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Chapter Text

The heavy lock on the dungeon door clicked audibly. The damp walls amplified the sound as the door was pushed open with a hoarse creak. Cobwebs swayed in the breeze. Ramón Salazar stepped through the old iron-reinforced wooden door followed by his two gigantic, cowl-wearing bodyguards striding behind him. Ramón's slight figure made them look even more menacing.
The air was damp and stuffy, permeated by a musty smell emanating from the rotten walls that was beyond a normal cellar smell.
With a haughty smile, Ramón stepped closer and ran his eyes over the figure sitting huddled on the stone bench in the single cell, her hands wrapped around her tightened legs. The dark, wavy hair slipped to one side, revealing a pale face that now turned towards the castellan of this castle.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” began Ramon in his high, almost sweet-sounding voice, which had a cutting undertone. “A little spy posing as one of our faithful to steal our secrets?” He clasped his hands behind his back.

Nicole forced herself to smile, her dark brown eyes sparkling defiantly. She had known it was dangerous to come here, but she hadn't expected to be discovered so quickly.

“My name is Nicole.” she said, trying hard to keep her voice calm and indifferent. She sat up straight, her feet touching the floor. The cult robe she had secretly stolen hung dirty and ragged on her.
“I was just looking for answers,” she finally said. “I've heard that Los Illuminados promise enlightenment. I wanted to know if it was true.”Ramon laughed softly and shook his head. “Liar. Your little masquerade brought you here, and now you will suffer the consequences. We here at Los Illuminados have no room for traitors or spies.”

Nicole stepped up to the bars and gripped the iron bars. One of the cowl-wearing bodyguards stepped forward and let out a low, rumbling sound, clacking his insect jaws and staring at her from those glowing eyes.
'The one with the red cowl has knocked me down, wiped the floor with me and dragged me into this cell,' Nicole thought tensely. She swallowed hard, but didn't back away. She knew there was little point in denying the facts.

“What are you going to do to me now?” she asked, looking the smaller man standing in front of her straight in the eyes, which had an unnaturally yellow iris color.

Ramon tilted his head slightly and looked at her with a gaze that wavered between amusement and contempt.
“That depends entirely on you, my dear. You could cooperate and tell us everything you know. Or you could remain silent and suffer the fate that awaits all those who dare to oppose us.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “And if I choose to remain silent?”

Ramón took a step closer in all his aristocratic elegance. His skin looked pale, streaked with cracks. Dark red painted lips curled into a smile, behind which his badly discolored teeth showed.

“Then I'm afraid your stay here will be very unpleasant. But perhaps we could make another arrangement. You give up your former life and join us.”
Nicole could feel the hint of danger and temptation in his words.
“And if I refuse?”

Ramón shrugged his shoulders. “Then you'll rot here, my dear. You have a choice.” He turned on the heel of his buckled shoes. Nicole could admire the golden embroidery on the hem of his coat. Just before he disappeared from the dungeon with his bodyguards, he turned to her again and said: “You can call me Ramón.”

The words hung in the air, and Nicole felt the noose tighten around her. She had to be careful to protect not only herself, but also her mission and the trust Mother Miranda had placed in her.
Ramon walked along the long corridor out of the dungeon, the soft rustling of the robes of his two servants Verdugo and Pesanta following behind him.

One of the followers had reported an incident, saying that a spy was hiding among them. Ramon had sent out his right hand and caught the mole.
After his first impression of the prisoner, Ramon thought. Far too fearless in a situation like this, the way she had looked him straight in the eye, but there had been no disgust, like with all the other tourists and people who had strayed here.

No matter what answer the prisoner gave, she would have to stay or die.

Chapter Text

The hours dragged on as Nicole sat in her cell, surrounded by the cold and the dim light of the old oil lamps on the walls. There was only one kind of gutter where she could relieve herself. The dripping of the water and the echo of the footsteps of the Los Illuminados followers mumbling to themselves outside in the corridor were her only companions. She had gone over her thoughts again and again, recalling Ramón's words and thinking about her options. But none of them were particularly promising.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar squeak of the heavy door again and her heartbeat quickened. She looked up and saw the door slowly open. The two cowl-wearing monsters, Ramón's bodyguards, stepped into the room, followed by a slim, tall figure in a black cowl, his face covered by the hood of a purple cloak. In one hand, this person held a staff full of writhing tentacles. Next to him stood Ramón, wearing his aristocratic disguise with its many frills, just like last time. Nicole could feel the tension in the air. This time it wasn't just Ramón who was visiting her.

The dark figure lifted his hood, revealing the face of a man, the charismatic and terrifying leader of the cult Los Iluminados. His eyes glittered in a strange light that was both reassuring and eerie at the same time. He stepped closer to Nicole, who looked at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“Nicole, isn't it?” Saddler's voice was calm and deep, but also firm and unyielding. “I am Osmund Saddler, prophet and leader of our community. So you are here to seek truth, enlightenment through the sacred body?”

Nicole nodded slowly without taking her eyes off Saddler. She had seen the cult leader from a distance before, but being so close to him now was something completely different. His presence was overwhelming and she felt goose bumps creeping up her spine.

“Los Iluminados can offer you just that,” Saddler continued. “All we ask is your loyalty and unconditional devotion.”

Nicole knew what those words meant. She had seen enough about the cult and its practices until she was caught and imprisoned. She knew that becoming a member of Los Iluminados meant surrendering to the influence of the Plagas - the parasitic organism that took control of a person's mind and body. She had seen what happened to those who harbored the Plagas. Most lost their identity completely, while others had literally lost their minds and the parasite became their new head.

“You want me to join your cult and have one of these...” Nicole indicated a spider shape with two hands, ”...put inside me?

Saddler nodded with a jovial smile. His piercing eyes glowed a pale blue. “It is a small price to pay for the power and knowledge you will receive. You'll be part of something bigger, Nicole. You'll never be alone again.”

Nicole glanced at Ramón, who was watching the scene from the shadows, his yellow eyes fixed intently on her. His demeanor was calm and composed, and she could see no sign of doubt or hesitation on his face. He seemed to fully support Saddler's words.

Saddler took a step back and looked at Nicole with a penetrating gaze. “Think about it. I'll give you time to make a decision.” With these words, he bowed slightly, then turned away and left the room. Ramón stayed behind, along with his bodyguards, who stayed in the background and looked at Nicole attentively. “Our lord and master, Lord Saddler, has hopefully been able to convince you to do the right thing, Nicole.” With these words, the castellan turned and left the dungeon with his followers.

The silence returned. Nicole sat motionless on her stone bench, thoughts racing in her head. She knew she had to make a decision, but she wasn't sure if she was prepared to pay the price Saddler was asking. After a while, she heard the familiar sound of the dungeon door again. Ramón entered, alone this time, and sat down on a wooden chair that he pulled out of a dark corner. He looked at her with his yellow eyes, his face expressionless.

“What do you think?” he finally asked.

Nicole hesitated to answer. “ But you are impatient, Ramón. I've seen what happens to those who have one of these Plaga inside them. They lose their heads, their identity. I'm afraid I won't be able to be myself anymore.”

Ramón nodded slowly, as if he understood her concerns. “The plaga is powerful, yes. But it is also the key to our enlightenment. We shed our weak bodies, Nicole. We become something greater.”

Nicole looked at him intently, trying to see something in his eyes that might give her a clue as to what he was really thinking. “Why are you so loyal to Saddler? Aren't you just another puppet controlled by him?”

Ramón smiled, but it was a cold, distant smile. “I'm not controlled, Nicole. I believe in what we're doing. I believe in the power of the Plagas and the vision of Lord Saddler. We are creating a new world, free from the constraints of the old.”

Nicole didn't know what to make of his words. She saw no signs of coercion or manipulation in Ramón's face. He seemed like he really believed in the cause, like he really thought the Plagas was the key to a better future, but a little too obsessed with it.

“You still have some time to think about it, Nicole”, Ramon finally said and stood up. “Think about the offer. But also think about what it means to stand alone against all of us.” With these words, her prison under the castle left, and Nicole was once again left alone.

Chapter Text

Nicole stared into the darkness. A perfect environment for her mutamycetes. Her thoughts whirled, caught between doubt and determination. Saddler's offer echoed in her head, a voice that would not be silenced.

A living Plaga...

That was what Miranda would want for further experimentation, a way to harness the power of the Iluminados cult for her own ends. Nicole was sure that a living Plaga could open up unimagined possibilities for Miranda. But what would the mutamycet, the fungus-like substance that rested in her body, do to the plaga if she absorbed it? Would it take her over completely, or would she be able to maintain control? No one knew about her little secret, not even Ramón or Saddler. The Plagas worshippers had no idea that she had already been blessed with something they had never heard of and whose effects no one knew.

Ramón often visited her in her cell after servants had brought her rations and food. She had also been given a blanket and a pillow, and a bucket. A little comfort, but still a prison cell. Each time Ramón brought one of his monsters to proudly demonstrate the power of the Plagas to Nicole. Once he showed her a mutant dog with a plaga sticking out of its back, its eyes red and glowing with madness. Another time he presented her with a man with long, metallic blades on his hands, his face completely disfigured and eyeless. And then there was a knight's armor inhabited by a plaga. The parasite used the armor as a kind of tank to move around in.

Each of these creatures was grotesque and terrifying, but fascinating at the same time. Nicole couldn't help but think of her own home, of the family she had left behind. Miranda and her “children”, the creatures she had created with the Mutamycet, were no less bizarre or powerful. Nicole laughed softly as she thought about it. “Just like home,” she muttered to herself as she watched one of the mutant dogs sniffing at the bars of her cell. She was here to gather information and find ways to best serve Mother Miranda.

Ramón watched her with an interested look, almost wondering what kind of monster she could be turning into. He couldn't read her mind, but he saw the curiosity and spark in her eyes. “There are many ways to join the cult,” he said as he looked at the mutant dog, who had sat down. “You could stay in control, Nicole. You could become one of our most powerful members.”

Nicole knew this was her chance. If she joined the cult, she would gain access to their secrets and technology, and she could transmit everything to Miranda. She would maintain her cover and remain the perfect spy. “I've made my decision,” she finally said, her voice firm and determined. “I want to join the cult.” Ramón smiled, his face lit by a satisfied expression. “Wisely chosen, Nicole. I will inform Lord Saddler. You won't regret it.”

When Ramón left the dungeon, Nicole felt relieved. She had made a decision that could help both her and Mother Miranda. But at the same time, she knew she had to be careful. The Plaga was a powerful parasite, and she had to make sure she could control it before it controlled her. But she was willing to take that risk to accomplish her mission.

Chapter Text

Nicole's thoughts swirled around what was about to happen. She had been given a new, clean robe, but they still hadn't let her out of the cell.

'Of course they want to make sure I don't run away after all,' Nicole thought bitterly.

The coldness of the dungeon was no longer just physical; she also felt an inner coldness that came from the decision she had made.

The heavy door of the cell opened again and Ramón entered, followed by a man in a white lab coat. The man introduced himself as Luis Serra. He was tall, dark-haired, with a charming smile and a slightly mocking demeanor. His appearance reminded Nicole of the typical gigolo type who had a little too much self-confidence and was all too aware of his effect on women. Luis grinned at her, an expression that was somewhere between cheeky and seductive.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Nicole,” Luis said with a clear Spanish accent. “I hope you're ready for your transformation.” 'As if this were a self-discovery trip,' Nicole thought, annoyed.

Nicole looked at Ramón, who was standing silently by, his yellow eyes fixed on Luis. It was clear that he was not particularly impressed by Luis' appearance. Luis pulled a syringe from his pocket, which contained a liquid with a single Plagas egg. You could actually see the little round, transparent thing. “And now pull up your robe and bend forward,” Luis grinned.

Nicole raised her eyebrows when the scientist glanced at her hips and his grin widened. She didn't know whether to laugh or feel uncomfortable. As she reached for the hem of her new robe, Ramón intervened indignantly: “Enough, Señor Serra!” he said cuttingly to the scientist and turning to Nicole with an apologetic tone in his voice: “It's done in the neck,” pointing to his with his finger.

Ramón watched the whole thing with narrowed eyes as Luis applied the needle and injected her with the Plaga. Nicole felt a stinging sensation, then it was over. After pulling out the syringe, Luis stepped back and bowed slightly to her. “Welcome to the family, Nicole. I'm sure you'll have lots of new experiences here.”

She could see that Ramón looked annoyed. He seemed to be wavering between jealousy and embarrassment. Nicole had to stifle a laugh as she noticed Ramón trying to swallow his anger while scowling at Luis as he left the dungeon. The door closed heavily behind the scientist and the silence of the dungeon returned. Ramón turned to Nicole and looked at her with an expression that showed a mixture of regret and anger. “I apologize for his behavior,” Ramon finally said. “He's not directly part of the cult, but he's working on research into the Plagas. Sometimes he oversteps the bounds of decency.”

Nicole shrugged, stroking her fingers over the injection site. “That's all right. He did his job, that's all.” She eyed Ramón curiously and wondered why he was showing such emotion. “Why is that so important to you, Ramón? His manner really seems to bother you.”

Ramón hesitated for a moment before answering. “Luis is a necessary evil. He's talented, but his character leaves a lot to be desired. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while you were here.”

Nicole nodded, although she sensed that Ramón felt more than he was letting on. 'Maybe there's more to it than just worrying about science,' she thought. Nevertheless, she dropped the subject and concentrated on the impending change in her body.

“How long will it take for the Plaga to develop?” asked Nicole, her voice composed.

“It will take a little while for the first signs to become visible”, Ramón explained. ”Until then, I'll be checking in on you often to make sure everything is going well.”

The next few hours passed in a mixture of tension and fear. Nicole could feel the Plaga's presence in her body, like a quiet whisper inside her. She knew that this was just the beginning, but she couldn't predict how it would all turn out.

Chapter Text

The first signs that the Plaga was developing in Nicole were not long in coming. Black veins, which appeared like fine nets under her skin, and her eyes, which slowly took on a reddish, threatening color, were the first symptoms of the growing parasite. But while Nicole watched these changes with a mixture of concern and fascination, she couldn't help but notice the expression on Ramón's face. He had visited her three times and could barely conceal his impatience.

Nicole had stretched her arm through the bars and rolled up her sleeve. Ramón stroked his fingers over the areas where the vein network was clearly visible. Nicole felt his cold touch, but didn't flinch. He was exceptionally gentle.

His yellow eyes shone with secret excitement. He could hardly hide it; the idea of Nicole transforming into one of the creatures so sacred to the cult seemed to send him into a joyous tizzy. It was as if he was proud of his role in her transformation, as if he saw her not only as an ally, but also as something precious.

After he let go of her arm, he unlocked her cell. The cold stone floor beneath her bare feet sent a shiver down her spine. Ramón led her through the dungeon and the dark corridors of his castle, always accompanied by his two monstrous bodyguards. The creatures, clad in their typical cowls, followed them at a leisurely pace, careful to match the steps of their master and their escort.

They finally reached a large hall. The windows were covered with heavy, dark curtains that did not let in any light from outside, but one could sense that night had fallen. The only sources of light in the room were numerous candles, their flickering flames bathing the room in a gloomy, almost ritualistic light. The faint smell of burnt wax and something metallic hung in the air. The atmosphere was charged, as if the room itself sensed the significance of what was about to happen.

At the edges of the hall stood figures in long, black robes, their faces hidden deep under their hoods. They murmured soft prayers, homages to the Plagas, and their voices blended into an eerie, polyphonic choir. Nicole felt a knot forming in her stomach, but she didn't let it show. She knew that she couldn't show any weakness at this moment. She walked through the hall at Ramón's side. Everything felt so magical and unholy at the same time.

Ramon led her to a stone altar in the middle of the room. The altar was old, marked by time and rituals. Strange symbols were engraved in its stone, the meaning of which Nicole did not know. Ramón stepped in front of the altar and took a metal chalice from its surface. The vessel was ornately decorated, engraved with symbols of the Illuminados and a dark glow that sparkled ominously in the candlelight.

“Drink,” Ramon said in a low, almost reverent voice as he handed her the goblet. “This black liquid will accelerate the connection between you and the Plaga. It will help you to complete the transformation faster and bind you even more closely to the cult.”

Nicole accepted the vessel with a feverish expression. She could feel the Plaga inside her, trying to anchor itself into her flesh. The liquid in the drinking vessel was oily and black, like ink or tar, and it reminded her of the mutamycete that lived inside her, the thing that had moved Miranda to accept her into her specially created “family.” But this time it was different. This was not her familiar mold, but something completely alien, with an unknown outcome. She had chosen it, and now she had to get through this part of the ritual if she wanted to maintain her cover.

Without another word, Nicole lifted the cup to her lips and drank the liquid in one gulp. It tasted bitter and metallic, and as the liquid ran down her throat, she felt something stirring inside her. The plaga reacted immediately to the substance, as if greeting her. A sharp pain flared up in her stomach, as if something was tearing inside her, but Nicole didn't let it show. She had already endured worse. She fought the urge to curl up and kept her expression neutral as the pain slowly subsided.

Ramón watched her closely, his gaze watchful and full of expectation. When the chalice was empty, he took it from her hands and placed it back on the altar. “And now?” Nicole asked, her voice slightly hoarse, but nevertheless composed and careful not to throw up in front of everyone.

Ramon took a step closer and a satisfied smile crossed his lips.

“Now you belong to us, my love,” he said softly but firmly and stroked her cheek once tenderly.

“You are now part of something bigger, something eternal. The Plaga will make you stronger, give you power like you could never have imagined. Soon you will understand the true meaning of devotion and loyalty.”

Nicole nodded without saying another word, but inside her mind was working at full speed. 'There's no way of running away yet', she thought, 'but I have to stay strong, I have to keep playing my part until the right moment comes'. She slightly regretted having to leave this place and, above all, Ramón. But not just yet.

