Chapter eight: The Breath of Death

The roads stretched long and lifeless, silence pressing on every step as if even the wind feared to speak. Cid’s boots crunched against the dirt, Fenrona’s smaller steps steady beside his own. The air smelled stale—too clean, as if something ancient had stolen the very breath from the land. Not even a crow dared circle overhead.

“This isn’t right…” Cid muttered, scanning the ridges around them. His hand lingered close to Clain’s hilt.

Fenrona’s tail flicked nervously. Her golden eyes searched the empty horizon. “Where is everyone, love? It feels like… something is watching us.”

They passed into the outskirts. Empty stalls stood abandoned, fruits left to rot. Shutters were nailed shut. Doors bolted from the inside. Every corner reeked faintly of burned incense, prayers clinging like ash in the air—as though the villagers had tried, and failed, to drive something away.

The tavern bell rang hollow as Cid pushed the door. The sound echoed like a funeral chime. Inside, there was no laughter, no rowdy drinking, no barkeep’s booming voice. Just silence. A tomb dressed in wood.

Cid’s brow furrowed. “What the hell happened here…?”

Then a hoarse voice called from behind the counter.

“Sorry… we’re closed.”

A figure stepped into the dim light.

“Jess?” Cid breathed.

Jesika froze, as if staring at a ghost. Then her face broke into light and she vaulted the counter, arms wrapping around him. “Gods, Cid—it really is you! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

Cid chuckled softly, hugging her back. Fenrona gave a small, polite wave.

“Hello…”

Jesika turned and grinned. “You’re the beast girl, aren’t you? Fenrona?”

“That’s me,” Fenrona said warmly, her hand resting protectively on her belly.

Jesika’s eyes fell there and widened. “So your journey went well.” She laughed gently before pulling Fenrona into a hug as well.

The moment felt almost normal, but the weight of silence still pressed on them. Jesika led them to a table, poured Cid a glass of whiskey—the same brand he’d once favored here—and handed Fenrona tea. Her hands trembled.

Cid raised the drink with a faint smile. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” She sat heavily across from them. Her eyes were tired. “I’m glad you’re back… but this isn’t a good time. The village—it’s cursed.”

Fenrona’s ears flicked back. “Cursed?”

Jesika nodded, voice raw. “It started a month and a half ago. People collapse, coughing blood. Then more blood—from their nose, their eyes, their very skin. They waste away in two or three weeks. And then… they stop breathing.”

Cid’s hand tightened around the glass. His eyes darkened. “How many?”

“Forty-eight.” Her voice cracked. “Bill’s tending to the sick. I’m just keeping the rest of the village from falling apart.”

Cid exhaled slowly. “A month and a half…”

Fenrona’s gaze met his. “It matches.”

Jesika blinked. “Matches what?”

Cid’s voice was flat. “That was when we sealed Time.”

Jesika’s eyes went wide. “You’re joking. That’s just some story.”

Fenrona shook her head. “It’s no story. I was there. It was him.”

Jesika’s face drained of color. “You… fought Time? But you don’t even—”

“Have a core?” Cid finished for her, smirking bitterly. “Yeah. That didn’t stop me.”

The silence thickened. Then Cid set down his glass with a soft clink.

“Jess. Take me to Bill.”

Jesika hesitated. “He’s with the sick.”

“I know,” Cid said, his tone low.

“I’ll take you.” Her voice trembled.

Fenrona rose. “I’m coming too. Don’t even think of stopping me this time.”

Jesika led them through the village. The air grew heavier with every step, thick with rot and fear. The old granary loomed ahead, its windows covered, smoke of incense curling from the cracks.

The smell hit first—decay, blood, despair.

“Feel that?” Fenrona whispered.

Cid’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Something’s here.”

Inside, dozens lay in makeshift beds. Their bodies wasted, skin pale and marked with blood. The air pulsed with quiet suffering.

“Father?” Jesika called, her voice trembling.

“I’m here, Jess,” Bill answered, stepping from the shadows. His face was worn, lined with sleepless nights. “Cid. And the girl. Guess you two made it.”

From a cot nearby, a familiar rasp.

“How’s it feel, being NT rank?”

