After Ren left with that, he settled somewhere in the ironwood forest.
Inside an opulent tent Ren had erected near the edge of the clearing, the air smelled of medicinal herbs and burning sage.
Ren sat on a velvet cushion, his silk robes pooled around him. He had one sleeve rolled up.
His arm, usually pale and flawless, was marred. Black, spiderweb-like veins were crawling up from his wrist, pulsing with a faint, necrotic rhythm.
"It is spreading, my King," a hushed voice said.
Kaito, Ren's shadow advisor and head guard, knelt before him, applying a cooling poultice to the blackened skin.
Kaito's face was hidden behind a fox mask, but his eyes were filled with desperate worry.
"You know you should not have come here," Kaito whispered, wrapping the arm in clean linen. " The cold of the North weakens you. The proximity to the Dragon's fire drains your spirit."
"I know," Ren replied, his voice lacking its usual thrill anymore. He sounded tired. "But Kaito... did you see her?"
