An insistent knock pulled him from sleep.

"Wha..." Perry half mumbled, half groaned.

"Do you still count among the living?" Myran's muffled voice called from behind the door.

Perry pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan, his muscles protesting the movement. "Unfortunately." He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at how grimy it felt. "Come in."

Myran slipped inside, already wearing clean clothes and looking fresh and ready for another adventure. The sight made Perry painfully aware of his own pitiful state. The boy's expression held a mix of excitement and something else — was that sadness?

"I came to bid you farewell," Myran said, his formal tone at odds with how he shuffled his feet. "I must return home before night falls completely. My father will have been expecting me for some time now, and I am terribly late."

"Oh." Perry felt an unexpected pang in his chest. He'd grown oddly attached to the earnest and excitable kid who'd guided him so far through this bizarre world. "Not your fault for being late. What with being kidnapped and all that. Then fighting off zombies, sorry, undead. Will you be safe getting there?"

"You need not worry." Myran's face brightened at Perry's concern. "My house is close and I know all the safe paths. And I have to return Danlas to the commercial outpost tomorrow."

Perry searched his brain for any mention of a Danlas, but came up empty. "Who?"

"The donkey. That is his name."

Perry nodded, not quite sure what else to say. He'd never been good at goodbyes, and this one felt particularly strange. Before he could fumble for the right words, Myran crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Perry's middle in a tight hug.

"Oof," Perry let out. "You're way too strong for a nine-year-old boy."

"Twelve summers and two springs old," Myran mumbled into Perry's shirt. After a brief pause, he added, "Thank you for saving me from the Crimson Lords. And the undead warriors. I am forever in your debt, and I swear I shall repay your kindness tenfold."

"I didn't really—" Perry began his usual protest, but Myran squeezed tighter, cutting him off. Perry sighed in defeat and patted the boy's head. "You're welcome, I guess."

"Do you accept my debt?" Myran asked.

"Oh, uh... I..." How the hell was he supposed to answer that? "I mean..."

"If you do not accept, I shall be forced to shadow you and wait until the opportunity to wipe my debt presents itself. It might involve great bodily danger and could take many, many, many—"

"Okay, yeah. Sure, I accept. Happy now, kid?" Perry patted his head again. 

Myran pulled back, his eyes twinkling mischieviously. "Then our bargain is struck. I will come visit in a few days if you are still here."

Perry felt torn between hoping to see the boy again and praying he'd be far away from this place by then. "Take care of yourself, kid. Alright? Don't go rushing into danger or anything that leads to you accidentally being captured by a blood cult. Again. Or go wandering into any graveyards to face undead people. Again."

"And you as well." Myran backed away and bowed formally, then broke into a grin. "I would like to tell you to stay away from perilous situations, but I fear you seem to attract them."

"Away with you." Perry gestured with his hands for him to leave and Myran laughed. 

With one last smile and a wave, Myran left, closing the wooden door beihind him. The sound echoed inside the small space, and Perry felt unexpectedly alone. 

He decided to take advantage of the water basin to wash away some of the dirt and grime from his face. The cool water felt heavenly against his skin, and he lost track of time as he tried to make himself feel somewhat human again. By the time he finished, darkness had fallen completely outside the small window high up on the wall.

Another knock at his door broke the peaceful silence.

"Who is it?" Perry called out, but instead of an answer, the door opened to reveal Master Rennin.

"Myran has departed. And taken that foul-smelling creature with him." 

Perry held no love for the donkey, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the animal. "That's good—"

"It is time to send you home," Master Rennin cut him off.

Perry's heart leapt at the words. Before he could begin to say how grateful he was, Master Rennin flourished his hands through the air in a complex series of gestures. A soft blue light filled the room, and Perry instinctively tried to shield his eyes from it, only to discover his body refused to obey him. Panic surged through him as he realized his body was completely frozen in place. All he could do was blink. 

Master Rennin sighed in relief. "Enter," he called to someone outside.

Perry's breathing picked up speed as the boy who had welcomed them earlier, Kai, stepped into the room. The young man's head was bowed as he carried a shallow bowl that was filled with a red liquid and a brush that rolled gently as the boy stepped closer. 

The liquid had a metallic smell to it and a distinct color Perry tried very, very hard not to focus on. 

It couldn't be blood. There was no way this man had walked up to Perry with a bowl filled with blood.  

"I apologize for the inconvenience," Master Rennin said, his tone conversational, "but this part is rather delicate, and we can't have you moving about and complicating things further."

Perry tried to scream as the man dipped the brush into the blood and lifted it up to his face. That close up, the smell was undeniable, and Perry would've gagged if he wasn't completely frozen. Without so much as an explanation, the older man began dragging it across his face. All Perry could do was let out a muffled whimper. The boy holding the bowl shifted uncomfortably but kept his gaze down.

The sensation of the brush against his face made Perry's skin crawl. The blood felt sticky and wrong, and he could feel it drying on his face. Each stroke of the brush sent helpless shivers of revulsion through his body. Bile crawled up his throat, and his mouth filled with saliva, but he couldn't open his mouth. He was forced to swallow it down and mentally scream for this to be over.

Finally, Master Rennin stepped back and handed the brush to the boy without looking at him. "It will only take a moment now. I apologize again for any discomfort." He paused, studying Perry's face. "I hope you will remember me kindly when the time comes."

Before Perry could begin to try and understand what he was talking about, his face began to itch. It started small, on his left cheek, like an insect crawling across his skin. But it quickly grew until it felt like thousands of tiny needles pricking his flesh. If he could have moved his arms, he would probably be digging his nails into his own skin and pulling whatever he could off to try and get rid of the sensation. 

"An unfortunate side effect," Master Rennin commented, watching Perry's face. "You must not scratch or wash your face, or the spell will wear off prematurely. We need your appearance to remain altered until the opportune time for revelation arrives."

The itching grew to an unbearable intensity, and then it suddenly vanished completely. Master Rennin's face broke into a satisfied smile.

"Excellent work. I do believe I have outdone myself this time." He flourished one hand in the air again. "Follow."

Horror flooded through Perry as his legs began moving without his permission. 

"Return to your chores." Master Rennin waved the boy away without so much as a glance his way. 

Then he strode from the room, Perry's body following helplessly behind him like a puppet on strings.

He tried to cry out, to resist, to do anything other than trail after the man Myran so deeply respected. But his body refused to obey him. 

His only small comfort was that Myran wasn't there to see whatever was about to happen — though that quickly faded as Master Rennin led him deeper into the temple's shadowy corridors.