"When you said 'we're here', I assumed we had actually arrived at Cyril's home," Lucius growled as he avoided another hole on the forest path. "Not that we were heading off on some fairytale adventure all of a sudden."
"Wouldn't it be a nice change, though?" Anthony's voice was longing. "Find a wise, old dragon and make a deal with it in order to save our town, and all it wants in return is some puzzling task we won't understand until the end."
Lucius' lips pouted.
"Deals with old, magic creatures are usually not what they're cracked up to be," he muttered. "And dragons are extinct anyway."
"And you say I'm the one ruining fun things."
"Alright, have your dragon." Lucius sighed. "Maybe someone raised one from the dead."
Anthony shuddered.
"Don't we have enough scary things going on already? Why put that in a fairy tale?"
"Dunno." Lucius shrugged. "You're the one who wanted a dragon. Might as well add some necromancy while we're at it."
"That's it," Anthony said, shoving Lucius' shoulder and almost sending him tumbling into the thicket beside the path. "You ruined the fun thing. Let's go back to boring reality."
"You mean Cyril is not a fairy tale creature?" Lucius gawked in exaggeration. "And he doesn't live in a little cottage in the woods, talking to animals and singing cute songs?"
Anthony chuckled, looking more amused than Lucius had expected.
"Well... I don't think I've ever heard Cyril sing."
"This day is getting more and more disappointing."
"Let's hope it gets better soon." Anthony pointed forward. "I think I see something over there."
Lucius squinted, and perhaps Anthony was right. It was far away, but a brighter light indicated there were fewer trees ahead.
"And you're sure he won't run screaming when he sees you?" he asked as they approached the lighter area. "You're still involved with Damien and Derek."
"Definitely not sure, but if he'd be willing to help anyone it would be me."
Lucius smiled.
"No judgement there."
They reached a sorry excuse of a glade, far from void of trees but spacious enough to fit a small cottage not so unlike the one Lucius had pictured in his head when making fairytale jokes.
"So, this is unexpected," he noted. "Or... I guess not, in a way."
"He doesn't need that big of a place." Anthony was already on his way to the door. "Just enough for his books really."
"Oh, he writes?"
"Oh yes." Anthony knocked on the door. "Also, try not to scream."
"... What?" Lucius sent the man a concerned look just as the door opened, and it proved very hard indeed not to scream.
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to see your reaction." Anthony smiled in an apologetic, yet mischievous way as Lucius hastily backed away from the cluster of large, white moths swarming towards them.
"No! Why would you do this to me!?" Lucius tried fighting them off with his arms. Insects just weren't for him. Not lice, not hornets, not flies, and moths were no exception. Just no. The Hydrina had been infested by multiple creatures back in the day, mostly during the summers, and it had been a distressing experience every time.
This was even worse. There were so many. How could there even be that many moths in one place?
"They're harmless." Anthony dismissed the whining with a shrug. "Aside from the larvae eating clothes I suppose."
"And books!" Lucius hissed while waving even more of them away, goosebumps prickling his skin at the sight of their beady, pink eyes. "This has got to be a nightmare if he's got a bunch of books in there!"
"I doubt they eat books. Or clothes, really. I think he feeds them other things."
Lucius wrinkled his nose.
"He wants them there? So what, he prefers moths before people?"
"It shouldn't surprise you that this is an eccentric person."
"But could it not have been anything else?" Lucius whispered as he cautiously followed Anthony inside, shuddering at the moth-infested wall.
"Cyril?" Anthony called out, looking around the dark, empty hallway for signs of human life. "It's Anthony. We want to ask you something, unrelated to the BBT."
"I know," a voice replied from a room further down the corridor, and Lucius blinked as the person it belonged to appeared in the doorway.
Then he groaned, failing to keep it in his mind only.
"Another child?" He threw his hands out at the dark-haired boy in front of him. Not as much of a child as Frey, but certainly not an adult. "So is the BBT like, half ancients and half babies?"
The boy presumably named Cyril gave Lucius a dead smile before shifting attention to Anthony.
"I'd make tea, but I ran out two years ago."
"It wouldn't hurt you that much to leave the house, Cyril."
"But I don't need to." Cyril shrugged, gesturing for them to come in before heading back into the room.
Anthony had not been exaggerating when he said Cyril had books. There were no walls to be seen. It was all bookshelves, each of them filled to the brim with leather-clad books. Lucius forgot about the disappointing teenager for a while and just stood there in awe.
"You wrote all these?" he asked under his breath while looking around once again. "How?"
"It occurs to me that my appearance will be horribly distracting to you," Cyril noted, obviously annoyed. "So we'll get this out of the way before we continue."
He then looked at Anthony, who stared back in anticipation before realising Cyril was waiting for him to speak.
"Wh-- Me? Why would I explain it?"
