Old Man Darel's cottage was tucked behind a crooked fence, its walls draped with drying herbs. Bundles of leaves, roots, and flowers hung from hooks near the windows and doorframe, swaying slightly in the breeze.
Senna squinted at them as they approached, then let out a quiet snort.
"Damn," she muttered. "Those herbs are used in all kinds of drugs. That old man's definitely an addict."
Nyr gave her a sidelong look, one brow raised. "And how do you know that? Don't tell me…"
Senna grinned, completely unbothered. "What? I read. A lot."
He didn't look convinced.
She held up her hands innocently. "Alright, maybe I spent a summer with a bunch of potion-makers who weren't exactly brewing healing salves."
Nyr sighed, shaking his head. "Of course, of course, i belive you."
Before she could offer a cheeky reply, the door creaked open, revealing Old Man Darel, his sharp eyes flicking between the two of them.
Darel leaned against the doorframe, eyes glassy and breath tinged with something bitter.
"I knew you two would come to me… sooner or later," he slurred, as if the idea had been amusing him all day.
Senna wrinkled her nose. "He's drunk."
Nyr folded his arms, staring at the old man with a grimace. "Why am I even surprised…"
He glanced at Senna. "Of course he's the same old man we saw when we first got to the village. The one yelling at the ravens."
Senna blinked. "That was him?"
"Yup," Nyr said dryly. "Yelled something about 'sky-spies' and tried to ward off the wind with a ladle."
Darel grinned toothlessly. "And I was right. You'll see. Everything watching, listening. Even the well."
That last word hit heavier than the rest, drawing both Nyr's and Senna's attention sharply.
Darel's grin widened as he wobbled backward into his home, leaving the door open just enough for them to follow.
"Come in, come in," he muttered. "But watch your step—she doesn't like strangers stepping on the wrong boards."
Senna exchanged a glance with Nyr. "Who's she?"
Darel chuckled as he shuffled to a cluttered table filled with empty bottles, dried herbs, and a surprisingly well-kept silver teacup. He didn't answer her question.
"I told them," he continued, pouring himself something that smelled like fermented mushrooms.
"Told them not to build houses so close to the well. But do they listen? No. No one ever listens to Darel. Not until things start vanishing."
He raised the cup in a mock toast to an empty corner. "First the cat. Then the shadows. Then the girl."
Senna leaned toward Nyr, whispering, "I can't tell if he's cursed or just incredibly drunk."
"Why not both?" Nyr murmured back.
Darel suddenly pointed at them with a shaking finger. "You think the well's just a hole? Ha! That thing eats. It dreams. And sometimes, it whispers to the ones who stare too long."
Senna sighed, tired of the rambling nonsense. With a flick of her wrist, a bright flame flared to life in her palm—steady, pale-gold, and unnaturally clean. It didn't crackle like normal fire; it hummed softly, like it knew it wasn't meant to burn wood.
"I've had enough," she said flatly.
Nyr's eyes widened, taking a half-step back. "Okay, okay—look, I get it. You're annoyed. I'm annoyed. But killing him is a bit extreme."
Senna shot him a withering glare. "This fire is one of the purest flames in existence. It doesn't kill. It cleanses."
She turned her gaze back to Darel, whose eyes had gone wide—but not with fear. Something else. Recognition?
"This flame can burn away curses, disease… even madness," she continued calmly. "If what he's saying isn't nonsense, it might be because something else"
Nyr muttered under his breath, "I still vote for mushrooms…"
Senna ignored him and stepped forward, raising her hand. The glow from the flame lit Darel's wrinkled face in gold and shadow.
"Hold still, old man," she said. "Let's see what's really wrong with you."
As Senna retracted her flame, the golden light flickered out, leaving the room in a tense silence.
Darel didn't move at first.
Then, like something snapped inside him, he stumbled backward, collapsed to the floor, and hugged his knees tightly to his chest.
His body began to shake violently, eyes wide and distant—as if seeing something far beyond the walls of his home.
"Leave me," he whispered, over and over. "Leave me… I didn't do anything… please don't kill me… don't… don't…sorry…sorry…i didn't see…nothing….i didn't…, forgive….forgive me…"
He rocked back and forth, breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
Senna's expression darkened, the humor long gone from her face. "That wasn't just drunken madness."
Nyr knelt beside the old man but didn't touch him. His voice was steady. "Something is wrong, very wrong."
"He's not looking at us," Senna said softly. "He's looking at something else."
Darel suddenly jerked his head, as if reacting to a voice only he could hear. Tears streamed down his face now.
"I didn't see anything," he whimpered. "I didn't—he fell—I swear—I didn't mean to look—I didn't mean tohear—"
Senna's eyes snapped to Nyr. "The well. This is all tied to that cursed thing.
Nyr stepped forward and crouched beside Darel, frustration tightening his jaw. He slapped the old man once—then again.
"Snap out of it," he growled. "Come back."
But it was no use. Darel didn't even blink. Just kept rocking, muttering to whatever horror only he could see.
Nyr stood and turned to Senna. "Senna. Clean him again."
Senna sighed dramatically, though she was already raising her hand. "At least pretend to respect my flame a little. You treat it like a glorified mop."
"Because right now, that's what we need," Nyr shot back.
A golden flame bloomed in her palm once more, softer this time, gentler. She brought it near Darel, letting the warmth wash over him slowly, steadily.
The trembling didn't stop, but it slowed. His breath evened slightly. The muttering faded into incoherent murmurs.
"He's still broken," Senna said quietly. "But something's… fading. Like layers of grime peeling off."
Darel's breath was still shaky, but his eyes had regained a sliver of clarity. When Nyr asked, "Now tell us—what did you see?" the old man hesitated, then finally spoke.
"I was sleepin' in the front yard…" he began slowly. "Just noddin' off in my chair when I saw a little boy wanderin' near the well. Thought he was talkin' to someone—but I didn't see no one there."
Senna leaned forward slightly, her flame now gone, but her gaze sharp.
"He went closer," Darel continued, "leanin' over the edge like he was listenin'. And then…"
His voice caught, and his fingers dug into his knees.
"A shadow. Not just darkness—wrong darkness. Like it swallowed the light around it. No face. No shape I could name. But it looked at me. Straight into my eyes."
He trembled again, voice hoarse. "I've seen monsters. Bandits. Even a real ghost once. But that thing… it was worse. Like it hated being seen."
He paused, then added, "I ran. Locked myself inside. Thought if I just stayed quiet, it'd forget I was there."
Nyr said nothing. Just watched him carefully.
Darel looked away, ashamed. "Couldn't sleep after that. Couldn't eat. Couldn't think. I started takin' herbs to blur the edges. Make the memories quieter. But it didn't help for long."
Senna's voice was softer than usual. "And the kid?"
"I didn't see much," Darel said, shaking his head. "But if he talked to it too… then it took him."
Silence fell for a moment. Then Nyr spoke, low and steady.
"Time to see what's in that well."