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CONTENT WARNING

The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:

• Injury & Illness

• Murder & Death

• Dark Magic

Reader discretion is advised

Adhrit still remembered the sound his father made when he hit the ground in their small kitchen. A noise that would echo in his ears like the bell atop a mountain. The day seemed to stand still as soon as it happened, and only end when the sun stood high the next morning. His father, Suraj, would never enjoy the same again.

“There's no easy way to say this, but what I feared may be the case seems to be true." The vitasan at the local church said, clasping his hands together. “We have no name for your father's condition, but we know what ails him. Sadly, your father's body has begun to reject the blood it's creating." There was a pause, but Adhrit could not answer. His mouth was simply incapable of conjuring any words.

“If it doesn't reverse course, the humors which the body has begun to consider a foreign invader will spread further, worsening the reaction. This will persist until eventually-“ The vitasan paused again, removing his glasses and folding them. Now look looking directly into Adhrit's, who could not meet them. The vitasan opened his mouth one more time but was cut off by the young tiger.

“So do it."

A long silence, the vitasan's mouth twisted. “Do what, exactly?"

He already knew the answer.

“Reverse the condition. Use any… potions you have, open any of your tomes, use anything, anything please I–“

The vitasan held up his hand, Adhrit couldn't stop, despite his voice breaking

“I can't loose my father please, I can't do it, he can't."

“My child, I w–"

“Summer will be starting soon, we'll all need him. I need him. He's my DAD, he CAN'T JUST DIE PLEASE DO SOMETHING!!"

The vitasan attempted to embrace the tiger, but the youth repelled him violently. The older man attempted to say “There are, sadly, no known cures or corrective–“ Adhrit was already out the door, sending it nearly off its hinges. It was well past midday by the time he'd helped his father back to their farm outside of town. He helped his father into the house and into his bed.

The young tiger spent the rest of the day and night crying on the steps of their home. Feeling more lost, helpless, and alone than a raft in the roughest waters a storm could conjure. The only sounds heard that night were his hiccups and sniffles he shared with the deafening silence of the night.

• • • F O U R Y E A R S L A T E R • • •

Adhrit walked with swiftness and purpose, trying to complete his task before the evening concluded. He took his well-practiced path through the smaller alleys of the town, eventually finding himself at the back door of the local florist's shop. He gently knocked in his standard 2 3 1 pattern.

After what felt like an eternity Margoso, the old porcupine opened the door, gave a long sigh, and motioned the tiger to enter. Before the spiny shopkeeper could say anything, Adhrit dropped a satchel of coins on the table. “I can pay double this time, up front. Just PLEASE, I need the seeds. One more bag should do, I've almost got the moister levels down and–“

Margoso cut him off, rubbing his temples. “Adhrit please. I can't keep doing this. Not at my age, not if–“ The porcupine opened his eyes to see Adhrit standing there, agape. He sighed again, “Look Adhrit, I am.. so sorry about your father's condition. And if you truly think this can help Suraj, I'm glad. But I can't do this anymore. The church has made it illegal to cultivate and sell it or anything related to it since before I was born. And when you get to my age… those are risks you just can't take anymore. I'm sorry."

The tiger's fists balled. “I promise I.. I just need one more bag. Please. He–“ Adhrit began choking on his words again. “He walked on his own again. From the chair to the bed" Margoso's eyes widened. “I wanted to show you his progress once he fully recovered, but it's slow. I can't grow these very well, you know that. I'm starting from scratch every time but it's a little better with each batch. I just need one more bag and I'll be able to get them to germinate. Please…"

Margoso sighed once again, but nodded. He turned to one of his locked drawers and retrieved a key from his belt. He bent down and unlocked the drawer, his tunic lifting as he did so. Adhrit glimpsed at what appeared to be a shape on the porcupine's thigh. A scar, no, a mark. A triangle with a straight line extending from the highest point past where his fur extended underneath his tunic.

By the time Margoso lifted himself up and turned back around to face the younger male, he knew what the tiger had seen and shook his head. “Boy oh boy, the messes we make for others get bigger and bigger don't they?" He approached Adhrit and pulled a claw towards himself, covered his hand with it and quietly placing a small bag within the feline's paw. “This is all that's left."

The porcupine backed away from the tiger and let him open his paw to look at the bag containing the seeds. Adhrit began to speak but Margoso again cut him off. “I think it's better if you no longer showed up here." Adhrit nodded through tears and turned to leave. He stopped just outside, making sure to close the door closed and taking one last glance at the solemn old man, before darting off into the waining evening.

