Flames dance across Mirelle's face, painting her features in shifting gold and crimson as she holds me against her. The night wraps around our little camp like a cloak, stars winking overhead while the remnants of the ogre smolder in a pyre several yards away. Its meat, now stripped and skewered over our fire, fills the air with a gamey aroma that makes my stomach growl despite everything. "I can't move," I say, my voice muffled against Mirelle's chest. Her arms encircle me completely, one hand absently stroking my hair while the other keeps me locked firmly against her body. The curse holds me motionless, my muscles refusing to obey any command but hers. Mirelle shifts slightly, her electric blue hair tickling my forehead as she looks down at me. "I'll feed you," she offers, reaching for a chunk of roasted ogre meat cooling on a flat stone beside us. "Open your mouth." My jaw drops open automatically, the command impossible to resist. She tears off a small piece of meat and places it gently on my tongue, her fingers lingering against my lips a moment longer than necessary. “Eat it.” Across the fire, Vessa makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "I'm not gonna fucking do anything," she mutters, poking at the flames with a stick. The firelight catches the branching scars across her face, making them look like glowing cracks in porcelain. "You can stop treating me like I'm about to kidnap him." I chew slowly, delighted by the taste. Ogre meat is surprisingly tender, with a flavor somewhere between venison and something I can't quite place. Rich and earthy, with an underlying sweetness that makes me think of smoked honey. "You literally tried to make him kill me two days ago," Mirelle snaps, her arms tightening around me protectively. "So forgive me if I don't exactly trust you around him." Vessa rolls her good eye, the milky white one staring blankly into the darkness. "That was before I knew he was the Saint." She tears into her own piece of ogre meat with sharp teeth. "Besides, if I wanted him dead, I would've just let that ogre turn him into paste." Mirelle's arms constrict around me like a vice, her body tensing at Vessa's words. "How do you know he's the Saint?" she demands, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Who told you?" I feel her heart hammering against my back, her breath quickening with what I can only assume is fear or rage, maybe both. Vessa's scarred face twists into something between a grimace and a smile. She tosses her gnawed bone into the fire, sending up a spray of sparks that dance like fireflies before disappearing into the night. "A demon told me," she says flatly, as if announcing the weather. "You're full of shit," Mirelle hisses. Vessa leans forward, the firelight casting deep shadows across her branching scars. Her good eye gleams with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. "Remember when I told you an elf saved my life?" she says, her raspy voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "Well, that pointy-eared bitch wasn't exactly what she seemed. After you and I met, she found me again." Vessa's finger jabs in my direction. "Told me I'd somehow meet the Saint. And he's the only man I've encountered who didn't have an owner." I swallow hard, the taste of ogre meat suddenly ashy in my mouth. Something cold slithers down my spine that has nothing to do with the night air. "What kind of demon?" I ask. Vessa's good eye locks onto mine. "The kind that can look like an elf one minute and something straight out of a nightmare the next. Red skin, horns, the works." "Greater demon," Mirelle whispers, her breath hot against my ear. "She's describing a greater demon." "Whatever it was," Vessa continues, "it wants you. Bad enough to save my worthless life just so I could lead it to you." Mirelle's fingers dig into my arm hard enough to bruise. "And you're telling us this because...?" Vessa's good eye flashes with sudden rage. She slams her fist against her thigh. "I fucking hate demons," she spits, her scarred face contorting with genuine disgust. "I'm not some fucking race traitor, alright? I was born in the Holy Kingdom. Ended up homeless after my parents were conscripted to fight those monsters." The vehemence in her voice startles me. It's the first truly authentic emotion I've heard from her, raw hatred without calculation or manipulation behind it. "I don't care where you were born," Mirelle replies, her voice suddenly cold and hard against my ear. "I'm not taking Sam to the Holy Kingdom." Her blue eyes have narrowed to dangerous slits, static electricity dancing through her hair. Vessa stares at us across the flames, her mouth hanging open in genuine shock. "What the fuck are you talking about?" she demands, leaning forward. "He's the Saint. He has to help the Hero. That's the way it's always been." "I've heard rumors about how the church treats men cursed by Velthara," Mirelle says, her voice barely above a whisper. The hand stroking my hair pauses, her fingers tangling protectively in my locks. "What rumors?" I ask. No one's ever mentioned anything specific about the curse beyond its immediate effects to me. Vessa rolls her eyes so hard I can almost hear them scraping in their sockets. "The church takes in men with the curse and helps them repent their sins to receive forgiveness from Velthara," she says, like she's explaining something obvious to a child. "He can be saved." "No," Mirelle snaps, her arms tightening around me. "I've