Kael twisted on his sweat-drenched sheet, sometimes vomiting what little bread Tonio forced down his throat along with lots of bile and even more black blood. Other times, he burned from the inside like a coal-lit furnace. He begged for water, but even when the liquid should have relieved him, a single gulp made him jerk his face away. Taste of clean water, yet he trembled, terrorised by the idea of approaching it.

  Blisters painted a canvas of corruption across his skin, before receding, then blossoming again. Even though they couldn't burst, his wounds cried pus down his chest and cheek in a spectacle that would have horrified him if he understood what was happening to him.

  The worst was his mind. It felt like sludge hammering his skull and shattering his thoughts. One second, he remembered his ledger. The next, he was back in Arthur's home with a younger Els and his mom, before illness consumed her. He barely stayed there for a second, then he was in Garrick's office, denied payment, wounded, humiliated, and betrayed.

  Occasionally, he caught bits of conversations, mainly about him. Things like, "The brat fought well, but he won't last another day."

  As if he'd die. Never! In these rare moments of clarity, he focused on a single goal: to heal. He would. He had to.

  But when he believed his torment couldn't worsen, it did.

  Fits of cough worse than Arthur's and his mom combined made him think he'd spit out something really important with the blood. His guts felt like a battlefield, with swords chopping at his organs, with arrows puncturing his throbbing heart.

  Perhaps Giovanni was right. He didn't know how many days he clung to life—it felt like forever—but he might not pass this night.

  When the brutal reality settled between two coughs, furry fingers sneaked into his hand. They interlocked with his, while warm tears pattered on his forehead. "Friend no die. Friend heal." Tonio sobbed.

  Why? It was that damned rat-man's nails that had infected him. Now he cried? Dumb thing. But somehow, feeling someone's warm hand and strange care helped Kael clench his jaw.

  "I... persist..." His voice came out ragged and broken, and he passed out.

  But the battle continued within.

  He swelled twice his width. The lethal cocktail of illnesses advanced relentlessly through the wider battlefield. His metabolism wrestled for its rightful control. And his truth of endurance fueled what its resistance lacked.

  Antibodies fought back and failed, but each new generation lasted longer, struck harder. The water that made him tremble even in his sleep became a silent source of comfort again as rabies fell. The black plague that tried to turn his skin into a volcanic chain of pus had its roots torn out along with the shrinking blisters. The burn that made him beg for water he feared, faded when his cells contained the cholera's dehydrating onslaught. Finally, his ragged breath stabilised. No more coughs, no more blood. Not after he quelled tuberculosis.

  Kael slept the rest of the night peacefully under the widened eyes of Giovanni and Riccardo, and the relieved laughs of Tonio.

  When Kael's eyelids fluttered but felt none of the splitting headache or pain that had become his closest friends in the past few days, he reached for his chest. The five nail wounds were gone, and with them, his putrefied flesh recovered its pale shade. His head felt clearer than he could ever remember. Or was it just his joy of forming coherent thoughts? Probably the latter. Didn't matter. He survived!

  "Friend awake!" Tonio's voice came from above him. The rat-man instantly shoved the canteen of fresh water against Kael's chest.

  Expecting the irrational fear of liquids to punch his throat, Kael recoiled. A second passed, then two. No fear. Eyes wide, he gripped the canteen. He jerked his head back, chugging the water as if he hadn't drunk for a week. It spilt down his lips, tracing clean lines across the dried bloodstains smearing his chest. At any other time, he would have berated himself for wasting. Not today.

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  Once no more water flowed out, he shook the canteen over his tongue.

  "Easy, lad." Giovanni chuckled at the table, his hand inching toward the second canteen.

  Before he could throw it at him, Kael gestured to stop with a firm palm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning against the wall. "How long have I..."

  "Been out cold?" Giovanni let go of the canteen. "We thought you'd die. No, we were sure you would last night. But look at you! Healed without a scar in just three days!"

  Riccardo nodded across from him. "Honestly, I had a faint hope you'd survive. But not like this. More like us." He alternatively pointed at his blistered face and Giovanni's half-melted one. "We're indeed similar, but not quite the same."

