortly after. That nice family, paying for their fool boy’s mistakes.”
While Liang Hai shook his head, Lan Wangji rapidly reassessed his thoughts on the haunting. If Zhuo Xiu had passed away filled with resentment, it made perfect sense she would have lingered after death, unable to let go of her pain. He felt renewed hope that her spirit could be laid to rest without violence if her former fiancé could be found and made to acknowledge his actions in a way that was meaningful to her.
Lan Wangji would need to track him down, but while he was here, he would still look over her home. The hauntings were focused there, so he might still be able to find more vital information, more clues to Zhou Xiu’s reasons for lingering after her passing.
These things, he knew, were not always as simple as they first appeared.
“You married, son?” Liang Hai suddenly asked, pulling Lan Wangji abruptly from his thoughts.
“No.”
“Eh? What was that?”
Unable to bear the thought of actually shouting when other means would suffice, Lan Wangji shook his head.
“Well, don’t,” Liang Hai said, with resounding authority. “Nothing but a nuisance, you ask me. Caused nothing but trouble for that sweet girl. Bah, even my own wife…”
Strictly speaking, it violated his clan rules to ignore people and disrespect his elders, but Lan Wangji let Liang Hai’s words fade from his focus. Truth be told, he probably never would marry. When he considered spending forever with someone, he only ever thought of very specific things: a laugh that felt like sunlight on his skin, a red ribbon trailing in the wind, a mischievous sparkle in eyes that never failed to look straight through him.
These were things he would never have, not in the ways he wanted them. He had resigned himself to that some time ago.
Liang Hai suddenly stopped and only Lan Wangji’s quick reflexes prevented him walking on and leaving the man behind. Evidently done with his ranting about his wife, he pointed to a lone house with boarded-up windows.
“This is the one,” he explained needlessly. “No one’s been brave enough to go inside for months. Whatever’s in there makes an awful racket most nights. You be careful, boy.”
Lan Wangji nodded and, his duty done, Liang Hai began to shuffle away.
Alone now, Lan Wangji approached the house. He hesitated with his hand inches from the door; even from outside, he could feel the hum of resentful energy that saturated the building, remaining neatly contained within its walls. Cautious, he put his other hand on the hilt of his sword as he eased the door open.
His first impression was that it was a modest dwelling typical of a rural village like this. It was a single, decent-sized room within which were all the basic amenities of a humble living, though all the furniture had been covered with homespun blankets. A cooking pot still hung over the firepit in the centre of the room.
The space was dark and cold; cold enough for Lan Wangji’s breath to mist in front of him, like it did in the colder months of winter in Cloud Recesses, and had him instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. This was no natural chill in the air.
What dominated his attention, however, was the mirror.
Across the firepit from him, it was the only piece of furniture not covered with cloth, yet there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. It was tall, reaching almost from the floor to the ceiling, made of metal - silver, by the looks of it - with intricate patterning along its edge.
Such a mirror was far too expensive to be owned by anyone here; that, and the glow it emitted despite being in near-total darkness, told Lan Wangji all he needed to know about its nature.
Carefully, he pulled a talisman out of his sleeve. It was one of Wei Wuxian’s, sent to him in a letter months ago, a powerful sealing spell he had created himself. Sealing this mirror would only be a temporary solution, but it would perhaps give the villagers some reprieve while Lan Wangji investigated further. Haunted items, as this mirror seemed to be, were much more complicated affairs than a ghost that simply attached itself to a place of significance. The cold that emanated from the mirror’s surface, which reflected nothing of the room and appeared misty white, reminiscent of thick ice, was like nothing he had ever encountered before. There were several books in the Library Pavilion Lan Wangji wanted to consult before he tried anything.
Still, he wanted to examine the mirror exactly as it was before he sealed it. Careful of his footing, Lan Wangji walked around the firepit toward the mirror. So far, there had been no reports of the ghost causing injury to anyone, but no one had thus far entered its domain or attempted to interfere with the mirror itself. There was no knowing what sort of reaction he would get by approaching it, so he held the talisman at the ready, prepared to throw it at a moment’s notice.
The closer he got, the more the resentment pressed against his skin and the colder the air became. Lan Wangji was now consciously suppressing the need to shiver and he paused, waiting with bated breath as his eyes scanned the mirror, alert for any sign of danger. A moment or two passed without any backlash, not even a ripple on its surface, and Lan Wangji allowed himself to breathe again.
