I couldn't get back to sleep that night. Thankfully, I had slept deeply before the physician arrived, so I wasn't missing much by the time the rest of the flight awoke in the morning. None of them had anything negative to say about the arrival of Kyrie and the others, and apart from Ingo who stayed characteristically stoic on the matter, they were all happy to have more people finding safety within the castle walls.

On that matter, though, they did share my fear that we would run out of room if more people came. The last thing we wanted was conflict over who got the remaining buildings as housing. So, while Emrys, Rosalie, and Ingo went out into the city to fetch the book he was looking for, most of the rest of us set to making sure we at least had roofs for all our potential guests. The keep was our target; once the holes were patched, it could house a few dozen people, albeit probably not terribly comfortably.

It was tough going without the use of my wings. I was back to being nervous balancing on relatively small, steep sections of roof that were only designed for humans to navigate, not dragons. I thought about the possibility of putting a landing area somewhere on this thing in the future. The castle would need a few touches to make it fully friendly to our dragon team members, but it would be worth it, once we had the money and time and didn't have a city-destroying ritual looming over our heads to worry about.

Just thinking about that was making me shiver with anxiety all day. The worst part was not knowing things. Not knowing how long we had left, not knowing how many people Barbosa needed dead, and not knowing what would happen if we failed to stop it. Again I was drawn towards imagining answers to all these things. It almost felt better to do that, so that I could have an imaginary answer rather than none at all. But I had to remind myself repeatedly that doing that would just make my worry all day, and I couldn't get anything useful done when I was worrying like that. We just wouldn't let it happen. We couldn't. It was that simple.

The roof was done by late afternoon. By then, our fear that more people would come for shelter had materialised. There weren't huge crowds banging at the gate on the drawbridge, but we still had a dozen people come asking for a place to stay over the course of the day. Most of them were from the Bellflower Quarter, but a few were from other wards. Some were cobblers, some were miners, and some were merchants, but they had all made the mistake of raising questions about the legitimacy of Barbosa's rule. Some of them had heard from the survivors of the cathedral collapse yesterday, but some had come to the conclusion that the vicar was corrupt on their own. Once their ideas spread out of their household or community, though, the guards had come looking for them—followed shortly after by the chasseurs.

Now we had room for them in the keep, making food the next issue. Emrys had said he'd return with some in hand, but it was taking him a concerningly long time to return. Ingo informed us via Griffin that they were doing fine the whole day, and were on their way back just after the sky started to tinge orange with the sunset. They arrived soon afterward, with Emrys carrying a stack of six books and Ingo single-handedly hauling a cart laden down with sacks no doubt filled with dried meats, hard bread, and other foods that wouldn't spoil.

"Welcome back," said Grace as we greeted them at the gate. Ingo went to put the food in the bakehouse we were using as storage while the rest of the flight convened in the garden outside the residence to hear what Emrys had learned.

"First," he said as soon as he sat down. "I am deeply disappointed in this city's collection. We went to the second-most prestigious library in the city and they didn't even have a complete set of Rubic's lectures in their catalogue! Unbelievable! It's no wonder that this place has such shoddy politics, eh?"

He poked Rosalie in the side with his elbow. No one acknowledged what was clearly supposed to be a joke, and Emrys cleared his throat, a little flushed with embarrassment. "Er, anyway. The selection was genuinely poor. I had hoped to find something with a more concrete account of what I spoke about last night, but all they had on the subject was hearsay and ancient quotations that couldn't be more precise with a location than 'at the foot of the mountain Nemetia,' a name that hasn't been used for any mountain in the vale for at least two hundred years, and even that far back it referred to multiple peaks. So this might take a little bit of searching."

«What exactly are we looking for anyway?» I asked.

"Remember when I said that deep bodies of water can form a liminal space between the realm of spirits and our reality?" said Emrys. "To do so, the body must be sufficiently auspicious, doubly so if the goal is traversal without some enormous input of vis. While there are many ponds and lakes that might qualify for this—including Lake Amarclere, potentially, though that is a thread to explore another time—the one that stirred in my memory clearest was this:" He opened a book, flipped through the pages, and pointed at a header.