Chapter Text

The muffled murmur of the cowled men grew quieter as Nicole was led through the massive stone corridors of the castle. The words they whispered in a strange language echoed in her head, mingling with the restless thoughts already raging inside her. Ramón walked by her side, his yellow eyes gliding over her attentively. His two monstrous bodyguards, clad in heavy robes, followed them like silent, menacing shadows.

Nicole felt a tingling sensation under her skin. Her Mutamyzet and the newly implanted Plaga seemed to be wrapped around each other. It was as if there was a relentless battle going on inside her that only she could feel. Nicole appeared more composed on the outside than she felt on the inside. She could feel the cold stone floor beneath her bare feet and the icy sensation distracted her a little.

Ramón led them through an archway into a quieter part of the castle, far away from the cold, damp dungeons. The walls here were adorned with heavy tapestries depicting scenes of ancient rituals and stories of times long past. Candlesticks lit the way, casting flickering shadows that seemed to move like living creatures in the dark corners. Portraits of people who had long since turned to dust in their graves looked down on them proudly, sadly, bored, dreamily or seriously. The pictures were interspersed with taxidermy and ornamental weapons with shields.

“You're particularly quiet today, Nicole.” Ramón's voice was almost gentle as he gave her a cursory glance. He stopped in front of a solid wooden door, its surface crisscrossed with intricate decorations. “We have prepared a room for you. A place where you can relax.”

Nicole nodded weakly and tried to ignore the pain that jerked through her body with every movement. Ramón noticed her discomfort and paused, his yellow eyes fixed on her face as he looked up at her. Despite his small stature, he exuded an uncanny authority that reminded her that he was the master in this castle.

“You're not letting me out of your sight, are you?” Nicole asked, a pained smile on her lips as she tried to hide her inner turmoil.

Ramón opened the door and returned her smile with an expression that seemed almost friendly. “It's my duty to protect you. After all, you are now a valuable part of our cult.”

Nicole followed him into the room, and when she entered, she realized that it was much more comfortable than the cell in which she had previously been held captive. A large bed with heavy velvet covers stood in the middle of the room, flanked by an ornate bedside table and a desk. Thick carpets muffled her footsteps and a fireplace in the corner of the room cast a warm, soothing light.

“Are you in pain?” Ramón's voice was penetrating, but not without a hint of concern. Nicole felt the sharp pain coursing through her body as the two beings inside her collided once more. She hesitated before shaking her head with an effort. “No... nothing I couldn't bear.”

Ramón tilted his head slightly to one side and eyed her carefully. “Most people writhe on the ground in pain when the plaga starts to grow inside them and digs deep into their flesh.” There was a brief glint of sadistic pleasure in Ramón's eyes.

Nicole gritted her teeth, forcing herself to ignore the pain and maintain her façade. She couldn't show any weakness - not now, when so much was at stake.

“I... will get through it,” she replied quietly, her voice a mere whisper in the silence of the room, interrupted only by the crackling of the fireplace.

Ramón stepped closer and Nicole could feel him trying to see through her façade. The light from the flames made his gaze seem almost insane. Finally, he placed a hand on her forearm, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I know you'll make it and the sacred body will be yours too. Until then, I won't let you out of my sight.”

Without another word, he closed the door behind him with a bow and left her alone. Nicole waited until the footsteps outside had faded before throwing herself onto the bed. The painful mixture of mutamycet and plaga raged inside her. She curled up and pulled her knees to her chest as she tried to endure the waves of pain racing through her body. She rested her forehead on her knees and closed her eyes.

Eventually, even the worst of the pain subsided and exhaustion overcame her. Her eyelids became heavy and before she could stop it, she slipped into a deep, restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Nicole woke up from a restless sleep, her dreams filled with shadows and whispering voices that left her no peace. When she opened her eyes, her breathing was shallow and rapid, as if the darkness of her nightmares had carried her into reality. Her hands reflexively reached for the comforter. She wanted to make sure she was really awake. Her gaze slid down her arm.

She realized with a shock that her whole body was covered in a strange oily, black layer. There was a metallic taste on her tongue, and as she carefully licked her forearm, she recognized the familiar taste of her mutamycete. Damn, she thought, no one must notice this. 'Maybe they'll think it's some Plagas transformation thing, if I'm lucky.

Nicole tried to remain calm while her heart hammered in her chest. With trembling hands, she reached for the hem of her sleeve and began frantically wiping the black substance from her skin. But it wasn't just on her skin - it had also spread to her robe and the bedspread. The stains looked like an oil tanker disaster had taken place. Her mind raced. The room suddenly seemed tighter and the smell of the oily metallic sheen hung heavy in the air.

Nicole desperately searched for a solution. She jumped out of bed and ran into the adjoining tiny bathroom. But to her displeasure, she only found a small washbasin there, which didn't help her in this situation. With no other options, she began to wash herself as best she could, repeatedly catching the familiar smell of mutamycete, which reminded her of her fragile facade.

After she had cleaned herself, Nicole paced restlessly up and down the room. Her mind was working feverishly. She thought about burning everything in the fireplace, but when she went to the hearth, she found that the fire had gone out and the ashes lay cold and useless inside. Cursing, she paused. Her back suddenly began to itch like crazy. But strangely, she was no longer in pain. The parts inside her seemed to have come together better.

A soft knock made her flinch and the door opened slowly. Ramón stepped inside. His yellow eyes looked at her intently, but not unkindly. He noticed the stains on her robe and the dark shadow on the bedspread.

“Are you all right?” Ramón asked, his voice imbued with a care that made Nicole almost uncomfortable.

“Yes”, Nicole replied quickly, ”I think it's just... a side effect of the Plaga.” She forced herself to smile faintly as she hoped Ramón wouldn't question the true origins of the stains any further.

Ramón nodded and called a servant over to replace the bedspread. He watched the scene with a worried expression and finally decided: “Come on, I'll take you to another room. You can clean yourself up there in peace.”

Nicole followed him, always accompanied by his monstrous bodyguards, who glided through the corridors like dark shadows. The new room was just as sumptuous as the last one, with a large bath that the servants filled with hot water. Ramón pointed to the bathtub. “Relax, Nicole. I'll leave you in peace.”

She nodded gratefully and waited until Ramón closed the door behind him. Then she hastily removed her stained robe and sank into the warm water. The warmth enveloped her like a warm blanket. The itching was temporarily relieved. For a moment, she let herself be lulled by the soothing heat and closed her eyes. 'What have I let myself in for,' Nicole sighed and dived under the soothing surface of the water.

'I just hope I don't fall out of the Plagas frame too much. That would be really embarrassing...'

When she had finished, she found a new, clean robe that had been carefully laid out for her. Nicole sighed and slipped into the soft, yet eerily familiar fabrics. No sooner had she finished dressing than the door opened and two Los Illuminados followers, dressed in the usual long robes, entered to fetch her. Nicole gritted her teeth. 'I really am never left alone... it's almost annoying,' she thought as she followed the servants.

She didn't know where she was being taken, but she had no choice but to go along. As they crossed a long corridor, one side of which was lined with tall Gothic windows, Nicole noticed a movement on the wall. A spider-like plaga crawled nimbly along the wall like a shadow, its many legs clicking softly on the stone, before leaping onto one of the servants and clinging to his back. Thin tentacles dug into his temples. The servant barely reacted except for a jerky sway, which then changed back to balance. He just kept walking as if nothing had happened.

Nicole stared at the servant, whose face suddenly seemed even more enraptured, while the parasite clung to his back. 'Seems perfectly normal here,' she tried to ignore the itch in her back that reminded her that the same horror was lurking inside her.

Finally, they stopped in front of a large, double-leaf, ornate door. Ramón opened the wings of the doors. Nicole abruptly stopped scratching herself and looked from the servant to Ramón. Behind him was a large dining room, hung with all kinds of old paintings, illuminated by heavy chandeliers whose warm light bathed the room in golden tones that reflected off the gilded trim. In the center was an elongated table made of solid wood, richly set with the most delicious dishes.

“Please, sit down”, Ramón pointed to a place at the table. Nicole sat down while one of the servants adjusted the chair for her and noticed that Ramón sat down opposite her.

“I don't suppose anyone else is coming to dinner?” Nicole asked as she surveyed the richly laid table. No other chairs had been set out.

“No, just the two of us. Do you like it?” Ramon sounded almost excited and tilted his head a little to one side as he watched her reaction.

“Yes, Ramón, thank you. It all looks delicious”, Nicole made an effort to hide her growing unease. ‚Like this is my last meal.‘

“Go ahead, have what you want,” Ramon said with a warm smile when she made no move to help herself. Nicole wondered if he was really just a loyal follower of the cult or if there was more to him than he was letting on.

With mixed feelings, she reached for one of the dishes and began to eat, while the shadows of the room thickened around her, reinforcing the feeling that she was trapped in a world she could barely see through. Ramón smiled at her when she crossed his gaze. Even though no words passed between them, he enjoyed her presence.

Chapter Text

After the delicious meal, Ramón took Nicole on a tour of part of his castle to show her more of his magnificent world. The darkness outside was muted by the high, lead-framed windows, while the chandeliers on the walls bathed the old walls in a warm but eerie light. Nicole enjoyed Ramón's undivided attention, although her thoughts remained alert at all times. She memorized every corridor, every turn and every hidden detail in case she needed this knowledge one day.

When they finally arrived outside her room, Luis Serra was already waiting there. The scientist was leaning casually against the wall, an amused smile on his lips, as if he had been there for a long time and had been waiting for her return.

“Señor Serra,” Ramón began with unmistakable disapproval in his voice, ”what brings you here?”

Luis, unimpressed, pushed away from the wall and took a step towards Nicole. “I need to examine Señorita Nicole a little. That's best done in her room. I promise it won't take long.”

Ramón's eyes narrowed to slits and his lips pressed together before he replied with a hiss: “Just five minutes, Señor Serra!” He made it clear that this decision went against his will. Luis closed the door in his face with a grin.

As soon as they were alone, Luis dropped his charming façade. He pulled a small plastic container out of his smock pocket and held it in front of Nicole's nose. “We don't have much time, so I'll get straight to the point”, he began in an insistent voice. Nicole took a quick look at the jar and immediately recognized the part of her mutamycete that was growing inside. Her insides tightened. So this had actually been taken from her clothes? Nicole just shrugged her shoulders in the small hope of coming across as clueless and crossed her arms in front of her. “Someone must have left their food in the fridge for too long.”

Luis was not fooled. “That's from your clothes. The oily stuff. You must have noticed it. And it has nothing to do with the Plagas. I got rid of your dirty clothes and didn't tell anyone. Not yet...”

“How kind of you,” Nicole replied, ignoring his veiled threat to blow the whistle, trying to suppress her rising panic. The itch in her back returned with a vengeance and she began to scratch it restlessly.

“Let me see,” Luis said, making an inviting gesture. Hesitantly, Nicole turned around and slowly slid the robe down over her shoulders, but only far enough for him to catch a glimpse. Luis gently brushed her hair to the side to better see the black lines on her skin.

“Oh my goodness!” Luis murmured as he touched the raised, black lines. They formed a stylized sign of the Illuminados that stretched across her back like an ominous tattoo. “So this must be your plaga”, he whispered almost reverently.

Nicole swallowed dryly. “Is that... normal?”

Before Luis could answer, the plaga moved under his touch, and Nicole felt something inside her squirm, as if her plaga didn't like Luis' touch at all.

“What are you doing!” Ramon's cutting voice broke the silence. The door had opened quietly and Ramón was now standing in the room, his yellow eyes glittering with suppressed rage. The scene before him - Luis running his fingers over Nicole's bare skin - was too much for the castellan.

Luis quickly withdrew his hand and put the plastic jar back in his pocket. “Just a little follow-up, Ramón”, Luis tried to reassure him, but Ramón could not be calmed. The jealousy and anger burning inside him made him storm into the room.

Nicole hastily pulled the robe back up and turned around, unsure whether Ramón had seen anything that could jeopardize her cover.

“She's mine!” Ramón shouted, his voice trembling with possessiveness and wounded pride. Luis raised his hands placatingly as if to calm the waves. Nicole's body suddenly began to tremble. A sharp pain shot through her head and she doubled over, pressing her hands to her temples. An agonizing sound escaped her lips before everything around her went black.

Before she could sink to the floor, Luis reacted with lightning speed and caught her. He picked her up and laid her gently on the bed. Ramón, who was torn between worry and anger, waved angrily as Luis leaned over to take a closer look at Nicole.

“Get out of here!” Ramón shouted hysterically at the scientist. “I'll take care of her!”

Luis grinned insolently as he slowly backed away. “As you wish, Señor Salazar”, he said and disappeared through the door with one last mischievous look. Luis knew how much Ramón hated his surname.

Ramón sat down next to Nicole and gently stroked her cheek. His eyes had gone all glassy. His lips were trembling. Her breathing was calm and regular. “You're mine,” he whispered softly as his gaze rested on her, like a guardian over a treasure that was more important to him than anything else.

Chapter Text

Nicole woke up in a daze with a dull headache that pounded through her forehead like a thudding pulse. Her body felt heavy, and as she tried to get her bearings, she realized that she was half-sitting up, leaning against the soft pillow in her bed. Her breathing was shallow. She realized that a weight was resting on her stomach.

She looked down through her half-closed eyes and recognized Ramón, who was curled up next to her on the bed in full aristocratic garb. His slender body lay snuggled up close to her. His head rested on the middle of her body, his face turned towards her. His eyes were closed and his gray-white hair lay in loose strands across his forehead. Nicole felt a moment of peace when she saw how vulnerable he looked at that moment. The cruel castellan of this gloomy castle lay here, so vulnerable and calm, so close to her.

With a gentle, almost unconscious movement, Nicole stroked his tear-stained cheek. Her fingers slid through his gray mop of hair, then along the edge of his ear. It was a tender touch that she hadn't been able to hold back, but when she noticed that Ramón had opened his eyes and was watching her silently, she withdrew her hand in surprise.

Ramón smiled gently and held her forearm tightly. “Nicole, my dear, you don't need to hold back.” His voice was soft, almost tender. He took her hand and gently placed it back on his cheek, as if to encourage her not to interrupt the budding connection between them. The warmth of his skin seeped through her fingers and she felt a gentle tremor run through his body as he pushed himself up.

Nicole's hand slid over his neck. She noticed the pale bloodstains that had discolored the white of his frilled shirt over time. She could guess that this was one of the side effects of his plaga, which was changing him from the inside out.

A thought flashed in her mind, like a dark secret trying to reach the surface: 'I could help him,' she thought, feeling the telltale tingling sensation emanating from her back and crawling down her spine. A symbiosis with her mutamycete could perhaps save Ramón from the terrible effects of his own plaga. But before she could pursue this thought further, perhaps revealing more than she wanted to, she gently pulled Ramón towards her. She placed her hands on his pale cheeks and kissed him tenderly on his thin, painted lips.

The tingling continued to run through her back and crawled along her spine like an electric wave. Nicole could feel how much this kiss touched him. Ramón's heart beat faster, his eyes searched hers. Despite his grotesque appearance, Nicole was not deterred. On the contrary, she looked at him with a tenderness that was previously foreign to him. There was a warmth in her gaze that he had never seen in anyone else. It was a moment of closeness that almost took his breath away.

When she released the kiss, the tingling along her spine had subsided again, but part of it remained, like a faint echo of his feelings inside her. Nicole had a hunch. She had to try again. “You... You're really kissing me...” Ramón's words were little more than a whisper. Nicole could hear the incredulous amazement in them.

Ramón closed his eyes and pressed himself closer to her as she placed her lips on his again. Nicole felt his slender hands around her waist. He pressed against her carefully, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong. A slight smile flitted across her lips as she realized how awkward he was at that moment. Ramón was inexperienced in these things, she could feel it. At first, he hadn't even opened his lips properly, and it was only when Nicole gently stroked his lips with her tongue that he understood how to return the kiss. He let her guide him and enjoyed the way the tip of Nicole's tongue gently stroked his.

But there it was again, that tingling in her back, stronger than before. Nicole was now convinced that Ramón had somehow managed to transfer his emotions to her plaga, which then reacted to her nervous system. It was a connection that went beyond the purely physical, a strange symbiosis between her two inner parasites.

When she broke the kiss again, Nicole looked him straight in the eye. “Ramón”, she whispered softly, ”I think you gave me that swoon.” She saw his eyes widen in confusion and shock. Ramón pulled back slightly and hastily explained, “You... you didn't get a simple plaga, Nicole. It's a dominant variety... one like I have. The connection consists more of commands that you can send to others, who then carry out those commands.”

'Then my mutamycet and my plaga must have formed a weird connection,' she thought to herself, wondering at the same time if she could do the same with Ramón, or perhaps even with other plagas. 'And then let's get out of here...'

„It's nice to know that you're all right, my love“, Ramón whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. He kissed her deeply once more before sliding off the bed and leaving her room to let her rest.

Nicole was left alone, the fire in the fireplace had been restoked while she had been unconscious. She turned to the side, her gaze lost in the flickering flames. “My love”, she whispered softly with a twinge in the pit of her stomach as she thought of her planned escape. Then she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Nicole was surprised when Ramón appeared at her door with a new gift. He was holding an elegant robe in his hands, the colors and patterns of which resembled his own wardrobe. The robe had an elegant color gradient from deep blue to a rich black, the hems and edges were decorated with golden stripes. The elaborate plant ornamentation, which also adorned

Ramón's coat, ran elegantly along the edges of the fabric. This time, Ramón had even added underwear and black, supple leather shoes. Ramón waited patiently outside the door while Nicole changed. The cotton underwear clung warmly to her skin and the shoes fitted perfectly. When she signaled that she was ready, he opened the door and stepped inside. He looked her over from head to toe with a broad, admiring smile.

