It was as if he had finally returned to his senses. The demon within had returned to its slumber as soon as the angel was in hand. George shook his head in a daze as he looked at the pale figure in his arms, traces from his bloody lips on Ciel’s forehead, like a demonic mark. George hurriedly used his thumb to wipe it off but it only served to smudge it and make it look worse. He looked at it with conflicted eyes before he sighed and placed his forehead on the other man’s, eyes closed, relishing the feel and scent of the man in his arms. After finding his equilibrium again, he opened his eyes to assess the situation.

He could only give himself a self-deprecating smile when he looked around him, the area covered in blood and torn limbs, save a small radius around them. He hated his dragon madness, regretted the day he had gotten too close to that infernal creature that made him who he was. But if that was what had kept them alive this time then he would not say a thing. This cursed blessing had given him given him very few glimmers of light in his long journey in the darkness. But the biggest was of course this soft, comforting warmth in his arms right now; his bright, shining sky.

Picking a direction, he gently readjusted the person in his arms and started walking. The crunch of sand and stone under his feet was the only sound heard while they tried to make their way out of the dark and ominous ravine. As he continued, he heard the sound of footsteps and scrabbling over rocks and stones. He tightened his hold on Ciel, senses alert and wary.

“George! Are you there?”

He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard Zander’s familiar voice calling out to him.

“Over here!”

It was not long before the former king emerged from the darkness, his face wrought with concern for the former knight. He stopped when he saw them before he ran over.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

George gave a rueful smile. He must have scared Zander with their appearance… he was dirty, dishevelled and covered in blood while his clothes were torn from the fall earlier. He looked like something a dragon had chewed and spat out. Ciel meanwhile was pale and unconscious.

“We’re fine. I had a fall earlier and then I had to fight some creatures that had approached him.” he raised his arms a little, to indicate Ciel.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. He was like this when I found him.”

“He is?”

“Ciel. My home.”

Zander was silent for a moment before continuing. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yes. Lead the way.”

Zander turned around and started walking back from where he came. George followed, gently cradling Ciel against his shoulder. They walked a distance before George stopped, his brows knit in concern. He looked down at Ciel again wondering what it was in his heart that made him feel uneasy. He was pale and still out cold. Out of instinct, he circled some of his internal energy into Ciel. The tightness in his heart eased a little when he saw a little pink enter Ciel’s pallid face. And then without warning, Ciel gave a cough, expelling black, viscous liquid smelling faintly of blood from his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” Zander had turned around when he heard a cough instead of footsteps trailing behind him. He took one look and realized that George had turned into a statue staring at Ciel. He hastily turned back to see what was the matter. His frown darkened when he saw the black liquid that had stained the front of Ciel’s shirt and lips.

“He’s been poisoned.”

Poison? How? When? George looked up at Zander, a lost look in his eyes.

“The very air of this world is laden with miasma. It might be worse here because it’s all trapped in a stagnant valley. We need to get out of here. My home in the woods is protected by a barrier, the air there is the cleanest.” He paused and looked at George. The other man’s constitution was impressive if he had not been affected by the poisonous air, now that he thought about it.

George could only nod. They quickened their pace while George continued to inject his inner qi into him. It was no longer the clumsy, crude attempt like in the past. He had been exchanging tips with Bei and other cultivators and his technique was not like the amateurish, self-taught moves fifty years ago. As the dark, noxious smelling liquid continued to spill from his mouth, George kept channelling his life into Ciel. The front of his shirt was so saturated with the poisoned blood that it had begun to drip on the ground drop by drop as they continued walking. They soon came to a cliff wall covered in rubble and loose boulders. Zander gave a push and the boulders moved to reveal a cave entrance.

“This will take us back to the castle. It’s a little further than the shortcut I used but it will be safer and easier, since your friend is insensible at the moment.”

George had no objections. He continued to follow Zander, as they twisted and turned and made their way up the secret passageway. Along the way, they passed one or two areas that looked familiar. If George had been curious about where the road not taken had led to, he had his answers now. They made their way up the stone passageway by the canal and Zander stared silently at his broken wall and gate.

“Sorry about that. I was stuck.”

Now Zander had a headache, but he didn’t quibble. The man in George’s arms needed help first. They continued to make their way up; past the solar, through the great hall and out the castle doors. George cast a glance at Zander but saw no flicker of emotion on the bearded man. He did pause when he saw that towering tree that had destroyed the guard post but he said nothing and continued to lead them into the woods on the other side.

Now that Zander had mentioned it, the air within the barrier did feel different compared to the air outside. He followed Zander into the hut and placed Ciel on the bed that Zander had pointed to. The old man meanwhile was rummaging amongst some dried herbs that he had hung inside his hut, plucking a few here and there. Some grinding and mixing later, he brought a decoction in a bowl that he gave to George.