Cid’s eyes widened. “Sam…?”

The old hunter gave a broken smile. “Still kicking. Barely.”

Cid’s gaze hardened. He turned to Bill. “Everyone who’s not sick—leave.”

Bill frowned. “Why?”

Fenrona stepped forward, her voice steady. “Because they’re not sick. They’re already dead. Something else is feeding on them. A spirit.”

Jesika paled. “A spirit? Here?”

Cid nodded grimly. “Not just any spirit. A divine one. Malevolent.”

Bill hesitated, torn between hope and fear. Finally, he nodded. “Everyone out. Now.”

The healthy fled, leaving only the sick groaning in their cots.

Cid stepped into the center. His voice was quiet, certain. “I know you’re here. Show yourself.”

The far end of the hall twisted. Darkness thickened. A figure emerged—cloaked in shadow, with the skull of a raven for a head. Its eyes burned with silence.

“As expected,” it said. Its voice was not heard but felt, vibrating inside the bones. “The boy who defied Time.”

Cid stood tall. “Who are you?”

The thing spread its arms. “I am the final page. The echo at the end of every tale. I am Death.”

Bill staggered back. Jesika gasped.

Cid’s jaw set. “Why here? Why now?”

Death tilted its skull. “You know why. Time was sealed. Years ago, your parents did the same to his son. I raised that child. I watched him vanish.”

Cid’s chest tightened. “So this is revenge?”

“No,” Death said. “This is balance.”

“What do you want?”

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“Nothing more than what is mine.” Death raised a hand. “The souls already claimed. That is all.”

Cid’s fists clenched. “Then take them. But leave the rest.”

The raven skull tilted. “Wise. You know you cannot fight me. I am not like him. I am patient.”

“I fought Time because he was arrogant,” Cid said. His eyes glowed faint violet. “You are careful. That makes you more dangerous.”

For the first time, Death chuckled. “I like you.”

It lifted its hand. The souls of the dead rose in silence, drifting like ash, vanishing into its cloak one by one.

Before fading, its voice lingered.

“You are a monster. You know it, don’t you?”

“I know,” Cid whispered, eyes burning violet.

Then Death was gone.

Outside, Fenrona ran to him the moment he stepped out. “Love?”

Cid’s head hung low. “I couldn’t save them. But it’s over. The curse is lifted.”

Bill’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “Then let’s drink—to the ones we lost… and to the ones we can still protect.”

Cid’s throat tightened, but he nodded. “Yeah. To them.”

That night, the tavern came alive again—not with joy, but with remembrance. Candles flickered across tables, their flames bending in the draft like weary souls. Mugs clinked, not in celebration, but in silence for those who had gone.

Bill raised his cup, his voice gravelly. “You fought Time… and tonight you bargained with Death.”

Jesika smirked faintly, though her eyes were heavy. “You make friends in high places, Cid.”

Bill chuckled. “Four years, kid. And the world’s thrown you to the wolves more times than most men live to see.”

Cid exhaled, the weight in his chest too heavy for words. “…I’m tired of fighting.”

Fenrona, seated close, reached for his hand beneath the table. “Then rest,” she whispered, golden eyes soft. “We’re here now.”

Bill leaned forward, squinting at him. “So. What’s next? You two planning to run again? Or settle?”

Cid looked at Fenrona, at the way her hand rested over her belly, before meeting Bill’s gaze. “We want to stay. For a while. I need money… and time.”

Bill smiled, lifting his mug higher. “Then you’ve got both. Welcome home, kid.”

The night bled into silence. Later, in their room, Fenrona curled against him beneath the wool blankets.

“You’re not going to sleep on me?” she teased softly, her tail brushing his leg.

Cid chuckled, pulling her tighter. “Just wanted to be sure… you still wanted me to.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Always, love.”

The dawn spilled across the tavern’s windows, pale gold cutting through dust and old wood. Cid stepped into the hall, Fenrona at his side.

“Any work?” he asked, his voice rough but steady.

Bill slid a parchment across the counter. “One you’ll like.”

Cid read the notice aloud. “High dragon. Capital. Legal.” His lips twitched into a half-smile. “I’ll take it.”

Fenrona frowned, her hand tightening around his sleeve. “Be careful, love.”

