Chapter Text
"Rook, why don't we head back to Dock Town? Even if we can't buy the newspapers, I want to keep an ear out for the local gossip and check the notice boards. There might be something we need to handle. Won't you come with me?"
After days consumed by relentless fighting in the Hossberg Wetlands, Neve approached Rook with the suggestion. For a while after Minrathous had been struck by the dragon, Neve had kept her heart guarded, making this sudden invitation feel deeply significant. Rook was glad to be relied upon and agreed without a second thought.
"Has any word come in about the Venatori?" Rook asked, busily sorting through a flurry of letters in her hands.
Neve leaned down slightly, peering into Rook’s face with a faint smile. "That’s exactly what we’re going to find out. We need to hear what the Threads and the Dragons have to say."
Rook hesitated for a moment, feeling a slight flush rise to her cheeks. "Neve... do you talk to everyone with that kind of gesture?"
Even if one didn't look at women through a romantic lens, Neve’s beauty and elegant demeanor possessed an alluring grace that could easily make a heart skip a beat.
"Oh, was I a bit too charming?" Neve replied, her tone teasing as she turned her palm upward. "Rest assured, I have no intention of seducing you."
With that, she turned and headed back to her room to prepare for the trip.
Given the grim devastation of Dock Town, it was no time to be lighthearted. Yet, seeing such a welcome change in Neve—who until now had been so weighed down by grim, tight-lipped resolve—brought a genuine sense of relief to Rook.
Once she finished getting ready and stepped down into the library hall, Neve was already there waiting for her. Standing right beside Neve was Lucanis.
Rook’s heart leaped into her throat.
While they fought alongside one another frequently, today was meant for walking through the city to gather information. Inevitably, there would be plenty of opportunities for casual conversation.
Would she even be able to speak normally? Having finally acknowledged her feelings for him, she had been so consumed by their duties that she hadn't been able to sort through her emotions at all.
Rook tried to project an air of composure, but the words slipped out with an awkward, lingering hesitation. "Lucanis... are you coming, too? To... Dock Town?"
"Ah... Yes... I am. I will come as well," Lucanis replied, his voice just as stiff and unnatural.
Neve watched the exchange with a knowing, highly amused smirk.
At that moment, Rook realized that Neve was entirely aware of what was going on between them. When she thought about it, it was obvious—someone with Neve's sharp powers of observation would never miss what even Taash or Davrin could figure out.
Exactly how much did she know?
Did she know that Lucanis liked Rook?
Did she know that Rook liked Lucanis?
Did she know that Rook knew Lucanis liked her, but Lucanis likely had no idea Rook liked him back?
Did she know everything?
As her mind began to spin into absolute chaos, Rook forced herself to stop thinking about it. At the very least, she understood one thing: Neve knew, she had brought Lucanis along intentionally, and she was undoubtedly entertained by it.
Neve swept past the awkward pair with her usual light, elegant stride. "Shall we?"
As they made their way toward the Eluvian room, Rook stole several glances at Lucanis from the corner of her eye. His expression was just as tense and rigid with nervousness as her own.
Upon passing through the Crossroads and arriving in Dock Town, Neve began checking the notice boards throughout the town with meticulous care.
There were no longer messages desperately crying out for immediate help as there had been before; instead, the lists of missing persons seemed to grow longer by the day.
Without a doubt, something terrible was starting to unfold. Almost certainly orchestrated by Aelia.
The gossip exchanged in the streets varied wildly, ranging from whispers about loved ones who had suddenly vanished, to the tragic events at Weisshaupt, and even down to the quality of Dock Town's fish dishes.
Would the Threads be able to glean any useful information regarding Aelia?
Weighed down by the guilt of having been unable to save Minrathous during the dragon attack, Rook felt a sharp pang of impatience. They had to act quickly. It was intolerable that innocent people should continue to be senselessly harmed and stripped of their lives like this.
