Raith returned an hour later. He did not knock. He stood outside the door until Yoren opened it.
Yoren said, You came back.
Raith said, I told you I would.
Yoren stepped aside. He let Raith in. The room was cold. The lantern was lit again.
Raith sat on the cot. He looked pale. The anger from earlier was gone. Only desperation remained.
Raith said, Did you think about it?
Yoren said, Yes.
Raith said, And?
Yoren walked to the table. He picked up a vial. It was not the Level Two. It was not the old Level One.
It was a new batch. Refined. Purified. He had spent the last hour filtering out the impurities.
Yoren said, Not Level Two.
Raith said, What is that?
Yoren said, Level One. Enhanced. It will stabilize you. It will prepare you.
Raith said, I already took Level One.
Yoren said, That was raw. This is refined. It will push you further without breaking you.
Raith looked at the vial. The liquid was clear. It had no glow.
Raith said, Will it work?
Yoren said, It will keep you alive. That is enough for now.
Raith reached out. His hand shook slightly. He took the vial.
Yoren said, Drink it all. Do not stop.
Raith said, Okay.
He uncorked the vial. He drank. He swallowed hard. He grimaced.
Raith said, It tastes like copper.
Yoren said, Lie down.
Raith lay on the cot. He pulled the blanket up. He looked at Yoren.
Raith said, What happens now?
Yoren said, You sleep.
Raith closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. He was asleep within minutes.
Yoren sat on the chair. He opened the notes. He placed a watch on the table. He waited.
The reaction started in an hour.
Raith began to sweat. The blanket became damp. His breathing turned shallow.
Yoren stood up. He walked to the cot. He placed a hand on Raiths forehead. It was burning.
Yoren said, Too hot.
He grabbed a cloth. He dipped it in water. He wiped Raiths face.
Raith moaned. He turned his head. His muscles twitched under the skin.
Yoren said, Hold on.
The night deepened. The shadows in the room grew longer. They watched the cot.
By midnight, the convulsions started.
Raiths body jerked. His hands clenched into fists. His teeth gritted together.
Yoren held his shoulders down. He did not use force. He used weight.
Yoren said, Breathe.
Raith did not hear. He was lost in the fire inside his blood.
Yoren checked the pulse. It was too fast. It was like a birds heart.
Yoren said, Stabilize.
He opened a drawer. He took out a powder. He mixed it with water. He forced Raith to drink.
Raith choked. He swallowed. The convulsions slowed. They did not stop.
Yoren sat back. He did not blink. He watched the chest rise and fall.
This was the worst thing he had watched since the Shatter Zone. He had seen men eaten alive. He had seen friends turn into monsters.
This was different. This was his doing.
The hours dragged. The lantern burned low. Yoren added more oil. He did not sleep.
Morning came. The light was gray. Raith was still burning.
Yoren said, Day one.
He recorded the time in the notes. He recorded the temperature. He recorded the pulse.
The fever did not break. It stayed high. It stayed constant.
Day two passed. Raith did not wake. He muttered in his sleep. He spoke names Yoren did not know.
Yoren changed the water. He changed the cloth. He kept the room cool.
The shadows stayed in the corners. They did not move. They sensed the distress.
Day three arrived. The sun was bright outside. The room was dark.
Raith lay still. The sweat had stopped. But the heat remained.
Yoren sat on the chair. His eyes were red. His hands were steady.
He had not slept. He had not eaten. He had not left the room.
He looked at the notes. The numbers did not make sense. The reaction should have peaked on day one.
It was still rising.
Yoren said, Why?
The notes did not answer. The vials did not answer.
He stood up. He walked to the window. He opened it. The air was cold.
He looked at his hands. They were clean. But he felt stained.
He walked back to the cot. He looked at Raith. The face was pale. The lips were cracked.
Yoren said, Wake up.
Raith did not move.
Yoren checked the pulse. It was weaker. It was thready.
He sat down. He leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees.
He refused to acknowledge that he was afraid. Fear was a variable. Fear clouded judgment.
He was a hunter. He was a brewer. He was a fixer.
He fixed things. He did not break them.
But Raith was breaking. And Yoren held the hammer.
He looked at the rings. They were dull. They did not glow. They did not help.
He looked at the shadows. They were silent. They did not speak. They did not heal.
Yoren said, Not like this.
He had killed entities. He had faced death. He had walked away from blood.
This was slower. This was quieter. This was heavier.
He reached out. He touched Raiths hand. It was hot. It was dry.
Yoren said, Come back.
The room was silent. The city hummed outside. The world continued.
Inside the room, time stood still.
By day three the fever hadnt broken. Yoren had not slept. He refused to acknowledge that he was afraid.
He watched the chest rise. He counted the breaths. He waited for the turn.
It did not come.
A/N Thank you for reading Chapter 8! The cost of power is higher than expected. Will Raith survive the reaction? Vote and add Ashes of the Twin Rings to your library to support the story. See you in Chapter 9!