Unlike all other utility halls, the infirmary was shared among all four temples as well as general apprentices. Kan was engulfed by the sweet aroma of osmanthus the moment he stepped inside, but as the woman in white led him through the corridors, he noticed a whiff of a different scent hanging around them.

The smell of blood, he realized when they reached a chamber at the end where two members of Wy’s gang lay prone on the floor. A boy crouched over them, examining their injuries, and Tavi kneeled at their feet, his eyes red.

“Two more for you, Oyen,” the woman said.

Oyen grunted without looking up. “Please, Master Tsing—”

“Minor injuries,” Tsing gestured at Kan to sit down at a low table across the room laden with jars and urns.

Oyen straightened and turned around. He looked young, only thirteen or fourteen, and the loose black robe made his small frame appear even thinner. “Minor injuries?” His thick eyebrows knitted as he scrutinized Kan. “Deep cut through the vein. Severed muscles. If the blade went any further, it would be beyond my ability to heal. You call that a minor injury?”

Tsing glanced at the apprentices lying on the floor. “Better than those two.”

“Healer,” Tavi snapped his head up. “Please, I know we’ve done wrong in the past. If you could just give us another chance …”

Oyen shook his head. “All patients are the same in the eyes of a healer. I don’t hold grudges against you, but I can’t raise the dead.”

Tavi stared at him, his eyes empty and lifeless. Despite the unpleasant exchanges between them, Kan felt a small tinge of pity for him. How far gone was Nish in his frenzy that he didn’t even spare his closest friends?

“What goes around comes around, Tavi,” Tsing said. “Just be grateful that you are alive.”

Tavi flinched at the sudden venom in her words. Oyen gave her a dark glance, though he said nothing and joined Kan quietly at the table.

He measured a handful of herbs and powders and arranged them into a neat pattern in a shallow dish. A divine symbol, Kan guessed. He had never seen anyone from the path of medicine at work before. Oyen held a hand over the mixture and chanted. The edge of the symbol started to glow in cadence with the incantation, and when he reached a crescendo, it lit up like kindling catching fire. The mixture sizzled and bubbled before turning into a dark paste, and the sparks went out.

As Oyen spread the medicine over Kan’s wrist and chanted again, Kan felt the sharp pain from earlier slowly fading away. The paste dissolved into his skin, and sensation came back to his fingers, along with a steady flow of warmth and energy.

“The cut on the surface is easy to heal,” Oyen said when he finished, “but the internal damage takes longer. Don’t use a sword for at least five days.”

“Thank you,” Kan said with a slight wince. Five days without practice would be a long time for him.

Oyen stood up and walked over to Nish. “What did you use on him?” he asked Tsing.

“Purging. The Seer sensed a change in Aura and sent me over. When I got there, he reeked of demon Aura, eyes red, strength raised to at least Third Stage. I purged the abomination out of him, though his consciousness might already be damaged for how long he’d been lost.”

Kan remembered the smell that he couldn’t put his finger on earlier. Tsing’s words reminded him—it was the same stench from the demons in the forest.

Oyen pressed his forefinger to Nish’s brow. A pair of golden circles formed in Nish’s unfocused eyes before gradually dimming and dying out. “His consciousness is … shattered,” Oyen muttered under his breath.

“Shattered?” Tavi blurted out. “What does that mean?”

“It means your friend will stay like this forever,” Tsing said. “He won’t talk, he won’t recognize you, and if you put a sword in his hand, he might kill you. A fitting end if you ask me.”

“Master Tsing,” Oyen finally interrupted. “That’s not a fair judgment. Nish didn’t ask for this.”

“You don’t know that,” Tsing retorted. “Demons trade their powers with those consumed by vile desires. I wager he did this willingly.”

“You might want to be careful with such a strong statement,” Oyen said. “There have been scattered sightings of demons in faraway villages the past few years, but if one of them is lurking around the Temples already, then they are getting much more powerful than we thought. It could mean great danger to us all.”

Tsing huffed but didn’t argue further. The tone in their conversation piqued Kan’s curiosity. For an apprentice and especially for his age, Oyen was too sharp and disrespectful. For a master, Tsing was too impulsive and partial in her judgment. Kan hadn’t seen anyone like them at the Shrine, where priests always kept their places.

“Who saw him last before he became like this?” Oyen turned to Tavi and asked.

“He went to the Temple of Python with the discipline enforcer—”

“Kan!” Luya’s voice echoed in the hallway as if they had summoned her with their thoughts. The sound of her boots slamming against the floor drew near, and she skidded into their view at the doorway. The worry on her face faded when she saw Kan standing unscathed in the room but returned when she noticed his blood-stained hands. “Everyone is fleeing the First Stage apprentice housing. What happened?” she asked.

“That’s what I should be asking!” Tavi shouted back. “You were the one who took Nish away! What did you do at the Temple of Python?”

He clenched his fit to throw a punch at her, but Tsing caught the blow. Tavi twisted and whirled, trying to break free, though there was no hope of overcoming the difference between First Stage and Master. The image of Tavi struggling awkwardly against someone half his size lightened the air in the room ever so slightly.

Oyen explained to a confused Luya, “Nish was consumed by demon Aura. About an hour ago he attacked the lodges and killed two of his own.”

Luya looked at Nish, then looked at the red-eyed Tavi. “He sneaked away at the temple,” she said. “Master Yeven wasn’t there when we arrived, and I lost Nish when I went to search for other masters. But that was a whole day ago … I haven’t seen him since then.”

The puzzle quieted everyone in the room. Only Tavi’s grunts and heavy breathing filled the space.

“You’re right, Oyen,” Tsing said after a while. “If this is indeed related to demon activities, we need to bring it to the Keepers and get to the bottom of it.”

“What about his injuries?” Tavi asked, gesturing to Nish. “You are just leaving him like this?”

“I told you,” Tsing said, “this is a fitting end for your kind.”

Oyen hesitated, “I’ve never seen anyone’s consciousness damaged to this extent, Tavi. It’s in pieces. Even if a better healer can get him to talk again, he’ll act like a three-year-old for the rest of his life.”

Tavi cursed vehemently. “Bitch,” he bit out at Luya. “And you, Southerner. You got four lives on your hands, and I don’t give a damn that you saved mine. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

Tsing loosened her hold on Tavi’s fist and punched him hard in the gut. Tavi groaned and doubled over, but he kept his gaze fixed on Kan and Luya, a blaze burning in his eyes like hellfire.