Lucanis, who had walked in silence the entire time, let out low grunts from the back of his throat whenever he caught sight of the destruction left behind by the Venatori. Their indiscriminate tyranny knew no bounds. People executed and hung high; dark, stained blood splattered across the streets; and in certain corners, the dried-out husks of corpses sacrificed to blood magic lay scattered about.
Faster. We have to stop them faster.
Down a back alley, Rook quietly picked up a locket containing someone's photograph, her jaw clenching tight. As she did, a restrained, gentle hand softly brushed against her back.
"Rook. We will stop them. Together, without fail."
His velvet voice was powerful, yet wrapped in softness.
Overwhelmed by a mixture of rage and grief, Rook found herself unable to speak. Instead, she answered by turning to meet his gaze with fierce intensity.
Emotions are meant to be wielded as a weapon. This was the exact moment to put that Crow lesson into practice. She would forge this burning anger into a blade of vengeance and make the Venatori pay.
Through that single, locked gaze, the two of them silently confirmed their shared, unyielding resolve.
Having wrapped up their information gathering at The cobbled swan, Neve headed toward Haros’s food stall, just as she always did.
"Now then," Neve began, turning back to check on them. "You two are joining me, right?"
Lucanis shifted his gaze uncomfortably. "Ah..."
Neve placed both hands on her hips, fixing her eyes on him. "What? Got a problem?"
"To tell the truth, I am not fond of the fish in this city. It tastes... metallic," Lucanis said, his voice dropping into a timid, low murmur.
Rook couldn't help but let out a bright laugh. It seemed the City's catch wasn't quite up to the standard of their resident epicure.
"I shall go inspect the marketplace. Even under these circumstances, it seems there are those who continue their trade. Please, enjoy your meal. Excuse me."
Perhaps feeling a touch of guilt under Neve’s discontented stare, Lucanis delivered his departure with an overly formal gesture before turning to walk slowly toward the market.
"He's missing out. This is actually fun." Rook said amusedly, pulling her coin purse from her pouch.
"Neve, let me treat you today."
"Your turn." Neve replied.
Since they always took turns paying every time they came to Haros’s stall, calling it a 'treat' might have been a bit of a stretch. Still, Rook wanted to show her renewed determination—to stop Aelia and save Dock Town—through this small, quiet gesture.
"How are things, Har?" Neve greeted him as she always did.
"Neve. You're with Rook today, I see," Haros welcomed them with his familiar smile.
The refreshing scent of lime mixed with the aroma of fried fish skewers, loaded with bell peppers and onions. The sauce Haros crafted from fish extract and pepper oil was wonderful, carrying a subtle, crisp hint of lemon. It was the same mouthwatering, inviting scent as always.
"Two, please." Following Neve's lead, Rook placed a small pouch containing the gold coins on the table, concealing the exact amount inside.
Haros caught on immediately, letting out a soft sigh. "I keep telling you, the next one is on the house."
"Then we'll take you up on that next time," Rook replied with a light wink, accepting the two skewers and handing one over to Neve.
"Let’s head to the market. I wonder what the Mage-Killer buys in a place like Dock Town," Neve said playfully, stepping forward as Rook followed close behind.
Taking a bite of the savory fish, Rook delighted in the satisfying crunch of the perfectly crisped skin. The sharp kick of the pepper oil cut through the richness, filling her mouth with a burst of savory flavor as the juices flowed.
As they approached the marketplace, the lively shouts of vendors calling out from various stalls echoed through the air. The resilient people of Dock Town were fiercely protecting their way of life, even in the face of such devastation. A profound sense of respect filled Rook’s heart.
Further in, Lucanis came into view. From this distance, it was impossible to tell what kind of stall it was, but he stood there with a hand pinned to his chin, intently picking something out. Since this wasn't a food market, it was hard to guess what he could possibly be looking for. Had he perhaps found a fine knife?
Rook opened her mouth to call out to him, but she froze.
A sharp, tingling itch hit her lips and tongue.
That shouldn't be possible. She had been so careful, checking everything before putting it into her mouth.
