The stillness following the battle was short-lived. As the severed pieces of the Crystalclutch ape lay on the ground, a faint twitch began to ripple through its remains. At first, it was subtle—a finger curling here, a claw shifting there—but soon the movements became undeniable. The villagers, who had been cautiously stepping forward, froze in place, their faces pale with fear.

  Kalenor’s sharp amber eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he watched the grotesque display. “It’s still moving,” he muttered, his voice low but steady. Then, with a sudden clarity, he barked, “We need fire!”

  The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. One of the elders, his face lined with apprehension, stepped forward. “Scalesworn, we don’t use fire here. It’s dangerous, unpredictable in a place like this.”

  Kalenor turned to the elder, his gaze stern but understanding. He took in the moss lanterns that hung from rope baskets throughout the village, casting their faint, ethereal glow. “I understand your concerns,” Kalenor said. “But this corruption does not fear light—it fears fire. If we don’t act now, this thing will rise again. Bring me wood.”

  The villagers hesitated for a moment, then scattered to gather what they could. Kalenor stepped outside, his mind racing. He rummaged through his pack and pulled out a flint stone, holding it tightly in his hand. With practiced efficiency, he struck the flint against the edge of his blade, sending sparks onto a small pile of dry twigs and leaves. The sparks caught, and Kalenor carefully fed the fledgling flame until it grew into a controlled blaze.

  The villagers returned with armfuls of wood, piling it onto the fire until it roared with intensity. Kalenor turned to them, his voice carrying over the crackle of flames. “This is what will save us. We need bonfires across the village, one at every corner, to hold back the corruption. Spread the word—fire is now your first line of defense.”

  The Briar emerged from the Briarhouse, his apprentice trailing behind him, the ape’s remains bundled tightly in a tarp. “Is this wise?” the Briar asked, his voice tinged with doubt. “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “It will work,” Kalenor said firmly. “It has to.” He gestured toward the bonfire. “Toss the remains in.”

  The Briar hesitated, but after a moment, he complied, heaving the bundle onto the fire. The ape’s severed limbs and torso began to blacken and crumble, releasing an acrid smoke that stung the air. Within moments, the corrupted body was reduced to ash, its sinister essence finally dispelled.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Kalenor exhaled, a rare flicker of relief crossing his features. “It’s done,” he said quietly. “From now on, every patrol needs to carry torches. Fire is the only way to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

  The villagers nodded, their fear slowly giving way to resolve. They dispersed, some to gather more wood, others to prepare for the patrols. Kalenor, however, turned back to the Briarhouse, his instincts tugging at him. Something still felt off.

  Inside, the Briarhouse was in chaos. The afflicted, who had been docile and lethargic under the effects of the medicine, were now restless. They thrashed against their restraints, their eyes wide with panic, their guttural groans filling the air. Kalenor moved quickly, helping the healers and guards secure the patients.

  “What’s causing this?” the Briar asked, his voice strained as he tightened a strap around one of the afflicted.

  Kalenor’s mind raced. The afflicted had been calm before—the medicine had dulled their aggression. So why this sudden change? His gaze flicked to the small, glowing lanterns hanging in the Briarhouse. Then it hit him.

  “The fire,” he said aloud, the realization dawning on him. “They’re terrified of it.”

  He turned to the two men stationed at the door. “Close the doors. Seal the room. We need to block out any sight or smell of the flames.”

  The guards hesitated but obeyed, shutting the heavy wooden doors and barring them securely. Almost immediately, the afflicted began to settle, their frantic movements slowing until they lay still once more. The groans subsided, replaced by an uneasy quiet.

  Kalenor stood in the center of the room, his sharp gaze scanning the rows of patients. The fire was both a weapon and a weakness—an invaluable tool for defense, but one that agitated the afflicted, making them even more dangerous if not handled carefully.

  “This is our way forward,” Kalenor said, turning to the Briar. “Fire will hold back the corruption, but we’ll need to be strategic. Keep the afflicted away from the flames. Let the patrols handle the fires outside. Inside, we maintain calm.”

  The Briar nodded, his expression one of wary determination. “Understood. We’ll do what we must.”

  Kalenor stepped back, his thoughts heavy. There was hope now—fire had given them a chance to fight back—but it wasn’t enough. The corruption was spreading faster than he had imagined, and the forces behind it were still a mystery.

  As the night fell, the glow of new bonfires lit up the village, their flames crackling defiantly against the encroaching darkness. Kalenor stood on the steps of the Briarhouse, watching the patrols move through the streets with torches in hand. For the first time in days, there was a glimmer of hope in the air.

  But Kalenor knew better than to trust hope alone. The fight was far from over, and the worst was yet to come.