By the time he reached home, the only glow in the sky came from the moon, and only then it refused to render but a sliver of illumination. No matter, the tiger could find his own way. As he always did. He found his way to the far corner of the property and lifted a hidden door int he ground covered in dirt and ivy. Slipping underneath and closing it after him he placed the satchel on his desk, moving the small stack of books to the side for now.

Books he'd stolen from the local library, codexes and enchiridions on fauna the church had tried to hide. They could not burn books, not publicly at least. For if they did the optics would be bad. So they merely did what they could to hide them and the knowledge they contained, trying to keep others as ignorant as possible to what lied within.

Still, it was possible for someone desperate enough to get ahold of what was hidden. And desperation was exactly what fueled Adhrit for years. So in his hands the books found themselves. And their knowledge had been invaluable.

Through pages aged, torn, and smeared, the feline could make out enough to learn of a vegetable that, if prepared properly and in enough quantity, could reverse and hopefully cure his father's condition. And that's what Adhrit set to work doing. And now, with the last seeds he'd ever get ahold of, it was now or never to make things right.

With the precision of an automaton, Adhrit began placing seeds in one of his empty growbeds in the ground next to his desk. Taking care that the soil was in good condition, the spacing between seeds was correct, moisture levels were adjusted from his previous attempt, and the level of light they'd receive was just right.

He consulted one of his books, the last he'd taken from the library. He read the instructions carefully, took a drink of water from his satchel to clear his throat, and spoke a single, deep note in the direction of the seeds he'd planted. Silently hoping it would work this time. By the end of his incantation he felt his head grow dizzy, moments of vertigo patterning his recovery back to solid ground.

Speaking of his last batch, he then moved onto them next, a few beds over. The stalks had grown in nicely, MUCH better than earlier attempts. Adhrit excitedly yet carefully dug the root out to find…

Only small bulbs had grown. With no seeds inside.

His fists balled, he was so tired of things going wrong. None of this was scientific, he understood. But he still took care in adjusting variables slowly and intentionally. Yet something always seemed to go wrong, every damn time.

Still, he pressed on. He couldn't give up. Not with his father still in daily pain, not knowing when his time would be up. When his own body would fail him. He had to do this, he had to push on. There was no other option.

So he harvested what he could from the roots of his current batch, cleaned them with his satchel, and collected them in his basket. He locked the satchel of remaining seeds he'd gotten from Margoso in a chest underneath his desk, and with his basket began to climb back up to the trap door. Taking one last look at the newly filled growbed before leaving closing up for the night.

The feline slipped into the kitchen from the window. Already hearing the morning birds outside, he would not have to wait long before he could begin preparing breakfast with what he'd managed to grow.

And prepare breakfast he did. A warm stew with the roots he'd dug up, along with some carrots and minced meat. Adhrit brought it up to his father's room just as the older tiger stirred awake. “Good morning father, please.. have some breakfast." He said, placing the bowl next to Suraj's bed.

The old man yawned then winced in pain, rubbing his abdomin, which was dotted in sores and thinning fur. He looked over at his son, then down to the bowl. With shaky hands, he picked it up and began to take his initial spoonfuls into his mouth, before quickly coughing.

Adhrit quickly caught the bowl before it slipped out of his father's hand has the latter tried to cover his mouth, a deep crimson liquid dripping from his mouth and nose as his hacking subsided. “My son, I'm sorry. Warm food is.. difficult for me at the moment." He said, trying to force a smile after wiping his face with a handkerchief.

The young man looked away for a moment, trying to hide his tears. “I understand Dad but please, you must take this. It will help, I promise" He said upon regaining his composure best he could. His father nodded and tried to ingest the stew again, this time going down easier after cooling a bit. As he did so the tremors in his arm seemed to lessen, and Adhrit could've sworn he felt better too.

“Thank you son, it does– it does help. Thank you." Suraj said, his smile growing slightly more genuine. “You're welcome father. Please eat the rest, I have to work on the crops today." Adhrit said as he began to turn to leave, but his father grabbed hold of the younger tiger's wrist. “Adhrit, you do way too much. You're going to kill yourself before I do. Please… take the day off. Rest. If not for you, then for me. I've taken way too many already." Adhrit was about to protest but Suraj spoke once more. “Your mother and sister can take care of things once they awake. Please, do something for yourself. I can tell you need it."

