Delanzhou: Wolf Blood and Moon Shadow

The road eastward stretched before them, illuminated by the cold light of the waning moon. The air was sharp with the bite of winter's approach, and the sound of their footsteps against the frosted ground seemed loud in the stillness. William kept close to Alice, his eyes flickering to her every few moments. The dark mark on her arm had spread slightly, its veins of black twisting like roots beneath her pale skin.

She held herself upright, her jaw tight with determination, but he could see the toll it was taking. Her once-bright silver eyes were duller now, and her breaths came quicker than usual. William knew they were on borrowed time.

"Alice," he said softly, breaking the silence. "How are you holding up?"

She glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You're asking me that after I just saw you take on a dark magician without flinching?"

He didn't smile back. "This isn't about me. I need to know if you're all right."

Her expression faltered, and she looked away. "I'll manage," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "We've been through worse."

William didn't argue, though he didn't believe her. The mark was more than a physical ailment—it radiated a malevolent energy that seemed to sap her strength with every passing hour. He could feel it, too, like an oppressive weight that followed them wherever they went.

"We'll reach the town of Carrith by morning," he said. "There's an apothecary there. If anyone can point us to a healer, it'll be them."

Alice nodded, her gaze distant. She didn't ask what would happen if the apothecary couldn't help, but the question hung unspoken between them.

The sun was just beginning to rise when they arrived at Carrith. The town was modest, a collection of stone and timber houses surrounded by farmland. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the faint murmur of activity echoed through the streets as merchants set up their stalls for the day.

William led Alice through the town, his eyes scanning for the apothecary. They found it near the center, a small shop with a wooden sign depicting a mortar and pestle. He pushed the door open, a small bell chiming as they entered.

The interior was warm and cluttered, shelves lined with jars of dried herbs, vials of potions, and various oddities. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She looked up as they approached, her gaze immediately narrowing when she saw Alice.

"That's a dark curse," she said bluntly, stepping out from behind the counter. "Where did you come into contact with such magic?"

William exchanged a glance with Alice before answering. "We encountered a dark magician in the Greywood. She was marked during the fight."

The apothecary frowned, examining Alice's arm closely. "This is no ordinary curse," she muttered. "It's insidious, designed to spread until it consumes the host completely. And once it takes root, it's nearly impossible to remove."

"Nearly?" William pressed.

The woman sighed, standing upright. "There's a chance, but it's slim. You'll need a powerful healer—someone who knows how to counter dark magic. There's no one in Carrith with that kind of expertise, but I've heard of a healer in the southern mountains. They call her the White Sage."

"How far are we talking?" William asked.

"At least a week's journey," the apothecary said. "And that's assuming you don't run into trouble along the way."

Alice let out a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. "When do we not run into trouble?"

The apothecary ignored her, pulling a small vial from one of the shelves. "Take this," she said, handing it to William. "It won't cure her, but it will slow the spread of the curse. Give her three drops every morning."

William took the vial, his expression grim. "Thank you."

The apothecary hesitated, then added, "Be careful. The path to the mountains isn't safe, especially for someone in her condition. The magic in that mark will attract attention—things you don't want to face unprepared."

"We'll manage," William said, his tone firm. He turned to Alice. "Let's go."

The journey south was grueling. The landscape grew harsher with each passing day, the rolling hills giving way to rocky terrain and dense forests. The air grew colder, and the wind carried with it an ominous howl that set William's nerves on edge.

Despite the apothecary's potion, Alice's condition worsened. The mark continued to spread, its dark veins creeping up her arm and toward her shoulder. She grew weaker, her steps slower, but she refused to stop.

"Don't push yourself," William said one evening as they made camp. He watched her struggle to light a fire, her hands trembling from exhaustion.

"I'm fine," she insisted, though the strain in her voice was evident.

William knelt beside her, taking the flint and steel from her hands. "You don't have to do everything alone," he said gently. "Let me help."

She didn't argue, letting him take over. As the fire crackled to life, she sat back, her expression unreadable.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Regret what?" William asked, glancing at her.

"Saving me," she said. "If you hadn't stepped in during that fight, you wouldn't be in this mess."

William shook his head. "I don't regret it. Not for a second."

She looked at him, her silver eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You should. This curse… it's my fault."

"It's not your fault," he said firmly. "And I won't let it take you."

She didn't respond, but her gaze softened, and she leaned slightly against him. For a moment, the weight of their situation seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet understanding.

The peace didn't last long. Two days into the forest, they were ambushed.

It started with a low growl, barely audible over the rustling of leaves. William froze, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

"Alice," he said quietly, "stay close."

She nodded, drawing her dagger. The growling grew louder, and moments later, a pack of shadowy creatures emerged from the trees. Their forms were twisted, their eyes glowing with malevolent light. William recognized them immediately.

"Darkspawn," he muttered. "They've been tracking us."

The creatures wasted no time, lunging at them with terrifying speed. William met them head-on, his sword flashing as he cut through their ranks. Alice fought beside him, her movements precise despite her weakened state.

The battle was chaotic, the forest filled with the sounds of clashing steel and snarling beasts. William's experience from his previous life gave him the upper hand, but the sheer number of darkspawn was overwhelming.

"Alice, behind you!" he shouted as one of the creatures lunged at her.

She spun, her dagger finding its mark, but not before the creature's claws raked across her side. She cried out, staggering back.

William fought his way to her, cutting down the remaining darkspawn with a series of swift strikes. When the last creature fell, he turned to Alice, his heart pounding.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

She nodded, though her face was pale. "Just a scratch."

He didn't believe her, but there was no time to argue. The fight had drawn attention, and they needed to keep moving.

By the time they reached the foothills of the southern mountains, Alice's condition had deteriorated significantly. The mark now covered her shoulder and part of her neck, and her strength was nearly gone. William had taken to carrying her when she couldn't walk, his determination unshaken despite the toll it took on him.

The path to the White Sage's sanctuary was treacherous, winding through narrow passes and steep cliffs. The air grew thinner, and the temperature plummeted, but William pressed on, driven by a single thought: saving Alice.

At last, they arrived at the White Sage's sanctuary—a secluded grove hidden deep within the mountains. The healer was an elderly woman with piercing blue eyes and an aura of calm authority. She listened as William explained their situation, her expression grave.

"The curse is powerful," she said, examining Alice. "And it has taken root deeply. But there is still hope."

"What do we need to do?" William asked.

The White Sage hesitated. "The ritual to cleanse her will not be easy. It will require strength—from both of you. And there is a risk."

"What kind of risk?" Alice asked, her voice weak but determined.

"The magic will fight back," the healer said. "If it overpowers me… it could consume you entirely."

William's jaw tightened. "We'll do whatever it takes."

The White Sage nodded. "Then prepare yourselves. The ritual begins at dawn."