"What do I do?" her voice trembled.
Whenever Rook ate, she always asked about the ingredients in meticulous detail, verified exactly what else had been prepared in that same space, and sniffed her food. It wasn't out of mere curiosity. It was because there were things she absolutely could not ingest.
"What do I do, Neve?" Rook tried desperately to stop her hands from shaking.
Neve’s expression hardened instantly at Rook’s sudden distress. "What's wrong, Rook? Are you alright?"
It was a severe affliction of her constitution—her body would violently reject specific foods as if they were poison, causing her throat and face to swell so severely that she would be left unable to breathe.
"I ate something I shouldn't have... Something that wasn't in it before." Rook pressed a hand against her throat, her voice fracturing. Cashews. They weren't supposed to be in there.
"I'll get a healer. Lucanis! Over here!" Recognizing the gravity of the situation in a split second, Neve shouted across the square to Lucanis, who was still examining the stall.
"Neve, tell the healer," Rook said in a rushed, frantic breath, grabbing Neve’s arm just as she was about to run. "I have a vial of Emberium potion on me. But I don't have the Prophet's Laurel essence."
Neve nodded and immediately bolted into a run.
"Rook, what happened? What is wrong?"
Lucanis rushed back in her direction just as Neve left. Realizing something was terribly amiss, he dropped the small package he was holding, sprinted over to her, and gripped her shoulders.
Rook took a deep breath. Forcing herself to stay calm, she delivered the words precisely and succinctly, just as Viago had taught her long ago.
"A reaction in my body. When I eat certain things, my airway swells up and I cannot breathe. Neve went to find a healer. There is no cure. I have an Emberium potion, but it cannot fully suppress the symptoms."
As she spoke, Rook pulled the vial from the small pouch at her waist and drank it down to the last drop.
Lucanis knitted his brows, his grip on her shoulders tightening. "Mierda... Is that why you always verify everything so meticulously before you eat?"
His voice cracked with sheer worry. Gently supporting her arms, he guided her away from the bustling crowd of the marketplace and sat her down on a nearby wooden crate. As he softly stroked her back, Rook could feel that his hands were trembling just as much as her own.
"I should have obtained Prophet's Laurel as well," Rook murmured. She managed a faint, fleeting smile to mask her anxiety, but she couldn't entirely hide the terror bleeding through.
A wave of bitter regret washed over her. Whether as an Antivan Crow or as the leader tasked with saving Thedas, this was a pathetic, terrible oversight. Surrounded by companions she loved, sharing a life that finally felt like having a real family—had she simply let her guard down?
If she were to die from something like this, it would be a pathetic, wretched failure.
"You will be alright, Rook. We will see this through," Lucanis said, dropping to his knees. He took her hands in both of his, squeezing them gently. There was no blame for her carelessness, nor any exasperation in his eyes.
His hands were so warm—the very same warmth she had felt through a haze of half-sleep when he had carried her to her bedchamber once before.
"Lucanis... you are a brilliant assassin and a model Crow, but you are far too kind. You would make a terrible instructor," Rook said, managed another strained smile as she fought back her tears.
Lucanis let out a self-deprecating laugh in response.
But his smile vanished instantly as he realized Rook's condition was rapidly deteriorating. Her eyes were growing bloodshot, her breathing shallower by the second, and her face contorted in pain as she pressed a hand against her swelling throat. He gripped her hands tighter.
"Rook, is there anything else I can—"
Before he could finish, a flash of purple light flared within Lucanis’s eyes, and Spite roared to life inside him.
Smells like blood! EVERYWERE!
Lucanis's expression shifted drastically. His gaze turned fierce and predatory as he swept his eyes over their surroundings, a sharp, prickling sensation stinging the backs of his eyes.
Blood magic.
Instinctively, Lucanis snapped his wings open, scooped Rook into his arms, and leaped backward in a sudden, blinding blur.