"I don't want to."
Anthony pursed his lips, unable to deny such a solid argument.
"Cyril is a part of the original BBT," he explained to Lucius with a vague gesture in the boy's direction. "He's much older than he appears to be."
"Oh." Lucius' eyes widened in realisation, but he couldn't help but silently criticise the poor choice of age. The boy's olive skin had suffered some unfortunate run-ins with pimples around his nose and hairline, and awkward body proportions could probably have been adjusted by giving them a couple more years to even out.
"I didn't choose my age," Cyril said dryly, and Lucius quickly stopped staring. "Unlike the others, I had no say in the matter, and they had my painting done before I could get away."
"Before you could...?" Lucius frowned, looking over at Anthony. "... They made a painting without his consent?"
"Well..." Anthony made a face. "... They didn't want him to do something... Drastic, before a more appropriate age had been reached."
A chill ran down Lucius' spine.
"Something—"
"I would have killed myself," Cyril clarified with no intention to dance around the subject. "I had no intention to be stuck in time, nor did I want anything to do with the BBT."
Lucius wasn't sure whether to be nonchalant or sympathetic.
"Seems like a lousy deal then. Why even stay around them if you don't want them close?"
"They have my painting," Cyril muttered, sitting down by his desk and to Lucius' disgust a handful of moths gathered on his shoulders. "They won't give it back unless I work with them."
"... Are you sure they ever will?" Lucius' lip curled, knowing full well what kind of person was running the BBT."
Cyril seemed to be on the same page however.
"Doubtful, but it's better than not having a chance at all."
"If we could get back to what we're here for," Anthony suggested before the mood could take a turn for the worse. "Lucius here has run into some trouble with--"
"Yes, the sanctuary situation," Cyril filled in with a nod. "I admit I'm curious. There were very few hints to follow."
Lucius raised an eyebrow.
"Thought you'd been stuck in here for over two years."
"I haven't left my house in three, no." Cyril raised a hand covered in white insects. "These have though."
Lucius wrinkled his nose at the creatures once again.
"So?"
"So they tell me." Cyril's lips quirked. "They show me."
It was at that moment Lucius noticed the unnatural, rose-coloured eyes underneath dark, unkempt eyebrows, and he turned his gaze to the cluster of pests with eyes of the exact same hue.
No way.
"So he is a fairy tale character!" He smacked Anthony's shoulder. "What's next, meeting his wise, pet dragon?"
"Actually, dragons are extinct," Cyril felt the need to point out and Lucius shot him an offended glare.
"Well cheers to you for ruining fantasies, Cyril."
"Anyway, moving on..." Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose, unable to hide the tiredness in his voice. "This is an urgent matter after all. Right, Lucius?"
Lucius exhaled a deep breath.
"It is." He looked around for a chair to sit on, only to find out Cyril was using the only chair in the room. "I don't know how much you know, but some concerning things happened in that sanctuary that I'm not sure how to explain."
"Show me," Cyril nodded at him. "Your chest."
Lucius leaned in to whisper to Anthony.
"I've barely talked about it, how the Waste does he know?"
"I tend to let a moth or two keep an eye on Mr. Reed," Cyril explained instead, using a finger to stroke one of the winged creatures on its back. "He and I have a lot in common when it comes to our pursuit of knowledge, and he finds some interesting things now and then."
"Oh?" Lucius arched his eyebrows with a smile. "Maybe the two of you should spend some time together then. Talk about that shared interest."
"No," was Cyril's only reply before once again nodding at Lucius' chest. "Now, show me."
Lucius shot Anthony a nervous glance, then he slowly removed his upper layers of clothing to show the black veins.
Cyril hummed, walking around the desk to take a closer look.
"Any ideas what caused it?" he asked, daring to poke the midpoint of the cluster with a quill. "What exactly happened at the sanctuary?"
"Well, we uh..." Lucius struggled to focus on words as his already aching chest stung and a swarm of moths got distressingly close to his face. "They were going to perform an exorcism on me, and it— It went very wrong."
"And you wouldn't know if they made some kind of mistake, I assume?"
"No." Lucius shook his head. "They were chanting in old Traquian. Not exactly a common language outside the sanctuaries."
Cyril released a breath through his nose.
"I think there's a book that could help us." He turned his head to look at Anthony while poking Lucius yet another time. "Go get it for me while I take some notes on this."
Anthony straightened his back, suddenly on the alert by the possibility of answers.
"Where?"
"Second floor. Look for Bria Vizcara's book."
"Who's Bria Vizcara?" Lucius asked as Anthony scurried off, and because of recent experiences he prepared to be blackmailed. "Some kind of religious author?"
"No, just a woman who made some poor decisions." Cyril moved uncomfortably close, though fortunately most of the moths didn't follow. "Much like you have."
