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He gathered them all carefully in a vial with ground yew bark, then poured the contents into a small silver cup. Over it, he poured hot water, letting the blooms of an angelica blossom steep. Finally, he added twenty drops of the brew into the first vial. Absentmindedly, he pulled Perine’s lavender handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

“Oh! I used to have a handkerchief like that,” she exclaimed.

He hadn’t realised she’d been paying attention to him. He shoved the piece of fabric back in his pocket and locked eyes with her. The sound drained from the room; the air between them thickened. “Strange, that.”

An odd emotion flickered across her face, her eyes on the pocket where he’d stuffed the handkerchief. She gave a contemplative hum before focusing once more on her cauldron.

Oleander closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing until every thought was cleared, leaving only the singular purpose of separating this parasite from his body. He fed his intention into the vial, feeling it hum with energy until it radiated. He corked it swiftly and looked up to find Perine standing before him, frazzled but hopeful.

“So,” she said breathlessly. “This sort of spell works best as a cream or something easily spreadable. It’ll burn a bit when applied, but once it sinks into your skin, it’ll latch onto anything that is not directly connected to you so we can pull it out.”

“How do you propose we do it?” Oleander asked, bemused. He had a fairly good idea of how it had to be applied, and it made him feel simultaneously giddy and a little ill.

“I…” Her face flushed crimson once more. “I need to spread it over your entire upper body. On your skin… directly.”

Oleander raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he slowly shrugged off his jacket and shirt. Perine hesitated before stepping forward, the cream she’d created already transferred into a small glass jar.

She dipped her hand into the jar and began methodically applying the cream to his face, moving down his neck and shoulders. The velvety cream stung violently as it absorbed into his skin. Yet, he wasn’t sure which burnt more—the cream or the sensation of her hands rubbing down his body. When she dipped lower to his stomach, a shiver raked over him. He nearly collapsed right then and there.

He held back a groan as he rasped, “Are you—are you almost finished?”

A beehive of emotions burst inside of him, docile until her touch smoked them out. A new kind of hope buzzed under his skin, a desperate plea that this wouldn’t be the last time her hands were on him.

She stood behind him, massaging his lower back with focused diligence. “Are you always this impatient?”

“When you’re touching me, yes.” He fisted his hands and tried to think of anything besides her soft probing fingers. Mostly, he was terrified that she would notice how excited he was becoming.

Only there was a very real possibility that while she hadn’t registered the visual confirmation of his excitement, that she could feel the depth of it through this damned bond they shared.

She cleared her throat. “Ready?”

Oleander nodded, and they both turned to the Circumscription Urn on the table in the centre of the room.

“Once I start, I cannot stop without risking you dying in the process,” she told him with clinical severity. “We’ll only have a few minutes—and if this fails…”

She didn’t need to explain that if they weren’t able to get this parasite out of him now, his chance of surviving outside of the Arcane Vaults was nonexistent.

“I’m aware of the risk,” he reassured her. “Once you start, don’t stop—no matter what I say.”

Perine gave him a firm nod and the air around them stilled as Oleander poured the vial into his palm. He drew the Elhaz rune into the mixture. The moment it took hold, pain ripped through him. Onyx smoke billowed from every pore of his body, ebbing and flowing—seeping back into his skin, then rising again.

Perine placed her hands on his ankles, moving them slowly up his shins. He’d never taken the time to consider what the inside of his body felt like, but now he decided, it felt as if Perine were peeling his insides from him leaving only frigid emptiness in her wake. A choked scream burst from him and he wasn’t aware of what he was saying until he heard Perine sobbing in return.

Every movement was excruciating but he moved to look down at where she was steadily moving her hands up his body. It should have been erotic, but it only felt as if she were slicing him apart.

She looked up at him briefly, “You know I can’t stop.”

“You’re killing me,” he panted. “I can’t move now that you’ve started but I can feel it. I can feel death pulling at me with every brush of your fingertip.”

“Oleander—”

“No!” A wave of pain washed over him and he screamed. He screamed until his voice broke and with the last vestiges of his voice he begged her, “Stop. Please. Don’t do this.”

“You’re not dying. I know—I know you think you are but if you can just this once trust me—” Her hands trembled at the effort it took as she moved further up his body.

“I’m asking you to stop!” Oleander sobbed. “I don’t want to die in pain.”

She paused then, her hands still on him. “I can feel you through this bond you forged between us. You’re not dying, I promise. But you will die if I stop.” She’d stopped crying and her face was now lit with grim determination. “Oleander, don’t make me watch you die suffering.” Her voice dropped into something choked with desperation. “I need you to live… even if you never forgive me for this.”