"You don't look very well. Do you need to rest?" Ethemon had noticed a wound on Shadowheart's hand quite early on, and right now, she was using her other hand to block it from view.
"No, I'm fine. It's just an old ailment." Clearly, it was Shadowheart's secret, and she was unwilling to dwell on it, quickly changing the subject. "I think you've noticed that I really don't like wolves. They're a pack of greedy predators with dagger-like fangs. If possible, please don't leave me to face them alone again."
Of course, Ethemon wouldn't undermine a companion who had been so friendly since they first met, so he played along with Shadowheart's cue. "No problem at all. Everyone has things they're afraid of; I'll definitely make sure we avoid wolf packs on our travels from now on."
"Thank you for understanding."
Stepping through the stone doorway, the bitter fragrance of herbs wafted from a bubbling cauldron—likely the scent of an antidote. Many books rested on shelves carved directly into the stone walls, and a short woman stood before a stone platform, observing something intently while casting a spell. Hovering above her hands was a sluggish bird with bloodstained wings.
Seeing that someone had arrived, the woman nodded. "Please wait a moment, I'll be finished shortly."
Incantations thrumming with magic fell from her lips. Although the dejected bird couldn't fly off immediately, it was already blinking its beady black eyes and curiously looking around its surroundings.
"Now it's up to your own capacity to recover." Stroking the little bird's head, the woman turned to look at Ethemon. "Right, what do you need?"
Before Ethemon could open his mouth, Shadowheart shoved him straight down into a seat. "His back has suffered several violent impacts and burns from an explosion. Although I used Cure Wounds to heal him, I didn't examine him thoroughly—you're Healer Nettie, aren't you?"
Seeing the woman nod, Shadowheart continued, "Please take a look at the wounds on his back."
*Shadowheart, I really am fine. Shouldn't we be asking about—* about the mind flayer tadpole?
"Shut up. Off." Her tone was crisp and decisive.
Ethemon: *??? Didn't you just have your microphone muted a second ago?*
Jointly suppressed, a reluctant Ethemon took off his shirt—or rather, had it cut away. Cure Wounds could rapidly close injuries and dull the pain, but his clothes had practically melted into his flesh, serving as nothing more than a temporary fix. Once exposed, the sight was utterly gruesome.
"Whoa, how heroic." Only upon seeing the full extent of the injuries did Shadowheart realize Ethemon had fought multiple battles carrying this body full of wounds without a single complaint, completely forgetting that he was even hurt. Her tone turned frosty. "Looks like you really aren't afraid of pain. I suppose I'd better save my Cure Wounds for someone else."
Ethemon rubbed his nose, suppressing the urge to bolt, and let Nettie apply an anesthetic ointment to his back. She carefully reopened the healing wounds so fresh crimson blood welled up once more, picked out the fragments of cloth and embedded tiny pebbles, washed away the blackened, dried blood, and cast another spell. At a pace visible to the naked eye, the flesh knitted back together, sprouting pale pink skin. She dusted it with healing powder and wrapped it in bandages, finally completing the thorough treatment.
Staring at his bandaged upper body, Ethemon curled his lip and muttered, "And here I was planning to take a bath tonight."
"Don't even think about it. You'd better hope Gale can cast a prestidigitation spell for you instead," Shadowheart coldly shot down Ethemon's request.
Relieved that her patient had someone competent to look after him, Nettie smiled and tidied up her tools. "There. The bandages can come off in two days. Is there anything else you need?"
She turned back to tend to the brews in her cauldron, looking thoroughly busy.
Exchanging a glance with Shadowheart, Ethemon weighed the risks and ultimately decided to tell the truth. "Actually, I have a mind flayer tadpole in my head."
"What? What kind of tadpole?" Nettie clearly heard what Ethemon had said, yet she repeated it in sheer disbelief, as if checking its validity.
"Yes, a mind flayer tadpole." Ethemon blocked Nettie's potential escape route while calculating the odds of getting away if he had to kill her. "It seems you know about them. Can you help me?"
Whether she noticed Ethemon's movement or not, Nettie merely deliberated for a few seconds before walking toward an inner chamber, the stone door sinking into a fissure in the floor under her control. "Come with me. I might be able to help."
Ethemon naturally followed, while Shadowheart lagged behind by two steps, her foot resting on the threshold as she leaned against a stone pillar.
As soon as he stepped inside, Ethemon immediately understood why a separate room had been partitioned off: lying here was the corpse of a gray-skinned Drow.
A Drow, an evil creature of the Underdark, a dark elf—despised even more intensely than Tieflings.
"This fellow was in the same situation as you," Nettie murmured, rummaging through her pile of herbs. "He previously ambushed us in the forest alongside some goblins. After he died, a mind flayer tadpole crawled right out of his brain. Master Halsin and I brought the body back. Too bad you found me instead of him; he understands these things and has researched them."
Halsin. That name had come up several times already. It sounded like he used to specialize in researching mind flayer tadpoles? Perhaps he was the expert they ought to be looking for?
Ethemon's gaze swept over the parchment on the experimental table. It was covered in dense notes resembling test logs, the most prominent being a heavily circled section: *The parasite is deeply embedded in the brain; undoubtedly a mind flayer tadpole. Yet the host seemed completely unaware while alive? Furthermore, the corpse shows no signs of ceremorphosis. Something has been altered.*
Curiously sizing up the dead mind flayer tadpole floating inside a glass jar, Ethemon muttered, "How is it that everyone's getting caught by mind flayers lately? Not even the Drow from the Underdark are spared; they aren't picky at all."