He took another step closer and, unbidden, found himself thinking of Wei Wuxian, of the feelings he harboured that were never acknowledged, doomed forever to be unrequited because he lacked the courage to voice them. Though their circumstances were not the same, he could almost understand the sorrow of the woman who’d lived there. He felt her feelings of inadequacy, of unworthiness, of rage as keenly as his own.
He let me down. He hurt me.
He frowned. No, that wasn’t right. He had never been angry or resentful toward Wei Wuxian, only frustrated with himself. It had never been Wei Wuxian’s fault.
He never noticed or cared how I felt about him.
Irritated with himself, he tried to shove these intrusive thoughts away. Having been confronted with them earlier was no excuse to lose focus now. Lan Wangji had better control of himself than that and he had never blamed Wei Wuxian for not seeing what he kept hidden.
The thoughts did not leave, lingering in the back of his mind as he drew closer to the mirror.
As soon as he was within arm’s reach, it shattered.
There was no time to react. Glass fragments shot out from the mirror’s surface, glittering as though the very air that blew them toward him had frosted over. Faster than he could close his eye, a shard flew into it, but where there should have been pain, there was only a numbing cold.
As his body was pelted with dozens more stinging pricks of cold, like suddenly being engulfed in a snowstorm, Lan Wangji finally threw the talisman. It hit the metal backing where the mirror had once been and stuck there with no visible effect. Grimly, Lan Wangji thought he knew why.
From head to toe, he felt chilled, but not unbearably so; like first rising from his bed wearing a single layer on a winter morning. He was already beginning to warm again. The rest of the shards had merely bounced off harmlessly, falling to the floor around his feet.
All, that was, except one.
He pressed a hand to his heart where the cold spread out under his skin like cracks on a frozen lake. As with his eye, there was no pain, but Lan Wangji knew he was in dire trouble. This was far beyond what he had expected from the news that had reached Cloud Recesses and he needed help. A messenger on foot or even on horseback would take too long; the fastest way was riding his sword.
Glass crunched under his shoes as he left the house, emerging into daylight. The sun helped warm his skin, but couldn’t hope to touch what had taken root underneath it. Lan Wangji unsheathed Bichen, relieved when his spiritual powers seemed unaffected. Mounting the blade swiftly, he pointed Bichen in the direction of home.
~*~
“Wangji arrived back in Cloud Recesses before nightfall,” Lan Xichen said. “By that point, the eye in which the mirror fragment had lodged itself had turned silver. There were no other immediate visible effects, but that changed rapidly. By the next morning, his breath misted the air even in the warmest room. His extremities were always icy to the touch, though he complained of no discomfort.”
“I’ve never heard of a curse like this,” Wei Wuxian admitted reluctantly. “Where is Lan Zhan now? If I can have a look at his condition, I’ll have a better idea what I’m looking for when I start combing through the library.”
Lan Xichen set his cup down in a very slow and deliberate manner, as though giving himself time to gather his thoughts and decide what he wanted to say. Wei Wuxian felt even antsier, stamping down the urge to hurry him along.
“Wangji… is no longer in Cloud Recesses, Wei-gongzi.”
“He’s gone?” Wei Wuxian asked in disbelief. “Is he trying to find a cure? Why was he allowed to leave at all?”
It was a testament to how worried Lan Xichen was for his brother that he didn’t take offence at being questioned.
“Wangji did not want to hurt anyone,” he explained. “A few days after his return, the curse began to lash out at people. The doctor who tried to examine his eye that morning ended up with frostbite. She almost lost her fingers. After that, Wangji could not be convinced to remain in Cloud Recesses.”
Of course, Wei Wuxian thought. Lan Wangji would never allow himself to pose a threat to his clan even if it meant putting himself at risk. Wei Wuxian didn’t envy Lan Xichen the position that put him in as an older brother and sect leader, his personal interests and his responsibilities conflicting.
“Where is Lan Zhan now?”
“Up the mountain,” Lan Xichen replied, looking out the window as though he could see it through the trees. “There’s a cave our elders use for periods of sustained meditation. He has taken refuge there for the time being, but he has stopped allowing anyone to get close, even myself and our uncle.”
Wei Wuxian downed the tea he was still holding in one swallow without even tasting it, just to be polite, then got to his feet. Before he could even open his mouth, Lan Xichen interrupted him.
“I’m afraid you can’t go up the mountain tonight.”
“Why not?” Wei Wuxian demanded before he remembered himself. Aside from a raised eyebrow, there was no rebuke, so he carried on: “Zewu-jun, the sooner I see Lan Zhan, the sooner I can begin figuring out how to help him.”
