Licerio jumped out of bed and went to open the door, nearly tripping on the way.
"What happened?! Come in, quickly!"
The man entered, and Licerio dressed while the man recounted what had happened with Marlleo's condition.
"My lord, Knight Marlleo was stable before you left; then he began convulsing, foaming white at the mouth, his body twisting in every direction. When we thought he had stabilized—" the man began to tremble, his voice shaking with it, "—he opened his eyes. One of them had its normal brown pupil. The other had nothing—no pupil at all. Completely white."
Licerio went still, stopping mid-motion and staring at the man beside him. He watched him tremble slightly—his gaze frightened but steady. He did not think the man had the nerve to lie to him instantly like this.
One eye without a pupil… but only one of them… Licerio murmured to himself as he finished dressing.
"Go and have our horses ready. We leave immediately." He turned back to his bed to finish dressing and saw López still sleeping. "Wake up! You useless—!" he shouted, kicking López's bed.
"Huh… what? Who? What's happening? My lord, get behind me."
López jolted upright, scanning every corner of the room for a hidden threat. Seeing Licerio beside him—already dressed in the middle of the night—and one of the manor's servants standing in the corner, he understood something serious had happened.
But before López could ask what was going on, Licerio threw his clothes at him and headed for the door.
"Get dressed quickly. We're leaving now."
López had no choice but to fight off the drowsiness and get ready in a rush. In under five minutes they were all set, and the three men rode out into the night.
During the ride, the servant filled López in on the situation and went on to share a few more details about Marlleo's current state.
Since waking, he had been murmuring to himself without much awareness of his surroundings. At least he was not aggressive, and the doctor had been able to examine him—finding him in perfect physical condition, which had left the doctor bewildered.
When they arrived at the manor, the steward was waiting for them. He had servants take their horses and led Licerio and López straight to Marlleo. Two soldiers had been posted in his room to handle any unforeseen circumstances; they did not know his mental state, and by all appearances, it was not good.
When Licerio crossed the threshold, the air in the room seemed to thicken—cold and still. Marlleo, who had been murmuring with an unfocused gaze, went silent all at once. His head turned with an unnatural slowness, his neck giving a faint crack, until his face—and those two lightless eyes—lined up with the figure of Licerio.
Licerio studied him in return, above all his eyes—one with a pupil, the other without. That all-white eye sent a chill through him, a strange and complex feeling he had no words for.
At that moment, Marlleo's eyes closed, and when they opened again, neither had a pupil. His entire expression changed, and he smiled—a wide, grotesque smile.
Though his eyes had no pupils, Licerio could feel Marlleo's gaze—an examining gaze, moving slowly over every part of him, leaving nothing unexplored.
"Who are you?" Licerio asked carefully.
"Not bad," Marlleo answered with contempt. "You seem interesting."
Licerio nodded, as though the answer were enough. He kept watching Marlleo, who sat motionless on the bed with his eyes closed. Waiting.
Licerio narrowed his eyes, waiting for more. The air in the room grew colder, and every person in it had their attention fixed on Marlleo.
Marlleo was getting up. His feet sought the floor with great slowness, as though he were learning to move them for the first time. No one seemed to notice or react. His foot touched the ground, and his knee bent, lifting his body. He took one step, then another, moving toward Licerio.
Licerio was starting to grow impatient waiting for Marlleo's answer, watching him sitting on the bed, watching him back. His eyes stung slightly, and Marlleo's figure seemed to blur. He closed them and rubbed them. When he opened them again, the stinging was gone, and Marlleo appeared to be back in focus.
Marlleo was moving toward him with purpose. His right hand, extended, pointed toward Licerio's face. From the white eye, blood began to flow—a thin thread at first, then a stream tracing down his cheek and dripping from his face to the floor.
"How strange," said the voice, slightly rougher now, but Licerio heard it come from the bed—not from the figure that was now two steps away from him.
The hand trembled. The fingers curled inward for a moment, as though someone had seized them from inside. Then they stretched out again with a crack. Blood was running from both eyes now, from the nose, and from the mouth.
Licerio waited. He was growing impatient. Why was it taking so long to answer? And what had Marlleo meant by that—what was strange? But at that moment the figure of Marlleo on the bed seemed translucent, on the verge of fading entirely, and Licerio opened his eyes wide, doubting what he was seeing.
