For Peace

13. Vermillion

Seonghwa felt the shift in the air. He had felt in as soon as he had crossed the border between Alverton and Morden, but the further they entered heretic territory, the more it intensified. By now, its thrum to his ears was potent enough to give him an ongoing migraine. It weighed on him like the air before a storm and it befuddled his mind.

Wooyoung complained about the same headaches, as did Jongho. Hongjoong silently withstood and Yeosang and Yunho's magical streak was so faint they barely picked up on it.

When Mingi breathed in the vile magic like the scent of flowers, a smirk adorned his lips. The paint around his eyes and across his chin seemed to darken as the rune on his forehead flared.

"It's near. The place where healing awaits you," he said over his shoulder towards Seonghwa. Despite the usual safety distance the others kept from him, he sauntered near the group today. His alert to an ambush reflected in the strain of everybody else.

"Will it be guarded? A place of such accumulated magic must be a relevant temple for the heretics," Seonghwa replied. He shook his head to rid himself of his nausea and made it worse. Miserable, he dragged his feet next to Wooyoung, who almost disappeared under his hat as he tried to use it to ward off the thrum in the air. Though it matched him and Hongjoong the best of them, the murderous spirits feeding into it soured its soothing hues, as he described it. It was like dirtied swamp water, once brilliant and homey but now stained by something dark.

It came to no wonder that Mingi relished in it as if it were a hot spring to bathe in.

Jongho and Seonghwa suffered as they had suffered in the witch's swamp. Instead of occult and mystifying as Mingi's magic was, this one was born of the blood of a thousand corpses. Natural, but so frightful in its character.

To Seonghwa, it smelled like decay. His heart wasn't the only reason he had to gag his food down these days.

"I can't tell. The Reds aren't as organised and bound to customs as your church is. I doubt we will find a building. An altar perhaps, maybe a figure to pray to, as the one Yongguk described."

Seonghwa shivered at the mention of an altar and what it might be used for by brutes so fond of slaughtering as the Reds.

Hongjoong had the same thought.

"You will keep him away from any altars," he warned, his voice like thunder in his throat. Before they got so close, Seonghwa would have found him intimidating.

Mingi waved him off with a hand as dismissive as the swish of Hongjoong's tail.

"If an altar is needed for my ritual, then it is needed. A small price to pay for healing."

A small hope to cling to. Mingi didn't bring Seonghwa here to slice his throat on a stone table and let him bleed out as a gift to some juggernaut. What he promised was improved health.

"Either way, I doubt we'll run into many people. Not every belief requires praying. I imagine the passing Reds offer sacrifices for a good journey, and the many feet that crossed these paths made it so predominant. It comes in our favour. I can use all of this magic that makes you nauseous and bundle it at its core. Then it will be enough to break the curse of death."

Seonghwa knew little about the practice behind Mingi's theories, so he could only pray for his safety.

He hoped that the words he sent towards heaven wouldn't alert any Red witches to his position.

"What do you need for your magic? Is it unconditional?"

Mingi patted the bag on his shoulder.

"Most I need is within this and Fléau, but there are ways to make the process faster, safer. More pleasant for you." As usual, his smirk at Seonghwa forbade nothing good.