A deafening roar ripped through the marketplace as the ground right in front of them exploded, blasted apart by a beam of crimson light.
They had escaped by a hair's breadth.
In an instant, a thick crimson mist began to blanket the area. A sickening, metallic ringing echoed from every direction, drowned out immediately by the sudden rise of terrified screams and panicked shrieks from the crowd.
"Mierda... Venatori!" Lucanis barked. He shielded Rook behind his back, placing himself between her and danger as he sharpened his senses.
Why now, of all times? Gritting their teeth, they both cursed the sheer cruelty of their situation.
"It seems to have worked even better than anticipated."
It was a woman’s voice. She had definitely said better than anticipated.
"Viciante carphas!" Rook spat the words out. "You set this up, didn't you?!"
It was true, then. Somehow, cashews had been introduced into the fried fish. Done in such a way that even Rook, with all her senses sharpened, had failed to notice. How could the Venatori possibly know something that only Viago was supposed to know?
They had been watching their every move from somewhere, for a very long time. They knew that whenever she visited Dock Town with Neve, they would always eat Haros's fish.
A profound rage boiled within her at the realization that they had tampered with Haros’s stall—a place beloved by Neve and the citizens of Dock Town. The Venatori always dragged innocent people into their schemes for their own selfish ends, shattering the beauty of everyday life.
Through the clearing crimson mist, several loathsome silhouettes could be seen approaching.
"Rook, do not force yourself!" Lucanis tried to hold her back, but Rook refused to remain sheltered behind his back.
The unbearable itching and swelling in her throat were rapidly worsening. She had to deal with this before she became completely immobilized.
"No, I have to. If we don't finish this quickly, it's only going to get worse... Are the people's alright?!"
Beyond the dissipating mist, beneath the boots of those clad in ominous crimson robes, lay the mangled bodies of Minrathous’s citizens. Cries of agony and low groans echoed from every direction. The resilient, bustling marketplace from just moments ago had instantly transformed into a screaming hellscape.
"How dare you do this?!"
Rook’s mind turned white-hot with fury.
"I am going to kill every single one of you! You festis bastards!!"
She roared with every ounce of strength left in her agonizingly constricted throat. The phantom voice of Viago flickered through her mind, scolding her for being far too reckless and emotional, but she could not stop herself.
"Kill her! For the Old Gods!"
The commanding voice of the same woman from before echoed disagreeably through the air. At that exact moment, two Venatori Stalkers lunged forward.
Daggers clashed against daggers, sending sparks flying. Rook parried the first strike of one stalker, slipping past to slash open the abdomen of the other. Behind her, Lucanis delivered a fierce thrust, piercing the first stalker as they staggered backward.
As the two braced themselves back-to-back, more stalkers swarmed them, one after another. Lining up right behind them was a wall of heavy infantry holding tower shields, and even further back stood a dozen mages, staves raised and ready.
"There are too many...!" Rook choked out from the back of her throat.
"The ground favors them. Can we draw them into the alleyway?!" Lucanis shouted, driving his blade through a stalker's throat. Pivoting into a spin, he caught the next attacker in his grip and slit their throat from behind.
Rook clanged her dual blades together, the sharp ring of steel answering Lucanis. She could no longer squeeze out a single word.
Sensing her silence, Lucanis was seized by a crushing, suffocating dread that gripped his chest.
I cannot lose her. I cannot lose her. I cannot lose her.
As he pursued her while she sprinted ahead, parrying the relentless pursuit, a wall of crimson light materialized directly in their path. A barrier.
It was the worst possible scenario. They were trapped.
It was only natural. Since they had gone so far as to tamper with the food at the stall beforehand—and in such a way that Rook wouldn't notice—this was a meticulously, thoroughly planned ambush. They had arranged everything to ensure her death. To search for and destroy the hidden crystals while fending off an enemy force of this magnitude was nigh impossible.
Rook turned around as if bracing herself for the end, fixing a resolute, piercing glare upon the female mage in command.