"The 'Pool of Saint Cèlis'?" Grace read.

"Indeed!" said Emrys. "There's an old legend about the pool. They say that Saint Cèlis herself used it for purification rituals that she performed on herself and her followers. Unfortunately, the tale is poorly recorded here. It seems like the tales of Saint Cèlis's actual life were scrubbed from their archive, oddly enough. I suspect that Barbosa is behind it. Perhaps there's something in her story that he doesn't wish his followers to know?"

Arthur snorted. «I bet he just wants to be their only source of truth,» he said. «That way, the people who worship him can't get their idea of what scripture says from anyone else.»

"That's a compelling point," said Emrys. "Unfortunately, his reasoning doesn't make our job any easier, regardless of what it was. We still—"

He was cut off as a figure abruptly appeared, looming over our group where we sat in the grass. It was Kyrie. They were alone, wringing their hands in front of their gown.

They stayed silent for a very awkward length of time before Emrys prompted them to speak. "Can we help you?"

"Uh—yes," said Kyrie. "Er, actually, I think I can help you."

Emrys was immediately intrigued. He leaned forward. "Oh? Do tell."

Kyrie fidgeted with their covering for a moment before gesturing towards the door of the residence. "Can we go inside first?" they asked. "I'd rather not have to do this outdoors. It's…private."

I narrowed my eyes. Their cageyness seemed odd, but we didn't have any reason to distrust them right now. Maybe what they had to say had to do with their condition.

«Alright,» I said, standing. «Let's go, then.»

Kyrie nodded, and the flight filed inside, heading into the lowest floor of the great tower where we all had room to stand. Kyrie shut the door behind us, then double and triple checked that it was securely latched. I tilted my ears back in sympathy.

«No one's going to barge in on us,» I said. «You're fine.»

They stepped away, wringing their hands. "I just—" they started before cutting themself off. "Okay." They stepped into the entryway, gripping the sheet that covered them so hard I heard the sound of a few threads snapping before, with one swift motion, they swept it off.

I had been expecting leprosy. Or some other sort of disfiguring illness that might cause stigma, especially to a doctor, among a place full of superstitious and untrusting people.

It wasn't leprosy.

The skin of their face was scaly and dark grey like charcoal. They had two large black spots on their temples that looked like places where horns had been sawed off at the base. Their feathery black hair was interspersed with actual feathers with wiry, hard-looking plumes. Their eyes were all red with small pinkish pupils in the middle, and when they nervously grit their teeth, I could see that they were sharp, with fangs where their canines should be. They took a step forward, and their foot moved just close enough to the edge of their long gown that I could see that the clopping sounds I heard when they walked were not hard boots, but hooves.

Ingo's hand gripped his cane harder after a moment that must have been spent asking Griffin the details. Rosalie tapped her sword, not pulling it out just yet. But Grace and Emrys both leaned closer, clearly intrigued.

"Sorry," said Kyrie. "I hope you can understand me not telling you earlier. I thought…well, in Yorving, it wasn't a good idea at all to let anyone know I'm Scourged." They gestured to Grace. "But when I saw you this morning, I thought—well, I wondered if you had the same experience I did. And then I heard you talking about the Pool of Saint Cèlis, and I've heard about that story before, so I thought I should help."

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"Same experience you did?" said Grace. "I doubt it. But do you mind if I ask what did happen? We haven't met anyone else that's been affected by the Scourge without turning into a fiend."

Kyrie stared down at the ground, wringing their hands again. Despite being willing to show us their appearance, they clearly weren't ready to talk about that, yet. Their hesitance made me wonder what they could be hiding. They way they talked reminded me of Griffin. Just like Griffin, though, whatever it was, they clearly had it under control right now. They could tell us when they were ready.

«We can talk about that another day,» I said. «The Pool is our priority right now. What do you know about it?»

