Reapers touch

"It's hard to believe. Someone so bright could do something so dark," Cypher observed, his golden eyes gleaming with interest as he gazed up at the painting.

Beside him, Drake finally tore his gaze away, his expression troubled. He exhaled a weary sigh. "Well, it's best not to dwell on the past. Instead, let's think about the future."

"Hmm." Cypher turned away, pushing the thought aside. He hadn't come for a history lesson - his purpose here was to help Drake achieve his ambitions.

He moved to the window, allowing the pale moonlight to spill over him, casting long shadows on the polished floor. His mind was already working to craft a solid plan for the path ahead.

Still facing the window, watching the moon's cold glow, Cypher spoke in a measured tone. "Now then, let's not waste any more time. Tell me, Baron, what is the greatest ailment plaguing the population?"

Drake didn't mind the shift in conversation. As much as he would have liked to chat longer, Cypher was right, every second wasted meant more lives lost.

"That would be the Reaper's Touch," Drake admitted grimly. "Nasty thing. The way it spreads is troublesome. One of my servants caught it some time ago."

"You say a servant caught it," Cypher raised an eyebrow. "And where is she now?"

"Upstairs. I had to quarantine her," Drake said, his voice thick with regret. "A shame for one so young."

A moment later, a hand settled on his shoulder, firm yet strangely comforting.

"It's not your fault," Cypher reassured him, his yellow eyes softening. "You've done the right thing. Had you not acted, more would have suffered."

Drake lowered his head, then let out a slow breath. "Y-yes, perhaps you're right." He managed a faint smile. "Do you want me to take you to her?"

Cypher nodded. "If you would. The sooner, the better."

Drake gripped his cane tightly. "Then follow me."

A short while later, they ascended the crimson-carpeted stairs, their footsteps muffled by the thick fabric. The flickering glow of candle sconces cast warped shadows along the walls, painting the narrow corridor in eerie shapes.

They passed through several winding hallways, where the walls were painted a deep burgundy. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and something more unpleasant and sickly sweet the closer they got to their destination.

Finally, they reached an old wooden door at the end of the last hall.

The spherical handle had rusted slightly, its once-smooth iron chipped and pitted with age. The wood itself bore faint marks, as if someone had tried to pry their way out.

From within, Cypher heard the faintest sound of sobbing - a girl's voice, fragile and weak.

"Please, wait out here, Baron," Cypher instructed as he reached for the handle.

Drake hesitated but ultimately stepped away. Though he was a caliber-one ranked Dreamweaver, age had made him cautious. He knew that his body was no longer strong enough to guarantee escape from the cold hand of disease.

Cypher offered him a final, reassuring smile before stepping inside, clicking the door shut behind him.

The room was a wreck.

Wallpaper hung in curling sheets, peeling at the corners like dead skin. The wooden floorboards stuck up at uneven angles, some so loose that they wobbled underfoot. Tiny splinters jutted out like thorns, nearly invisible in the dim candlelight.

The furniture was in disarray. Drawers yanked open and their contents strewn carelessly across the floor. Dresses, shawls, and bits of cloth lay crumpled, as though someone had desperately searched for something suitable to wear.

A mirror hung near the stained mattress, its glass deliberately shattered. Jagged shards lay scattered beneath it, glinting in the low light like broken stars.

"Please! Don't come near me!"

The voice, raw with fear, trembled from beneath the bedsheets. It wasn't fear of him, but of herself.

Cypher didn't hesitate. He moved forward with slow, deliberate steps, the floorboards creaking rhythmically beneath his weight.

Ignoring the protests, he pulled a chair beside the bed and settled into it.

The girl jumped slightly, feeling his precence nearby sent her into a small panic.

"Do you want to hear a story?" His voice was low and soothing, a stark contrast to the wretched state of the room.

He was met with only silence and the sound of trembling breath beneath the covers.

Cypher merely chuckled, light and knowing. Then, he began anyway.

"Once upon a time, there lived a princess in a high castle. She was a kind soul, never wishing harm upon anyone. But she was shunned, locked away in the furthest chamber, hidden from the world."