“Look at you, what a feast for the eyes!” His voice sounded full of pride and admiration. Then he pulled a small jewelry box out of his coat pocket and opened it reverently in front of Nicole with a slight bow. Inside was a magnificent amulet with the Los Illuminados symbol made of gold and precious stones, artfully arranged around the small, stylized plaga legs.

“I had it made from an old family heirloom,” Ramón explained quietly. Nicole carefully took the amulet in her hand and looked at it. She was deeply moved by the fine craftsmanship and the meaning behind it.

“You sacrificed some of your family treasure for me?” Her voice was little more than a whisper, laced with honest wonder.

Ramón nodded. “You are worth more to me than a dusty Salazar coat of arms. Now it's become something sacred - for my treasure.” He meant Nicole, of course. This generous gesture touched her deeply and she embraced him wholeheartedly.

Ramón placed the amulet around her neck with gentle care. The robe was cut in such a way that the piece of jewelry was perfectly accentuated. As he took her hand, Nicole felt a familiar, gentle tingling along her spine, caused by the reaction of her plaga. Ramón's satisfied smile showed that he knew she could sense what he was feeling and it made him happy inside.

That day, Ramón took her to a part of the castle that she had never seen before. They walked through an open corridor that led to a round building, which Ramón described as a dance hall. The outer façade of the building was overgrown with golden yellow, tree fungus-like sponges or honeycombs, which immediately caught Nicole's eye.

“What's that?” Nicole asked curiously, pointing at the strange plants.

“I'll show you,” Ramón replied and gently led her by the hand through the archway into the round building, always followed by his two loyal bodyguards. A loud, humming sound filled the air as they entered. The “dance hall” turned out to be a breeding ground for gigantic winged insects, far removed from human proportions. They buzzed on the ceiling or sat on the walls and on the floor. Their presence was both frightening and fascinating at the same time. The hall was littered with debris and there was a large gaping hole in the middle, showing that the floor below had collapsed. Some of the “debris” turned out to be perfectly camouflaged insects.

Ramón let go of her hand while Nicole carefully approached one of the insects. She stretched out a hand. The creature that approached her stood up in front of her. Ramón watched her carefully. The insect let Nicole touch it and she carefully stroked its shimmering wings, which shone in faint rainbow colors. Picment cells pulsed under its skin, similar to an sepia.

“We call them 'Novistadores' because they can camouflage themselves”, Ramón explained proudly. “They build those yellow honeycombs you saw outside.”

The Novistador suddenly took off and flew up to the ceiling, buzzing with the others. Nicole raised her arms and spun around under the whirring creatures, a smile on her lips. “How cool is that?”

When she stopped, Ramón was right in front of her. He hugged her gently at waist height and looked her in the eye. Nicole put her arms around his shoulders and felt not only the familiar tingling sensation, but also a burgeoning warmth elsewhere.

'Oh, Ramón', she thought, her cheeks turning red, 'what are we thinking about?

She took a deep breath and asked him where we were going next.

Ramón reluctantly released his embrace, took her hand in his again and bowed slightly before leading her further through the castle.

Chapter Text

After they had left the dance hall with the Novistadores, Ramón led Nicole to a round of pillars that looked both impressive and ominous from the outside. Behind it was a lowered drawbridge made of old wood that led to a gloomy building half-built into the rock of a mountain. The castle seemed deeply connected to the natural elements, as if it had grown together with its surroundings.

As they stepped over the drawbridge, Nicole felt a cool breeze blowing through the narrow openings of the walls. The wind seemed to howl through the old stone walls. A feeling of awe and unease mingled in her heart.

Inside, a large, gloomy hall revealed itself to them, with an imposing circular hole in the floor at its center. Unlike the dance hall, this hole was deliberately built into the architecture and seemed to lead into an impenetrable, dark depth from which the soft dripping of water echoed. Ramón carefully guided Nicole along the edge of the abyss, while the ominous echo of her footsteps echoed through the hall.

At the other end of the hall, some steps rose up, leading to an imposing large piece of furniture. The floor in front of the throne was covered with long, deep red carpets. Ramón's bodyguards remained silent and watchful at the entrance, their shining eyes like silent witnesses to the events to come.

Nicole climbed the steps at Ramón's side, feeling the cool stonework under her fingertips as she stroked one of the pillars and listened to the soft, hollow sound the wind made in the high room. Faint daylight fell through the high windows and bathed the room in a subdued twilight. Candelabras provided flickering light that further emphasized the gloomy atmosphere.

As they moved closer to the throne, Nicole noticed three large portraits hanging on the walls near the throne. The pictures were set in elaborately carved frames and radiated a gloomy, almost melancholy aura.

“That's you”, Nicole said quietly, pointing to the picture on the wall to their left. The portrait showed a younger Ramón, in fine aristocratic clothes, the same ones he still wore, with a gentle, almost thoughtful look. The same hairstyle with the gray hair and yellow eyes.

Ramón smiled faintly. “Well met, isn't it?” Nicole nodded with a smile, but her eyes wandered curiously to the other portraits. Ramón pointed to the picture immediately to the left, if you stood in front of it, next to the throne. It depicted a noble woman with soft features, dark hair and a melancholy expression. Her eyes radiated a deep sadness.

“That's my mother, Catalina Salazar”, Ramón explained quietly. Then he pointed to the picture to the right of the throne. It showed a stern-looking man with a goatee, his face marked by a hint of hardness and severity. “And this is my father, Diego Salazar.”

Nicole immediately noticed the difference in the decoration around it. In front of his mother's picture were two large vases with lush flowers that had obviously been lovingly tended. In front of his father's portrait, on the other hand, stood a single vase, the contents of which had long since dried up. A dagger had been plunged deep into the painted face of Ramón's father, imprinting the portrait with a hint of anger and vengeance.

Ramón followed Nicole's gaze and paused briefly when he saw the dagger. “My father never loved me and made me feel it at every opportunity. If it hadn't been for my mother, I probably wouldn't still be around.” His voice sounded bitter, but also full of determination. He stepped closer to his mother's picture, hands clasped behind his back, and looked up at her in awe. “She begged Lord Saddler to help save me.”

Nicole stood next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ramón's eyes wandered from the portrait of his mother to her. “I was a very sickly child,” he continued, “but our Lord saved me and gave me strength through the holy body.” A fanatical fire flared in his eyes as he said this. “And you, Nicole, now carry that strength within you as well.”

Nicole felt a cold hand wrap around her heart. “What happened to your parents, Ramón?” she asked cautiously.

“My mother left this world soon afterwards”, he replied quietly, ”she didn't want to accept our Lord's blessing, not even when she was dying. My father stopped her!” Anger flashed in his voice, but a sadistic grin crossed his lips as he continued, “Our Lord took care of him.” He left out the details, but Nicole could imagine what he meant. A cold shiver ran down her spine. There were really deep chasms opening up, deeper than the hole in the ground.

Ramón finally led her to his throne, an impressive seat made of dark wood, decorated with soft red leather upholstery on the backrest and seat. The golden coat of arms of the Salazar family, a proud stag surrounded by a smaller eagle and a dolphin, was emblazoned on the wall behind the throne. The figure of the stag was repeated on the armrests, where two small stag heads were artistically carved out of wood. The throne was perfectly tailored to Ramón's small stature, at least in terms of height. Ramón could easily have sat on the seat twice side by side.

And there it was again, that familiar tingling sensation that spread from her back and filled her senses. This time it was stronger, deeper, and it made Nicole blush.

“Sit down, my love”, Ramón breathed in a soft voice. Nicole sat down on the throne, the velvety cushion nestling comfortably against her back. She now had to look up at Ramón, who was standing in front of her. “Do... do you feel me?” he asked softly, his voice trembling slightly.

Nicole smiled at him and nodded: “I know what you want.” Ramón stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face. She felt his hot breath on her lips as he whispered, “Do you want me?” His voice betrayed both uncertainty and desire. The moment that followed was more intimate than they had ever experienced together before.

“Yes”, came the quiet, gasping reply. Inside her, Nicole's plaga and her mutamycet responded in unison with her physical arousal. Nicole's heart began to beat faster. There was no more restraint from either side, the walls broke under the sheer pleasure.

Ramón kissed Nicole vigorously. This time it was he who parted Nicole's lips with his tongue and played with her tongue. Her hands wandered along his back and she felt the fabric of his coat under her fingers. She let him take the lead.

When Ramón released the kiss, a thread of saliva briefly connected their two mouths until it broke in two. Ramón brushed the saliva from Nicole's lips with his thumb. His black nail polish shone in the candlelight. Ramón's lipstick color had smeared her mouth red. She looked at him so devotedly with her deep dark eyes that he almost lost himself in them.

He went down on his knees in front of her reverently and pushed the hem of her robe up over her thighs. Her breathing quickened a little, her chest rose and fell excitedly beneath the fabric. Her golden Los Illuminados pendant glittered in the light.

Ramón slipped his hands under her robe and pulled at the hem of her underpants. Nicole braced herself with her arms and lifted her bottom so that he could pull her underpants over her thighs and remove them completely. She pushed her robe higher, slid further forward and wedged one leg behind the stag's head on one of the armrests.

He touched her inner thighs somewhat awkwardly as she spread her legs further apart. Her flower belonged only to him. She leaned back, one of her arms resting on the armrest, the other hand resting on her thigh, the flesh of which pressed up against the stag's head. “Go ahead, Ramón”, Nicole smiled, ”I'm yours.”

Ramón leaned forward and kissed her stomach and kissed his way down to her mons veneris. Nicole sighed with a moan and bit her lips as he parted her labia with his tongue and reached her pearl. Ramón had hit the right spot, which he had studied in detail in various anatomy books. His heart raced when he realized that she really liked it. He circled her clitoris with his tongue. It became really slippery and wet between her vertical lips. And she tasted so good.

He could feel his erection, hot and pulsating, pressing almost painfully against his pants, which had become too tight. Nicole pushed him away from her vulva with the hands she had placed on his shoulders and said, “Fuck me”. Ramón grinned and nodded excitedly, looking her in the eyes, then directly over her wonderful nakedness and shiny labia.

Still on his knees, he fumbled his pants open and pulled them down right along with his underpants. His penis stood straight up and pointed to Nicole's center. She motioned for him to come closer, very close.

It was his first time. He had mentally prepared himself, but when he slowly pushed her vagina apart with the tip and pushed his shaft deep into her wet tightness, he had to stop. His heart was racing and he almost came. Nicole waited patiently, panting. He felt so full inside her, despite his size. She had realized that he had almost shot the pit out of the cherry and held still, although she would have liked to move.

She gasped with surprise as he grabbed her thighs and thrust. She felt Ramón twice, once down inside her and once over her plaga in her back. Shivers came over her in waves. It became more intense with each of his thrusts. Each time she moaned louder with pleasure. The climax came over her like a flood, making her tremble. Everything inside Ramón tightened and he poured himself into her, hot and moaning.

He felt her trembling and pressed himself against her body, embracing his lover. His breathing became more relaxed. He could hear her heartbeat as it slowly calmed down.

Nicole felt the orgasm slowly subside: “That felt so indescribably good.”

Ramón cuddled up to her: “We should do that again, my love.”

He kissed her on the mouth and then they both released each other on top and underneath. Ramón handed her her underpants and straightened his leggings as if nothing had happened. He took out a handkerchief and removed his lipstick from her mouth with the words: “You've got something red there.

As Ramón led her by the hand to the door past the hole in the floor in the middle, Nicole looked back at the throne. 'We were fucking in front of his parents', Nicole thought, her cheeks turning red, even if they were only paintings.

His two huge bodyguards stood to the left and right of the door. They had watched everything stoically.

Nicole looked up at them and said: “Don't tell the whole castle.” Ramón couldn't suppress a giggle as they left the throne room, followed by the two bodyguards.

Chapter Text

Nicole could now move freely throughout the castle, but never unaccompanied. Whether it was two or three Illuminados followers in their dark robes or one of Ramón's silent bodyguards, someone was always nearby. However, this constant surveillance seemed less hostile than protective, almost like a grotesque form of care.

During one of their daily walks through the castle, Lord Saddler joined them. With a bow, their previous companions departed, leaving their leader to lead the way. He was accompanied by three figures in dirty white robes, their heads covered with coarse cloth masks fastened around their necks with ropes. The masked companions followed Saddler like shadows, their movements silent and eerily synchronized. Nicole quickly realized that they were women, standing in silent allegiance to their master without uttering a single word. Saddler gave them no audible commands, but they responded promptly to even the slightest movement or gesture from him.

When Nicole took a closer look, she realized that the tangle of tentacles with the many eyes on Saddler's staff was not just an accessory. It was a part of him, an organic growth that grew from his own hand, as if his plaga and he had become one. Despite his sinister appearance, Saddler remained polite and courteous, but Nicole couldn't ignore the underlying menace in his voice and in his piercing, bright blue eyes. It was as if he was trying to awaken something in her, a hidden power that she did not yet fully understand.

They walked through an impressive hall whose walls were clad in marble. Between the semi-columns hung magnificent landscape paintings depicting ancient castles and scenes from bygone eras. Their footsteps echoed on the smooth granite floor, which was decorated with elaborate inlaid patterns.

Suddenly Saddler stopped. The three hooded women also remained motionless. Nicole, surprised by the abrupt stop, turned to Saddler. “Is something the matter, my lord?” she asked politely, looking up at him.

“Have you ever tried to control one of the Ganados, my child?” Saddler asked in a soft, yet insistent voice.

Nicole shook her head. “No”, she answered honestly. She knew she had a dominant Plaga inside her, but her mutation, which had gone unnoticed until now, could make control more difficult, she thought. An uncertainty spread through her.

With a slight wave of his hand, Saddler gestured for her to stand in the center of the room. He stepped back against the wall to make more room, while his plaga, clutching his ceremonial staff, twitched its tentacles restlessly. His servants formed around Nicole, their movements mechanical and without a trace of emotion.

“W...what should I do?” Nicole asked uncertainly as she slowly turned in a circle to keep an eye on the three faceless figures.

Without warning, the servants attacked. They had no weapons, but their hands were like iron clamps, wrapped roughly around Nicole's arms and shoulders. They pushed her down, trying to force her to her knees, obeying only their master.

“Fight back, my child, but not with your body,” Saddler ordered calmly when he saw Nicole instinctively clench her fists to lash out, ”use the Holy Body!”

The servants' grips became more painful, like vices tightening around her body. Nicole sensed the alien plagas within them and concentrated on unleashing her own power. Her face contorted with effort and anger as she tried to somehow target their plagas. One by one, the women forced her to her knees, but just before she was pushed to the ground, the figure behind her suddenly staggered back and let go. Nicole lost her balance and fell backwards, the other two women who were still holding her were pulled to the ground with her and landed on top of her.

“Ouch!” Nicole groaned as she lay on her back, breathing heavily. The servants remained silent, quickly stood up again and positioned themselves as before. Saddler bent down to Nicole and held out his free hand. She grabbed it and pulled herself up.

“That's a start, child,” he said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice and made room for the next round.

Nicole was relieved that something had worked at all, even if it had been clumsy and weak. But Saddler didn't let up. He made her repeat the exercise over and over again until her body ached and her muscles trembled. But with each attempt, Nicole became more confident. Finally, she managed to get one of the servants to knock another down with a punch, while the third curled up on the floor holding her head.

Saddler watched this with growing benevolence. “Very good, Nicole. You're a fast learner.” His voice revealed that he was pleased with her progress.

Nicole, breathing heavily and feeling the pain in her limbs, looked anxiously at the other women. “I hope I didn't break them”, she said with a hint of regret.

Saddler shook his head with a smile and fixed her with his penetrating gaze. He silently summoned his companions, who obediently joined him at once.

Ramón, who was standing in the corridor with his hands clasped behind his back, had been watching the proceedings in silence for a while. He now stepped forward and Saddler, noticing him, said: “Ah, your escort is already waiting, Nicole. I will leave you alone.”

Saddler bowed slightly and walked past Ramón with his servants, to whom he nodded silently. Ramón lowered his eyes respectfully as Saddler walked past him.

When Saddler had disappeared from the hall with his companions, Ramón visibly relaxed and smiled at Nicole. He approached her and she greeted him with a light kiss on the lips.

“Was it hard?” Ramón asked anxiously. Nicole rubbed her back and sighed. “At least I got a feel for how communication should work. I think there's still room for improvement.”

Ramón laughed softly and hooked his arm under hers to pull her closer to him. “You must have gotten hungry, sweetheart”, he said gently, while Nicole felt the long day behind her in her limbs. Nicole was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. The sun was already leaning towards the horizon. They set off together to have dinner. The strange but successful lesson with Saddler still echoed in her mind.

Chapter Text

Nicole sat in her room near the fireplace. The warm light of the fire danced across her features and made her eyes sparkle. Her cheeks were flushed, not only from the heat of the fire, but also from the inner tension she was feeling. Hours had passed since she had returned from her walk through the castle, and yet she felt as if she had lost herself in time, undecided what to do next.

A few hours earlier...

Nicole wandered through the halls of the castle accompanied by Pesanta, one of Ramón's bodyguards. Pesanta, clad in her black robe, seemed as silent as the dark corridors of the castle itself. She accompanied Nicole through the labyrinthine walls until they reached an old, abandoned stable building. Where there was normally only silence and darkness, a strange violet flame was burning, illuminating everything with a mystical glow. Nicole told Pesanta to wait outside the door.

Nicole spotted the merchant, a man she had often seen in the castle but had never spoken to before. He was not a follower of Los Illuminados, but he still fitted into this bizarre world. His face was almost completely covered, only his eyes sparkled curiously from under his hood. A long cloak covered his body. He was standing behind a small stall that was stocked with all kinds of strange goods.

“Ah, not an unfamiliar face”, he greeted her in a gruff but friendly tone. He braced his two bandaged hands on the wood of the counter. “I've seen you around the castle a few times. I was wondering when we would meet. The Duke told me to tell you that Mother is very worried.”