“Wei-gongzi, I want to help my brother every bit as much as you, but it’s simply too dangerous,” Lan Xichen explained, not unkindly. “You are tired from your journey and it is already dark. You will never be able to find the path alone when it is covered in snow and ice, and you will need to dress more warmly. In the morning, I will accompany you up the mountain.”
Wei Wuxian wanted to argue, but knew it would be pointless. As calm and gentle as Lan Xichen’s demeanour could be, the man could be as immovable as the mountain they were to scale and every bit as stubborn as his brother.
Reluctantly, Wei Wuxian tried to still the anxious energy running through him, the need to be doing something. He managed a smile. "You're right, of course, Zewu-jun. Would you even object to me spending some time in the library?”
Lan Xichen let out a sound that appeared somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Not for very long, Wei-gongzi. You need rest.”
Relieved, he bowed deeply. “You have my word, Zewu-jun.”
~*~
Wei Wuxian had often joked that he’d spent more time serving out his punishments in the Library Pavillion than he had in the Lanshi during the months he’d studied in Cloud Recesses, so he needed no one’s direction to find his way there.
The Gusu Lan followed strict rules and schedules, so the library was completely empty when he arrived, just as he’d expected. It left him free to appropriate the largest desk, piling books and scrolls on it and even beside it when he ran out of room.
The collection of cultivation tomes held by the Gusu Lan was the envy of many other clans, so Wei Wuxian had no shortage of material to read: he had gathered writings on curses, ghosts, possessions and anything else he thought might be of use, having no true idea what he was dealing with yet. Wasting no time, he opened the first scroll as soon as he sat down.
How long he sat there, poring through those records, Wei Wuxian had no idea. It was long enough for the candle he used, already half-spent, to have burnt completely and need to be replaced. A silent, politely-smiling disciple brought him a bowl of the Gusu Lan’s bitter, herbal broth and he drank it quickly and without complaint, wanting Lan Xichen to have no excuse to force further rest on him tomorrow.
When the door next opened, it was much later, Wei Wuxian had a small pile of books that might be useful and a pile several times larger of those he had discarded as useless, and his eyes felt gritty like they were full of the silt found in the lakes of Lotus Pier. He jumped guiltily, expecting to see Lan Xichen come to forcibly remove him from his research, but met the disapproving eyes of Lan Qiren instead.
Unconsciously, Wei Wuxian sat up straighter and covered the smear of ink he’d spread across the page when startled, setting down his brush. He wondered, faintly, if Lan Qiren planned to try and enforce curfew.
“Xichen told me you were here,” Lan Qiren said by way of explanation, sweeping into the room. He drew closer to Wei Wuxian’s desk, his eyes skimming over the titles on display. “Did you think we hadn’t consulted these books already?”
“No, I assumed you did,” Wei Wuxian replied wearily, fighting not to yawn. “Going over them with fresh eyes can’t hurt. I might see something you missed.”
"Fresh eyes?" Lan Qiren stroked his beard, the way he seemed to do when he was displeased with Wei Wuxian but hadn’t quite reached the level of pique that caused him to throw things.
“These books and scrolls contain knowledge and wisdom passed down through generations. They were each scribed by cultivators renowned in their time and have formed the basis of many forms of cultivation. They are not open to the scrutiny of your… unique perspective.”
Wei Wuxian was unable to summon the anger such a statement would usually have provoked. Not only was his fatigue beginning to weigh on him, his energy flagging, but it was an opinion he’d heard too many times to count. No matter how many successes he had, there were always more detractors. Though he was more silent about it than most, Lan Qiren had always been one of them.
“With all due respect, my “unique perspective” is why Zewu-jun asked me to come here. If the traditional methods in these books aren’t working, then maybe, just maybe I can find a way that can. If you think I’m somehow trying to use this to prove a point, you’re wrong. All that matters is helping Lan Zhan.”
For a moment, there was a war on Lan Qiren’s face. Then it passed and he simply looked tired, his shoulders lowering as he let out a long breath.
“Wangji’s safe return is my priority,” he simply said, and turned away. “If you have questions…” He trailed off with a small shake of his head, gathering some books and sitting at another desk.
Wei Wuxian blinked after him, then slowly turned back to his notes. Honestly, he hadn’t expected it to be so easy, but just like that, it seemed a truce had been made. Putting it out of his mind, Wei Wuxian threw himself back into his reading until the lines began to blur together and stopped making sense. The candle burned lower and lower, his eyes felt grittier and grittier the more he rubbed them, and his head felt heavier and heavier.
When he eventually sunk low enough that his forehead rested on the desk, he couldn’t fight it any longer. The last thing he felt was warm fabric being draped around his shoulders.