"Right. That." Kyrie sat down in front of the gathered flight. "I heard about it from some ministers before, since it's a place where they say Saint Cèlis gave many of her sermons. It was supposed to be used for purification, so I read about it, hoping it would be able to help cure…this." They gestured at their face. "But the parts that have stuck with me were the beginning and ending of the accounts, which were parts I never saw in any religious texts, only in the books of theologians and historians that were commentating on the Church. I'll try and tell them as best I can remember:"

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Saint Cèlis arrived at the Pool by Lantern-Light, chasing a guiding vision. Her flight from her path of teaching and insistence that her Lantern-Light led her on such a road shook many of her most fickle followers. Of those who remained, all but one continued on to Yorving, the next city she had planned to visit, in hopes that she would return once her work in the mountains was done. The one who followed her was her first and most loyal disciple, Valhë.

Two days she travelled through the wilderness. First she returned to the place of Lady Eiris's fall, then went south of the sunset into the foot of the great mountains, until she came upon the fertile glade and a deep natural pool. The waters of the pool were clear, yet they seemed to be sourceless. Valhë was afraid of witchcraft, but Saint Cèlis told her: "I must go and see what the Light has to show me. Stay and wait for my return, so that you may witness what is shown to me."

Saint Cèlis plunged into the surface of the pool and vanished from Valhë's sight. For nine days and nine nights, she waited. On the morning of the tenth day, Saint Cèlis emerged, resplendent with knowledge. Valhë asked her, "What did you see, my lady? What was beneath the waters?"

Saint Cèlis turned and beckoned the mountains behind her, and she spoke. "These waters are living and pure. I have been freed from the deception that clouds mortal mind. Behold: a great palace upon the mountain, from which these holy waters flow! Behind the illusion lies an ancient wellspring and holdfast where dragons guard immortal waters. Come, let the Light cleanse you of the blindness you suffer from, so that you may see clear and true."

But Valhë was afraid, and she saw no palace. She rejected Saint Cèlis's offer twice, and said that she should not be deceived by witchcraft into seeing illusions. Saint Cèlis spoke, "There is no reality but truth. I am witness to visions granted by the holy Lantern-Light that guide me to teach this valley to be virtuous. Though none can see this guidance but me, it is real. I have beheld the palace upon the mountain and say you are deceived by illusion, and yet you say I am deceived? You are blind, yet you accuse the sighted of seeing only their imagination? This is a grave act of pride, of which you must be cleansed, and yet you will not submit yourself to the ordeal of witnessing your own failing. Therefore I say to you, you shall not see the palace until you have killed your love, and even then you shall be driven by fear alone."

Though none can be certain, it is said that this was the conflict between the saint and her disciple that eventually led to the murder of Saint Cèlis at Valhë's hand, as she was pushed from the very same place that Lady Eiris fell in return for an estate in Yorving. One month after the murder, Valhë was reported to have fled her new home and burned her fields. The scriptures end Valhë's story there, but there are accounts of some who met her between her flight and her disappearance. It is said, then, that Valhë fulfilled Saint Cèlis's prophecy, and returned to the hills where the Pool laid. It is said that she now feared judgement for her crime, and it is said that she sought to be cleansed of her guilt. Therefore, she plunged into the Pool, as many of Saint Cèlis's followers had done before her.

Even these accounts do not record what Valhë saw beneath the waters, but after she returned, she soon vanished and was never seen by a living soul again. The Pool would have become a pilgrimage site, had it not been that the first group to plunge beneath the waters after Valhë's visit all disappeared as well. It is believed by those that tell of Valhë's final journey that in her final visit to the Pool, she desecrated the mysterious wellspring palace, and that thereafter, those who witness it are beset by such unholy power that they are seized with curses and perish. This legend holds true to this day, and even those who still visit the Pool are never to submerge themselves within, only to drink or rinse their hands or head in the water, lest they befall the same fate as the betrayer Valhë.

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Kyrie finished their recounting and looked around at all the faces. "Well. That's what I remember, at least," they said. "I was hoping when I first heard about it that I would be able to go and cleanse myself at the Pool, but apparently you die if you do that, so I just wanted to make sure you heard that before you made any decisions about it."

Grace looked unusually sober. "Right," she said. "Thanks for sharing that with us."

Kyrie nodded and stood, putting their cover back over their head. As they headed for the door, Rosalie called out after them. "Before you go," she said, "are you certain your 'condition' isn't going to harm anyone here? We have many people to look after now. I want to be aware of any risk we're putting them at."