Nicole froze when he said these words. Duke - the trader from her home village in Romania. A familiar memory flashed through her mind. Duke had spoken a few times about an acquaintance in Spain, and now she had finally met him.

The merchant dug something out of his coat pocket. He lifted his closed hand across the table and held something out to Nicole. “I won't bite, take it”, he said encouragingly, as she stared at it hesitantly.

Cautiously, Nicole reached out and closed her fingers around the cold object he handed her. Without looking, she knew what it was - something deeply connected to her past. She slipped it unnoticed into her robe pocket and quickly took her leave. Pesanta followed her as Nicole stepped out of the door and walked on in silence.

In the here and now, back in her room...

Nicole now sat in front of the crackling fire and looked at the thing in her hand that the merchant had brought her. It was an amulet - a message from Mother Miranda. The Duke had told Miranda about the existence of the sect, and Miranda had asked Nicole to find out more. But this sign, this amulet, reminded her that she was actually here to tell Miranda.

The flames in front of her cast flickering shadows and Nicole was staring into the fire, lost in thought, when a soft knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. “I'm still awake, come in”, she said without taking her eyes off the flames. She already knew who it was.

The door opened quietly and Ramón entered. This time he was not dressed in his usual pompous attire, but wore a simple blue robe with black edging. Underneath was a long, white nightgown with ruffles decorating the hem and sleeves. His hair was tousled. He looked restless. His face brightened when he spotted Nicole in front of the fireplace.

“You didn't show up for dinner tonight”, he said softly as he stepped closer. “Is something wrong?”

Nicole shook her head and smiled weakly as she looked at him. “I haven't had much of an appetite. And you don't seem to be able to sleep?”

Ramón smiled sheepishly and shook his head too. “Then there must be two of us.”

Without another word, Ramón sat down close to Nicole on the floor in front of the fireplace. He put his arms around her waist with relief and leaned his head against her neck, his gaze resting on the dancing flames. The fire was reflected in his eyes and made them shine like liquid gold. It was a quiet, intimate, loving moment in which they both felt each other's warmth.

Nicole raised her hand and held the amulet she had received from the merchant in the light of the fire. It was a strange piece: in the center was an embryo with tentacles, made of a pale translucent crystal, set in a metal ring surrounded by four black bird wings. The light from the fireplace shimmered through the crystal as if it were pulsating with life.

Nicole hesitated for a moment. “Some kind of... Family crest”, she finally replied as she turned the amulet with her fingers.

Ramón sensed that this was a sensitive moment for Nicole. He didn't want to push her, so he kept quiet and waited patiently to see if she would tell him more.

“My family...” Nicole began, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “At least they've accepted me as a member, even if the start... bumpy start.” She was silent for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. It was the first time she had told Ramón about her past.

“Mother Miranda didn't have to implant a cadou in me”, Nicole finally explained, pointing to the embryo-like thing in the center of the amulet. “That's the symbol of a cadou. Something similar to a plaga. I didn't need it because I already had the something inside me that is transmitted through the cadou.” She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Mother Miranda called it mutamycet, a bacterium that acts like a fungus.”

With a slow motion, Nicole let black, thread-like veins grow from her fingers, wrapping around the crystal and obscuring it until no more light filtered through. “I never really belonged anywhere. Then I met Mother and her children. Her children are... Experiments. Created by the Cadou. At least the ones who survived it.”

Ramón listened attentively, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her story touched him deeply, but he said nothing, sensing that she needed this moment to open up.

“I wanted to tell you earlier”, Nicole added, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But I was afraid.”

“Lord Saddler already suspected you had something special inside you”, Ramón said softly. “You feel different from the rest of us.” He gently pressed himself closer to her warm, soft body. Nicole felt the familiar tingling sensation that ran through her, transmitted through her plaga, when he was near her.

Nicole held the amulet out to him. “Take it, Ramón. For good luck.”

Ramón loosened his grip around Nicole's waist and took the amulet with a reverent gesture. “This is a part of you?” he asked quietly.

Nicole nodded and looked deep into his eyes. “Yes. Keep it close to your body.”

The amulet felt cool to the touch and Ramón could feel the silent pulsing of the mutamycetes stirring under his fingers.

“Don't worry,” Nicole said gently and reassuringly, ”it's harmless for now, but if you ever find yourself in danger, it should save you.”

“Thank you, my heart”, Ramón whispered as he kissed her gently on the neck.

Chapter Text

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Ramón clutched the Cadou amulet tightly in his fingers. He gazed dreamily into her eyes and nodded. His breathing quickened at the idea of receiving a continuation of the day in the throne room. Nicole sensed intensely where his feelings were heading. A warm tingling sensation spread up her spine and made her shiver.

Nicole stood up smoothly and helped Ramón to his feet. The light from the fireplace illuminated both their faces. They took off each other's clothes with relish and left them on the floor in front of the fireplace. Their two amulets lay side by side on an ornamental table next to the brick fireplace, sparkling in the firelight in the semi-darkness.

Ramón saw her completely naked in front of him for the first time. He had only been able to see part of her in the throne room. The light from the flames caressed her appearance in warm colors. Her shadows danced on the opposite wall. A few dark veins ran down her body from her back. Her long dark hair waved gently over her shoulders.

Nicole leaned forward and kissed Ramón on the side of his neck, taking his slender hands and placing them on her waist. His hands wandered slowly over her back. He felt the sublime shape of her plaga under her skin like an implant.

“Show me your Holy Body.”

Nicole straightened up and turned her back to him, brushing her hair aside. Ramón reverently stroked the black lines under her skin that formed a Los Illuminados sign. He kissed her back, touching her plaga with his lips as it moved under her skin. Her parasite emitted such a pleasant sensation that she moaned. Ramón hugged her from behind, gripping her breasts.

Nicole felt his erection, which he held pressed tightly against her thigh from behind. Ramón circled her hard nipples with his index fingers while his tongue licked over her back. She moaned, panting softly. Nicole looked into the flames and felt a tingling, burgeoning warmth between her legs.

Nicole loosened his grip on her breasts and turned to face him. “On the bed, I'm on top,” she said excitedly. Ramón's gaze went from her eyes down to her body and back again. He nodded and breathed a “yes”. There was no mistaking his physical arousal.

The bed had long posts that were carved narrow pillars holding up a wooden roof. Nicole leaned against one of the posts and waited until Ramón had made himself comfortable. “Take me,” Ramón whispered with lust and watched as she leaned forward and got on her hands and knees on the bed. His delicate body lay pale in front of her, contrasting with the dark bed linen. Dark veins and cracks ran through his skin, almost like an ancient porcelain doll.

Nicole leaned further forward and kissed him on the shoulder, then over his collarbone and down his neck. A soft moan escaped his lips as Nicole stroked his nipples with her tongue. She sat astride his thighs as she sat upright. She put his hands on her hips and slid forward a little. Her wet labia slid over his stiff penis. She massaged his penis with her hip movements. Ramón clawed his fingers into her buttocks and moaned from the firm friction.

She paused before he could come. She could feel in her nerves exactly when the right time had to come for more speed. Nicole slid back onto his thighs and kissed him gently on the lips, their tongues lapping around each other seductively.

After a while, she released the kiss, took his penis in her hand and inserted it inside her. Slowly, his shaft pushed deeper into her tightness as she sat down on him. Ramón arched his back, moaning at the sensation. She grabbed his wrists and pinned his bent arms to the bed. She had to arch her back so that she could look into his glowing yellow eyes.

Ramón could barely move, which gave him a wave of arousal. He moaned under her as she began to move rhythmically. He wanted to touch her all over, but she held him tight. So instead he enjoyed the sight of her jiggling breasts, which bobbed up and down with every movement of her pelvis.

She felt her own and his climax approaching, she accelerated her movements and moaned loudly as she came. The same was true for Ramón. He poured himself into her, hot and moaning, and felt her trembling on top of him at the same time.

After a few breaths, she let go of his wrists. With a quiet regret, he slid out of her as she lay on her side next to him. Her breathing calmed. His breaths slowed down too. Nicole took the comforter and covered both their naked bodies with it. She snuggled up to him and Ramón wondered how on earth he had ever deserved such a wonderful princess. She snuggled her naked body against his and put her arm around him. He turned so that his back was against her stomach.

“Mm, spoon position,” she whispered in his ear, ‘I like it’ and kissed him on the neck. He wrapped his arms around hers and she held him gently. Her warm, soft body and her love made him feel that he no longer had to be lonely. They both slowly drifted off to sleep together.

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Morning dawned gently in Nicole's room, the faint light of day streaming through the heavy curtains. The embers of the fireplace were almost extinguished, with only a soft red glow to remind us of the heat of the previous night. Nicole was still lying in bed, the silken blanket draped lightly over her body. Ramón lay next to her, his breathing even, his face relaxed. As she watched him, he stirred and slowly opened his eyes, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“Good morning, my love,” he said softly, his voice raspy from sleep.

Nicole smiled slightly and sat up slowly, her fingers stroking the soft skin of her stomach, where she suddenly noticed a sticky film. Her smile faded and she looked at Ramón questioningly. When he followed her gaze and saw her pressed lips, he became nervous.

“F... forgive me...” Ramón stammered, his face red with embarrassment. “You were lying so beautifully asleep next to me... And then...” He tried to explain himself, but Nicole raised her hand to silence him. She already knew what had happened. Without another word, she got up and went into the adjoining small bathroom, where she began to wash the sticky stuff of his dried semen off her stomach.

While she was cleaning herself, Ramón called meekly after her: “Twice.” Nicole paused briefly when she realized that her thighs were also covered in his sticky love juice. A soft sigh escaped her lips, but she said nothing. After cleaning herself up, she returned to the room, where Ramón watched her in silence.

“Next time you wake me up. I don't get much out of you being unconscious when you have your way with me.” Nicole scowled, but then started to laugh with a snort and Ramón was so relieved that she hadn't grabbed him and thrown him naked into the corridor.

They both gathered their things in front of the cold fireplace and got dressed. When Ramón left their room in his robe to put on his castellan outfit in his room, he had the Cadou amulet in his hand. He would never let it out of his hands again. It would remain a secret for both of them.

Later, they sat together at the inlaid dark wood table in Nicole's room. Ramón had given her ink, pen, paper and an envelope, as well as sealing wax and a stamp with the symbol of Los Illuminados. The candle flickered slightly in the draught of the room while Nicole wrote a letter in curved, elegant script.

The text sounded banal - like a normal correspondence between a daughter and her mother. But Ramón knew that it meant something deeper. He was fascinated by the grace with which Nicole wrote and followed her every move. After she cleaned the tip of the nib and poked the tip of the metal nib holder close under her wrist, Ramón jumped up.

“What are you doing?” His voice was full of concern.

Nicole looked at him briefly and smiled reassuringly. “Just a signature,” she explained calmly as the blood flowed from the tiny wound into the pen. She signed the letter with this blood, the deep red color of the lifeblood contrasting sharply with the parchment. When the blood had dried, she sealed the envelope with wax and the Plaga symbol.

“I'll see the merchant,” Nicole finally said, picking up the letter. She had chosen a beaded brooch as payment for the merchant, which she had fished out of a crow's nest with the help of Pesanta. Ramón's bodyguard with the black robe had carefully lifted her onto a high ledge where the nest was located. Pesanta had proceeded quite gently and held Nicole up above her head in her insect claws.

Ramón, who was worried about the small wound, came closer and ordered gently but insistently: “Show me your injury.”

Nicole held her wrist out to him and showed him the place where she had been stung. “See, nothing more to see.” There was indeed no trace of the injury. Ramón leaned over and tenderly kissed the spot where she had hurt herself.

“Ramón, I'm not falling apart, my mutamycet won't let me,” Nicole reminded him, a smile playing around her lips. “Already forgotten who threw me in the dungeon?” She glanced at the two large bodyguards standing at the entrance to the room, their massive bodies almost too big for the narrow door frame.

Ramón screwed up his face at the memory of how Verdugo had once captured and locked her up without a second thought. “You didn't have a scratch on your body,” he nodded.

Nicole left the room with Ramón and the silent bodyguards to meet the merchant. They found him in a different place this time - the purple flame flickered in front of an alcove under an old wooden staircase in one of the castle's open courtyards. Ramón, with his hands clasped behind his back, watched them from a short distance as Nicole approached the merchant.

“Can you give this letter to the Duke?” Nicole asked as she handed him the sealed envelope and the brooch as payment.

The merchant looked at the brooch briefly, then shook his head. “You don't have to pay me for it,” he said and slipped her letter into one of his coat pockets. Then he leaned closer to Nicole and whispered to her: “I heard a rumor: you and that clown there?” He nodded slightly in Ramón's direction, who was still waiting attentively.

Nicole raised an eyebrow challengingly. “What if?”

The merchant laughed softly. “Then I'll lose a bet.” He shook his head. Nicole nodded: “Sure,” turned around and walked back to Ramón.

When she stood next to him, Ramón's face brightened. She lifted her index finger under his chin, forced him to look up at her and gave him a gentle but passionate French kiss. Ramón closed his eyes and let himself fall into the kiss, his cheeks glowing with pleasure.

The merchant under the stairs watched the scene, shaking his head. “That poor girl... with that creep.... uargh! Now I owe Serra a pack of cigarettes,” he muttered quietly to himself before going back to his business.

Chapter Text

Nicole sat on the cold, white stone edge of the fountain, which was located within the winding hedge maze in the castle garden. The thorny rose vines that grew along the iron trellis glowed a rich red that stood out against the dark green of the leaves. The hedge walls seemed endless, interrupted only by the iron bars, the tips of which jutted into the sky like spearheads. The soft splashing of the water running from the upper basin of the fountain into the lower one offered a deceptive calm in the gloomy atmosphere of the castle. The ornate stone figures in the fountain looked old, so old that they probably dated back to a time before Los Illuminados.

Nicole looked down and saw the Colmillo, who had silently rested his massive, deformed head on her lap. The red, empty eyes stared blankly at her. It was a grotesque sight - the colmillo's mouth was riddled with hundreds of sharp teeth poking out of its gums from all directions, ready to tear its victims apart. Only from a distance could it be mistaken for a dog, but up close it looked more like the distorted image of a nightmare.

Nicole stroked the mutated creature's dirty gray fur with a gentle hand. The plaga, which protruded grotesquely from its back, moved like a deformed tentacle and was lined with bone vertebrae that looked as sharp as knives. She knew that this creature was nothing more than an instrument of terror, created by the Illuminados' experiments.

Nicole closed her eyes and concentrated. The Plaga that lived in the Colmillo communicated via high-frequency sounds, just like the other Plagas, which were inaudible to ordinary humans. But for Nicole, these sounds were clear. She could sense the other colmillos lurking in the dark corridors of the hedge maze. Occasionally, a deep, menacing growl would reach her ears from their mouths.

It was a cloudy day and the sky seemed to cover the maze in shadows. Nicole had quickly learned that the plagas avoided direct sunlight. Their parasite bodies were sensitive to the light, so they hid in the shadows, preferring to spend time at nightfall.

Suddenly, the colmillo's tentacles twitched and it slowly straightened up. Without another sound, it disappeared into the thorny corridors of the labyrinth. Nicole could still sense its presence, however. And then, a stronger presence - Saddler approached.

Lord Saddler walked leisurely towards the fountain, his heavy golden staff firmly in his hand. On the staff, a part of his plaga body coiled upwards, grotesque and yet strangely majestic in its way. In his dark leader's robes, he was a sight to behold, and his bright blue eyes lit up unnaturally as he reached Nicole. He sat down on the edge of the fountain with a soft sigh, his gaze fixed briefly on Nicole, then on the sketchbook lying beside her.

He took it carefully in his hands and began to leaf through the pages with slow, deliberate movements. The pages were filled with sketches of the plagas Nicole had seen in Ramón's castle. Her practiced hand had captured every detail - from the grotesque shapes of the creatures to the intricate patterns that adorned their parasitic bodies. There were also drawings of Ramón and Saddler themselves.

Saddler seemed to admire the pictures, but his eyes kept wandering to Nicole as he continued to flip through the pages. Finally, he paused and asked without taking his eyes off the book: “Have you ever left the castle, my child, since you joined us?”

Nicole tilted her head slightly and replied without looking directly at him: “Is there more to see, my lord?”

Saddler let out a soft laugh. “More than you can imagine.” He gently closed the book and handed it back to Nicole. “Did Ramón ever tell you anything about the village or the island?”

Nicole shook her head, her eyes fixed on Saddler, who was now looking directly at her. A mysterious smile played around his lips as he continued: “You should see more. The castle is only a small part of our realm. How about a trip to the village?”

“Right now?” Nicole's voice sounded calm, but a strange mixture of curiosity and unease stirred inside her.

Saddler rose slowly and held out his hand to her. “Yes, my child. Right now.”

Nicole hesitantly took his hand as she stood up. She felt Saddler trying to penetrate her mind again. His Plaga tried to penetrate her thoughts, but as so often before, his attempt bounced off the mental wall Nicole had erected around her. He could penetrate no further than her sacred body.

Without another word, the two of them made their way out of the labyrinth. His three hooded servants joined them in silence, their movements quiet and almost ghostly. As they reached the outer courtyard of the castle, the massive drawbridge was slowly lowered. The heavy chains rattled as the bridge stretched across the deep moat, revealing the narrow road that wound along the cliff face towards the village.

Chapter Text

Nicole followed Saddler along the uneven, stony path that led them deeper into the gloomy heart of the valley. The path was narrow and rough, winding along a quarry, while abandoned huts made of weathered wood lined the way. Their footsteps echoed across the wooden paths that led over deep ravines. The few huts they passed along the way appeared abandoned, but Nicole sensed the presence of the villagers, hidden in the shadows of the ravines and behind the narrow rock passages. Eyes watched them from the darkness as they passed. The awe of Saddler was palpable in the air.