"I see. So you lot do possess a shred of intellect after all," Lucanis said, his voice deliberately slow, projecting an air of easy confidence. "Though, I must wonder about your reliance on brute-force blood magic and Red Lyrium to solve all your problems."
It was a tactic meant to make them believe that rushing in blindly would be futile.
In truth, he had no leeway at all.
Lucanis was an assassin of unmatched lethal skill; a professional when it came to ensuring a target was buried alone. Yet, he was utterly unaccustomed to fighting while keeping someone else alive.
And Rook was already gasping for her final breaths. Though she was managing to hold herself together through sheer force of will, her breathing was failing and her consciousness was slipping into a haze—she held her daggers now by nothing but pure survival instinct.
Lucanis could hear it with agonizing clarity: the terrible, strangled rasp rattling in her chest every time she tried to draw air.
Amidst her fading consciousness, the words Viago had repeated to her countless times during her childhood raced through Rook’s mind.
"To everyone else, it is nothing. But to you, this is a deadly poison. No matter how much you condition your body to venom, this is one thing you can never overcome. Exercise the utmost caution."
"The reaction was not severe this time, but there is a high probability it will induce a massive, fatal shock to your system. Under no circumstances are you to ingest it."
"Scent it out. The smallest oversight can cost you your life."
"Never let anyone find out about this. No one. Do you understand?"
For someone possessing such a weakness, becoming an official member of the Crows would be nearly impossible. She had been desperate to elevate every other skill she possessed, desperate to be recognized by Viago. Viago had never spoken of this to anyone, choosing to watch over her in silence. He would never betray her. Who else knew, and who had informed the Venatori? There was no time to think about that now.
She had to break through this place and return to the Lighthouse where everyone was waiting.
"Venatori, attack!" The commander issued the order once more.
The wall of tower shields advanced, and stalkers swarmed out yet again like ants. Loathsome—they were truly loathsome bastards.
As the battle grew fiercer, the two who were supposed to be guarding each other's backs were gradually forced apart. Amid the Venatori’s chants praising their gods and the sickening clatter of steel, Lucanis called out her name, trying to confirm she was still alive. Even knowing she could no longer scream back, he could not stop himself from calling for her.
To Rook’s ears, every sound felt muffled, as if echoing from behind a heavy velvet curtain.
Assailed by violent vertigo, she fought desperately to evade a blade thrusting directly at her throat. But as she leaned back, a searing pain ripped across her neck. The tip of the blade grazed her, and a thin spray of blood trailed through the air from the ominous, crimson steel.
With a look of sheer desperation, she leaped backward, her knees buckling beneath her. As she collapsed, three stalkers instantly closed in around her, swinging their blades down simultaneously.
"Rook!!"
Lucanis shrieked, snapping the neck of the fanatic struggling pathetically in his grip.
He wouldn't make it. In a mere matter of seconds, those filthy blades would reach her...
The entire moment stretched out in slow motion.
A cold horror struck him to his very core. It was a desperate, destructive terror rising hot from the depths of his throat. He knew loss.
He remembered the sea of blood where his father, his mother, and his cousins had fallen to assassin's blades.
The night of the tragedy remained seared into his mind from when he was a child. That scent, that sound, his mother’s final moments, the heart-wrenching sorrow—all of it rushed back with vivid, agonizing clarity.
He could not lose her.
Because I wasn't perfect, she was going to die. I can't let her die.
I cannot lose her, no, no, no—
KILL THEM!!
Spite’s piercing roar echoed.
The moment he felt the black wings unfurl from his back, Lucanis leaped. Like a dark arrow tearing through the fabric of space, he shot directly toward her in a straight line.
It happened in a single heartbeat.
A purple flash streaked through the air, and fresh blood erupted from the throat of the first attacker. Almost simultaneously, a savage kick sent the second flying. By the time the final stalker's eyes managed to track the remaining afterimage, his head was already sliding wetly from his neck.
"Do not die in vain!" one of the mages shouted from a short distance away.
