omething he couldn’t make out, upon trying to answer he found himself incapacitated to do so.

Moments later he found himself staring down on himself and Gela. As before she was cuddled against him, softly playing with his chesthair. “Why won’t you answer?” Crys attempted to speak from his ghostly position but no tone would leave his lips. “Crys?” Gela got up, she looked at him with worry. Close to panic she held her fingers to his nose and slightly parted lips.

Relieved that he still breathed she looked around the room. Dusky twilight filled the window, fear for her life caused her to weep again but she took a few deep breaths. Hastily she gathered his clothes, dressed him as good as she could. “Forgive me, I didn’t know that the nectar would harm you!” from his spectator position Crys saw that there still were some drops of the clear ruby nectar on his lips. It glowed just like her eyes did. Crys opened his eyes to find the magistrate staring down at him. The man was covered in blood, the guard that had overseen Crys and Gela held a bleeding wound in his arm. “You and your plant gal were right.” the magistrate stated dryly, some other slimy substance was slowly running down the magistrates chest, Crys assumed it was the fungal equivalent to blood. “Speaking of which, where is she?” he looked around. It was only at that moment that Crys realised that it was in the dead of night. Getting up proved difficult as his head was spinning, and his limbs felt as heavy as rocks. Attempting to speak proved impossible, his tongue felt sore.

“He got a taste of her.” the fungal man Crys had seen in the magistrates house earlier was lying in a corner, his ashgrey skin had been toren open by several hits with a dagger. His yellow-milky blood was oozing out of the wounds. “The men are worthless, but the women, they hold forbidden fruit, one drop can rejuvenatee the strongest conjurer after he had exhausted himself.” the fungal man snickered, still disoriented Crys grabbed the guards sword and stumbled to the stranger. “Where?” he conjured up all his strength to speak. “She fled.” the fungal replied. “Fled me, my people, but also y,” Crys knew she fled him as well, but needed not to be reminded. He didn’t pick up the sword that stuck in the fungals head. Handling himself from wall to wall he made his way to the door, left the building. The sled that Galen had used to bring home the deer still was leaning against the wall. “Crys! It’s a battlefield out there!” the magistrate rushed after him, but seeing the determination in Crys eyes he stepped back. “At least get your clothes, you’ll freeze to death!” Crys stopped, someone had dressed him crudely. As he looked back inside his gaze was laden with confusion.

Crys had rolled to the side, again Gela had been on top, his senses were over stimulated.