Jillian’s eyes shifted from the darkly clad warlock to the ancient Crone who supported the witch’s desire for a reprieve, much to the latter’s surprise. She was glad to hear that they might be staying after all; a mere night was hardly appropriate for all the tribulations of the day, but it was better than nothing and would have to suffice. A sigh of relief left her lips that curved in an ever so subtle smile offered to the elder.

“Very well,” Gerald agreed with a nod and declared that they would be heading for Jevog Denûm in the morrow. It was difficult to imagine what the ashen wasteland might be like, for all she had ever known were the houses and streets behind Zerul’s walls, and the fields and forests nearby. In a mere day she would be walking a hostile, alien world, and had she not been as exhausted, had her head not been as filled with concerns and thoughts as it were, she might just have felt frightened by the prospect. As it stood, all she could muster was a weak tingle in her gut. That Crone would not be joining their little journey concerned her very little in that moment. They would not need her, provided that they would not face adversity, and even then they would have a formidable ally in Renold.

Jillian felt she had very little to add, and was about to go her ways to do what she initially set out to do – that was, to clean herself of the grime that accumulated in a day of battle and misfortune – when Gerald abruptly addressed the Elder Green, suddenly demanding to have explained why people were cured of the Withering in Anaxim forest. This revelation in itself was news to her, as she had never heard of any such miracle. All she heard were reports of hundreds of casualties daily, of entire villages wiped out countryside. Was this the reason, then, why Gerald originally had gone to Anaxim? It was a likely explanation. Intrigued at what the dragon had to say, she decided to stay around and observe the dialogue from a bit of a distance, crossing her arms below her chest almost the same instant that the warlock did.

[i]The demon prison?[/i] She thought, raising a dark red eyebrow in disbelief. [i]How could that of all things be responsible for healing people of a disease as terrible as the Withering? If anything it ought to cause it, one would think![/i] Judging by Gerald’s reaction, the witch surmised that he was as surprised as she was. Renold continued his exposition and one revelation followed the next, and Jillian could not help but feel a cold chill run down her spine when her fellow outcast concluded that “a god is doing this to us”.

“No,” Renold denied, further explaining why he believed that the energy that caused the Withering was not, in fact, of divine nature, which left very little options for the alternative. A demon was responsible for this monstrous act, which was perhaps not altogether surprising but had terrible implications nonetheless. The Withering was not merely a disease that threatened with the extinction of mankind. If what the dragon said was true, then somebody was absorbing all that power. A man may be nothing to a demon, but the millions of souls that would feed this creature through the Withering… it might just make a difference to tip the scales in its favor, to somehow find a way to break into Rodoria – if they not already have. Ironic perhaps for a witch who could speak parts of the Devil’s Tongue, but the truth was that Jillian’s knowledge of demons was relatively poor. Such was, for better or for worse, not something that teachers taught her much about. She had become quite familiar with Hazzergash so far, and she knew of the Grand Master and Kreshtaat, and had heard of Himyth, but knew of no others by name, nor what their sins might be. Her guess, however, was a good as anyone’s.

“If this is the case, then simply curing it won’t be enough, will it?” Jillian interjected, offering her thoughts on the matter, “If a demon is consciously spreading this disease, then a cure will only delay it. Even if we could cure it for good, if the demon becomes stronger through devouring the souls of millions of innocents, then it might just be too late already to stop whatever nefarious plans are in motion.”

She sighed, becoming aware of the pessimism that coated her words, “I don’t mean to put you down, but if your suspicions are correct, then there’s not much we can do, is there?”