They encountered more and more villagers on their way. They bowed humbly before their lord. At first glance, they appeared human, but their red eyes betrayed the parasitic influence of the Plagas.

A deep ringing of bells suddenly echoed through the mountains, piercing the cold silence and seizing the villagers like an order. Without a word, they left their places, walking with somnambulistic precision towards the distant church. “Holy Mass,” Saddler murmured as he glanced at Nicole. “It's about time.”

His three hooded servants walked silently behind them, their movements almost imperceptible, as if they were ghosts following Saddler's every move. The path finally led them to a small, gloomy church, surrounded by old gravestones whose inscriptions had been obliterated by the ravages of time. The church, surrounded by rocks and gnarled trees, looked like a relic of bygone, long-forgotten times. Inside, the light of countless candles flickered, the shadows danced across the stone walls and the dirty faces of the assembled villagers. They sat on the benches, hands folded, staring silently towards the altar before which Saddler now stood.

The banners of the Illuminados, red and sinister, hung from the walls, while the Plagas symbol of colored glass was enthroned above the altar, casting its distorted image onto the cold stone floor. Saddler motioned for Nicole to stand beside him. She felt the weight of his presence, the silence in the church was overwhelming.

When Saddler spoke, his voice not only filled the room, but echoed in Nicole's head, an echo through the plaga that pulsed within her. His words were like a gentle whisper, but they carried the power of a prophet promising redemption and forgiveness to his believers. He spoke of a better world, a world without sin, in which the Holy Body of God - the Plagas - would cleanse and elevate them all. His followers listened with folded hands, their red eyes fixed on Saddler in reverent devotion. Nicole felt the spiritual grip Saddler had over her.

As she looked at the crowd, her gaze fell on a corner of the church. Two figures stood in the shadows. One was a muscular figure with a scar running across his face. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his expression hard and unyielding. The other, even taller and more menacing, wore a wide hat and a dark leather coat that reached almost to the ground. His face was framed by a full beard, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat. Nicole sensed that the taller of the two had a Plaga in him - strong and dominant, but in control. The other, on the other hand, was empty, but still seemed dangerous.

When the mass was over and the villagers withdrew from the church, murmuring quietly, the two figures approached. Saddler introduced them: Bitores Mendez, mayor and priest of the village, a giant of a man with a wildly overgrown beard, one eye blue, the other red. His Illuminados amulet dangled in front of his chest, clinking softly as he bowed to Nicole. The other man, Jack Krauser, offered Saddler his help and had joined the Illuminados. Nicole eyed him suspiciously - his muscular build and military attire suggested a trained warrior.

As they stood together, Nicole involuntarily thought: 'Now I know how Ramón must feel when everyone around you is taller than you are. The feeling suddenly entered her consciousness unpleasantly.

Saddler spoke quietly to Mendez. “Show Nicole the village, my son. I have something to discuss with our new friend.” He nodded in Krauser's direction, his steel-blue eyes watching the scene impassively.

Mendez silently led Nicole out of the church and across the old cemetery. The gravestones, mossy and weathered, told stories of lives long gone. They walked through a gate that led into the center of the village. The streets were narrow, overgrown, the houses dilapidated. The symbols of the Illuminados were rammed into the ground everywhere, tied to trees or attached to fences. Bloodstains littered the primitive altars that could be found here and there.

The villagers lived mainly in simple circumstances. As Nicole could see from the fences, they kept livestock and grew vegetables and crops. Mendez, meanwhile, told how they were all blessed by the Holy Body.

In the village square, where an old bell tower rose into the sky, the villagers came back, their faces grim and dirty. They bowed to Mendez, who only waved them on impatiently. Nicole noticed something that had previously escaped her notice: there were no children. The question burned in her mind, and finally she spoke quietly to Mendez: “I didn't see any children.”

His reply was cold and toneless. “Not all of them were ready for the Holy Body.” A shiver crawled down Nicole's spine. Mendez had no remorse in his voice - only regret that the children had not survived the transformation.

Suddenly the door of a stable crashed open. A huge man, his head covered with a real bull's head, stormed out, his eyes hidden under the severed animal's head. Nicole felt the fury of the Plaga inside him, like a piercing, insane scream in her head. But before he could reach her, Mendez stretched out his hand. The man sank to his knees, contorted in pain, caught in the invisible stranglehold of the plaga.

Nicole, hiding her inner turmoil, slowly approached the fallen man, who looked like a mythological figure with his bull's head. She noticed a piece of metal sticking out of his back - a sickle that had dug into his flesh and put the Plaga in endless agony. With a determined jerk, she pulled out the sharp piece of metal. The screeching in her head stopped.

Mendez's face was unmoved, but he hummed softly, as if Nicole had passed an unexpected test. The villagers came over, touched her gratefully and took the sickle from her. Nicole felt the collective relief of the Plagas around her, a web of emotions that slowly but surely permeated her. Not as profound as Ramón's, but still palpable.

As night fell, Mendez led her back to the church, where Saddler was waiting. The three mute servants stood behind him. Krauser had disappeared. Together, they made their way back to the castle, while the shadows of the night grew thicker and thicker over the village and accompanied them all the way to the lowered drawbridge.

As night fell, Mendez led them back to the church, where Saddler was waiting. Then the mayor said goodbye to them. The three mute servants stood behind Saddler. Krauser had disappeared. Together, they made their way back to the castle, while the shadows of the night grew thicker and thicker over the village and accompanied them all the way to the lowered drawbridge.

Chapter Text

The cold of the night lay over the castle as Nicole walked along the long, dark corridors, accompanied only by the faint glow of the candlesticks on the walls. Some of the Illuminados servants welcomed her and Saddler wordlessly, their faces hidden behind deep hoods, their movements stiff and mechanical. There was no sign of Ramón for miles around. A queasy feeling settled in Nicole's stomach as they parted ways. Saddler disappeared into the depths of the castle along with his three hooded servants, while she remained standing outside her bedroom door. The Illuminados servants waited until she closed the door behind her, then they too disappeared.

A heavy sigh escaped her as the door clicked shut behind her. At last she was alone. She went to the table, where she dug her sketchbook out of the depths of her robe pocket, then let it slide onto the table. She gazed into the flickering fire. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, and for a moment it seemed as if they were singing a gloomy round dance.

Without thinking, Nicole began to take off her robe, letting it slide to the floor along with her underwear and shoes. The only thing she kept on was the Illuminados amulet, which nestled coolly against her skin. She stroked it with her fingertips, lost in thought.

But when she turned to the bed, she froze. A gasping breath escaped her: “Ramón!” Her heart skipped a beat. How could he be there so suddenly without her having felt his presence or the waves of his plaga? Ramón stepped out of the shadows from where he had been watching her the whole time, and it was immediately clear that something was wrong.

His gaze was wild, his eyes glowing with madness as he moved slowly towards her. His hands were clasped behind his back, and Nicole only now noticed that his hair was messy and disheveled. The dark red lipstick was smudged, as if he had carelessly brushed his lips. And then there was the typical smell of alcohol that surrounded him like an aura.

“I was wondering where you'd gone.” His voice sounded ominous, and the feeling he was now emitting through his plaga made Nicole shiver. It wasn't love or affection that she perceived in his mind. It was jealousy, raging despair that flowed like poison through his clouded thoughts.

Then everything happened in a flash. With a single, fluid movement, Ramón pulled out a dagger and pointed it directly at Nicole. His eyes glowed with madness and his hand holding the blade trembled violently. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sobbed out in despair: “You... be... belong to... ME!”

Before Nicole could react, Ramón plunged the dagger into her stomach. She felt a sharp pain, but the shock of the betrayal was greater than the physical pain. Her eyes widened as she saw the dagger handle sticking out of her body, which Ramón was still clutching. Her breath caught and for a moment time seemed to stand still.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she glared at Ramón, pain and anger in her voice. Her teeth were clenched tightly as her body convulsed, trying to process the sudden shock. But even at that moment, she could feel her self-healing powers beginning to stir, the mutamycet inside her pulsing wildly to close the wound.

Ramón let go of the dagger handle, stumbled back to the edge of the bed and fell to the floor. He sat there like a heap of misery, his hands shaking in front of his face, unable to comprehend what he had done. “I... I just wanted to... feel you... the way you feel me... my love...” His words sounded hollow as he lowered his hands, trembling. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he lost himself in his own despair. His words made so little sense of what he had done.

Nicole, still overcome with pain, pulled the dagger from her stomach with a determined jerk. 'Somehow it's happening again today,' she thought hysterically. A thick trail of blood ran across her stomach, down to her crotch and over her thighs. It only took a moment for the wound to close. Her mutamycete self-healing powers worked incessantly, while Ramón's eyes widened in shock. Her eyes became as black as the void, even the whites of them had disappeared. He felt the chill of damnation rise within him as he felt her plaga.

“Wow...” gasped Nicole, her voice cutting and full of bitter irony, holding the dagger in her hand. “I really didn't see that coming.” The blackness in her eyes didn't reflect forgiveness. It was the echo of deep, ancient rage, of forces beyond comprehension.

She knelt in front of him, her eyes boring into his soul; she put the tip of the dagger to his throat. His breath came in gasps as he felt the ice-cold blade against his skin.

“Don't ever do that again,” she growled in a low, menacing voice. Her hands trembled slightly as the mutamycet raged soundlessly inside her, ready to take revenge on Ramón for his breach of trust.

He bit his lips, unable to speak, and nodded weakly. His vision blurred with tears and his despair grew into an unbearable storm. He didn't move, didn't dare breathe, until she reluctantly broke away from him.

“Get out!” Her words sounded like an order, and Ramón stumbled, staggering as he stood up. He staggered towards the door, the effects of the alcohol slowly wearing off, but still making every step difficult. Before he disappeared through the door, he turned to her once more, his voice a hoarse whisper: “I love you, Nicole.”

As he staggered out, she heard him knocking things over and swearing. She closed her eyes, fighting the raging anger inside her. She had to pull herself together, she couldn't let herself be overwhelmed by these dark forces that were slowly trying to emerge.

With trembling hands, she put the dagger aside, curled up on the bed, pulled the covers over her and closed her eyes. But peace would not come. Behind the darkness of her mind, she could feel the movements of her mutamycete as it writhed inside her. Ramón's plaga was sending confused, contradictory signals, but her own parasite remained in control. Eventually she fell asleep.

___

Ramón staggered through the corridors of the castle. In desperation, he tore decorations off the walls at random, smashed vases and threw picture frames to the floor. Verdugo and Pesanta, his silent guards, kept their distance as they followed him through the halls. They positioned themselves in front of his bedroom door when he finally staggered in, slammed the door shut and threw himself on the bed without undressing.

The wine he had drunk had sent him into a state of frenzy, into which he had worked himself up, but now the effect was fading and he was left with nothing but guilt and shame. He had hurt Nicole, his beloved, his princess. The dagger he had plunged into her body was a sign of his despair, his fear of losing her. Ramón had already thought that Lord Saddler had taken Nicole from him for good. Although his lord had promised him that he could keep her.

He pulled off his clothes, remained lying on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The Cadou amulet that Nicole had given him lay coolly on his chest. Ramón had attached a chain to it so that he could carry it with him. He reached for it, clasping his hands around it as if in prayer, but his thoughts revolved around only one thing: he had betrayed her. His dark side had taken control and now he feared he had lost her forever. He rolled onto his side and drifted off into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Ramón woke up and felt miserable. Physically, the plaga had helped him not to fall apart completely, but inside he was a wreck. Hesitantly, he struggled out of bed and got dressed as best he could. He put on his castellan outfit, which weighed heavily on his shoulders at that moment. Her amulet lay around his neck under his clothes, a comforting little secret. When he took a deep breath and opened the door to the room, he almost choked.

“Nicole,” he whispered softly, with a slight smile on his lips when he saw her in front of him. Unexpectedly, she stood there as if she had been waiting for him. Her posture was calm, but her eyes carried a melancholy that made his heart tighten. His bodyguards stood like silent giants next to the door and looked down emotionlessly on the scene.

Nicole kept her distance between them. Without saying a word, she held out her hand to him. There was something familiar in it that Ramón recognized immediately: his dagger. His heart ached as he remembered the madness of the previous night, what he had done to her blindly. Along with the dagger, she handed him a folded piece of paper and said in a voice that carried no anger but deep sadness: “You left this with me last night.”

Ramón took both. Their fingertips touched briefly. In that fleeting moment, the gulf between them seemed more tangible than ever before. Their eyes met, but Ramón couldn't bear the shame and lowered his head. Quietly, almost humbly, he bowed slightly and murmured: “Thank you.”

Nicole turned away and walked down the corridor. Ramón looked after her longingly, unable to stop her. When she had disappeared from his field of vision, he unfolded the note. It read: “I'm going to the nearby village and will be back in the evening. Don't kill me.” She had drawn a little heart at the bottom of the note. Despite everything, she hadn't given up on him yet. A stone fell from his heart, but he was sure that she should not go alone.

With a quick order, he instructed Verdugo to follow her and watch over her. Nicole was to return safely, and Ramón knew that he could not leave that to chance.

He walked thoughtfully through the corridor where his servants were clearing away the debris from the previous night. He could hardly bear the shame, and the images of Nicole's disappointed face tormented him. What could he do to bring her closer to him again? His heart was torn and his thoughts were spinning like a dark storm in his head. As he paced, muttering to himself, he stowed his dagger and note in his coat pocket.

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Nicole had now reached the courtyard of the castle, the drawbridge was raised in front of her. She almost expected not to be let out, but the bridge lowered and the way into the village was cleared. As she took the first step, she felt Verdugo's presence close behind her. A sighing smile flitted across her lips. She had secretly counted on not going on this excursion completely alone, but she also knew that this meant Ramón wanted to protect her.

Her destination was the lake she had seen on her last outing with Saddler. Verdugo followed her silently, an inconspicuous shadow in a red robe. They crossed wooden bridges, descended ladders and passed through narrow rock passages until they finally reached the lake. Nestled between high rocks and surrounded by half-ruined fishermen's huts, the lake lay peacefully before them. The appearance of solitude was deceptive, however, as Nicole sensed the presence of the villagers - and something large and diffuse lurked beneath the surface of the water, which she could not properly grasp with her plaga.

She carefully stepped onto a wooden pier and looked into the gently rippling water. She saw schools of fish under the surface of the water. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Careful. The water bites,” a familiar voice with a Spanish accent sounded. Nicole flinched slightly, but pushed her hand away from her shoulder as she turned around. Luis Serra was standing behind her, a mischievous smile on his lips. Verdugo, menacing as ever, was already about to intervene, but Luis raised his hands to placate him, “Easy, big guy.”

“It's all right,” she reassured Verdugo through her plaga, whereupon he reluctantly refrained from ripping Luis' head off.

“Are they going to let you out of the castle, Princess?” Luis grinned, but Nicole replied, rolling her eyes: “Don't call me princess. And what are you doing here?”

Luis' gaze wandered across the lake and his answer was almost melancholy: “I'm just refreshing old memories.” He invited Nicole to sit down on a moss-covered bench on the veranda of a dilapidated hut. She hesitantly agreed. Verdugo quietly kept watch near her, his presence lingering in the background like a looming shadow.

After a short pause, during which both their eyes wandered across the lake, Luis said: “I lived in this village with my grandfather as a child. I had no other relatives. When my grandfather was gone, I ran away, became a scientist and am here again, researching these parasites.” Luis didn't sound very enthusiastic. “First we were told to find a cure for these things, then we were told to create new, more resistant parasites.” Luis sighed.

After another pause, Luis asked, “Do you know that you only got one of the superior Plagas because you pleased the Lord Castellan and he begged his lord to make you his equal?”

Nicole listened to him in silence while her thoughts drifted back to Ramón.

Luis pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered Nicole one. Nicole declined: “I take care of my health, well, more or less,” Nicole said sheepishly.

Luis snorted in amusement, took a cigarette and lit it.

Swarms of mosquitoes buzzed over the lake and dragonflies raced across the surface. The reeds moved gently in the wind and rustled softly.

“Are you being treated well?”

“What do you think?” Nicole looked after a dragonfly.

“I don't want to talk you into anything, but... Ramón isn't one of the good guys. I think he's always been cruel. I once stumbled across a recording that said he had once thrown acid in a servant's face because she had given him a nasty nickname behind his back. And that went against the aristocratic grain.” Luis took a drag on his cigarette: “If he ever does anything to you...” Nicole pressed her lips together briefly at these words, “Well, I just wanted to say, take care of yourself.” Nicole nodded, but didn't look at Luis.

Luis was a little sorry that she had joined Los Illuminados and had fallen for Salazar in particular.

“What is it about Ramón that you find so... uh... attractive?”

Nicole looked intently at Luis as she replied, “Mh,” she pondered, “he's attentive and sweet,” Nicole wiped last night from her memory for a moment, “His looks are so sweet. I can get my mind fucked out with Ramón.” Luis' eyes widened and his cigarette almost fell out of his mouth at Nicole's last words.

She laughed heartily, all the tension falling away from her at that moment as she saw Luis' face as he struggled for composure. That alone had been worth coming here for.

Luis had had to visualize it and it was so unpleasant to imagine Ramón naked, grabbing Nicole.

“I wish I hadn't asked.” Luis rubbed his forehead with narrowed eyes.

Nicole grinned mischievously and stood up. “I'm off again,” she said, and Luis winked at her: ”Don't do it so hard.”

She wandered around near the lake for a while until the sun touched the mountains, then she made her way back to the castle, always followed by Verdugo. She thought about what Luis had said about Ramón. Nicole sighed. As she approached the castle, Luis' warning voice lingered in her head: “Take care of yourself.”

Chapter Text

Dusk enveloped the castle in an orange glow as Nicole crossed the drawbridge. The last rays of the sun fell on the highest battlements. The gloomy walls glowed as if bidding farewell to the last light of the dying day. Verdugo walked leisurely a few steps behind Nicole. Cawing crows made their rounds above their heads, as if the sky were populated by messengers of doom. Nicole sighed softly. The shadows had grown long, the memory of last night still lingering in her mind like a gloomy breath.