Hearing the voice, the stalker who had been kicked away staggered to his feet, raising his crimson dagger and crying out, "For the Imperium—"
The words were cut short by Rook’s blade.
With profound fury, she drove her dagger into his chest and ripped it out with brute force. Stumbling, Rook let out a voiceless roar, her face twisted in a demonic, terrifying expression as she glared at the Venatori warriors who were about to swarm her. She was entirely drained of strength, but she had not given up the fight.
Even with her face swollen, she was beautiful. Her tragic resolve, her preparation for the end, and her proud, defiant fighting spirit edged Rook's very presence in an invisible, blinding radiance.
Under no circumstances could he let her die in a place like this.
"Rook! Fall back for now, I will stop them!" Lucanis said, putting a sharp edge into his tone.
The blood trickling from Rook’s neck drove him to madness, while simultaneously stoking a burning, volcanic rage within him.
“MAKE THEM PAY! WITH THEIR BLOOD!”
Spite roared violently.
"Without a doubt." Lucanis answered with a low growl, gritting his teeth. Not a shred of his usual tranquility remained.
I will not let them harm her further. I will end their lives. As if responding to the boiling hatred inside him, the purple light flared intensely within Lucanis’s eyes.
"Rook! Are you alright?! Lucanis?!"
It was Neve’s voice. Having shattered the Venatori barrier, Neve came sprinting toward them, shouting.
"Andraste..." Lucanis muttered under his breath.
A wave of ice magic erupted from the staff in her hand, causing a wall of sharp, jagged ice to manifest between the Venatori and Lucanis. No matter the crisis, she was always sharp-witted and highly capable.
"Neve, take Rook and run!" Lucanis barked without looking back.
Quick to judge any situation, Neve would already understand everything. She would know that retreat was their best option.
"I’ll hold them off! I am used to dealing with—"
"No! You are far better suited to retreating while protecting Rook! Dock Town is your backyard, is it not?!" Lucanis deflected a spell cast by a mage, his voice taut with frustration as he cut Neve off. "Once you escape, call for reinforcements! Whether it is the Threads or the Shadow Dragons, it will be far smoother if you make the request, Neve. Am I wrong?!"
Neve did not reply. Confirming from the corner of his eye that she was offering Rook words of encouragement and supporting her weight as they began to move, Lucanis adjusted his grip on his daggers.
"Pursue her!"
As several stalkers leaped over the ice wall to give chase, a blast of ice magic shot from behind Lucanis, freezing them solid before shattering them into a thousand pieces. It was Neve’s parting shot, cast as she looked back one last time.
He likely couldn't stop every single one of them. But Neve was clever, strong, and resourceful. She possessed the means to block the path of any pursuers. He could trust her implicitly.
Lucanis’s job now was to thin the numbers of those pursuers as much as possible, and to buy them time. If he was to fight alone, it mattered little how many of them stood before him.
"Now then, back to work."
Staring down the bristling Venatori as they prepared to swarm him all at once, Lucanis unfurled his wings and let out a grim, fearless laugh.
"Why they call me the Mage Killer... you are about to learn firsthand."
A flash of purple light streaked through.
"Must... get back... fast...!"
Having managed to crawl their way into the Shadow Dragons' safehouse while leaning heavily on Neve, Rook tried desperately to scream. Yet, nothing came of it but a faint, strangled gasp of escaping air. Every time she tried to draw a breath, her swollen throat made a sickening, rattling noise. Frustrated, she slammed her fist against the wall.
"Calm down, Rook," Neve said, keeping her voice deliberately composed as she soothed Rook and guided her down onto a wooden chair. "I’ve already asked Elek for reinforcements. They are already on their way. Lucanis will be fine."
Neve carefully inspected Rook's condition, using a strong liquor to gently wipe the wound on her neck.
"Why they call him the Mage Killer—you know that, don't you?"
Groaning from the pain, Rook tried to swat Neve's hand away and force herself up.
