The Cure

Elian woke up on the floor of Kaelen’s room the next morning.

He felt hollowed out. But his mind was racing.

He had felt something during the transfer. When his soul touched the Rot, the Rot *recoiled*.

In this world, souls were made of the same ether as the magic. But Elian was from Earth. His soul was different. Denser. Uncorrupted by Ichor.

He dragged himself to the lab table Kaelen had allowed him to set up. He looked at a sample of Kaelen’s blood under the microscope. He added a drop of his own saliva.

The black Rot cells didn't just die; they evaporated.

"I'm the cure," Elian whispered.

The door opened. Kaelen walked in. He looked better than he had in years. The color was back in his cheeks. He was buttoning a shirt, looking like the king of the city.

"You look terrible, Doctor," Kaelen said, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He placed a tray of breakfast on the table.

"I know how to fix you," Elian said, staring at the microscope. "Permanently."

Kaelen paused. "Go on."

"The Rot is a magical parasite. It feeds on magic. My soul... it isn't from here. It acts as an anti-venom."

Elian turned to face him. "I can perform a Soul Transfer. I can pour my essence into your core. It will burn the Rot out forever. You'll never need treatments again."

Kaelen looked at him. "And the cost?"

Elian swallowed. "The transfer requires a vessel to be emptied to fill another. It will burn away... me. My memories. My personality. I'll be alive, physically. But 'Elian' will be gone."

Silence stretched between them.

Kaelen walked over. He gripped the edge of the table, leaning into Elian’s space.

"No," Kaelen said.

Elian blinked. "What? Kaelen, you're dying. It's only a matter of time before the treatments stop working."

"I said no." Kaelen grabbed Elian’s chin, forcing him to look up. "I don't trade my possessions. You belong to me, Doctor. Your sharp tongue, your defiance, your annoying morality. I'm not trading that for a clean bill of health."

"It's not about you!" Elian shouted, shoving Kaelen’s hand away. "The Pale King is coming! You said it yourself. If you fall, the city falls. I can make you strong enough to win."

"I will win on my own terms!" Kaelen roared. "I am the Reaper! I don't need a martyr!"

He stormed out, slamming the door.

Elian watched him go, realizing with a sinking heart that Kaelen’s arrogance—and his twisted possessiveness—had doomed them all.