The young tiger nodded, “Yes father, I will. T-thank you." Suraj released his grip on his son's wrist and coughed again before saying, “The thanks is from me to you. I love you so much son." “I love you too dad." Adhrit hugged his father, who returned in kind, before leaving the room and slowly closing the door behind him.

• • • T H R E E W E E K S L A T E R • • •

Another day that started early, the stalks of his latest batch were growing in well, he should see the veins on the root grow by the day, but not ready to be harvested yet. Another few days of chanting and it'd be time. Adhrit had cut up the last of his previous harvest, prepared the stew and brought it to his father, and was told to take the day off again. So here he found himself at a small river basin, the place he usually went to when there was little to do.

To be entirely honest, he hated having the day off. He could never tell his father, but he'd rather be within either eyeshot or earshot of him at all times. But it was still his house and his rules. So, in vain every time, he tried to put distance between himself and the house and the struggles therein.

Adhrit's clothes were hanging by a tree to dry while he washed himself of dirt and other particulates. His mind never seeming to quiet down, but at least he could talk to himself while he was there. He could do other stuff with himself too. But that was still the last thing on his mind, despite having the complete privacy to do so.

Eventually he climbed out of the basin to dry off. Choosing the smooth, warm rocks on the shore to do so. His eyes closed, his mind still wouldn't simmer down. It couldn't. Everything rides on this batch, or the one that came next. If he couldn't get it down, couldn't make it work, couldn't at least get the roots to truly germinate, this would've all been for nothing. Nothing.

He threw the rock he'd begun clutching in his hand towards the river, it made an expected 'sploshing' as it connected with the surface. His ears focused to it, then the waves, then the insects upon the surface, then the birds above them, and the trees in which they made their rest in between dives at their prey.

Everything felt so disconnected, yet intertwined. He felt the same with his father. It worried Adhrit, how the pain in his father's body seemed to connect so closely with his own. But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when it was clearly working, saving his father from a slow death.

The tiger tried one more time to silence the roar in his mind, throwing another rock to the river with the intent to interrupt himself. It didn't work.

…

“Fuck it" Adhrit said to no one. He arose, grabbed his clothes, and headed towards town. It'd take an hour or so to get there but the day was going slow enough that it hardly mattered.

Upon arriving, Adhrit went to the direction of Margoso's shop. Despite the sour note their last meeting had left off on it was the only place he felt safe, and found himself interested in going when not running errands. He would approach the front entrance this time, he could still be an actual customer after all. He could at least try to get some of those imported fruits he loved so much.

Except that wouldn't be the case today, or ever again. For when Adhrit made his way to the door, he found it locked. The only explanation was in the form of a note tacked to the wood framing the glass door.

“CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE CHURCH"

Adhrit barely had any time to react to the note when, as if brought on by the words themselves, a searing & deep pain made itself grow with the tiger's body. Starting in the spine, the chest, the abdomen before slowly inching its way towards his extremities and head. The tiger fought the pain as best he could, sweat dripping from his arms as he clutched his body. His brain, despite being on fire, conjured up one thought he couldn't ignore: “Dad!"

Adhrit picked himself up and began running, pushing the few people who'd stopped to notice his scene out of the way. His legs felt like rotting wood, but he forced them to carry him the long track back to his house. “Please be ok, please be ok, please be ok, please-" he kept repeating on loop over and over, until thick black smoke began to appear over the horizon.

Then there were no more words.

Just a mad, panicked run. As if a force calcified by the pain within his body itself pushed him forward. By the time he reached the edge of the property, his mind could barely process what his eyes were seeing. But they perceived enough.

The house at the edge of the farm was in flames, now little more than piles of Daub slag and lingering jagged charcoal spires of timber, appearing the shape of monstrous teeth. The fields of once verdant crops were now rows of noxious burning refuse, scarring the land. At the far end, he saw the trap door to his secret garden had been fun open, thick black smoke emerging from within, as were three charred bodies just before the entrance. They were burned beyond distinguishable features.

They didn't need them.

Adhrit screamed. He screamed louder than his lungs would allow. He screamed until his brain throbbed. He screamed until dark splotches covered his vision. He screamed until he could only weep and spasm. He tore at the ground as if it was the one who'd torn his own world asunder. Every nerve in his body burned, but even as he collapsed in a heap on the ground he could not pass out. He dug and tore at the earth until his hands bled, and he dug some more.

