Deus Necros

“You sure it’s fine that you only want one serving?” Melisande asked, glancing at Ludwig as she ladled stew into the worn wooden bowl in his hands.

He nodded once, offering a faint smile in return. “Yeah. I’m good with just one,” he replied, but his eyes weren’t on her. They kept drifting toward the trees, toward the darkness where Celine had vanished.

Melisande said nothing more, though the corner of her mouth tightened slightly.

“Don’t worry about her, man,” Robin said from beside the fire, his voice easy, mouth half-full of bread. He gestured vaguely toward the woods with a nod. “She’s strong enough to take care of herself. Probably just feeding.”

“Yeah,” Ludwig murmured. His reply was hollow, distracted. He turned his attention instead toward the sleeping bag on the other side of the fire, where Redd had begun to stir at last.

The redhead grunted as his body twisted within the layers of cloth and padding. His face contorted with discomfort as he tried to sit up, and his mouth clicked in mild irritation. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and the dull weight of pain still hung over his limbs like iron shackles.

When he finally managed to prop himself up, he blinked groggily toward the faces gathered near the fire, all of them staring down at him in various states of curiosity, concern, or silence.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Hi… again, I guess…”

“You’re finally awake,” Ludwig said, stepping forward and crouching near the fire. He held out a full bowl of soup, steam curling from its surface in slow, lazy ribbons. “Want some food?”

“I don’t think he should be eating anything right-” Melisande began, but the words had barely left her mouth before Redd grabbed the bowl and upended it with a ravenous gulp. The sound of the soup being slurped down was almost comical in its urgency.

Only Ludwig noticed what followed. The Skinwalker, who had hovered protectively over Redd’s prone form all this time, suddenly relaxed. Her outline shimmered as she exhaled a breath that wasn’t breath at all. Her arms unwound from his shoulders. Her eyes dimmed slightly. The tension in her form, always there, always present, seemed to dissolve.

“Seconds!” Redd declared, licking the rim of the bowl.

Melisande sighed and reached for the ladle again. “Sure. There’s more where that came from. But shouldn’t you be a bit more careful with your body?”

Redd waved off the concern with one hand and took the second bowl. “I’m different than others,” he said, and promptly drank the next serving in two greedy gulps.

After wiping his mouth, he drew in several deep breaths, then lifted his shirt. A long, pale scar stretched across his side, where once there had been a gaping wound, now only healthy pink skin remained.

“Wow,” Timur muttered. “That’s impressive regeneration.”

“More like a curse,” Redd replied darkly. He glanced around, eyes scanning their faces one by one. “So… what happened after I passed out?”

Timur leaned back and crossed his arms. “You should probably tell us how you got into that situation first.”

Redd scratched at his temple, then sighed. “Where to start…” He let the silence sit for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts. “After you guys left, one of my men decided to get bold. Thought he’d earn some coin by attacking a passing carriage. What he didn’t know was… the carriage belonged to the Holy Order. Bad luck. Real bad.”

He paused, staring into the flames.

“The idiot thought he got away. But they let him go on purpose. They’d already tagged him, tracking magic or something. Led them straight to our camp.”

“I guess that’s how you got imprisoned…” Ludwig said quietly.

Redd nodded. “Yeah. They slaughtered everyone. Every last one. And they left me alive.”

Ludwig frowned. “I guess you got lucky?”

“I don’t know if I’d call that luck.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Now? Maybe. But back then?” Redd snorted bitterly. “I prayed for death. You’ve no idea how twisted they can be.” He turned his eyes to Melisande, gaze narrow. “She should know. I recognize that healing chant anywhere.”

His voice was sharp, angry, but also hesitant. After all, she had saved him. That couldn’t be denied.

“She’s no longer with the Order,” Timur said, tone calm but firm.

“Do you know why they kept you alive?” Ludwig asked.

Redd smirked without humor. “Experimentation. Then death. If I was lucky. They saw what I could do. Fast healing, strong body, they wanted to take it apart and figure out how it worked. For the church, something like that? It’s gold.”

“And the Piper?” Ludwig asked.

Redd’s face darkened. “Ah. Him. The other nightmare.”

He looked up at the others with narrowed eyes. “How are you still alive after meeting him? You’re strong, sure. But he’s… something else.”

“It took a lot of convincing,” Ludwig said. “And a lot of blood. Not ours, his pets’. Still, tell me, why was he after you?”

“I’d rather not say,” Redd murmured. His eyes flicked to the side.

Ludwig followed his gaze. The Skinwalker.

“I guess he’s after your spiritual friend,” Ludwig said.

Redd froze. “W-wait. You can see her?”

“What are you talking about?” Robin asked, confused.

“It’s nothing. Nothing serious,” Redd said quickly.

“It doesn’t look that way,” Ludwig said. “A Skinwalker isn’t something to shrug off.”

“DON’T CALL HER THAT!” Redd roared, chest heaving with rage. For a moment, the scars on his side seemed ready to tear open again from the sheer force of his voice.

The spirit hissed, but didn’t move.

Ludwig’s voice lowered. “I see. Family?”

Redd’s mouth opened. Then shut. Finally, he nodded. “Sister.”

“How did it happen?” Ludwig asked.

Redd didn’t answer. His silence spoke volumes.

Timur looked between them. “Maybe we shouldn’t pry too deeply. But you should know, running with someone carrying that kind of baggage… it’s not a small risk.”

Redd didn’t flinch. “Where are you headed?”

“Tulmud,” Robin replied.

“Good enough,” Redd said. “Drop me off there. I can’t stay in Lamar. Too many people know me. Too many want me dead. Especially the Order.”

Timur glanced at Ludwig. “It’s not like we’ll lose anything by doing that.”

Ludwig met Redd’s eyes. “Still… what’s in it for us? To harbor a fugitive?”

The fire cracked softly between them, but the night was no longer quiet.

Not anymore.