"Their frequency of appearance has indeed increased lately. Ah, found it." Nettie pulled a thorn from her herb pile. "Don't move."
"Before treatment, tell me your symptoms, when you were infected, and if anything strange has happened." Nettie's expression looked composed.
What she didn't know was that although Ethemon couldn't cast healing magic, his wilderness survival knowledge was extensive. At a single glance, he recognized the item in Nettie's hand: a thorn from the valley with a beautiful name—Kelanvor's Kiss—which was also a lethal plant.
Watching Nettie's slightly trembling hand, Ethemon weighed killing her on the spot against chatting a bit longer, and chose the latter.
"If you call strange things strange, I've run into a few other fellows who've been implanted with tadpoles. I can mind-meld with them. As for when I was infected, less than two days ago."
"Victims can recognize each other?" It was clear Nettie desperately wanted to write this down, yet she stubbornly kept hold of that thorn. "How did you get infected with the parasite? Master Halsin has been dying to figure out the origin."
"I was kidnapped aboard a mind flayer nautiloid."
"A nautiloid?! But Master Halsin clearly said—" Nettie stopped dead in her tracks, plunging into a tangled internal debate. Ethemon quietly reached for his dagger. Finally, Nettie let out a long sigh and put the thorn back. "Fine, fine. I suppose I really can't do it."
She looked at Ethemon apologetically. "Since you opened your heart to me, I won't hide things either. You are dangerous. If you transform here, every single one of us is dead."
"Yet you look like a good person. You deserve a chance to save yourself."
Ethemon: *Huh? Who? Me?*
"This is a vial of wyvern poison." Nettie retrieved a green potion from a drawer and handed it to Ethemon. "Swear to me, if you feel anything amiss, please end it yourself, alright?"
*Just that?* Ethemon almost suspected he was dreaming as he took the vial. "I... swear?"
Nettie let out a breath, genuinely believing Ethemon's word, and her whole body relaxed. "Thank you. Let's hope that day never comes."
Once relaxed, Nettie became quite chatty. Perhaps because researching the mind flayer tadpoles had always been a lonely endeavor shared only between her and Halsin, she desperately needed someone in the know to talk to.
"You know? Ever since I finished my apprenticeship, I've only ever treated ordinary people. I've never seen anyone infected by a mind flayer before. But for some reason, over the last few months, a dozen or more have suddenly popped up—perhaps even more."
"Master Halsin and I have been tracking and studying them, trying to figure out what on earth is happening. By all rights, those infected with tadpoles should have passed the seven-day mark long ago. There ought to be an entire mind flayer army out there by now."
"Not to mention you. It's already the second day. If everything were normal, your transformation should have begun, and mind flayer traits should already be manifesting on you. Yet other than gaining their racial abilities, you haven't changed at all. It's incredible."
"So, is that good news?" Listening while peering at the Drow corpse lying on the stone slab, Ethemon fished a scrap of paper out of its pocket. Nettie didn't stop him, so he pulled it out to read.
*Find that Druid. Dig him out even if you have to tear the earth apart, then report back to me. Remember, you're just a scout; don't startle the prey, and don't kill. Once you find him, come straight back, and I'll decide the next step. — M*
What a pity. This Drow failed his mission and ended up reduced to a test subject.
"Perhaps. Master Halsin and I eventually tracked down those infected ones—that pack of goblins—all gathered at the abandoned Selûne temple not far from here. As for why, Master Halsin is still investigating."
At this, Nettie grew distressed. "He was supposed to be tracking the situation there alongside three newly arrived adventurers, but now he's missing. Who knows how he's doing."
Ethemon raised an eyebrow, then realized: *Ah, that unlucky bastard arguing with Zevlor at the entrance.*
"You think Halsin is still alive?"
"I hope so. I tried sending birds to search for him, but the goblins' archers made it impossible for the birds to get close." At this, Nettie's eyes brightened as she looked at Ethemon. "But you're different! You carry a parasite too; they'll naturally mistake you for one of their own."
That didn't sound like a compliment, and Ethemon had a bad feeling.
"If you can get inside, you might just find Halsin. If you can rescue him, we might learn the secret of the mind flayer tadpoles, and he might be able to save your life."
Just as well, trouble never came singly. Ethemon and Shadowheart exchanged helpless looks. "Leaving aside whether your precious Halsin is even still alive, what makes you think I could single-handedly storm the goblin stronghold to rescue someone?"
"Please, just try." Nettie pleaded.
He had to get out of here, or this woman might actually burst into tears.
Ethemon rolled his eyes inwardly while giving a ready assent. "Fine, fine. Saving him is saving me. I'll go find those three adventurers first to ask what happened before I make any plans. Of course, I'm not promising I can pull anything off."
"Thank you. Your willingness to try is the greatest help." With that, she produced a pouch of potions. "These are some of my best antidotes, fire-resistance brews, and hemostatics, along with some medical gear. You'll find them useful."
*Considering the supplies, I promise I won't beat you up when I come back to loot the place tonight.*
Thinking this, Ethemon walked toward the outside with Shadowheart. Just as they were about to leave through the stone door, a slender, emerald-green little snake slithered out from around his ankle, quickly darting into the vines to hide itself completely.
*I still have a feeling Kahga's attitude is rather suspicious. I'll leave a summoned beast hidden here and see if I have a chance to sneak into that innermost private compartment tonight.*
He just hadn't expected to spot the runaway Tiefling girl and her parents right there at the exit.