Lucius flinched in the middle of putting on his shirt, and he gratefully pulled it over his head to hide potential signs of discomfort.
"I—"
"I understand you have not told Anthony, so I will say this now," Cyril continued, speech picking up its pace while still a low whisper. "This woman, Bria, sold her soul to a Scourge, and as time passed she realised what it meant and went to great lengths to free herself. Including a failed, blood-curdling exorcism."
Lucius' lip trembled, but he slowly let the shirt down over his head. Those damn moths. He still couldn't quite grasp that they spied on people for Cyril, but he was running out of other explanations. If Cyril was serious and he was willing to keep his mouth shut, Lucius had to take his chance.
"... But did she succeed eventually?" he whispered under his breath, with a brief glance at the doorway. "Is there a way?"
Cyril lowered his gaze, moths crawling up closer to his chin.
"The furthest she got was keeping the Scourge's influence at bay, suppressing its power over her. From what I know, freedom may never be an option."
It was about what Lucius had expected, but his stomach still sank.
"But you—You think I could shove it away like she did? How?"
"I will read through the details," Cyril said, seemingly unbothered by a moth crawling in under his shirt. "There are things we need to leave out for the sake of your secret, but the rest may still apply."
Lucius wrinkled his nose at the moth, but nodded slowly just as Anthony entered the room again.
"Found it," he announced, looking very pleased with himself as he handed the book over to Cyril.
"Did you read it?" Lucius had to ask, heart skipping a beat at the idea.
Anthony looked at him as if he was ridiculous.
"Read one of Cyril's books without permission?"
"I remembered correctly, anyway," Cyril said while eyeing the pages. "Bria was in a similar situation, where a minor blight seemed to be plaguing her, but the exorcism ended up destroying the holy ground around her."
"But why did it?" Anthony gave the book a threatening glare, as if Cyril would ever allow him to throw it in the fire should it not help them out. "Why did that ritual, and Lucius' ritual, turn out like that?"
Lucius chewed on his lip, pulse picking up its pace as he anticipated the answer. That kid had better not betray him.
"As it turned out, the arch priest was not as holy as people had been led to believe." Cyril read—or at least pretended to read—the page with as great interest as Lucius imagined he could. Which was not a lot. "Investigations after the exorcism revealed that his soul itself may have been corrupted by blights, and unsurprisingly, tainted beings cannot perform exorcisms, even if their intent is good."
Both Anthony and Lucius hummed at the same time, the latter doing his best to pretend.
"So... The ritual was performed correctly, but by the wrong person?" Lucius asked, willing to believe that was a possibility as well, this particular case aside.
"Both arch priests in these cases must have unknowingly summoned a greater blight." Cyril didn't so much as spare Lucius a look. "One that could not be pushed back by a simple exorcism, but without access to an intact physical form, it had to retreat as soon as the planes closed up."
"But before that, it planted that... Thing, on Lucius?" Anthony gestured at Lucius' chest. "And now he cannot even touch holy items. I wouldn't be surprised if he can't step on holy ground either, like Ethan."
"That's a fair assumption." Cyril nodded in thought as he closed the book. "But fortunately, Bria had means to protect her from that kind of damage."
Anthony's eyes widened with hope.
"Then we need to get Lucius that kind of protection as well!"
"Seems wise," Cyril agreed, stepping away to retreat behind his desk. "I suppose I wish you luck."
Lucius blinked, certain that couldn't be all of it, and Anthony drummed his fingers against his arm while waiting for Cyril to continue.
No further elaboration came, however, and Anthony finally rolled his eyes.
"I have to assume you've written more about Bria. You wouldn't leave out how she went about it, so you might as well tell us."
Cyril pinched his lips together, averting his gaze to stare out the window.
"I could point you in the right direction, but I imagine you're not going to like it."
Anthony's eyes narrowed, voice suddenly cautious.
"... How so?"
"I don't think it should come as a surprise that Bria had to search for a long time. She couldn't go to just any priest or scientist with her predicament. She had to dig deeper." Cyril turned his head back to look Anthony in the eyes, seemingly awaiting a reaction. "Find someone indifferent to religion, yet interested enough to either have, or is willing to find, a solution. Someone who'd be more than happy to help an unfortunate woman down on her luck."
A sigh of resignation escaped Anthony as his shoulders slumped.
"Cyril..."
"Even you must understand how lucky you are. You have no idea how long Bria had to look." Cyril's lip curled, unimpressed by the unbecoming response. "Honestly, with the urgency of the matter, I'm surprised you came to me first."
Anthony seemed more troubled than sceptical now, with an expression Lucius had seen on multiple people lately, and had now learned to recognize.
"So..." Lucius arched his eyebrows, looking from Anthony to Cyril, and then back again. "... Does this mean I'm finally meeting Catherine?"