The sky still sobbed.
Water poured down for hours without pause, enough to make Nero wonder if the heaven somehow replenished themselves as it ought to have emptied. Wrapped only in a strip of muddy cloth tied around his waist, he staggered through a narrow market street of a small settlement. Most of the structures, they built from hard timber, though a few older ones had been raised from stone.
He shivered.
The village was familiar to him. It rested in the valley north of Ferns, between the four kingdoms of the four mountains but it belonged to none of them. Kyren Greene, his aide had been born here.
Nero stopped before a modest wooden house.
For a moment, he wondered whether he had come to the wrong place.
His trembling hand lifted slowly toward the door. Soft knocks turned into banging. Lights still burned inside. He noticed the curtains shift and he hurriedly spoke. "Kat," he called hoarsely, "it's me. Nero."
A brief silence followed before several locks clanged open one after another. The door cracked halfway. Kat stared at the drenched figure standing outside. "Lord Nero!"
She threw the door ajar and bowed.
Nero barely acknowledged her, stumbling past and heading straight toward the fireplace. His teeth gritted uncontrollably.
From upstairs, Eve and Damson leaned over the railings of the stairs to peek at the person seated in their living room. Kat reprimanded them immediately, and they scurried off to their room.
A few minutes later she returned carrying a steaming cup of tea and a thick sheet which she draped carefully over Nero's shoulders. He had never appreciated warmth this deeply before. The heat from the cup warmed the freezing palm of his hands and when he swallowed the tea, the warmth spread slowly through his chest and stomach like life returning to a dying body.
"I'll prepare a bath for you," Kat said softly before leaving again.
Left alone beside the fire, Nero's thoughts spiraled. In The Punisher's den of flames, time made no sense. Had Ferns fallen while he was away? For how long though? Hours, days or perhaps weeks? Had another kingdom seized his father's throne? He beat his head. Had he made a bargain with the Devil only to realize too late that he had been deceived?
How was he supposed to serve both the Punisher and his people if they still live? These thoughts alone made his head ache.
Kat returned shortly afterward and informed him the bath was ready.
He followed her upstairs.
The room she brought him to was modest but neat. Folded clothes rested carefully atop the bed. A wooden table and chair sat in the corner with a lantern sitting on it.
Nero stepped into the bathing room. Candles, nearly melted down to their bases, flickered softly around the tub.
His clothes hit the floor.
The moment he dipped himself into the steaming water, a groan escaped his lips. It was a bit hotter than warm, but after everything he had endured, it felt perfect. It tingled against the wounds all around his body.
Later, after drying himself with a towel from the rack near the door, he dressed in the clothes Kat had prepared for him. He had barely buttoned his shirt when a knock sounded. "You may come in," he said. Kat entered carrying a tray with a covered bowl and a wooden cup of water. She set it carefully on the table.
He thanked her.
She hesitated near the doorway before turning back toward him. "Lord Nero…" she began. "…is he…?"
Nero tilted his head with a frown as if not comprehending what she meant. "Kyren?" he asked.
She nodded anxiously. "He's not here with you. He ought to be with you at all times, no?"
"He is safe," Nero replied simply. He watched her shoulder slump with relief. "What news is there of Ferns or me?"
"We have heard nothing for weeks." She answered. "Rumors spread through the villages. Some say you died. Others believe you were struck with some terrible illness. But no word ever came from the royal family."
"Weeks?" he repeated for certainty.
She nodded.
He thanked her again, and she left.
Nero sat at the table and uncovered the bowl. The smell of chicken broth filled the room instantly.
Only then did he realize how starving he truly was. He picked up the spoon from the tray and began scooping the broth in his mouth.
Morning came.
Nero stretched his limbs lazily across the bed. He stood up and walked shirtless towards the window. Sunlight shone brightly upon the damp earth.
He dressed quickly and headed downstairs, but the house was empty. At the back of the house, he heard chopping. There, he found Kat splitting logs.
"Beautiful morning, Lord Nero," she said with a smile. "Did you rest well?"
"wonderful," Nero nodded. "All thanks to you."
She laughed softly.
When he gestured for the axe, she refused at first, but eventually handed it over after he insisted.
Nero positioned a thick log upright and swung. The axe split clean through the wood in a single strike and the axe buried itself halfway into the large timber beneath.
Kat's jaw fell open.
Even Kyren would have needed several blows to split timber that thick.
Nero stared at the ruined log himself, briefly stunned by the force behind the strike. Then he laughed awkwardly. "The cold must have weakened it," he said.
Kat didn't look convinced.
"I'll prepare breakfast," she excused herself.
He lifted his shirt slightly and stared at the strange sigil burned into his chest. Whatever the Punisher had done to him, it could not possibly be good.
After finishing the woodcutting, Nero returned indoors. Throughout breakfast Kat watched him carefully, as though expecting him to suddenly transform into something monstrous. When the meal ended, he asked whether she had a horse he might borrow.
"There are two in the stable," she replied. "Take whichever you wish."
He also requested a black cloak.
In less than an hour, he bade her goodbye, galloping slowly away from the yard.
Though he deliberately chose the lonelier roads to avoid recognition, he still kept the hood pulled low over most part of his face. The path stretched out long, flanked by the forest.
He heard the sharp whistle of air cutting violently through leaves. It got closer and closer and then an arrow burst from the woods toward his chest. Nero caught it inches away from hitting him.
Two more followed immediately, and he caught those simultaneously.
He snarled.
Three men emerged from the trees armed with swords and a crossbow. "Down! Now!" one shouted.
Nero raised his hands as if to surrender before climbing off the horse.
The men hesitated.
"Give us the horse and whatever gold you carry," another demanded, "and we'll let you live."
"I'm sorry to disappoint, gentlemen but I have not a coin and I need this horse. My journey still unfolds thousands of miles ahead." He responded calmly.
"Bring the horse over here!"
"Come, take it." He took a step away from the horse, still holding unto the reigns but none of them would budge. He sighed. "If not, get out of my way." He attempted to mount the horse again.
One of them suddenly charged, swinging his sword. He missed the first and second strike. Nero caught the attacker's wrist with one hand and twisted just enough for him to drop the sword but he heard a cracking and the man screamed as bone tore through flesh near his forearm. The other two fled instantly into the woods while their partner collapsed to the ground clutching his ruined arm and writhing in agony.
Something inside of him changed. He could feel it shifting. The hunger that rumbled his stomach. An irresistible hunger. A smell he'd never thought he'd know of and crave.
As the blood dripped steadily down from the man's arm onto the dirt, everything around him darkened. He looked away, swallowing hard.
He mounted his horse, riding as fast as it would carry him.