"Wait! I'm here!" Cyrus called out. He scrambled out of the bed, and stumbled across the room. The soft moss tickled his bare feet as he stepped over the thick roots. The door itself was covered in ivy, and small branches were growing from the oaken wood.
"Cyrus? What's going on in there? Why are there twigs covering the door?" Sylven asked.
"Just a moment," Cyrus said, pressing against the door. "Let me see if I can fix this."
The rough wood reminded him of tree bark, thrumming beneath his fingers. As he ran his fingers along the edges, the wood split from the frame, and popped free with a crack. The door creaked open, revealing Sylven and Lewn on the other side. Swyn stood further down the hall, along with a cluster of maids, and a young servant, hurrying back with a rusted ax.
"What in the world happened in here?" Lewn asked, sweeping past Cyrus to examine his room. "All of my…"
"Are you alright?" Sylven asked, checking Cyrus for any injuries.
"I'm fine. A bit confused, but fine," Cyrus said. He turned to Lewn, who was using a pair of tongs to observe a silver flower with blue petals. "I'm sorry about all of this. I'm not certain what happened, but I'll make sure to pay you back."
"I don't think that'll be necessary," Lewn said. He glanced back with a gleeful grin. "Do you see this flower here? It's a frozen orchid, an extremely difficult plant to find, which only grows in the coldest of climates. I've only managed to acquire a few seeds of one, and even those cost me a fortune. Yet, now I have a wall of them, fully grown, along with a variety of other rare herbs and plants."
Cyrus frowned. "Yes, but what about the rest of your supplies? I destroyed most of the vials, and jars."
Lewn waved his hand. "You don't need to concern yourself with that. I can purchase twice the amount of jars and vials I had previously with a single one of these flowers. But I'll need to move quickly if I want to save these herbs."
Lewn hurried past Cyrus, and shouted down the hall. "Arthur! Come quick, and bring me several glass jars, and wooden crates. As many as you can carry!"
Sylven grabbed Cyrus's arm, pulling him out of the room. "Come on. He's going to be in there for a while, and we should talk."
As they made their way downstairs, a few of the maids stepped back, watching them with a wary gaze. Swyn shooed them away, before hurrying to catch up. When they reached the study, she shut the door behind them, before carefully approaching Cyrus.
"How are you feeling? Did my father's potion work? Do you remember your past now?"
Cyrus rubbed his head. "A bit, but it's still confusing. I remember a distant land, beneath the boughs of a great tree, which towered so high its top scraped the clouds. There was a young woman named Melfrin, and a man, whose name was Roalin. They- they were my friends, but something happened. Something bad."
Cyrus turned to Sylven. "I think Roalin is behind the stone plague. It was his magic, just like mine revolves around plants."
Sylven's face darkened. "I see. If what you say is true, then it seems regaining the rest of your memories is more important than we thought. Is there anything else the visions showed you? Like where Roalin might be now, or how he's giving his power to the Followers of Dilthane?"
Cyrus shook his head. "I'm afraid not."
Sylven sighed. "Then the plan hasn't changed. We will continue to the Arkenthell Mountains to find the ashveil. Hopefully, they'll guide us to Amuriel, where we can learn more."
"Alright," Cyrus said. He frowned. "Do you know what happened upstairs? Where did the plant's come from?"
"I'm not sure," Sylven said. "I was eating breakfast when lewn came running downstairs. He said you were thrashing around, and that a green fog was spreading from your body."
"Wait, breakfast?" Cyrus asked. He crossed the room, and threw open the curtains. Night still enveloped the city, but the faint glow of the sun was encroaching the eastern horizon. "I was unconscious for the entire night?"
"Yes, that's right," Swyn said. "Actually, my father believed you might…"
Swyn trailed off with a frown. She approached Cyrus, and to his surprise, pushed back his hair.
"What are you doing?" Cyrus asked, glancing at Sylven.
"Cyrus, are these… horns?" Swyn asked.
"What, where?" Cyrus asked. He turned to the window, tilting his head back and forth. The two small knobs on his forehead had grown, and now resembled small horns, dark brown in color, with mossy bumps. "Gods above… I have horns?"
Sylven stepped around the desk with an arched brow. "I'd say those are more like antlers, than horns. The moss looks like the velvet you'd find on deer antlers, and they appear to be growing from your skull."
"I don't care what they are. How do I get rid of them?" Cyrus asked.
"I could try cutting them out?" Sylven said, pulling out his dagger. The blade glinted in the light. "It might hurt, though."
Cyrus paled at the thought. "No, I think I'm good. I was hoping for a less painful method."
"Why do you need to get rid of them?" Swyn asked. "I think they're kind of cute."
"I doubt many people would agree with you," Cyrus said. He brushed down his hair, doing his best to hide the bumps. The curls helped cover them, but the knobs still showed. "How are we going to get to Cilthrin now? No one in their right mind would let us aboard their ship now."
Sylven rubbed his chin. "Well, you always have the bracelet. I could add another layer of runes to it, to hide the horns, but it'll take me a few days to research the correct ones. For now, why don't you wear your cloak, and keep the hood up?"
Cyrus's lips thinned. "I suppose that'll have to work. Gods above. Why can't I just be normal?"