Kyrie hesitated for just one worrying moment, but then shook their head. "I don't feel like I'm going to hurt anybody," they said. "I'm okay. I promise." They hurried out the door before I could even give them any reassurance.

The room was quiet, and the atmosphere heavy. Eventually, Emrys cleared his throat. "Well. I guess that's one lead thrown in the bin…."

«No, it's not,» I said. Several pairs of eyes looked at me quizzically.

"Are you certain about that?" asked Rosalie. "Their sources were very clear. If you go in the Pool like you went into the lake, you could die. Possibly without any chance of resisting whatever curse it is that would kill you."

«I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I trust anything even remotely related to the Church right now,» I said. «Who's to say that Barbosa didn't have these things edited before they were burned? That he tried to change the narrative, and then decided afterward that he just didn't want any insight into this story at all? He could have gotten rid of the good accounts first, then the dubious ones when it was clear they couldn't convince people, or when he thought he would have more of an advantage if the people didn't know anything at all.»

Emrys went back to his familiar thinking expression. "That…makes sense," he said. "I did find the stark lack of texts odd for a city as large as Yorving. Perhaps these dubious texts remain in less trustworthy outlets, which I didn't search today. If something about this Pool threatens his plans, that would be a reason that he could be keen on preventing the truth of the Pool from reaching the masses. If I'm right about the connection between the realm of spirits and your curse, then perhaps the Pool could also be used to cure the Scourge, which would deprive him of fiend blood and dead civilians for his research and rituals."

«I agree with those two,» said Arthur. «Barbosa's enough of a devil that that makes sense.»

Rosalie whipped her head around to stare at her partner in shock. "Surely you aren't serious?" she said. "Arthur, the Pool was pitched to us as certain death! That is far too big of a risk to take!»

«I hate to say it,» I said, glancing at Grace. For all the shit I gave her about taking risks and being reckless, it felt like a defeat to argue in favour of risk here, but my heart told me it was right. «I think it's an acceptable risk. We can take precautions. We've got a well-studied occultist with us that can help defend against curses, if that's what the threat is. And besides, what are our alternatives? I don't want to lose Arthur to the Fiend, but so far the only things we know that can bring us to a place where we might be able to cut it out of us are the lake under the sewers of Yorving, which we can't easily get to and also caused all of the dragons to suffer from more Fiendish thoughts when I went in, and the Pool.»

Rosalie looked a little desperately at Emrys. "What about Lake Amarclere?" she asked. "You said that might work, too."

"It might," Emrys emphasised. "It's auspicious enough to have that property, but it's also such a large lake that entry would be difficult. I'll assume you haven't heard of anyone swimming in it randomly vanishing into the realm of spirits? If not, then that means we'd need to perform some kind of specific action in order to open the way within the water, and we don't even have an inkling as to where to start with that."

Rosalie's hands balled up into nervous fists. "Well, we still don't know where the Pool even is, right? The account wasn't clear."

«It was clear enough,» Griffin spoke up. «The "place of Lady Eiris's fall" is Crone's Leap, a mountain west of here. And then I bet the "south of the sunset" part means she went southwest until she found it. So, southwest of Crone's Leap.»

Defeated, Rosalie's face sunk into her hands. I heard a few sniffles escape her as her composure broke. "I can't believe this," she muttered. "Are we really going to gamble on lives like this?"

Grace drew her into a hug. "Risking our lives is our job," she said.

"This just feels…I feel like this is going to be pointless," Rosalie protested.

"We'll do everything we can to keep them safe," said Grace. "But at the end of the day, we can't win this fight without a little risk. We all signed up for this. We know what our responsibility is."

"It still feels wrong," said Rosalie.

Grace looked up at the rest of us and jerked her head towards the door. I caught her intention and stood, addressing the flight one last time before we split up for the night.

«Well, we've got a plan now,» I said. «We're one step closer to finding a cure. Some of us still need to rest, and it'll be a long walk to the Pool since I…doubt I'll be flying again anytime soon, so we'll give ourselves tomorrow as rest, then leave the day after. Sleep well, all. We've got a pivotal moment before us.»

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