Music is Vogel im Kafig from the Shingeki no Kyojin OST. I just recently got into the anime, and holy crap how did I not watch it earlier?! But anyway,  play the song!

******

Gilbert blinks once. Twice. His jaw drops open. Closes.

I don't say anything, letting my words fully sink into his head. Behind me, the waters seem to sing their agreement, engulfing me in a crooning lullaby, its undercurrents dark and poisonous.

"This means that everything started from here," Gilbert finally speaks, his voice hoarse, trembling. "But why now? If Lord Hubert had indeed accidentally allowed Diomedes's curse access to the pool, why hadn't the curse manifested earlier? If it were indeed like a plague—the form it's taking now—it should have spread the moment Lord Hubert sought to cleanse himself in the waters."

I draw in a deep breath, clearing my mind. The tether binding me to Abner quivers, as though he were straining himself to soothe me over the distance. The corners of my lips lift slightly in a small smile.

Then the smile drops as quickly as it came. I proceed to tell Gilbert everything—my conversation with Kael, Lord Hubert's strangeness in personality when I'd met him inside the pool, how my predecessor himself is linked to the curse.

When I'm done, a veil of grimness has settled over Gilbert. "Does this mean that to his dying day, Lord Hubert never actually found the cure to the curse?"

I purse my lips in return. These are not healing waters, Hubert, Kael's voice echoes in my head. "I don't know. I'd have to dive in one more time to be sure, but I can assume the case to be so," I reply, cautious.

"Then don't tell me that Lord Hubert had been containing the curse through sheer willpower?" A shiver ghosts over Gilbert. "Pietists, I can't even imagine what agony he must have endured. I didn't experience his memories for myself, but watching him through Luise's eyes was enough. That...thing can't be easy to suppress."

"No, it isn't," I say softly, recalling the memory of Lord Hubert as the curse itself started eating away into his being. Recalling the sheer pain of not being able to retain control of oneself. "It isn't."

"Why don't the records have any mention of this?" Gilbert wonders aloud. "They could have noted it down so that future generations would be alert to this."

"Naturally it wouldn't be recorded," I snap. "Can you imagine the chaos it would cause? That the supposedly slain necromancer had left a curse behind to taint the world for centuries to come. The name of Perinus would be tarnished. Especially considering that there are no necromancers left to give the slightest chance of finding a counter-curse."

Gilbert heaves a long sigh. "Point taken. So what of this trigger then? The reason that the curse has finally awakened after over two decades of laying dormant?"

Now that, I can't bring myself to answer just yet.

"It's a person, isn't it?"

I give my fellow Champion a side-glance.

Another sigh. Gilbert pushes himself onto his feet, extending a hand to help me up. "Come on. You can tell me on the way back to the Lorelay manor," he says. "I imagine that it's nearly nightfall by now. Sir Kendrick and the others would be expecting us."

Does that include Sir Isaac? Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn't. It doesn't matter, does it? I haven't seen him for quite some time now.

Screams ring in the distance.

Beside me, Gilbert stills. My own breath catches. The closest human inhabitants are in Battein, and that is quite a long trek away. No one in their right mind would approach the Cave of Three Souls in the dead of winter unless they were Seers, or unless they had no regards whatsoever for sacred grounds. So for Gilbert and I to hear screams so deep into the cavern, from such a distance away...

They're the screams of a large group of people.

Or an entire village.

Something slams into my mind.

It takes me a few seconds to recollect myself. "Abner?" I sputter, recognising the all-too-familiar presence in my head. I restrain myself from just staying there and taking precious moments to rejoice in my guide's return.

Hello there again, Constantine, Abner replies. Looks like you'll be stuck with me one more time.

What are you doing back here? Weren't you inside the pool? Wait, does this mean that you could have detached yourself anytime from the pool and return to me?

Well, the pool is a source of refreshment for us guides. And after two years of being stuck inside your pessimistic mind, I'd say that I needed to reconnect myself to Pst. Bronicus desperately.

Abner!

Right. This is no time for jests. Abner's tone turns serious: Gilbert's guide has temporarily detached herself from his mind as well. We need to enter the cavern of Pst. Ailith first in order to retrieve her.

But the screams!

That will have to wait for a bit, Abner insists. Just do as I say, and hurry! We have no time to waste.

I grit my teeth and turn towards Gilbert. Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Your guide returned to you," he says.

"And so will yours." I grab his hand and dash out of the cavern, leading the way with my shadows.

To his credit, Gilbert questions little, probably sensing the urgency in every step I take. We fumble a few times, my shadows failing to scout ahead quickly enough for us to navigate the cave. It seems like an eternity before soft red light washes over us.

Almost immediately, Gilbert stiffens. I release his hand, taking a few steps back to look at him. His gaze has gone blank, yet behind them I see a million things running through his mind. I imagine that I must have looked the same when Abner returned to me.

When Gilbert regains his senses, he gasps, "Erilda is back."

"You can talk to her directly?" I ask, surprised.

"No. But I can clearly feel her presence."

Good enough, Abner abruptly yells. Go. Now!

I take hold of Gilbert's hand again, sprinting out of the cavern. The screams continue to ring in our ears, growing louder as we swiftly cover the distance between the Cave of Three Souls and the village.

When we finally burst into waning sunlight and frigid air, we almost freeze in our tracks at the sight.

Flames burn into the setting sun—into the direction of the village.

We let go of each other and scream past the winds.

The acrid scent of smoke hits my nostrils. Heat clings onto me like a second skin. Already, a few of the older houses are already crumbling into ash. The village is pure chaos—people running, running everywhere. Shrieking their lungs out. Running away not just from fire, but from...other people.

Infected people.

Miraterciel sings, a high-pitched, alarming tune that shocks me to the core.

