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“Sorcerer’s check,” Skye said.

“What the blast does that mean?”

“It means your bishop, which is equipped with a magical upgrade—the coin on top gives you a double move boost—just moved behind enemy territory. You have to flip the coin and take a hit to your movement speed instead.”

Ivain scowled. “I do not, for the life of me, understand this overcomplicated nonsense.”

Skye could only shrug. Better chess was Taly’s brainchild. He’d have to take it up with her. “Oh, and you have to take a shot.”

“At least, there’s that,” Ivain muttered, pouring himself a drink. That he sipped. Arendryl brandy was too expensive to be knocked back.

A door from somewhere in the house opened and closed. A few moments later, Aiden appeared, looking exhausted and haggard. He dropped his bag and fell into a chair, one arm flung over his eyes.

“I thought you had a shift tonight,” Skye said.

Aiden only held up a finger. As if to give him a moment. “Uncle, are you sober?”

Ivain stared at the bottle, then his glass. “No.”

“Good. Pour me a drink.”

Ivain did so, making it a double. Aiden looked like he needed it. Instead of sipping, he slammed it. It was amazing Taly didn’t open her eyes just to tell him off for wasting good liquor.

“We couldn’t bring him out of it,” Aiden said, holding his glass out for a refill.

“Bring who out of what?” Skye asked.

“Kalahad. We couldn’t bring him out of the healing sleep.”

Ivain frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Healing sleep is supposed to be restorative, not… permanent.”

“Do you think someone’s keeping him asleep on purpose?” Skye asked. Someone who maybe didn’t want them questioning him.

“Maybe? I don’t know.” Aiden pressed his fingers to his eyes like he could massage the exhaustion away. “There were no signs of foreign magic. All I could find were some peculiarities in his blood analysis. Despite how much we keep pumping into him, he’s still depleted of aether, and his thaumic sediment levels keep rising.”

“What does that mean?” Ivain asked.

“It means he’s got aether poisoning,” Aiden said plainly.

“But I thought you said he wasn’t poisoned,” Skye pointed out.

“He wasn’t. That’s the troubling part. This isn’t a normal toxin. The thaumic sediment is a byproduct, yes. But it’s notfrom an external source. It’s from inside. Something is attacking his aetherocytes and breaking them down into waste—into sediment. It’s like his body is turning against itself.”

Aiden turned the empty whiskey glass in his hands, his voice low. “I’ve seen something like this recently.” A pause. A slight furrow of his brow. “Not in Fey.”

He exhaled slowly, as if piecing the thought together as he spoke. “The disease that’s spreading through the human population—it attacks red blood cells. They end up with iron overload. It builds up, damaging their organs. Just like the thaumic sediment in Kalahad’s blood.”

His fingers tapped against the glass. “I think… I think we might be dealing with the same illness. One that goes after the blood’s ability to carry oxygen.”

Silence fell as the information settled over the room. It left a void—a moment where the world stopped making sense.

“Wait…” Ivain said, blinking like he was trying to sober up. “Are you saying…”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Aiden regarded them grimly. “The Shaking Fever—it jumped.”

Skye shook his head. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.”