Dafiel and Vahkul struggle to hold Tanitha’s weight throughout the entirety of the trip. Since Dafiel is mostly out of commission, Vahkul takes on the majority of the woman’s weight. His feet sink further into the soft ground with each heavy step he takes, the dirt clinging to the bottom of his bare feet. He never would have thought that a woman of her stature could ever feel so hefty.

“Hey?” Vahkul looks to the struggling Onesian. The man’s brows are furrowed, and his nose is crinkled. “Do you smell that?” Vahkul takes a sniff. He smells dirt and leaves and nature. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so he shakes his head. Dafiel’s nostrils flair as he sniffs the air again. “It… it smells like something is burning.”

That’s when Vahkul sees it.

Reflecting off of the blackness of Tanitha’s matted hair is flickering orange light. Turning, he sees what they both missed. “Fire.” Dafiel doesn’t wait. He drops his half of Tanitha and takes off in a hobbled sprint. “Wait! Dafiel!”

Vahkul wraps his arms tighter around the woman as she slings around and hastens his pace. Even as her head sloshes up and down and her dead limbs flail, he stumbles briskly towards the entrance to the village.

He knows something is wrong as soon as he reaches the veil.

He doesn’t feel anything. There’s no pressure; no wetness. There’s nothing. Fearing the worse, Vahkul continues on, this time more cautious of his surroundings even though he can just barely see.

Vahkul’s foot hooks on something, nearly sending him flying. “What the-” His sentence fades as he sees the body of a woman splayed at his feet. Flowers of all shapes and sizes have bloomed from the blood leaking steadily out of the corpse. Their petals curl inward, facing the body, as they slowly wither. It’s like their sun has been taken from them.

Vahkul steps back, now entirely too aware that his bare feet feel wet.

Swallowing, he continues on, knowing that there’s nothing he can do for a dead person. As he travels further into the village, chaos ensues.

Fire lights up the sky as treehouses are burned to the ground, some still containing people. Vahkul watches as screaming bodies fall from their homes like dead branches. He freezes up as smoke surrounds him and flames roar in his ears.

“Help! Make it stop!” Someone screams. They crawl forward, an arm extended in a plea. But Vahkul is too focused on his face to help. His skin… his skin has been ripped off. All of his muscles are exposed and vulnerable on just the right side of his face. His blood pumps rivers down his neck and chest.

Feeling the rising ball of disgust in his throat, the druid barely manages to dump Tanitha to the side and crouch down. Nothing comes out as he heaves over and over again.

Vahkul’s vision blackens as sweat covers every part of his body. Shivers travel under his skin as he falls to the ground. Digging his fingers into the earth does nothing to stabilize him, and soon enough, Vahkul is flopping face down into the ground, his mind traveling to places he’d rather not visit.