The air in the Briarhouse was suffocating, heavy with the lingering scent of decay. Kalenor wiped his blade clean and glanced at the Briar, who stood pale and uneasy near the strapped-down patient. The decapitated husk, its headless body finally still, lay lifeless on the adjacent cot. Yet, something about it gnawed at Kalenor’s thoughts—the eerie stillness felt more like dormancy than death.

  “This plague is unlike anything I’ve encountered,” Kalenor said gravely. “Its corruption spreads deeper than just the body. We need to secure this newest patient and inform the elders of the severity of this threat.”

  The Briar nodded hesitantly. “You’re right. If this spreads further, we’ll lose the village entirely.” He turned to his apprentice, who hovered near the corner, trembling. “Strap down the new patient and watch over both bodies. Do not leave this room until we return.”

  The apprentice nodded shakily, his eyes darting nervously toward the husk. Kalenor and the Briar stepped out into the foggy streets, the weight of urgency pressing on them.

  As they made their way toward the elders’ hall, a young boy ran up to them, tears streaking his cheeks. “Sir, please! My mom—she collapsed! She’s coughing so much, and I don’t know what to do!”

  Kalenor exchanged a look with the Briar, their concern mounting. Without hesitation, the Briar said, “I’ll go to the elders and inform them of what’s happening here. We cannot delay.”

  Kalenor nodded. “Do it quickly. I’ll tend to the boy’s mother.”

  The Briar broke into a brisk jog toward the elders’ hall while Kalenor followed the boy through the twisting village streets. They arrived at a weathered home on the edge of the village. Inside, Kalenor found the boy’s mother lying on the ground, her body trembling with fevered convulsions. Black veins twisted up her neck, and faint, branch-like tendrils pushed against her skin. Her shallow breathing rasped in the quiet room.

  “We need to get her to the Briarhouse,” Kalenor said, his voice calm but firm. He bent down, gently lifting the frail woman into his arms. Turning to the boy, he said, “Stay close and keep watch. She’ll need care, and I’ll see to it.”

  The boy nodded silently, following as Kalenor carried his mother back through the misty streets. With every step, Kalenor’s mind churned. The spread was accelerating, and the symptoms were worsening. Perhaps it was time to gather all the afflicted in one place—not only to treat them but to contain the growing threat.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  As they approached the Briarhouse, unease prickled at the back of Kalenor’s mind. Something felt off. He stepped inside and carefully laid the woman on an empty cot. Turning to speak to the apprentice, he froze. The cot where the decapitated husk had lain was empty. The body was gone.

  The apprentice sat in the corner, his face ghostly white and his body trembling. Kalenor strode toward him, his voice sharp and demanding. “Where is it?”

  The apprentice raised a shaking hand, pointing toward the door. “It... it got up and walked out,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Kalenor cursed under his breath, his eyes narrowing. He turned to the boy, whose face was etched with fear. Kneeling before him, Kalenor placed his hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders. “Listen carefully. Lock yourself and the apprentice in that closet.” He gestured to a sturdy wooden door nearby. “Do not open it for anyone until I return. Do you understand?”

  The boy nodded quickly, dragging the apprentice toward the closet. Kalenor bolted the door behind them, then turned back to the empty cot. The husk had been lifeless. He was certain of it. Yet it had reanimated—and worse, it was now roaming free.

  Drawing his sword, Kalenor stepped outside, his senses heightened. The fog wrapped around the village like a shroud, muffling sound and distorting the shapes of buildings and trees. Every step felt heavier as dread coiled in his chest.

  A piercing scream split the air, cutting through the silence like a blade. Kalenor broke into a run, his boots pounding against the dirt as he followed the sound. Turning a corner, he froze at the sight before him. A man knelt over a lifeless woman, blood pooling around them. The man’s body was unmistakable—blackened veins and branch-like growths jutted from his limbs. It was the husk, moving without its head, tearing into the woman’s flesh with grotesque fervor.

  Kalenor surged forward, his sword slicing through the husk’s arm in one swift motion. The creature screeched, its remaining limbs thrashing violently. Kalenor pressed his attack, severing its legs before finally driving his blade through its chest. The body collapsed to the ground, twitching before finally going still.

  Breathing heavily, Kalenor looked down at the lifeless woman. His stomach turned as he realized who she was—the wife of the afflicted man from the Briarhouse. Her body was mutilated, her face frozen in a mask of terror. Clenching his jaw, Kalenor wrapped the husk’s severed limbs in a tattered cloth and hoisted the remains onto his shoulders.

  The walk back to the Briarhouse was grim. When he stepped inside, the boy peeked out cautiously from the closet, his wide eyes filled with questions he dared not ask. The Briar stood with the elders, their faces grim as they turned to Kalenor.

  He dropped the remains onto a nearby table, his amber eyes hard. “The plague is worse than you feared,” he said, his voice low but firm. “The dead do not stay dead.”