The hand was centimeters from his face. Marlleo smiled through that bloodied mouth, pushing against resistance. His entire arm was shaking, bones audible, but the hand kept coming.
"I'm stopping now," the mouth whispered. "Relax, boy."
And then, with no transition at all, Licerio blinked—and reality split in two.
Marlleo was no longer on the bed. He was right in front of him. His hand was a palm's width from his face. Fresh blood falling to the floor. Fingers still trembling.
Licerio tried to move. He could not.
His mind went blank, unable to process what had just happened.
López threw himself at Marlleo before anyone else could react.
"What the hell are you doing?!" he roared, pinning him to the floor.
Licerio made no sound—too stunned to form one. He had been waiting for Marlleo to answer his question, growing impatient, when his view had been blocked by a hand centimeters from his face. As though the man had teleported or time had stopped for just a moment while he moved. This allowed him to appear in front of him that way.
He had no words for it, no idea how to react—but his body did. His back was soaked in cold sweat, and his hands and forehead were with it, every hair on his body standing up, and his legs seemed to give way beneath him, drained of the strength to keep him upright.
Marlleo did not resist and was pinned to the floor without a struggle. His vacant gaze drifted around the room, avoiding Licerio entirely, taking in the expressions of everyone present.
Licerio finally pulled himself together and looked around the room—everyone in it was frightened, panicked, and barely holding themselves in place.
"Everyone out except López and two soldiers. Post two more soldiers in the room and four more outside, ready to act at any moment. Bring shackles and chains as well." Licerio brought the moment under control and issued the orders quickly.
The servants obeyed with visible relief, filing out in a hurry, not wanting to spend another second in that room.
A few minutes later everything was arranged, all the soldiers at their positions, watching Marlleo's every movement.
Marlleo was bound firmly with chains and shackles and placed in a chair well away from Licerio.
López took his place at Licerio's side, body angled forward to cover him at any moment, with two soldiers flanking Marlleo and two more close to Licerio.
Licerio had a thousand questions, but right now he only wanted answers to a few. What in all hells was that? Did I almost just die? He breathed inwardly. That isn't Marlleo. Parasitized? A body takeover?
"Who am I speaking with now?"
Marlleo let out a loud, full laugh, and his eyes narrowed, fixing their gaze on Licerio with open contempt. He twisted in the chair for a moment, testing different parts of his body.
"Well bound to this body—though it seems you forgot to close these properly. Look." Marlleo raised his hands, showing shackles that had not been fully fastened.
The soldiers at his sides grabbed his hands quickly and checked them. Indeed—the locking mechanism was entirely absent, as though it had never been there. They looked at Licerio nervously, unsure what to do; they were certain the shackles had been in perfect condition, with closures, and that they had locked them.
"What did you do?" Licerio asked, sensing something strange in Marlleo's manner.
"A little magic. Magical, no?" he said with a smile, and jerked his hands sharply, pulling free of the soldiers' grip.
The soldiers took hold of his hands again—and this time the shackles were properly closed, the missing piece back in place as though it had never been gone.
Licerio had no good answer to any of this. He had some ideas about what might be happening to Marlleo—but without evidence, they were nothing but guesses he wanted to test one by one, and it seemed that would not be straightforward.
"Let us try to work together. This benefits no one. If I'm not mistaken, you must be something like a parasite—or a spirit trying to take control of my knight."
"Fairly sharp. It's surprising that you know so much without being a theurge. Have the times changed so much that even a listener knows this much?"
What in the world is a listener? He seems to mean me. Is it some kind of secret term among them, or just a way of referring to ordinary people? Licerio turned it over quickly. Do I try to bluff and seem like an expert—or do I just be honest?… I should definitely be honest.
"I don't think the times have changed that much—though I don't know what times you're referring to. I simply know a little more than most."
"A little more than most?" Marlleo erupted into loud, grotesque laughter, pulling every eye in the room to him. When all attention was on him, he stopped—and drove his gaze into Licerio as he rose from the chair.
Licerio stared in disbelief, watching him rise. He had trusted the soldiers at his side to act the instant Marlleo so much as moved—not to let him move at all, much less stand.
When he looked away from Marlleo to find the soldiers, they were not there. Not just them—every soldier in the room, López included, had vanished.