“This should help remove the rest of the poison.”

“Thank you…”

George was looking a little pale now, having been continuously channelling his internal energy into Ciel earlier. But his hand was steady when he took the bowl and his grip was firm but gentle when he lifted Ciel to slowly pour the concoction down his throat. It didn’t go down smoothly and Ciel began to cough it out intermittently along with more of the black blood. George very patiently spooned the liquid into his mouth, lightly massaging his throat and chest to help him swallow it. Ciel soon finished the prepared medication and it was a relief to see a hint of colour back on his face. But George’s brows creased again when he looked at Ciel’s grimy, bloody face and shirt. Lying Ciel back on the bed, he was about to go out of the hut to search of some water to clean him up.

He turned and found a basin, a bucket of warm water along with a clean cloth by the door and two changes of clothes on the table. He hadn’t even noticed him moving about in the tiny hut but George was grateful for Zander’s care. He poured some water into the basin and continued his tender ministrations, cleaning and changing Ciel’s clothes. He swallowed a little when he saw the smooth, white chest but was closed his eyes in anguish when he saw the scar riddled back. Tracing the bumps of improperly healed skin, George could not resist placing another kiss one of the scars on Ciel’s shoulder blade. But when he saw the bloody, dirty mark he left on the damp back, George could only wipe it off with the cloth and an empty look in his eyes.

“You don’t deserve him.”

Unwilling to torture himself any further, he quickly dressed Ciel and tucked him under the blankets. Then, using the remaining water, he cleaned himself and changed into the clothes Zander had prepared for him. Linen tunic and breeches. How nostalgic…it looked a little odd when he paired it with the oxfords he had been wearing with his suit but never mind; at least he was clean. Gathering the bucket of used water and the dirty clothes that had been discarded, he took one last look at Ciel before he left the hut.

Zander was outside, dismantling the wolf that George had killed. It had been perhaps half a day since they had met but it felt like it had been longer. George couldn't help sagging his back in exhaustion, the tense few hours drawing all the energy from him. Putting his load down beside the closed door, he went and sat next to the old man.

“Thank you for your help.”

“It’s been ages since I had company, don’t mention it.”

They lapsed into silence again, save the sound of Zander’s blade as it removed the fur and skin from the carcass.

“Tell me,” Zander suddenly spoke “How can you breathe in this toxic air. And from your looks earlier, you didn’t come out unscathed from your jump in the ravine either.”

George could only give a wry smile. “I’m immortal.”

Zander’s blade paused as he took in the meaning of what was said. “You must have lived a very long time.” His blade started moving again.

“I don’t know when I was born. I’m over a thousand, I think.”

The knife jerked and Zander looked at the youngish looking man sitting next to him.

“Do you mean to tell me you’re older than me?”

“I had thought as much.”

“I don’t believe it! I had thought that I was a wise old sage and now a man who looks like he could be my son tells me he’s old enough to be my ancestor?”

“Trust me, it’s a curse I’d rather not have.”

Zander halted his rant and looked at George, his eyes narrowing. “What’s your story?”

“Nothing much, I was cursed when I killed a beast I shouldn’t have.”

Zander got annoyed and pointed the blood-stained dagger at him. “No glossing over the details! I haven’t talked to another human in over a hundred years! Give me some entertainment!”

George looked helplessly at Zander, leaning away from the dagger, his hands up in surrender. How did the wise old man turn into a child the minute he heard that he was younger? George had no choice but to expand his story a little more, telling him of his dragon killing days. But he didn’t touch upon the madness though, or the bouts of mindless killing that followed. He didn’t want to let anyone know how cold and empty he had been. But Zander seemed to have read between the lines.

“It must have been hard on you.”

“Being alone is hard on anyone.”

“No wonder I felt that we had so much in common… you have suffered longer than I have.”

“It was my destiny, I suppose. I have accepted my fate.”

“Because of that young man inside?”

“He’s older than you too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I believe he’s nearly eight hundred. His family makes a big deal about their birthdays.”

Zander gave a groan, closing his eyes. “Stop deceiving people…”

“I stopped aging the day I was bathed in dragon blood. Ciel and his family can choose what age they want to look like.” George never thought he would feel so relaxed after talking about his dark days. But it was calming talking to Zander; he was far wiser than George had been and had made his peace with his curse long ago. It may have helped that he had never stepped into madness but wisdom did not come with age. It came from not just knowing, but also accepting. It came with living a full, rich life to be able to cope with a cold, empty one. It came with experiencing ups and downs and learning from them. Wisdom did not come from the brain but the heart. And that was the difference. George had never used his heart to live. Not until now, at least. His gaze turned to the hut while his fingers went to his heart. They stopped when they came in contact with the plain linen tunic he now wore. Old habits die hard…

Zander pretended he did not see as he picked up his blade and they fell into a prolonged, comfortable silence.