Instinctively, my hand goes to my waist. I find nothing but air. With a curse of frustration, I remember that I've left my scimitar back in the Lorelay manor. Gilbert has also left his longsword behind, from the colourful string of swearing spewing out of his mouth. I hurriedly slip my hand into my boot and withdraw Miraterciel. It would work better in this situation anyway, assuming that the curse is anything akin to necromancy.

We near the chaos. I will myself to stay calm, to tune out the horrified shrieks and mangled cries. But soon I find myself caught up in the chaos as well, unable to think clearly. The village has been reduced to flames and smoke and ash. People are everywhere—either unmoving on the roads, or escaping from phantoms.

My senses blaze. The shadows are running rife, feeding me an image of the area. It's almost too much, and I swallow my nausea. I have to focus. I have to find out the source of this fire—because while I'm not sure why this is happening, I am sure of one thing.

That this isn't an accident.

Soon enough, my suspicions are confirmed.

Miraterciel howls for blood. My shadows lash out; I barely restrain them. In the distance, a person clad in the white robes of a Seer, eyes frenzied and lunging at every human being closest to him.

I watch him grab a child scampering past, ripping the girl's throat out with his bare teeth.

The nausea I swallowed threatens to overwhelm me again.

The Seer flings the girl to the side, locking eyes with me. He smiles, blood coating his teeth like the scattered remains of the little girl's dreams.

His eyes are completely black, dark veins pulsing beneath his skin.

Constantine! Abner yells.

That's the only cue I need to swiftly close the distance between the infected and me and plunge Miraterciel's blade into the Seer's throat.

Darkness froths at the Seer's mouth. I twist Miraterciel, just to be sure.

I rip the athame out; the Seer drops to the ground, just as dead as the little girl by the side.

But something is wrong with Miraterciel. It's as though it hasn't completely dispelled the curse inflicting the Seer. Wrongness clings onto its obsidian blade, like tendrils growing between fences for support. The athame cries out to me. I grit my teeth, instinctively concentrating all my willpower into it. In moments, the darkness dissipates.

Although there is still a slight aftertaste that doesn't sit well in my tongue.

What happened? I ask Abner.

I don't know, he answers, a rare straightforward moment. The curse must have grown stronger.

Why, thank you for that helpful insight, I say sarcastically.

Glad you appreciate it, he replies, just as caustic. Now go!

I rush deeper into the chaos.

So many things are happening at once. Through my shadows, I see a young woman trapped beneath a fallen beam, flames blazing around her; I see a sleeping child, being cradled by his father as the man desperately tries to find a path out of the village; I see the infected, spreading pandemonium wherever they elect to wander.

Seven of them in total, including the one I had slain earlier.

"Should we just get rid of the infected?" I ask Gilbert. "We already have one sample back in Cordair."

He doesn't reply. I look around me, bewildered. Gilbert is nowhere to be found. He must have been drawn towards another area. No matter. We might be able to weed out the true source of the sudden infection that has overcome the village folk more quickly this way.

In fact, Gilbert might have an easier job confronting the source than me.

Chaos draws me closer into its storm, a whirlwind of mayhem erupting all over the place. I take in a few deep breaths, wall out the cries for help. I seek help through my shadows. Show me the ones who are truly in need, I tell them.

They immediately point me towards a certain direction.

It turns out to be two people—a couple. Cornered by one of the infected in an alleyway. The alley I recognise as the one where Gilbert had dragged me into, when his emotions had gotten the better of him.

The man is trying the best he can to shield the woman behind him. Their eyes are wide with terror, silver lining their vision. Faster than I can react, the monster lunges forward, throwing itself over the man.

The man's throat gets ripped out. Just like the little girl.

The woman is so traumatised by the sight that she can't even scream. She watches helplessly as her lover's life slowly bleeds out of her eyes. She watches in mute horror as the infected drags the man further down the alley and continues to mutilate the poor soul with its bare teeth.

But I don't act yet. Not even as the woman starts shrieking for help. Not even as the infected slowly turns its attention towards her. I furrow my brows, trying to recapture the image of the day I stood in front of the cathedral.

A sea of black; a sea of faces, all turned towards me. Eerie in their uniformity. Faces blurring together. No. I have to focus. I have to scan them one by one.

Ah, there she is. I recognise the cowering woman as one of the Lorelays.

I decide that it's safe to use my shadows around her. My shadows, in return, leap out towards the infected, spearing it through the back just as he is about to lunge for the woman as well. Its dark blood seeps into the white robes it is wearing. Darkness against light. The curse cursing the Seers, who have been tasked with darkness to preserve the light. Or so Alvina says.

Muffled sobs draw me out of my momentary blankness. The woman stares in disbelief at the two corpses. I march over to her, kick the Seer's corpse out of the way and haul her up. "Go," I hiss. "This place isn't safe anymore."

She looks at me blankly. A snarl escapes my throat. "Go!" I roar into her face.

She takes off without sparing a glance over her shoulder. At the bodies. At me.

You might have sent her into a fate worse than watching her lover get butchered in front of her, Abner chides, tone soft.

Better for her to move on than to stay here, I counter.

I can't exactly argue with that. He pauses for a moment. That was surprisingly efficient, coming from you.

You mean the dispatching of the infected? My apologies, but I can't afford to see them as human beings right now.

Another pause. That sounds rather like Hubert.

I keep quiet.

But you're right, Abner finally agrees. Come on. There are plenty others who need help.

Without another word, I re-emerge into the storm of flames and ash.

******

A/N: Hmm, hints of Constantine's mind being melded with Hubert's? Who knows? At any rate, this infection definitely isn't going to cure itself! Be sure to vote, comment, share and recommend!