"Cut it out, or I'll have your fingers removed one by one," Julian snapped. His voice was a dry rasp, barely audible over the low, vibrating hum emanating from his own chest.
Kael didn't flinch. He kept the scalpel steady, though the skin he was peeling back felt less like flesh and more like wet porcelain. "If you want to keep your ribcage from fusing into a solid block of ivory, you'll shut up and let me work."
Julian let out a jagged laugh that ended in a choke. He was pinned to the obsidian table, his pale chest exposed. Where the Bone-Plague had taken hold, the skin had turned a translucent, milky white, shimmering with a sickly iridescent glow. It wasn't just a disease; it was a transformation. And right now, it was screaming.
"Do you hear them?" Julian whispered, his eyes wide and bloodshot, staring at the ceiling. "The dead. They're not just whispering anymore. They're shouting. They want to know why I'm still breathing."
Kael leaned in, his face inches from Julian's. He could smell the metallic tang of blood and something colder—like old grave dirt. "I don't care about the dead, Julian. I care about the fact that your marrow is crystallizing. If I don't drain the excess resonance from your spine, you're going to become a very expensive statue by morning."
"Is that why you're here?" Julian's hand shot up, gripping Kael's wrist with surprising, bruising strength. His fingers were cold—deathly cold. "To save me? Or because the Inquisitors promised you a pardon if you played nice with the monster?"
Kael jerked his arm back, but Julian didn't let go. The power dynamic in the room shifted in a heartbeat. Kael was the one with the knife, but Julian held the legal leash. One word from the heir, and Kael would be back in a cell, or worse, on a pyre.
"I'm here because I'm the only one who knows how to do this without killing you," Kael spat. "Now let go of me before I 'accidentally' slip."
Julian's lips curled into a cruel smile. He didn't let go. Instead, he pulled Kael closer, forcing him to lean over the table until their breaths mingled. The tension was thick, a dangerous current of hate and something sharper, more visceral.
"You're terrified," Julian murmured, his gaze scanning Kael's face. "I can see it. You're not just fighting the plague. You're fighting the fact that you actually give a damn if I survive."
"I give a damn about my license," Kael lied, though his heart was hammering against his ribs. "And my skin. Now, get your hand off me."
Julian laughed again, a genuine, dark sound, and finally released him. But as Kael stepped back to reach for a vial of shimmering blue solvent, the hum in the room spiked.
It started as a vibration in the floor, then a ringing in the ears, and suddenly, it exploded. A hundred voices, layered and distorted, erupted from Julian's chest. It wasn't a sound—it was a psychic assault. Screams of agony, pleas for mercy, and jagged fragments of forgotten conversations flooded the space.
Kael stumbled, covering his ears. "Damn it! I told you to stay calm!"
"I can't!" Julian shrieked, his back arching off the table. The ivory patches on his skin began to glow with a blinding intensity. "They're inside me! They're clawing to get out!"
Kael didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, pinning Julian's shoulders back down with his full weight. The contact was electric. The moment Kael's palms hit Julian's skin, the screaming dampened, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence that felt like being underwater.
Julian gasped, his chest heaving. He looked up at Kael, the arrogance gone, replaced by a raw, naked vulnerability. His eyes were searching, desperate. "How... how did you do that?"
"Focus on my voice," Kael commanded, his voice low and steady, though he was shaking. "Don't listen to them. Listen to me. I'm the only thing in this room that's actually alive, you idiot."
Julian's gaze lingered on Kael's lips for a second too long. The air between them felt charged, the kind of friction that happens right before a storm breaks. Julian's breathing slowed, his muscles relaxing under Kael's grip.
"You're a rogue," Julian whispered, his voice returning to that dangerous, silken tone. "A disgraced little doctor playing with forbidden arts. If the Church finds out you're using resonance dampening without a seal..."
"Then we'll both be burning in the same fire," Kael countered, slowly pulling away. He felt the ghost of Julian's heat still clinging to his palms. "Now, hold still. I'm going to insert the needle into the C4 vertebrae. If you twitch, you'll spend the rest of your life drooling on your silk sheets."
Julian closed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do your worst, Doctor."
Kael worked in a tense silence, the only sound the clinking of surgical steel and the ragged rhythm of Julian's breath. He was deep in the zone, his mind calculating the exact angle of the needle, when the heavy iron doors of the ward groaned open.
Kael froze. The needle was halfway into the skin.
In walked Silas.
The Inquisitor didn't enter so much as he invaded the space. His white robes were pristine, contrasting sharply with the grime of the medical ward. His eyes, cold and analytical, swept over the scene—the exposed flesh, the forbidden tools, and Kael's panicked expression.
"Still playing house, I see," Silas said, his voice like sliding glass.
Kael carefully withdrew the needle, stepping away from the table. "The patient is unstable, Inquisitor. I need more time."
Silas ignored him, walking toward Julian. He didn't look at the heir as a person, but as a specimen. He reached out, his gloved finger tracing the edge of an ivory patch on Julian's collarbone. Julian flinched, a look of pure disgust crossing his face.
"The Bone-Plague is a gift, Kael," Silas murmured, not looking away from the skin. "A bridge between the seen and the unseen. And here you are, trying to burn the bridge down."
"I'm trying to stop him from turning into a rock," Kael snapped. "That's what you paid me for, isn't it?"
Silas finally looked at him, a thin, mirthless smile touching his lips. "I paid you to observe. To document. To see how far the resonance can go before the vessel shatters. I never said I wanted him cured."
Kael felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. He looked at Julian, who was watching Silas with a mixture of hatred and fear. The power dynamic had shifted again. Kael wasn't the only one in a cage; Julian was the prize in a very cruel game.
"You're lying," Julian spat, though he sounded breathless. "My father would never..."
"Your father is a dead man walking, Julian," Silas interrupted, his voice devoid of emotion. "And you are simply the latest iteration of his failure."
Silas turned back to Kael, his eyes narrowing. "The Council is losing patience. They want results. If this 'treatment' of yours doesn't produce a usable echo by the next moon, I'll decide that your talents are better suited for the dissection table than the surgery table."
Kael clenched his fists. "I can get the echo, but I need the catalyst. The void-salt. You told me it was unavailable."
"It is," Silas said, stepping closer until he was towering over Kael. "But perhaps if you're more... cooperative with the heir, he might find a way to provide it. After all, he has access to the family vaults. And you have access to his spine."
Silas leaned in, his voice a lethal whisper. "Hand over the heir's full medical logs by tonight, or you can burn with him."
As Silas turned to leave, the door clanging shut behind him, the room fell back into a heavy, suffocating silence. Kael looked at Julian. The heir was staring at him, his eyes burning with a new, desperate intensity.
"He's going to kill me," Julian whispered.
Kael didn't answer. He reached for the needle again, but as he touched Julian's skin, a sudden, violent vibration ripped through the heir's body. Julian's eyes snapped open, and a voice—not Julian's, but a guttural, distorted scream—tore through the air.
It wasn't just a scream. It was a name.
"Kael..."
Kael froze, the needle trembling in his hand. That voice. It was impossible. It was a voice he had buried in a shallow grave seven years ago.
"Who was that?" Julian gasped, clutching Kael's arm. "Who is calling you?"
Kael didn't hear him. He could only stare at the ivory bone beneath the skin, which was now pulsing like a heartbeat, screaming the name of his dead sister.