When Verdugo caught up with her, she felt the inescapable presence of the castle. He motioned for her to follow him. She let him lead her without resistance, following him through the gloomy corridors, reminiscent of past stories of betrayal and blood. The corridor echoed with their footsteps as they arrived in front of the entrance to the ballroom.

Ramón stood there, his hands clasped behind his back. It was a sight that almost made her smile. His face lit up when he saw Nicole and a warm, gentle smile spread across his features. The castellan looked relieved, as if he had not believed that she would return. With an elegant gesture, he held out his hand to her.

Nicole hesitantly stepped closer, her hand found his, and as he tenderly grasped her fingers, she felt the silent plea for forgiveness in his touch. Ramón led her into the ballroom, which was populated by his novistadores. The giant winged insects remained motionless against the walls and in the dark corners of the room. The faint flicker of their wings was reflected in the pale light of the electric lanterns mounted on the walls.

Ramón let the Novistadores fly down to close the holes in the floor. Soon the floor of the ballroom was a flat surface. They covered the destroyed floor with their bodies - like living slabs of chitin that covered the room's wounds. The debris had also been pushed aside a little.

“I'm leading,” Ramón said softly, and as he lifted her hand, Nicole could feel their plagas talking to each other. His thoughts flowed to her, clear and determined, almost like a silent whisper guiding her through his movements. Ramón snapped his finger.

The music that suddenly sounded from the loudspeakers was old and from a record whose slight crackling enhanced the feeling of timelessness. She began to move, following his steps and allowing herself to be led, while her plagas guided her movements like invisible threads.

Despite all the pain that still stood between them like an invisible wall, the dance was magical. Ramón led her with an unexpected grace that she had never seen in him before. She felt like she was a part of him, as if they were connected on a deeper, ancient level.

Time lost its meaning in these moments. The hall, the novistadores, the endless darkness of the castle - all that disappeared and there was only the two of them, in a dance that expressed reconciliation and affection.

When the song ended, they stood still, slightly out of breath. Ramón brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand tenderly. His eyes sparkled with hope, and for a brief moment Nicole could feel how deeply he longed for forgiveness.

The Novistadores silently returned to the walls as Ramón gently led her out of the hall, along the familiar path to her chamber. On the way, Nicole casually asked him what lived in the lake, having sensed something big there on her excursion.

“Del Lago,” he replied calmly. “A giant mutant salamander with a plaga inside it. We tried to control it, but... it's too powerful. Now it watches over the lake.”

Nicole shuddered slightly at the idea. The thought of such monsters lurking in the dark depths made her realize that there was more to learn about Los Illuminados and the Plagas. When they arrived at the door to her room, Nicole hesitated briefly. She looked Ramón in his yellow eyes, her words carefully chosen: “The dance was beautiful. I really appreciate it.”

She leaned forward slightly and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. His eyes closed briefly as he took in this fleeting moment of tenderness, but before he could say more, she had turned around and closed the door behind her.

Ramón was left alone in the corridor. His shoulders slumped as the pain of the previous night weighed on him again. He had hoped that she would invite him, but it was still too soon. She wasn't ready yet. With slow, heavy steps, he made his way to his chamber.

His thoughts kept wandering back to the dance. He remembered the soft smile on her lips, the feeling of their closeness, the unspoken words communicated through their plagas. Every moment they shared felt like a fragile step towards reconciliation.

Once in his room, he changed his clothes and put on his nightdress. Ramón lay down in bed and clutched the Cadou amulet that Nicole had given him. The little lucky charm lay warm in his hand, like a faint glow in the darkness. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes as the memories of their dance lulled him to sleep.

Outside, the wind howled through the walls of the castle, but for that one moment, Ramón found peace.

Chapter Text

Ramón woke up from a dream so sweet that for a moment he thought Nicole had snuggled up to him and placed a hand gently on his chest. The peace of the moment lasted until he realized that it was only his own hand pressed firmly against his body. With a deep breath, he broke free of this illusion and slipped out of bed, ready for another day as castellan. He pulled on the smart clothes he loved so much and preened himself.

The heavy curtain allowed only a few rays of the dull morning light to penetrate the room as Ramón sat down in front of the mirror. The cool, polished surface reflected a man whose yellow eyes were sharp and merciless. With a precise movement, he opened the small, ornate tin and took out his lip rouge. The red color of his thin lips gave him an almost grotesque appearance as a cold, unnatural smile contorted his features. He thought of his subordinates and how he would use the power of his Plaga today to put them in their place. But this thought was abruptly interrupted when a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come in, my love,” Ramón said with a gentle smile, his voice carrying a hint of tenderness. He knew immediately that it was Nicole, because her plaga was sending him a silent message, an almost telepathic touch that she now shared with him more often. He stowed the tin of lip rouge in his coat pocket.

Nicole entered, dressed in her black and blue robe with gold embroidery and her sparkling Illuminados pendant around her neck. Her gaze was calm, but there was an invisible warmth in her demeanor. As she came closer, Ramón stood up and put his arms around her waist, pressing her gently against him. Their bodies melted into each other for a moment and the world outside the room disappeared. He smelled the delicate scent of her skin, a hint of earth and mystery, and felt her arms wrapped hesitantly but firmly around his shoulders.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, his voice vibrating slightly, as if he longed to be near her.

“If you don't mind, I'll follow you everywhere today,” Nicole replied. Her fingers stroked his back, and there was a gentleness in her words that touched Ramón deeply. Never before had she expressed this desire to be so close to him, to share his everyday life with him. A warm feeling spread through him as he hugged her one last time and then took her arm to escort her through the castle like a queen. His queen.

The thick stone walls of the castle swallowed up all sound as they walked through the dark corridors. The warm light of the torches cast long shadows on the floor. Every step they took was a sombre melody that echoed off the walls. Ramón looked as if he was pulling himself together for Nicole. His movements were more controlled and calmer than usual. But that didn't last.

When a servant hesitated too long to get out of his way, Ramón froze. His eyes flashed, and without warning he used the power of his plaga to bring the woman to her knees. She was wearing a dark robe that was frayed at the hem, which she was now clutching with her fingers. Nicole felt the servant's pain like an echo inside her, her own plaga reacting sensitively to the other's cry for help. With a soft moan, she clutched her stomach as the foreign pain shot through her.

“Don't tell me I hit you with it too?” Ramón's voice was concerned when he noticed Nicole's reaction. He gently patted her hand, but Nicole just shook her head.

“No, it's her Plaga asking me for mercy... The pain was too much for her.” Ramón watched her carefully as Nicole stood up again and assured him with a faint smile that everything was all right.

The servant, still kneeling, raised her hand trembling, looked up with wide red eyes and gesticulated wildly. Nicole quickly realized why the woman was not speaking - she no longer had a tongue. Slowly, the servant stood up as Ramón released the stranglehold on his plaga and took a silver amulet from a nearby vase. It glittered in the dim light of the corridor, with a blue stone set into the center. She handed it to Ramón with trembling hands.

“She found it and hid it until she could give it back to you,” Nicole said softly, her voice almost a whisper in the gloomy silence. Ramón took the amulet, put it carelessly into his coat pocket and roughly ordered the servant away. He showed no sympathy for her as she hurried away with her head bowed.

“I apologize for this interruption, dearest,” he said with an apologetic smile, but Nicole sensed the cold hardness lurking behind his eyes.

As they continued through the corridors, Nicole asked thoughtfully, “Why didn't she have any more tongue?”

Ramón hesitated, unsure whether he should tell his beloved the truth. But then he spoke: “She was one of my father's servants. One day she caught me playing in the dungeon, something that was forbidden. After she betrayed me, I was punished. So I punished her - so she could never betray anyone again.” A depraved grin flitted across his face as he spoke these cruel words.

“What were you playing at in the dungeon?” Nicole asked, her voice soft, almost innocent.

“Torture... Our torturer showed me a thing or two,” Ramón said with a smile that could give you goosebumps.

Nicole mumbled something that sounded like “Definitely exciting...” and Ramón laughed - a deep, ominous laugh that echoed through the corridors. But then his expression changed and he looked at Nicole seriously. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you again. I'm really sorry.”

Nicole saw the sincerity in his eyes and whispered softly, “I've already forgiven you.” She stroked his cheek tenderly and her lips found his in a gentle kiss. Ramón looked relieved, almost grateful.

They continued on their way until they arrived in Ramón's study. The room was full of bookshelves and an imposing desk dominated the center of the room. Nicole sat down on the sofa and picked up one of the books while Ramón went about his duties as castellan.

Outside the door, his two bodyguards, who had been following them like giant shadows the whole time, positioned themselves. Inside the room, there was a pleasant silence, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of pages in Nicole's book or the soft scratching of Ramón's pen on paper.

Chapter Text

Ramón kept glancing furtively at Nicole as he sat at his desk. The pen in his hand scratched the paper, but his thoughts were on her, not on the letters he had to write. Nicole sat quietly on the sofa, completely absorbed in the book she held in her hands. The light from the lamps blended gently with the faint daylight that fell through the high windows. The lighting created an atmosphere of warm glow and dubious shadows that bathed the room in an air of nostalgia.

When Ramón finally finished his work, stood up and stood in front of her, Nicole just closed the book and held it out to him. “Interesting information, Ramón,” she said with a slight curiosity in her voice that echoed through the silence of the room.

Ramón immediately recognized the title of the book. It was a chronicle of his family, full of dark secrets and bloody stories. “I'm not proud of what my ancestors did,” he said as he took the book from her and carelessly threw it on the table, as if he wanted to shake off the burden of his past.

Nicole rose elegantly, slid almost silently off the sofa and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “You are Count Ramón Salazar, the 8th Castellan”, she said with a mixture of tenderness and seriousness. Her words penetrated him deeply and triggered something in him that was both pride and shame.

“The only sentence in there about you... sounds devastating”, Nicole continued, watching his reaction. Ramón avoided her gaze and cleared his throat, embarrassed.

She leaned closer to him, her breath brushing his skin as she whispered, “I would rephrase that: Count Ramón, desecrator Las Plagas, loyal follower Los Illuminados, changed the wrongs of his ancestors and gave the world back its blessings that seemed lost for centuries. Gloria a Las Plagas!”

Ramón couldn't help but smile, embarrassed but also touched by her account. “Your version definitely sounds better”, he said with a laugh, and the mood lightened.

He held out his arm to Nicole and she gently hooked it. They left the study together, their footsteps echoing softly through the castle's spacious, magnificent corridors. The air was cool, but Ramón could only feel the warmth emanating from Nicole's proximity. Their hands touched again and again fleetingly, and he gently stroked the back of her hand as they moved through the corridors, accompanied by his two bodyguards.

Later, they sat in one of the leisure rooms, in front of a baroque fireplace whose fire crackled softly and chased away the cold air. His two bodyguards stood in the shadows, silently watching over them both. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls as they sat snuggled up close together on the sumptuous sofa. Ramón had laid his head on Nicole's chest and her heartbeat was like a calming rhythm for him, an anchor in the world that otherwise so often turned against him. Her fingers slid gently through his hair, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear, which sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He sighed softly, closed his eyes and enjoyed this peaceful moment in which he had everything he had ever wanted.

Nicole pressed herself gently against him and he felt the familiar, earthy scent of her skin, a mixture of mystery and promise. She had become his everything. He didn't have to force her to love him. She had given herself to him, had been ready to receive the Holy Body and the bond they shared was deeper than mere passion.

But before he could push his thoughts any further in this direction, the silence was abruptly interrupted. They both looked towards the door, where a broad-shouldered man had entered without knocking. His appearance was brash, almost provocative.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked with a mocking undertone as he surveyed the scene with cold eyes. He stood with his legs apart, arms folded behind him and waited.

Ramón immediately rose from the sofa, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the unexpected guest. “Mr. Krauser, you're quite late. I was expecting you an hour ago,” he said in a tone that expressed both impatience and distance. He approached Krauser, who looked down at him.

Nicole watched the newcomer. Jack Krauser, she remembered. She had seen him in church, with Lord Saddler. But something was different this time. She could sense the Plaga in him - and it wasn't the usual servant variety. Something darker, more powerful lurked within him.

Krauser's broad, scarred face showed no movement when Ramón handed him an envelope. “As requested, here is the information”, Ramón said coolly as Krauser took the envelope. His steely blue gaze wandered to Nicole, who stood next to Ramón, and a wry grin creased his lips.

“I saw you at church, sweetheart”, he said in a snide tone that made Nicole's insides churn.

“My name is Nicole. And I notice you've joined us, Mr. Krauser”, she said calmly.

“Just call me Jack.”

Ramón's face twisted in anger, but before he could say anything, Krauser turned away. “Thank you, Mr. Kastellan,” he added before leaving the room again.

As the door closed behind him, Ramón exhaled audibly. The tension eased from his shoulders as Nicole laid a hand on him reassuringly. “I don't trust this guy,” Ramón said quietly, Nicole nodding in agreement as she looked at the closed door.

---

That evening, they sat together in the dinner room, the sumptuously laid table in front of them with a selection of the most delicious dishes. Ramón had once again spared no effort to spoil Nicole. “Help yourself, my love,” he said, but Nicole noticed that something was working inside him, as if a question was burning on his tongue.

She reached for a roasted chicken thigh and bit into it, the taste of the juicy meat filling her mouth. She closed her eyes with pleasure. Finally, having gathered enough courage, Ramón asked softly: “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Nicole placed the chicken thigh on her plate, her eyes meeting his. A smile flitted across her face. She licked her lips slowly before nodding a silent “Yes”.

Chapter Text

Ramón gently led Nicole into his bedroom, the heavy door closed behind them and it was as if the outside world suddenly fell silent. The room was filled with a soothing warmth emanating from the flickering fire in the fireplace. The soft, warm tones of the fire danced across the walls, bathing the room in a golden glow that lent a soft sheen to the sumptuous furniture and ornate decorations.

Nicole's gaze wandered around the room, now more curious than when she had visited Ramón in the morning. The large closets made of white lacquered wood looked huge. The walls, lavishly decorated with patterns and golden accents, told of a heritage deeply rooted in the past. The paintings, which told of peaceful landscapes and mute still lifes, avoided any presence of portraits - no past to look him in the face.

Ramón's four-poster bed dominated the room. The heavy curtains of the canopy, made of deep red velvet, seemed to whisper a promise of security and warmth. Near the bed stood the dainty dressing table, on which some of Ramón's personal belongings were carefully lined up: small boxes containing various cosmetics and a finely crafted silver hand mirror. It was a room that was as much a reflection of his status as it was of his heart - carefully preserved, full of pride and fragility at the same time.

As they walked through the room, thick carpets muffled their footsteps so that the only sound was the soft crackling of the fireplace. Ramón held her hand and his grip was gentle as he turned to her. There was a warm, sincere smile on his face that broke through his otherwise stern and controlled expression. Nicole felt a familiar tingling sensation emanating from her plaga and spreading throughout her body - an intense feeling of connection that went beyond mere words. It was as if her arousal was traveling through her holy body directly to Ramón as part of their unspoken bond.

“Is it getting to you?” Nicole asked softly, her voice a whispered promise.

Ramón's eyes closed briefly as he sensed her message, and when he opened them again, there was a gentle, almost reverent glow in his gaze. He nodded, pulled her into a tight embrace and held her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go. His eyes, reflecting her unmistakable yellow, now shone almost glassy like amber as he looked at her, as if he were looking deep into her soul.

“I love you, Nicole”, he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion. He looked so deeply into her eyes that time seemed to slow down for both of them at that moment. Nicole smiled gently as she looked into his eyes. She felt the deep connection they both shared through their plagas. “I love you too, Ramón”, she replied softly, her fingers gliding gently over his cheek, and she felt him nestle lightly against her hand. It was a moment of complete devotion and trust in which they both blocked out everything else.

Ramón looked as if he was filled with an overwhelming happiness. His face, which was so often characterized by darkness and hardness, now showed only pure joy and peace. The shadows of the past seemed non-existent at this moment, and the present was filled with the warmth of their mutual love.

----

They lay on the large bed, stripped of their clothes. The silky soft bedding nestled against their naked bodies. Nicole leaned forward and kissed his lips in a tender gesture. The tip of his tongue touched hers while one of his hands slid over her back. She stroked her fingertips slowly over his chest, down the center line over his stomach, circling his navel. She gently touched the velvety tip of his stiff penis. She grasped his shaft and gently pushed his foreskin back and then forward again while their lips were connected by the kiss, Ramón moaned softly at her rhythmic hand movements. The flickering fire shone over their naked bodies.

After a while, she released the kiss from his lips and slid further down. On her way, she covered his body with tender kisses, which he accompanied with sympathetic sighs. Her long hair tickled his skin.

When she touched his member with her lips and kissed the tip, then licked it teasingly with her tongue and savored its taste, he arched his back and clawed at the pillows, sucking in a sharp breath of pleasure.

She pushed back his foreskin and sucked on his purple tip with relish like a lollipop while she massaged his shaft and his balls with her hand. Before he could even come, she stopped and let Ramón take a deep breath. She lay down on her back next to him and watched him. He bit his lips and then smiled, panting. She felt her plaga feeding Ramón's feelings unfiltered into her nervous system.

Ramón pushed himself up, the flickering fire in the fireplace illuminating his outline. His shadow fell on her body. His passionate kiss sealed her lips.

He sat down on her body, pressing his stiff penis against her stomach. She was so beautifully soft beneath him. Then he released his kiss and slid deeper. Ramón positioned himself between her spread thighs so that his member pressed against her labia. Nicole let him send a pleasurable signal via her plaga, which his plaga received and passed on to him. He licked slowly over his lips.

Ramón braced his hands left and right on the bed next to her waist. “Mmm, my love...” he moaned, then kissed over her hard nipples and sucked on them, eliciting a deep sigh from her.