Cid leaned close, brushing his forehead to hers. “Don’t worry, honey. Bill—teach her how to connect with her blade while I’m gone.”

“Will do,” Bill said with a nod.

In the Capital

Panic reigned. The sky itself burned red as a massive dragon tore through the clouds, its roar shaking marble towers to their roots. Flames rained over the streets. Hunters scattered like ants, their spells flashing against the beast’s scales only to fizzle uselessly.

The dragon’s voice thundered, rattling stone and bone alike. “I want revenge!”

Men and women fell back, coughing smoke, eyes wide in despair. Then—a shadow moved through the chaos.

Cid landed beside a wounded mage, his coat charred at the edges. He pulled her up gently. “You alright?”

She blinked at him, stunned. “…You?”

“Get inside,” he said, already rising again.

Particles swirled, the air thick with energy. In the next breath, he launched himself skyward. His fist collided with the dragon’s face, the force splitting the air like thunder. The beast reeled, hurtling back through clouds and stone, its colossal neck twisting with a sickening crack.

The world fell silent.

The flames died. Hunters stared in disbelief.

Cid landed heavily, brushing soot and blood from his mouth. “…That was a bit much.”

The sun dipped low by the time he returned to the village tavern. The door creaked open, and heads turned as Cid stepped inside, soot clinging to his coat and a jagged dragon’s tooth in hand.

“I’m back,” Cid called as the tavern door swung shut behind him.

Fenrona looked up from behind the counter, her silver hair tied back loosely, ears twitching at the sound of his voice. “Welcome home, love.”

He crossed the room with a tired smile, leaning over to kiss her softly. “You’re working here now? I’ve been gone one day.”

She blushed faintly, her tail swaying behind her. “Jess said I could help. Bill left for the capital after you… well, after you killed the dragon. Jess is upstairs.”

Cid tilted his head. “Did she at least show you what to do?”

Fenrona looked away, ears lowering. “…Not really.”

He chuckled, brushing a loose strand of silver hair from her cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey. Where exactly is Jess?”

Fenrona hesitated, her golden eyes flicking toward the stairs. “…In her room. With someone.”

Cid raised a brow, smirking faintly. “She’s like a sister to me. That means I get to barge in, no matter what she’s doing.”

“Love, I don’t think—” Fenrona began, but he was already climbing the steps.

He knocked once. Silence. Then he pushed the door open.

Inside, Jesika was very much not alone.

“Jess,” he said flatly, “I don’t care that you’re having sex, but hurry up. My wife’s been left alone to run the bar, and she has no idea what she’s doing.”

He shut the door before she could scream.

Moments later, Jesika stormed down the hall in a robe, face burning red. “I hate you, Cid!”

He folded his arms, smirking. “You’re a year younger than me. You’re like a little sister. I interrupt sisters.”

“It’s still weird!”

“Does Bill know about him?” Cid asked calmly.

Jesika froze. “…No. And you’re not going to tell him.”

Cid glanced toward the door. “Come out, kid.”

“You don’t have to—” Jesika started.

But a voice answered. “I will.”

A boy stepped into the light—slim, freckled, clearly nervous. “My name’s James. I’m seventeen.”

Cid studied him with quiet intensity, pale brown eyes narrowing. “…You sure you want to be involved with her?”

James straightened, his voice firm despite the tremor. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.”

Cid held his stare a long moment. Then he nodded. “…Good answer. Go wait inside. I need a moment with Jesika.”

The boy slipped back into the room.

Cid turned to Jesika. “Is he the first?”

Jesika looked away, arms folding. “…I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Cid said quietly. “My wife’s pregnant. I know when it’s someone’s first time.”

Jesika’s lips trembled before she sighed. “…No. But he’s a good one.”

Cid’s expression softened. “Then that’s what matters. I won’t tell Bill. But Jess… if you’re serious about this, treat it seriously. You can lean on me when you need to. I’ll always vouch for you.”

Jesika blinked at him, her shoulders shaking. Then she threw her arms around him. “…Thank you.”

Cid patted her head like she was still that fiery girl from years ago. “Yeah, yeah. Now go back. And for gods’ sake—lock the door this time.”