“You're likely to get an infection doing that" a voice said, not from around Adhrit, but from within his mind. He ignored it and kept tearing at the ground, his clothes, anything just to destroy. He needed to destroy. Everything else he'd worked for his entire miserable life had just been destroyed. So why shouldn't he just take himself out and finish it all? Why shouldn't he?

“Because tomorrow will still come, and it will welcome you just as the rest have." The voice said again. “SHUT UP, MARGOSO!! YOU ABANDONED ME. YOU ABANDONED ME AND NOW EVERYTHING'S GONE!! EVERYONE IS DEAD!!!". There was a brief pause, Adhrit's arms nearly burst with exhaustion. “Sadly I am not Margoso, but he did send for me. Unfortunate that I was not able to arrive in time to save him from those who've now done harm to you both."

“THEN WHO CAN YOU HELP?" Adhrit screamed, his voice raspy and throat torn. “You" the voice said, now outside of the tiger's battered mind. The feline looked towards the source. A tall goat with massive spiraling horns and billowing crimson cloak stood in the middle of the field. Seemingly unaffected by the many flames licking around him. He was holding things in his hands. In his left, a slightly smoldering piece of parchment with several of the edges burnt off. In his right hand.. one of Adhrit's secret crops!

The goat, who appeared to be positively ancient, still swiftly peered at the crop before splitting it open with a single hand. Adhrit let out a noise of protest, the older man ignored it save for a quick dart of his deep red eyes, before returning his gaze to the vegetable.

“Celeriac Hematos… Incredibly difficult to cultivate, even without it being contraband." The old man said, seemingly more to himself than to Adhrit. “And yet, you not only managed to grow it in such circumstances. You made it germinate. Growing it underground was.. quite the interesting trick. Aided no doubt by the–“ He turned his gaze to the piece of parchment, Adhrit realizing it was from one of the tomes he'd kept in his secret garden. The old goat sighed “–dreadfully outdated information. Shame the church never bothers to keep their knowledge of the dark arts up to date. But then again, I guess that's what we're here for."

Adhrit snapped, this was too much to process “SHUT UP!!" The goat's head didn't move but his eyes finally stuck towards the tiger, who had now gotten to his feet, albeit barely. “Who are you? What did you do? Give me the Celeriac back. And–" the tiger once again choked on his words “–AND BRING MY FAMILY BACK YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!"

The goat tilted his head. He placed the items in his cloak, and calmly said “I'd normally be flattered at being called a monster. But if there's anything I dislike–“ his voice grew dark, as if every syllable blotted out the setting sun just a bit more. “–and trust me, I dislike many, MANY things. I do not appreciate being accused of things I had no hand in committing."

The world returned to normal, if any of what was happening could be called normal. The older man adjusted himself again, “though given the circumstances, I can understand your misplaced frustration. And forgive it." Adhrit was at a loss. A complete loss for actions and words. The goat took this opportunity to continue. “I can, easily if I wanted to, stop you from hurting yourself. However if it still is your wish to do so I will fully respect it. It'd be hypocritical of someone in my position to do otherwise. But I must ask you a question first.

“I cannot bring your family back. That is impossible even for me to do in a way that is meaningful to those who still live. But I can help you hurt those who did this. Hurt them in any way you can imagine, and in some ways you can't" Adhrit remained silent.

“Margoso told me you were one of the smartest people he'd ever met in his letter. And the fact that you were able to grow Celeriac Hematos at all given your circumstances proves it to me thusly. You clearly have a gift for dark magic. I can help you hone it, make the pain that you feel when using it disappear. And all the while you'll be enacting revenge on those.. who took everything from you. Would you accept such an opportunity?"

The goat looked towards the burning figures as he said this. Adhrit tried to do the same. He couldn't at first, but he forced himself too. The image searing itself into his mind like a burn upon his skin. “The choice is completely yours. I will deliver on every promise I have made if you accept, or you'll never see me again if you refuse." There was a silence between them. As if the entire world and all the life and death upon it awaited an answer.

“I accept, my lord." Adhrit said, his voice as cold as iron. “Thank you, young one. I greatly appreciate your decision. Now please, address me as Malroth." The tiger looked to the goat, without an ounce of regret. “What is your name, my dear lamb?" Malroth said. “Adhrit, my name is Adhrit."

Malroth smiled greatly. “A perfect name for you indeed. I see no need to alter it." Adhrit nodded, the weight on his shoulders already feeling immensely lighter. “Come, Adhrit. There is much work to be done."

The old goat trailed off, and the tiger followed.