Ezekiel woke up with a start, groaning when he felt his injury streach. Looking down expecting to see a dagger embedded in his side, he was surprised when he found that all he found was a slightly bloody patch of bandages.
"Careful, or I'll have to stitch it back up when you're awake this time." A slightly familiar voice called out to him from the others idea of the room, making him realize that he was actually in a room.
"Where am I?"
Yule grunted. "My room."
Ezekiel went quiet for a long time, watching the hunter clean his gear. He wore leather armor as usual, his were stained a deep gray, hinting at his origin. "You're from the Wraith School, aren't you?"
Yule looked up from his gear, before nodding. He even came closer to where Zeke was resting, holding out the silver pendant on his chest. Getting a closer look, the kid could now see a cloaked figure on it, holding a long scythe behind him.
"That wound isn't gonna get any better."
Ezekiel looked up at Yule, confused. "You're aware that Griever's have rules, ones that we must never break?"
When Zeke nodded, Yule continued. "One of those is that no outsider is allowed to enter our lands. There are many reasons, but you don't need to know that."
"The point is, you need help that only us Grievers can provide, but you won't be allowed to get that help unless you're one of us."
The very thought of becoming a Griever sent shivers down Ezekiel's spine. He had heard the stories, he knew just how dreadful it would be. Hell, he had grown up with stories about how one has to die before he becomes a Hunstman.
"...There's no other way?" He asked weakly.
Yule shook his head, a grave expression on his face. Not that his expression had changed much since the first time Zeke had saw him. "The dagger had Druid's Bane in it, and it will kill you from the inside if not neutralized."
"You either become a Griever, or watch as you turn into the very thing that tried to kill you."
Ezekiel closed his eyes, feeling his veins pulse with pain, and knew Yule was right. If he wanted to live, then he had to fight. A determined look appeared in his eyes when they opened, staring into Yule's own set of pearly gray.
"If death wants me, she'll find that I won't make it easy. She'll have to earn my last breath."
Hearing those words, something came over Yule, and he could nearly see another face line up over the kid's. A dear old friend that had long passed, but he was now seeing bits of him within some random kid, saying words that he had heard before. A look he had seen before.
'This kid...might just have what it takes to survive.'
Yule threw those thoughts from his head, getting up and collecting his gear. "Then get up. We have a week long ride to get to. I don't fancy letting you become a coward. Afterall, a man's word is bond."
---
The ride was long, and brutal because of the season change, but Yule had a warhorse that made it somewhat bare able. What really made the ride excusing was what Yule had described in short as Druid's Bane.
There were two things that shared the name, the essence that came from the monster and the process that Zeke was going through. Yule wasn't a man for many words but, when the kid was awake, he'd explain that the essence was slowly trying to change him into a being similar to that of a Druid.
It was corrupting him from the inside, slowly changing his veins into roots that would further fuel the transformation. The process made his body feel both hot and cold, his blood not being taken to the proper places and causing him to feel cold.
Being surprisingly kind for a Griever, Yule would speak absentmindedly when he noticed Zeke was awake. He never said anything personal, only talking of the things he could see. Signs of activity along the trail, how a fallen tree could point to a nearby troll, and even talking more about the Huntsmen.
The latter is what Zeke remembered the most, clinging to the memory as an anchor to his very being as something tried to change him from the inside. "Us Grievers have a lot of names, and a lot of jobs along with that, but we are best known for keeping and killing monsters." He explained.
"There are different schools that separate the Grievers aswell, and the one I originate from is often seen as the most dangerous and hardest to become: The Wraith School."
"It's only named after the Wraiths because that is what we were originally called, thousands of years ago, but in reality we are the original and biggest school of any."
"Atem, the head hunter, enforces the idea that all students of his school must be tought a little bit of everything, and only when he deems them ready can they branch out and learn what they want."
Something about that brought an idea to Zeke's muddled brain. "What about magic?"
"...Yes, but that is one of the last skills you'll learn if you become one of us...It's dangerous, and should never be trifled with." Yule said gravely. It was clear that he had experienced something that left him scarred.
"Okay." Zeke chirped weakly, calling back asleep.
Yule sighed after a long while, prodding his horse to go faster. "This keed just keeps looking more and more like you, Troy."
The journey continued, a vast mountain appearing on the horizon, beckoning Yule home, far earlier than he had expected. Just the thought of Atem's hard gaze made his back sweat, and he almost wanted to turn back. But the thought of this kid spared him on.
He had failed Troy in his final moments, and again afterwards. If he truly valued his friend, then he would stop at nothing to make sure this kid at least has a chance to survive.
"...Unlike you, brother."