"Stay down! Forcing yourself back there will only make you a liability to him!" Neve barked sharply.
"Listen to me. Do not move. A healer is coming. You stay absolutely right here, do you understand?"
Neve squeezed Rook’s hand tightly to drive the point home, then headed back out toward the marketplace, looking back at her several times before she disappeared.
She was likely returning to the battlefield.
Rook bit her lip hard, overwhelmed by her own pathetic incompetence.
The phantom voice of Viago echoed relentlessly inside her head.
"If a blade is coated in an unknown venom, even a mere graze can be fatal. Do not get cut."
"A Crow always finishes the contract."
"Give the enemy no information. Kill swiftly, and return."
"Vi..."
She breathed his name, a weak whisper of air, just as she used to call him when she had looked up to him so much as a child. Every single time, he would scowl with slight irritation, scolding her and lecturing that unnecessary familiarity would cost her her life. Yet, because she knew that beneath it all he was a deeply caring man, she had called him 'Vi' again and again.
When she was first introduced to Teia, she realized that Teia was the closest person to Viago. Watching Teia call him "Vi", she felt a pang of loneliness―yet, with a quite blessing in her heart, she decided to stop calling Viago by his nickname. But in her heart, she had always kept calling him Vi.
Tears spilled down Rook’s cheeks.
The last time she had wept was years ago. The night a fellow fledgling from another house, with whom she had been close, lost their life during training. Glancing at her red, swollen eyes, Viago had said nothing, quietly escorting her back to her bedchamber.
I am sorry, Vi.
After everything you taught me, I blundered so terribly.
Lucanis, Neve, please forgive me. Please come back alive.
If anything were to happen to them... Blood began to ooze from Rook's tightly clenched fists. What if she never got to see Lucanis again? And Neve—if she were gone, what would become of Dock Town?
The anxiety swelled rapidly, threatening to crush her chest.
Worse still, her symptoms were deteriorating with every passing second. Her nasal passages were closing up, and the swelling in her face was growing severe. She could barely draw any oxygen now. Her vision blurred, her consciousness teetering on the very edge of blacking out. Her heart hammered frantically, striving to pump air, while the blood coursing through her veins felt like a numbing, prickly static spreading across her skin.
"Neve Gallus told me you were here. Can you tell me what’s happening?"
The sudden voice forced Rook to raise her gaze ever so slightly. A woman dressed in healer's tunics approached her in a frantic rush.
"Ah..."
Attempting to explain was futile; she could manage nothing more than a faint whisper of a sigh. Rook simply opened her mouth and pointed toward the back of her throat.
"We have no time," the healer said grimly.
Crushed by frustration, Rook nodded repeatedly as tears spilled fresh down her cheeks. The healer immediately stood.
"Wait here. I will be right back."
She jogged into the adjoining room, and the loud, chaotic clatter of glass and metal echoed from within. In the satchel she had left behind at Rook's feet, a small vial was visible, its label reading Essence of Prophet's Laurel.
Rook knew then. This alone would no longer be enough to save her.
She tried with everything she had to force her airways open, desperately fighting to drag in oxygen, but her condition had finally pushed past the limit.
Her breathing stopped entirely.
The violent pounding of her heart thrashed against her skull like heavy, physical blows. Her diaphragm convulsed violently, her ribs crying out under the strain. In a frantic, clawing frenzy, she shoved her fingers into her mouth, trying to force her throat open wide, but it was utterly useless. Her head felt as though it were about to burst from the inside out. Her entire body thrashed in rebellion, desperate to find air.
It hurts, it suffocates, it hurts—
I am going to die.
Her vision was already fading into a stark, blinding white. Rook collapsed sideways, tumbling from the wooden chair onto the floor. Summoning every last ounce of her remaining strength, she crawled, stretching her hand out toward the doorway where the healer had gone.
Distantly, she heard the frantic thud of footsteps running back toward her, the healer screaming something she could no longer make out.
Then, Rook let go of consciousness.