He pressed his penis hard against her sensitive pearl between her slimy wet labia with rhythmic back and forth movements. He kissed her collarbone as he did so. She had her arms around his back and was holding on to him. She had braced her legs on the bed and was moving her pelvis in small circular movements. She was trembling slightly and could hardly stand the fact that he hadn't penetrated her yet.

He pushed himself up a little to look into her dark eyes. He could see and feel that her desire and lust were strained to the limit.

His own lust pulsed harder and harder between her legs. She pushed her pelvis higher so that he could finally impale her. “Come on, Ramón”, Nicole begged. She couldn't stand him making her squirm for so long.

With a satisfying smile, he took his penis in his hand and guided it to the right spot. She felt his tip penetrate, then deeper until he filled her. She bit her lower lip at the sweet, pleasurable friction and pressure in all the right places.

Both their bodies moved to the melody of pleasure, their gasps and moans the song of their passion. The shadows of their bodies merged against the walls into one being, shuddering as their orgasms exploded and they fell into the pillows, sweaty and panting, as the fireworks slowly died down.

Ramón lay on top of her, his head resting on her chest, his hands tenderly caressing her skin on her shoulders and neck while her arms were wrapped around him. Nicole stroked his back. Her heartbeat had calmed down and a comforting feeling of security spread through them both. She pulled the comforter over Ramón's body, who was still lying on top of her. Slowly, they slipped into a pleasant sleep.

---

The morning dawned softly as Ramón opened his eyes. The room was in a soft semi-darkness, the last embers of the fireplace had long since died out and enveloped the room in a pleasant coolness. The heavy curtains only let in a little light, but it was enough to make out the outline of the mighty four-poster bed. Ramón blinked slowly, still caught between dreaming and waking, but it wasn't long before he felt the familiar warmth at his side.

It wasn't a dream this time.

Nicole's arms lay gently around his body, her breathing calm and even. Her head rested on his shoulder and her hair was spread over him like a silken veil. Her peaceful expression made him take a deep breath - a moment of perfect stillness and harmony in which the world outside their shared space did not exist. Ramón felt her heartbeat in the silence, a gentle rhythm that calmed him and gave him the feeling that he had everything he had ever wanted here and now.

He smiled lovingly and let his lips glide gently over her forehead, then brushed her temples and cheeks. They were the softest of kisses, almost feather-light touches, with which he tried to wake her up. Nicole stirred slightly under his caress, slowly opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. Her fingers stroked his arm tenderly as she slowly came to.

“Good morning”, she murmured softly, her voice still raspy from sleep.

Ramón smiled back, his eyes still shining in the afterglow of the previous night. “Good morning, my love.”

The peace of the moment didn't last long, however. Nicole sat up gently and looked at him with a determined expression. “I want to go to the lake today, Ramón. I want to see Del Lago.”

Ramón's heart skipped a beat when she said the name. Del Lago - the beast that ruled the lake, unpredictable and deadly. “Nicole...” he began, but there was a determination in her voice that he couldn't ignore. He could sense the danger that lay in her plan and instinctively he wanted to protect her, to hold her back. But he knew her well enough to know that she would not be so easily dissuaded from her plans.

“It's dangerous to lure the beast”, he warned, his gaze full of concern. “Del Lago is not to be underestimated. He has already devoured many.”

Nicole looked at him, her eyes firm and full of adventure. “I'll be careful”, she promised.

He knew it was pointless to argue further. She was strong-willed, and one side of him admired that determination in her. But the other side - the side that wanted to protect her at all costs - had great difficulty accepting her decision. He couldn't lock her up, she would never forgive him. So he had to at least protect her as much as possible.

“Then I won't let you go alone”, he finally said, his voice more determined than before. “One of my bodyguards will accompany you and look after you.”

Nicole put a hand on his cheek reassuringly. “I appreciate your care.”

His lips twisted slightly, a bitter mixture of understanding and disappointment. He secretly wished she wanted him by her side, but he couldn't force her. Once again, it was her freedom that made her so endearing, and he could only hope that the beast spared her.

After they had dressed, Nicole pulled her dark robe tighter around her and looked at him one last time with a loving gaze. Her hands wrapped gently around his slender shoulders. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

“I'll be back,” she promised softly before breaking away from him and heading towards the door. Ramón was still standing in the middle of the room when she closed the door behind her and disappeared.

The room was suddenly so empty without her. Ramón felt the weight of worry settle on his chest. He went to the window, pulled aside the heavy curtains and gazed out at the castle shrouded in mist. The lake was somewhere in the distance, invisible behind the thick morning mist, but he knew it was there - like a silent, lurking shadow.

His heart beat faster, and he could only hope that the beast would let them return unharmed.

Chapter Text

Nicole strode through the cold light back to the village, her robe rustling slightly as she walked down the path with measured steps. The air smelled of wet wood and damp earth, and the gentle wafts of mist covering the ground lent the scene a ghostly atmosphere. But she didn't feel uncomfortable. Ramón had insisted that Pesanta accompany her. A silent, imposing figure who walked close by her side to keep her safe.

Nicole thought about it. She wanted to see Del Lago - this dreaded creature that even her prophet and lord could not control. But how do you approach a beast without becoming a meal yourself? A smile flitted across her lips as she thought of her own curiosity. Perhaps she could entice the creature with something appealing, something edible?

The familiar sounds of the village gradually reached her ears. People were busy - the sound of chickens, the creak of old wooden doors, the rhythmic sound of a broom on cobblestones. Everything seemed quiet, almost peaceful, as if this was just an ordinary village somewhere in a quiet, remote corner of the world. But the red eyes of the villagers betrayed the truth. Behind the blank expressions lay the knowledge of the dark secret that united them - the blessing of the Holy Body.

Nicole sat down on a creaky wooden bench next to the chapel, pulled her sketchbook out of her bag and began to record the village scene. Her hand moved quickly, fluidly, as she traced the lines of the villagers walking around on the paper. Their movements had become softer, not as robotic as when the ringing of the bell had drawn them to the church, she realized. Perhaps it was because Saddler's iron will was not forcing them. For a moment, everything seemed so normal, as if the Ganados were just simple farmers going about their daily lives.

Pesanta stood motionless beside her, her insect jaws moving slightly as she kept an eye on the villagers. Her monstrous claws protruded from her robes, huge and terrifying, but Nicole was used to her presence. She wondered what Pesanta would look like without her heavy robe. All the creatures Ramón had in his service - they were strangely fascinating and repulsive at the same time.

As Nicole continued her sketches, her gaze wandered over the village square, her thoughts whirring. She scribbled one rough sketch of a ganado after another on the paper until a complete farm scene emerged, and next to it she wrote “red eyes” as a clue, as she only had a pencil at her disposal at the moment. A thoughtful expression came over her face.

'What could Del Lago be lured with? Bait, perhaps? But what would attract a beast like this?

Suddenly, a large shadow fell on her sketches and tore her from her thoughts. Nicole looked up. Her eyes met the gaze of the village priest and mayor, Bitorez Méndez. He stood before her with a stony expression on his face, wrapped in his long, worn leather coat, his hat with its wide brim pulled low over his face. Nicole was not surprised, but his appearance instantly calmed her thoughts.

Without a word, he motioned for her to follow him. His big, heavy boots barely made a sound as he strode towards the chapel. Nicole put her sketchbook back in her robe pocket and stood up. Pesanta followed them silently into the gloomy halls of the chapel.

The door of the chapel closed behind them and the outside world was instantly cut off. A damp, musty smell filled the air, the light was dim and sparse. The windows were so filthy that hardly a ray of sunlight penetrated. Instead, the room was lit by a multitude of flickering candles that stood on shelves and tables. Their faint light danced on the walls and cast ghostly shadows over the symbols of Los Illuminados.

Méndez led them to the edge of the room, where a large altar stood, on which dozens of skulls were piled up in an accurate arrangement. The candles bathed the scene in an eerie glow that only made the macabre collection seem even more menacing. One of the skulls was particularly striking - huge, wrapped in light-colored cloth and ropes.

Nicole felt a cold shiver run down her spine as Méndez began to speak. His deep voice echoed through the room: “Not everyone survives the blessing of the sacred body”, he stroked the skulls with one hand. His touch was almost tender, a strange expression of reverence. “Our brothers and sisters who have passed on.”

Nicole followed his gaze, saw the skulls and could feel the weight of his words. “I'm sorry, Mayor,” she whispered, her voice sounding reverent and quiet in the gloomy silence of the room.

Méndez straightened up and looked down at her with his mismatched eyes - one glowing red, the other blue. “Honor the gift that has been bestowed upon you”, he said. “It is a blessing from our Lord, and it is up to us to keep it.” His voice carried an unfathomable heaviness as he looked deep into Nicole's dark eyes. “You made a big impression on my congregation last time, and on me too,” he added, his words carried with a deep, almost reverent appreciation.

Nicole was embarrassed and didn't know how to respond. Her eyes wandered nervously before she finally said, “It's good that I could help. I feel honored.”

The atmosphere in the chapel was heavy and filled with reverence and respect, but at the same time with an invisible pressure. Nicole felt the coldness of the skulls, the silent presence of those who had not survived the Plaga.

---

It hadn't been difficult to find a half-decomposed pig. The stench emanating from the rotting carcass was almost unbearable. Next to one of the stables, she found a dead pig, half-eviscerated and already swarming with flies. Nicole grimaced, but she didn't let herself be put off. Mayor Méndez had warned her urgently not to provoke Del Lago, but her curiosity was stronger. His words echoed in her head: “Don't make any loud noises by the water. It makes him angry.”

Nicole nodded as if to encourage herself. The lake lay gloomy and sluggish before her, its waters still, as if keeping a secret. Pesanta, who had carried the pig, knelt silently beside her as she tore the pig apart with her claws. Nicole watched as the creature effortlessly tore apart the rotting pieces of meat - the sharp insect claws slipping effortlessly through the rotting flesh. The putrid smell was almost unbearable, but Nicole hoped that this was exactly what would attract Del Lago.

She attached a piece of meat to a rope she had also found, checked the knot and slowly walked along the rickety footbridge that led into the water. The weathered wood creaked beneath her feet and the water licked softly at the wooden planks. Every step they took seemed to bring them closer to the end of the footbridge, which was half submerged in the water. The echo of their footsteps was swallowed up by the ominous silence of the lake. Light wafts of mist wafted thinly across the surface. Nicole glanced cautiously at the still waves and couldn't shake off the oppressive feeling of menace that hung over the scene.

“I hope this works...” she muttered as she tied the other end of the rope to the post that was sticking up crookedly beside her. Nicole swung the piece of meat on the rope like a lasso and let go. The piece of meat slapped the surface of the water and sank. Nicole sighed softly and pulled the rope back. “It must float.” She thought for a moment before finding the pig bladder in the remains of the entrails on the shore that would keep the bait on the surface. She ignored the sickening smell as she inflated the pig bladder with a piece of reed, tied it with a string and attached it to the rope.

She watched the water with concentrated determination. Every movement, every little tremor of the bait sharpened her senses. She occasionally pulled the meat back towards her, examined it and threw it back into the water. Sometimes the meat would come loose, then she would fetch a new piece and replace the previous one. The sun moved along the mountain slopes and the shadows over the lake grew longer and more threatening. The smell of rotting meat hung heavy in the air. Nicole felt her plaga stirring. She tried to connect herself and Del Lago with her plaga, to conjure him up - to feel where he was, deep beneath the surface.

Silence. Nothing stirred.

Then, all of a sudden, she saw it - a long wave breaking through the surface of the water. It was as if the lake itself had held its breath, and for a brief moment everything was in slow motion. Nicole stared at the wave, which quickly grew larger and moved rapidly towards the jetty.

“Oh, shit...” Nicole exclaimed as she realized what was coming at her. Her heart skipped a beat. She ran. Behind her, she heard a deep, menacing rumble, followed by a huge splash of water as Del Lago's gigantic mouth with countless teeth emerged from the depths. The surface of the water broke apart as the gray monster lunged at them, its huge, fringed salamander tail lashing through the water.

The jetty groaned under the force as Del Lago's huge mouth crashed onto the wooden planks. Nicole lost her balance and fell lengthways onto her stomach. Shock ran through her body and for a moment time seemed to stand still. She could see nothing but the foaming spray and the huge mouth of the monster as it moved towards her again.

Then she heard a sharp whistling sound, followed by an explosion. An explosive arrow had hit Del Lago directly in the snout. The monster flinched back. Nicole felt the dull pain emanating from Del Lago's plaga as he turned away from the jetty.

“Girl, don't just lie there and move your butt!” Krauser's voice echoed from the shore, sharp and commanding. Nicole pulled herself together, pushed herself up from the ground with her hands and ran back over the swaying wooden planks as fast as she could. The ground shook beneath her as Del Lago turned back to the jetty, to the sounds and vibrations caused by her running. His gigantic snout was pointed at her.

Krauser shot another arrow, which detonated in another explosion at Del Lago's side. Nicole gasped as she reached the safety of shore and her knees gave way. Her lungs burned and her heart raced as she watched Del Lago's fleshy Plagas tentacles spill from his mouth and greedily grab at the rotting flesh on the shore. Pesanta reacted with lightning speed and grabbed Nicole, pulling her out of reach of the snake-like tentacles.

The monster ate the remains of the pig carcass before diving into the lake and disappearing out of sight. The surface of the water slowly calmed down again.

Krauser came closer, his bow slung over his shoulder, and scrutinized Nicole with a look that was somewhere between amusement and rebuke. “What the hell were you thinking? Fishing?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

Nicole, still panting, looked at him. “Field research... for art.” Krauser grimaced as he caught her scent. “You stink.”

“The perfume is called 'Damsel Shield',” Nicole countered with a sarcastic smile. “It attracts giant salamanders.” Pesanta handed her the Los Illuminados amulet, which Nicole put around her neck. Then she looked at Krauser.

“Thanks for the rescue... Jack.”

Krauser grinned with a snort. When Nicole got her sketchbook back, Krauser unceremoniously took it from her and flipped through the pages. He nodded approvingly before handing it back to her. “Nice. When do I show up in there?”

Nicole shrugged her shoulders. Krauser waved briefly before wordlessly making his way between the dilapidated buildings and trees.

Chapter Text

The water steamed gently in the high, magnificent bathing room of the castle. The stone walls reflected the soft sound of dripping water. A heavy silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the occasional crackling of the fireplace, which filled the room with a warm light. Nicole leaned back, the hot water enveloping her as it cleansed her body of the foul stench of her endeavor to lure the monster of the lake. Her skin tingled slightly. The dirt came off her and dissolved into the water.

Pesanta kept watch outside the door, always alert and ready to be there for Nicole, whom she had accepted as her mistress alongside Ramón. After the servants had prepared the bath, they discreetly withdrew. They now followed each of Plaga's commands without hesitation - as if Nicole had long since completely internalized the language of the strange parasite. She didn't know whether she could get used to this feeling of power and control or whether it would remain unpleasant forever.

Her thoughts wandered back to the lake, to Del Lago. The colossus was enormous, his body almost unreal in size, and the waves he had created had been so powerful that they still seemed to reverberate in her bones. She didn't understand why she couldn't communicate with it the way she had with the plagas in the villagers and the other creatures. What made this salamander different?

'Maybe...' she closed her eyes and slid deeper into the tub until her face disappeared under the water. The sound of the world changed immediately. The muffled silence of the water enveloped her, like a thick, alien embrace. Sounds from outside seemed distorted and distant, and suddenly she had a flash of inspiration. 'Of course... Everything sounds different underwater.'

Her plaga signals would behave differently underwater, be transmitted differently. Maybe that was it - Del Lago couldn't really hear her commands or signals because she had been standing on the surface. The thought was exciting, but also frightening. She would have to dive underwater to try, but that would bring her closer to its mouth and tentacles... 'And I can't swim that fast.

A dull shadow glided past the surface of the water, barely perceptible through the veil of water. Nicole opened her eyes and saw the outline of a figure. Only when she emerged and broke the surface she did realize that Ramón had stepped into the room without her noticing. He was standing right next to the bathtub.

“Ramón!” she exclaimed in surprise as she wiped the water from her face.

Ramón stood there, a little embarrassed, but with a cautious smile. In his hands, he held a bottle that shone in the dim light of the bathroom. “For the bath water, Nicole”, he said gently, presenting the bottle.

Nicole nodded silently and watched as Ramón dripped the fragrant perfume into the water. The scent spread instantly, sweet and heavy, masking the foul odor. The warm water caressed her and for a moment she was actually able to relax. But she felt his gaze on her, Ramón's eyes sliding furtively over her body as he made sure she was unharmed. His concern was unmistakable, and yet there was also something else - something that manifested itself in his reserve.

He finally cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence. “I'll have your clothes cleaned. You should feel more comfortable again.” His voice was gentle, almost caring, and yet there was a certain tension in the air.

As she got out of the bath, the water dripping from her body, Ramón placed a towel over her shoulders. The fabric felt soft, but his touch was even softer. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, then he nodded slightly. He didn't take his eyes off her as she dried herself off and wrapped the towel tightly around her.

Ramón fetched her a new robe - this time it was jet black, the edges decorated with red Plagas symbols that ran along the hem in an almost hypnotic pattern. The underwear he brought her also matched - elegant yet sombre. She knew he wanted her to feel comfortable, but also that she was wearing his idea of perfection.

After she had changed into the robe and put on her Los Illuminados amulet, Ramón led her to the dining room, where dinner was already waiting for her. The flickering light of the candles danced across the dark wooden furniture, and the smell of fresh bread and succulent meat hung in the air. As long as Ramón was near her, Nicole felt strangely comfortable and safe. His plaga sent reassuring signals in her direction.

“I've seen Del Lago”, Nicole began as she tucked into the delicious food. Ramón looked at her with wide, attentive eyes as she recounted the encounter. The excitement and horror of the scene at the lake were still in her voice, but there was also a certain fascination.