heard what really happens there. It's a torture chamber for men, a place where they're broken and remade. Very few ever come out again." The weight of her words settles in my stomach like lead. I've been so focused on surviving day to day that I haven't really considered what a "cure" might actually look like in this world. "I'm sure that's not true," Vessa scoffs. "The church has been helping cursed men for centuries." "Helping them into early graves, maybe," Mirelle mutters. I clear my throat, drawing both women's attention. "Wait, so you're saying I could actually lose this curse? Is that possible?" The hope that blooms in my chest is almost painful. Vessa nods, her good eye fixed on me with surprising intensity. "I've definitely heard of men being forgiven by the goddess Velthara herself. The church has rituals, ceremonies..." She trails off, waving her hand vaguely. "Holy stuff." My mind races with possibilities. Freedom from this curse would mean no more paralysis, no more being forced to obey commands, no more losing control of my own body. I could be my own person again. "Where will the Hero be summoned?" Both women stare at me, the fire crackling in the sudden silence. "The Holy Kingdom," Vessa answers finally. "At the Grand Cathedral in the capital. That's where all Heroes have been summoned in the past." "It has to be Kayla," I say, the words tumbling out with absolute certainty. "My wife will be the Hero they summon. I know it in my bones." The flames dance across Mirelle's face as she goes completely still against me. "I don't care," she says, her voice flat and cold. "We're not going there, Sam. You won't be safe in the Holy Kingdom." The conviction in her tone sends a chill through me despite her body heat pressed against mine. She turns her head toward Vessa, electric blue hair crackling with tension. "And I want you gone, too," she adds, nodding sharply in Vessa's direction. "That demon could be following you. For all we know, you're leading it straight to us." Vessa's scarred face hardens, her good eye narrowing as she rises to her feet. The firelight makes her branching scars look like rivers of molten gold flowing across her skin. "I only came to tell you what I knew," she says, her raspy voice tinged with something that might be disappointment. "I assumed you'd do the right thing, though. Silly me." "The right thing?" Mirelle laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. "The right thing is keeping Sam safe, not delivering him to people who'll torture him in the name of the Goddess of Lust." I struggle against Mirelle's hold, wishing I could sit up properly for this conversation instead of being cradled like a child. "Don't I get a say in this?" "No," Mirelle answers immediately, then seems to catch herself. "I mean... of course you do, but you don't understand what you'd be walking into." Vessa grabs her pack from beside the fire, slinging it over her shoulder with practiced ease. "If the Saint doesn't help the Hero, we're all fucked anyway," she says, her tone matter-of-fact. "The demon queen will slaughter us all, starting with the men. I heard they're her favorite playthings." My stomach twists at her words. The idea of Kayla arriving in this world alone, expected to save everyone without me by her side, it's unthinkable. "Mirelle. We have to go to the Holy Kingdom." "I promise you," she cuts me off, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper, "the Hero they summon won't be your wife." Vessa makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, but stays where she is, watching our exchange with undisguised interest. "You don't know that," I argue. "And even if she's not the Hero, I still need to get this curse removed." Mirelle's fingers tighten in my hair, almost painful. "The priests will take you and break you," she says, each word precise and heavy. "I bet they'll chain you in some dungeon and perform rituals that will tear your mind apart. You will regret ever going there." The conviction in her voice makes my stomach clench, but I can't let this go. Not when freedom might be within reach. Not when Kayla might be waiting for me. "Please," I whisper, the word hanging between us like a prayer. The fire pops and crackles, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky. For several long moments, Mirelle says nothing, her breathing slow and measured against my back. I can almost feel her mind working, calculating, weighing options. "Fine," she finally says, the word so soft I barely hear it. I say in surprise, not quite believing what I'm hearing. "Really?" She sighs, a sound so deep it seems to come from her soul. "Yes. But it's going to take us saving a lot of money for that to happen. It might even take months. The Holy Kingdom is far, and the journey is dangerous. We'll need supplies, better weapons, maybe even hire additional protection." Relief floods through me so intensely I feel lightheaded. "Thank you," I breathe. Vessa's good eye narrows suspiciously, darting between us. "Well, that was easier than expected," she mutters, adjusting her pack. "I thought I might have to kidnap him myself." Mirelle's head snaps toward Vessa, her electric blue hair crackling with renewed energy. "I think it's time for you to leave us alone," she says, her voice deceptively calm despite the tension radiating from her body. Vessa's scarred lips curl into a smirk. "Alright then," she replies, already backing away from our fire. "I hope we never see each other again.”