The trembling beneath the blanket slowed just a little.

Cypher continued.

"She was cursed, you see. A cruel spell concealed her beauty, making others turn away in horror. Every time a servant came near, they would flee. Every time she gazed into a mirror, the glass would break."

A sniffle echoed beneath the sheets...

Then, at last, a frail voice, barely above a whisper, "Did... did she stay like that forever?"

Cypher reached out, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric of the blanket. Gently, he began to pull it down.

"Then one day," he murmured, "a young wizard arrived. But this time, he did not run away. He saw past the curse, saw the princess's true heart, and decided that the world deserved to see her beauty, too. So, he lifted her curse. And at last, everyone could see her for who she truly was."

The grip on the blanket slackened. Slowly, the covers slid down, revealing the girl beneath.

Tears stained her sunken cheeks. Brown hair clung in messy, tangled strands around her face. She was young - perhaps fourteen - but illness had drained her youth.

Her skin was ravaged by lesions, her arms and face covered in weeping sores. White pustules festered in clusters, the skin around them dry and cracked. Even her lips had split from dehydration, tiny cuts blooming with each trembling breath.

Yet, Cypher did not flinch or recoil.

Instead, his gaze met hers directly with steady, warm and unyielding sincerity. Their was no pity nor revulsion, but the kind of calm one might hold before a rising sunrise.

And it was that look, that impossible, unwavering acceptance, which made her burst into tears.

"W-why aren't you scared like the others…?"

She felt Cypher's hand cradle the back of her head, pulling her gently into an embrace.

"Scared of what?" he murmured against her hair, his fingers threading through the tangled strands. "All I see is a wonderful young woman and a curse that can be lifted in time. Tell me, what is your name?"

She choked on another sob. "M-my name... it's Samantha."

"Well then, Samantha," Cypher whispered, drawing back just enough to meet her gaze. "Will you help me lift this terrible curse? I promise you, one day, you'll never have to hide your face again."

She hesitated, Then, slowly, her gaze lifted.

And in that moment, to her, Cypher was radiant. The sickly paleness of his skin, the eerie yellow of his eyes. All of it seemed to fade away. What remained was something brighter, almost glowing like a shining light in a dark world.

The room, once dim and miserable, felt lighter. The bed that was once painful against her skin felt softer.

"Can… can you really do that?" she asked, her voice fragile yet desperate, "Is it possible?"

"It's not just possible," Cypher said, rising to his feet. "It's inevitable. I'll have too step out for a moment, will you wait for me?"

Almost immediately, Samantha choked out ," Yes! I'll wait, please, I'll wait."

"Good." Cypher slowly walked away towards the exit.

Stepping out of the room and closing the door tightly shut, Cypher's smile immediately dropped.

His coat, now stained with filth and pus, clung to him in a way that made his stomach churn. The sheer disgust that coursed through him was almost unbearable.

Nevertheless, he composed himself as he faced Drake, quickly masking his frown with a confident smile.

"Well?" the Baron pressed. "Can she be cured?"

Cypher's smile returned,reassuring and effortless, "Yes, I believe so. The disease you call 'Reaper's Touch' is actually a virus. I think I'll name it… smallpox."

"And how do we fix it?" Drake asked.

"Simply put, the girl must be well hydrated, cleaned and kept cool. As for a permanent prevention method, we'll need a weaker strain of the virus to infect others at high risk."

As the Baron heard this, his smile dissapeared into a serious scowl, " Your saying we should infect others with the illness. Wouldn't that kill more people?"

Cypher simply laughed ,"Not exactly. If we inject a weak strain into a human body, their immune system will evolve to fight it off."

Drakes eyes widened into a realisation,"And then, if they catch this small pox, their bodies will be ready to exterminate it, utterly genius!"

'Edward Jenner must be crawling in his grave.' Cypher mused in his head.

He felt no remorse at stealing merit from the real hero,"You have an excellent mind Baron. Had I not been here, imagine you might have figured this out yourself."