  "Three days!" Kael massaged his temples as much in frustration as in shocked realisation. Endurance truly saved him this time. He still needed to find a way to unanchor it. "Wait, I remember you said something about awakening a truth."

  "No talk!" Tonio pressed a finger against his lips, then rushed to the loaves of bread on the table. Four and a half were left, so he picked the half awkwardly to avoid contaminating it with his nails. "Sick need strength. Eat! Tonio catch rat later. Meat good!"

  Kael scratched his dark hair as he received the bread. "I guess you're right. But please, don't bring me rat meat. Bread's fine." At Tonio's glare, he bit on the dry bread. The rat-man seemed to try fixing his mistake as best he could. Somehow, a part of Kael's resentment ebbed.

  As he bit slow chunks, Giovanni answered. "Truth? Do you mean what awakened in us? So, it had a name..." He must have wanted to reach for his chin, but pinched his neck since it had melted. "I survive no matter what. Our vow indeed became true."

  "What did you pay for it?" Bread muffled Kael's voice.

  "Pay?"

  Everyone frowned, including Kael.

  "You... didn't realise? I-I..." He hesitated.

  "Trust's expensive these days, I get that, but look at us." Riccardo gazed at his trembling palms. "We're monsters. Broken monsters. Is it what we traded for survival? But Tonio... Please, tell us what you know, child. No, not child. Friend."

  When Giovanni clenched his fist a little too hard, Kael saw something that burned itself in his mind. His arm fell off. It tumbled to the ground. No blood or bones, just a puddle that looked more like cheap tallow than melted skin seeping between the pavements.

  "Fuck. It cracked again."

  Giovanni's mutter made Kael press his back against the wall. Giovanni definitely didn't talk about his body. It was his anchor that cracked. So, would he end like a monster falling piece by piece?

  "No!" Tonio leapt to Giovanni's arm, scooping his hand to collect it. Tears trailed down his red eyes. "Giovanni no die! No family dies!"

  "Don't bother. I'm fine... What's left of me is, at least." Giovanni rubbed Tonio's head with a forced smile that could hide the sharpness of his gaze. "I want to know what I paid and what's killing me."

  An icy shiver ran down Kael's spine. Still, he talked. Not because he trusted them—to learn from their experiences. "First, you need to understand that I know very little about truths. I'm almost certain that awakening one requires a statement you believe in, a price, and an anchor related to it."

  He narrowed his eyes on the three of them as they nodded thoughtfully. "To me, your wording is a problem on its own, especially the 'no matter what'. What is surviving? Does it count if you become brainless or monsters?"

  Giovanni and Riccardo's eyes widened, and Tonio mimicked them with a confused grimace.

  Kael didn't let them interrupt him. "Second, you don't know what you paid, which means that your truths might not have transformed you. Finally, anchors... That's what I know the least, but anchors whiter until they break. What happens after? I hope I'll never find out with my own."

  Riccardo exchanged a glance with Giovanni in the thickening silence. Then he sighed. "All three could be the cause."

  "Exactly. I can... maybe know about what you paid. Not exactly, but the range. Just don't look at me." Turning to face the wall, Kael pulled his ledger.

  It became physical the moment his hands brushed the interlocking arabesques of its leather cover. The first half of the first page hadn't changed. The stress on his anchor was still at 25%. In the second half, however, the previous entry had been replaced by a new one.

  ────────────────────────────

  Unowned truth of the survivor highly compatible with truth of endurance. Predicted stress on survivor's anchor upon anchoring: 10%

  Predicted price range: body-related.

  ────────────────────────────

  After reading it, he let the ledger hover beside him with a sigh. "You anchored the truth of the survivor. The price was something in your bodies—different things, most likely. Not your limbs. Major organs would have contradicted the truth, so maybe something minor, or something I don't know about... Sorry, the only book I've read was about flowers."

  Giovanni shook his head, the torchlight flickering grim shadows on his face. "No, friend. The three of us paid the same price. I know what it is."