As he turned to leave, he called over his shoulder: “And don’t you dare end it just because I walked in.”

Back downstairs, Fenrona was struggling with a bottle, the cork refusing to budge. Cid slid behind the counter and took it from her hands with ease.

“You’re back,” she said, ears twitching in relief.

“Handled it,” he replied simply, popping the cork in one smooth motion.

She leaned into him, resting lightly against his side as they stood together behind the bar. For a moment, the tavern was quiet, the fire crackling against old wood.

Then the door creaked open.

Three strangers stepped inside—broad-shouldered, travel-worn, dust clinging to their boots. Their hands lingered too close to their belts, their eyes sharp.

“What can I get you boys?” Cid asked, voice casual, though his gaze never softened.

One of them stepped forward. “We’re here to speak with the owner.”

“He won’t be back for a few hours,” Cid said, already pouring whiskey into three glasses. “But I’m running the place tonight. Want a drink while you wait?”

They hesitated, exchanged looks, then nodded.

“We’ll take the whiskey,” the second said.

Cid slid the glasses across the counter. “So… what business do you have with Bill?”

The first man sipped. “Just a job. Nothing major.”

Cid leaned against the bar, watching them closely. “Strange thing to wait so long for. What kind of job?”

The third man chuckled. “One not for lawmen. Or the faint of heart.”

The second leaned closer. “We need results, not questions.”

Cid tilted his head, eyes flat. “How much is the pay?”

“The kind of pay you don’t turn down,” the man said. “But truth is—we may already be too late. Even a squad of SSS-ranked hunters wouldn’t walk away easy from this one.”

Cid’s voice was quiet, almost bored. “Then I’ll take it.”

The first man sneered. “You? You’re just the bartender.”

The tavern door creaked open again.

“No,” came a gravelled voice. “He’s the one who’s been doing your jobs while you slept in your beds.”

Bill stepped inside, cloak heavy with dust. He hung it on the hook by the door and fixed the strangers with a hard look.

“You’re back,” Cid said, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth.

“My father’s right,” Jesika’s voice drifted from the stairs. She descended slowly, robe drawn tight, but her face calm now.

Cid met her halfway with a nod. “You’re awake.”

Jesika hugged him briefly, whispering, “Did he leave?”

“He’ll call on you tomorrow,” Cid whispered back.

Her shoulders loosened with relief. “Thank you.”

The three men stiffened, glancing between them.

“You’re saying he’s the one who cleared the wyverns… and the dragons?” the first asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Bill said flatly. “And I won’t be taking your job.”

“What?” the third snapped. “You haven’t even heard the terms—”

“I don’t need to.” Bill’s tone cut like steel. “I know the job. And I refuse.”

“But he said he’d do it!” the second barked, pointing at Cid. “Let him decide!”

Cid uncrossed his arms, stepping forward. “What is it?”

Bill’s jaw tightened. He looked at Cid for a long moment, then sighed. “You’ll have to kill an Earth Dragon. Bring its head back whole—no burns, no shattered skull. A clean kill.”

The tavern fell silent.

Cid’s expression didn’t shift. “Others are hunting it already.”

“True,” Bill said. “But none of them will come back.”

Cid’s voice was calm, steady. “If I’m too late, I’ll walk away. If not… I’ll finish it.”

Bill studied him, his eyes narrowing. “You understand what this means?”

“I’ve come too far to start backing down,” Cid replied.

Bill turned to the strangers, his voice low and dangerous. “If he does this job, you three—and especially your master, the doctor—will answer for it. And you won’t like the answer.”

The three men said nothing, but their shoulders tensed. They set a sealed parchment on the bar and left in silence, the door groaning shut behind them.

The tavern was quiet again.

Cid picked up the paper, rolled it, and tucked it into his coat. His eyes flicked upstairs for a moment before settling on Jesika.

“If Fenrona wakes up, tell her I had to go. A few days at most.”

Jesika nodded. “I will.”

Bill leaned on the bar. “Good luck, kid.”

Cid pulled his coat from the hook, the leather heavy on his shoulders. “Luck won’t matter.”

The wind howled as the door closed behind him, the night swallowing his shadow whole.