“He's amazing!” she said enthusiastically. Ramón's eyebrows raised slightly.

“Do you have creatures like that at home?” he asked curiously.

Nicole nodded, remembering another monster. “Yes... One of Mother Miranda's children, Moreau, can turn into a giant fish monster. The first time he did it, he scared me so much because he pulled me into the water. He thought it was incredibly funny and laughed his head off for a week every time he saw me.” She grimaced, then muttered afterwards: “Stupid Moreau...”

Ramón grinned slightly, even though he didn't know who Moreau was.

After they had finished eating and stood up, he took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. She sensed his desire, which he could no longer hide. They would spend the night together again as night fell over the castle and the shadows in the corners grew darker.

Chapter Text

Ramón led Nicole through the dark, magnificent corridors of the castle. The high walls, covered with dark fabric wallpaper and wooden decorations, cast long shadows that were intensified by the few candles and lamps. Their footsteps echoed softly on the stone floors. The castle seemed silent and enraptured, as if they were the only two people in this mighty old fortress.

He held her hand tightly in his, as if she were his anchor. The warm contact calmed him, made him forget all his insecurities and fears for the moment. It was as if all the shadows inside him - the years of loneliness, the constant doubts - had disappeared for a while. Her mere presence managed to ground him. Like Lord Saddler, she had become the center of his life.

Ramon's bodyguards walked behind them like silent shadows. Their presence was unobtrusive, his perfect guardians. They had transformed themselves for him, from normal humans to his deadly servants.

He had been plagued by thoughts of Nicole all day, wondering again and again what she had done at the lake without him. And yet, now that she was with him, it no longer mattered. He felt the need to keep her to himself, as if her closeness alone could calm all the restlessness inside him.

“How do you feel about spending tomorrow with me again?” His voice sounded calmer than he felt, but the hint of nervousness in his tone was hard to miss. It sounded more like a command than a question, and he sensed that she noticed it too. The control he usually had over others so easily disappeared in her presence.

Nicole smiled gently and nodded. This small expression of approval made Ramón breathe a sigh of relief. His heartbeat slowed down. Her acceptance meant everything to him, because without her he felt restless, almost lost.

He led her to his bedroom, his thoughts inevitably on what lay ahead of them. When she had stretched out in front of him in the bathtub in the bathroom, he had barely been able to hold himself back. The desire for her, for her closeness, had almost overwhelmed him. Now that she was by his side, this longing had only become more intense.

He stopped in front of the door to his bedroom and let Nicole enter first. She turned slightly towards him, her eyes sparkling in the light of the candles, and pulled him into the room with her. The heavy door fell shut behind them with a soft click. Verdugo and Pesanta were left standing to the left and right of the door.

---

Now he could show her his desire and she let it happen. Ramón pulled down her robe, followed by her underwear. She was now only wearing her golden Illuminados amulet, which reflected the fireplace. He ordered her to get down on all fours through his plaga. She complied with his wish. Nicole's plaga sent a shiver down her spine, the tingling under her skin arousing her more and more.

Ramón himself left his clothes on. The fabric of his trousers could no longer hide his growing excitement. Nicole looked over her shoulder as he pulled his trousers down to his knees, his member standing at attention. Nicole bit her lips in anticipation at the sight. She pushed her back through and presented her wet, shiny labia.

His gaze slid over her back, under whose skin her wonderful plaga was black. Ramón got down on his knees and stroked her back with his hand, feeling the texture of her sacred body, which twitched slightly. With the fingers of his other hand, he spread her labia further down. He elicited a soft moan from her throat. Her body trembled as he pushed two fingers inside her. He felt her tighten inside, as if she wanted to hold him tight.

When he pulled his fingers out of her, they glistened in the light of the fireplace. Ramón looked at the threads of mucus that stretched between his spread fingers and licked them with relish, his eyes half closed.

He slowly pressed the tip of his penis to her entrance and slowly penetrated her, then held still.

“How would you like it?” Ramón whispered, gripping her hips.

“Wild, my count.” She shivered as he replied: “As you wish, my countess.”

At first he moved slowly until she was almost whimpering with pleasure. His thrusts became faster. The sound of his loins against her naked buttocks was the beat and both of their moans the melody of their unbridled lust. Ramón reached around her hips with one hand and felt for her pearl between her labia and rubbed it as he took her from behind. He wanted her to come first.

Her moans became louder and sounded at ever shorter intervals. Her plaga passed this rising feeling of a climax on to his. When she came, Ramón groaned, her orgasm transferred to him and it was so long and deep that he almost lost his senses. He clung to her waist and gasped as he shuddered and poured himself into her.

With quiet regret, he slipped out of her again as his member softened. A few moments later, Ramón kissed her back and gently wrapped his arms around her while she was still kneeling on all fours in front of him. Slowly, her breathing calmed and he released her from his embrace. Ramón knelt on the floor as she turned to face him. The fire lit them both and their shadows danced across the floor. She moved closer and began to undress him. As she did so, she breathed into his ear: “That was fantastic, my love.”

Ramón enjoyed her tender touch, her warmth and her attention. When she had undressed him completely, she covered his pale body with kisses. The only thing he was still wearing was the Cadou amulet. He complied with her request to follow her to the bed.

---

After the intense moment they had shared, they now lay snuggled close together in the soft bed. The fabric of the silky blankets clung to their naked bodies, but the warmth came not only from the surroundings, but above all from the closeness of the other. Ramón lay belly to belly with Nicole, his arms wrapped tightly around her body as if he never wanted to let her go. His head rested against her chest. Her steady heartbeat at his ear calmed him, and for that moment everything in his world was back in balance.

Nicole gently stroked his back with her fingertips, a soft, almost soothing gesture that sent a shiver down his spine. It was this simple touch that brought him out of the shadows of his own mind. All day he had wondered what she had been doing without him, and the restlessness had gnawed at him, but now, in her arms, everything was all right again.

But then, out of nowhere, an old memory shot into his consciousness, cutting like a blade.

“You tiny, ugly, sickly half-wit.” His father's words, cold and cutting, echoed in his head. Ramón could still remember the exact moment - he had been a child marked by his father's contempt. Diego Salazar had never shouted out loud, he had always wrapped his contempt in quiet, yet devastating words. Ramón had once again behaved inappropriately, insulting the staff. His father had reprimanded him without a trace of patience or leniency. The memory was so vivid that it almost took his breath away.

He closed his eyes and tried to shake off the cold shadow of that past. He had felt like nothing back then, like someone who had no place in this world. But here, in Nicole's arms, he was no longer the sickly, weak child. She gave him comfort, her closeness was sacred. Her body was a refuge from the ghosts of his past.

“Will you show me your Mutamycetes power?” he suddenly asked quietly, almost timidly.

Nicole took a deep breath and paused for a moment, as if thinking. Then, with a soft smile, she replied: “If there's a place here where no one can watch us... And it doesn't matter if something gets broken.”

Ramón giggled, an unexpected, almost childish sound. “I know something.”

The prospect of seeing something so powerful and strange from her filled him with excitement. But it was more than that. He didn't just want to see her power, he wanted to know everything about her - her secrets, her strengths, her weaknesses. And maybe, just maybe, she would also help him defeat his own demons for good.

The fire in the room flickered gently, bathing the scene in a warm, soft light that made the moment even more intimate. The scent of perfume, sex and fresh sheets hung in the air and the soft breathing of the two lovers was the only sound in the otherwise silent world. Here, far away from the outside world, it was just the two of them - and the unspoken desire to discover each other even more deeply.

Chapter Text

Ramón led Nicole through a huge-looking iron gate covered with long, metallic spikes, as if it were designed to keep out or impale intruders. His two bodyguards pressed their insect claws synchronously against the heavy wings, which creaked and groaned open, while Nicole looked at the gloomy, cool room beyond. The smell of damp stone and iron hung heavy in the air as they stepped through the brick tunnel. The gray darkness that prevailed here seemed so dense that it almost smothered the room.

Nicole held Ramón's hand in hers, a warm contrast to the clammy, cold surroundings. Their footsteps echoed softly as they stepped over a wooden plank to enter the upper level of a high room, which consisted of a total of two levels connected by stairs. This room was monumental, almost overwhelming in its menacing presence. Nicole gazed at the gleaming, damp rock walls that merged with the masonry of painted half-columns and ornate walls. Candles, their flickering light providing just enough illumination to reveal the silhouettes of the brass-tipped fences and the looming darkness of the abyss below, were scattered across the stone tiled floor. Two thick pillars rose up on the sides of the levels, supporting small, round platforms that could only be reached by climbing or flying. For the life of her, Nicole didn't know what a room like this was needed for.

The wind whistled through the large hole in the ceiling, and despite the weak daylight shining in from above, there was something eerie about it, as if this room was trying to shield itself from all light. The shadows danced on the old stones, moving almost vividly, while the candle flames swayed in the draughts.

Ramón, who had been visibly agitated since her arrival, held her hand a little tighter. His yellow eyes searched her gaze, full of expectation and something Nicole couldn't quite interpret. It was more than mere curiosity - more like a feverish obsession.

“And now you're going to show me your power, right?” Ramón's voice sounded almost tender, but his hand clasped hers as if he wanted to make sure she couldn't escape. His bodyguards positioned themselves right behind him where the entrance was.

Nicole nodded silently and stepped onto the floor covered with colorful tiles in the middle of the upper level. The smooth surface of the tiles under the soles of her shoes, the cool air of the surroundings, which smelled faintly of the sea - she took it all in and breathed in deeply. She enjoyed the brief rest before the demonstration of her strength. The massive pillars to her left and right looked like sentinels waiting for what was about to happen.

Unsure where to begin, Nicole let black threads emerge from her palms - threads as black as the night itself, her mutamycet. She felt the familiar energy emanating from them as she formed the threads. They snaked into the air, forming a long, slender rod that seemed to hover above her outstretched hands. The movement was effortless, almost fluid. She could feel Ramón's attentive gaze on her, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

The rod she had created slowly began to change. From the ends, a whitish discoloration spread across the surface of the black mesh until the entire rod had become a crystalline structure of white, milky translucent material, tapering to a point at one end. Nicole gripped the crystalline spear with one hand, its surface sparkling in the flickering light of the candles.

“A spear made of crystallized mutamycet,” she said calmly as she looked at the work of art in her hands and presented it to Ramón. “You can usually only use it once when it's thrown.”

Ramón nodded, almost reverently, as Nicole hurled the spear onto the ground in one fluid motion. The crystalline spear shattered into many individual splinters, which clinked on the ground around them and shone like frozen tears.

Nicole slowly knelt down, her hands reaching out for the shimmering fragments. She touched the crystalline shards with her fingertips and black filaments once again wriggled out of her fingers. Slowly, the shards began to change as they were caught by the black veins and piece by piece they transformed back into the original black substance of the mutamycetes. The transformation was quick and effortless. Finally, Nicole pulled the black threads back into her body.

Ramón watched the whole scene, his eyes wide open, as Nicole walked up to him and handed him a remaining crystal.

“I can make them as hard as emeralds. You can keep this one,” she said, smiling slightly.

Ramón looked at the crystal, holding it carefully in his hands as if it were a shrine. The stone felt cool, almost icy, and was without blemish, no cracks or inclusions. Its hexagonal shape, smooth and semi-translucent, reflected the faint light of the candles and cast a delicate, milky glow on his fingers.

But his curiosity was not yet satisfied. His eyes glittered dangerously as he clutched the crystal tightly, his lips twisted into a sinister smile.

“Can you do anything else? Something... more dangerous?” he asked, his voice quieter and more insistent now.

Nicole sighed. Ramón's obsession, revealed in moments like this, made her realize that he was not only fascinated by her, but also by what lurked inside her. His weakness, which he hid behind his fanatical pursuit, was almost palpable to her.

“Yes,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes so that he shivered slightly. “But... you should be sure that you really want to see it.”

His terrible smile remained unchanged, his fingers clutched the crystal in a motion more akin to an unholy prayer, then he nodded to her.

Nicole stood alone in the middle of the tiled area. The flickering of the candles seemed to dance with the sharp pull in her chest as she took slow, deep breaths. She knew what she was about to do. She had rarely used the ritual that followed because it was difficult to control, like Del Lago - but for Ramón's sake, she tightened her shoulders and let it happen. Her own Plaga also felt a certain nervousness. Its little legs squirmed under her skin. The cool silence in the room weighed heavily on her, like an ancient cloak of shadow and doom. She began to let the mutamycet seep through her hands. The dark threads crept lazily across the floor, forming a growing web that connected her hands to the stone surface like shadowy roots, forming a circle around her.

The network of deep black veins slid over her body like a living second skin. The world around her faded as the black veins closed around her in a pulsating cocoon. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the candlelight seemed to lose its power as the black cloak of the mutamycetes wrapped itself around Nicole and thickened further and further until finally a huge figure began to emerge from it.

In front of Ramón, who was watching the event with a mixture of awe and fear, was no longer a human being - but a shadow made of black mycelial tissue, whose massive, sinister presence had something abysmal about it. A thick, billowing tentacle grew from the center, flanked by two mighty, shimmering crystal horns that bent dangerously upwards and almost towards each other. The sight was confusing and impressive at the same time: it looked like a huge elephant creature made of dark mycelium, covered in a mossy veil that hung down from the shape.

Ramón clutched the crystal in his hand as his eyes stared at the terrifying creature that had once been Nicole. Fascination and terror were reflected in his gaze, but an eerie shudder came over him as he realized that the familiar connection of Nicole's plaga was only faint and altered through this shell. Before him stood a manifestation of her mutamycete powers, dangerous and imponderable - but how much of Nicole was left in this terrifying image?

The massive elephant suddenly set itself in motion with thunderous steps on its four pillar legs, its trunk raised threateningly and fearsomely into the air, it made no sound. Ramón was startled when his bodyguards, Verdugo and Pesanta, stood protectively in front of him. But the mycelium monster swept them aside with a single sweep of its trunk, as if they were mere pieces on a chessboard, insignificant and light. Ramón cowered on the ground in shock as the huge tusks brushed past him by a hand's breadth. He broke out in a cold sweat as his heart pounded violently against his ribs. He bit his lips.

Verdugo and Pesanta fought their way back close to the thing, jumped on its back and tried to drive their claws deep into the body of the mutamycetes. But their attacks had no effect: their claws slid through the body as if through water, without really hurting or weakening the creature. Nicole's plaga shouted for them to stay away. Ramón's bodyguards hesitantly jumped away from the monster and flanked their master instead.

Ramón was still lying on the ground while the creature reluctantly, almost hesitantly, turned away from him and rushed towards one of the massive pillars. The sudden movement caused the black tentacles to tremble, as if a wave of displeasure was running through it. With a thunderous crash, the monster rammed into the pillar, which shattered under the force. Stones and mortar tumbled into the infinite darkness below, accompanied by the mutamycete mesh, which lost its shape and also fell into the depths. The dull thud could be heard far below.

Ramón, overwhelmed by fear and panic, picked himself up and ran towards the destroyed pillar. His gaze was lost in the darkness below him. His fingers gripped the crystal so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A tremor ran through him as he felt the pain of despair - the idea of having lost Nicole was like a stab in the heart. Tears filled his eyes and his breath hitched. But then, a whisper of relief: the faint voice of her Plaga did not sound from the depths below him.

He slowly turned around when a soft smacking sound caught his attention. A viscous pile of black slime stretched out pale arms to push itself up from the ground, then a figure sat up, weak and swaying on its knees on the ground. Black slime dripped to the floor and Nicole, breathless and exhausted, looked up at him, her eyes half-closed.

“Was it dangerous enough?” she gasped, her voice brittle, but there was a tired glimmer of her usual humor in her expression.

Ramón, overwhelmed with relief and unable to control his emotions, fell to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, regardless of the cold slime that stained his clothes. He felt her trembling body against his and nothing else seemed to matter at that moment. Her breath, weak and hot, brushed over his neck as he held her tightly against him, as if he had almost lost faith in ever holding her like this again after what had just happened.

His fingers slid over her cheeks and pushed back the tangled strands of hair so that he could look into her exhausted eyes. “That was wonderful, my love.” With a tender gesture, full of gratitude and a hint of madness, he kissed her, ignoring the coldness of the slime between them. The fear and despair faded as her warm lips kissed his.

Chapter Text

The warmth of the steaming bath enveloped Nicole and Ramón like a soothing veil. The walls of the gray stone bathroom were lit by torches, their flickering light reflected in the smooth surface of the water. The scent of herbs hung heavy in the air, while the water around them enveloped their bodies like silky hands.

Nicole knelt behind Ramón, her hands gliding slowly and tenderly over his shoulders. Her touch was gentle but firm. Her fingers effortlessly found the tense areas in his muscles that had accumulated after the day's events. Ramón leaned back with his eyes closed, his breathing calm and a contented smile playing around his lips.

“You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” Nicole's voice was soft, almost teasing, as she moved her hands lower and stroked along his arms.

Ramón half opened his eyes and turned his head slightly towards her. “Wouldn't you enjoy it too if I did?” His words were a soft murmur, accompanied by an amused, faint smile.

Nicole laughed softly. “It's not a competition, Ramón.” She leaned forward and gently kissed his neck, running her fingers down his sides, which gave him goosebumps. “But yes, I like seeing you so relaxed.”

For a moment, it was silent, with only the occasional splashing of the water and the crackling of the torches to be heard. It was a moment of peace, a rare moment in which they could forget the burdens of the outside world. But like a shadow in the distance, a memory crept into Nicole's thoughts.

“Ramón...” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“Hm?” His eyes remained closed, his breathing calm.

“The mutamycet who fell into the depths...” She let the sentence hang in the air as she held her hands still. “If I don't remove it, it will grow. And I don't mean just a little. It could become uncontrollable.”

Ramón opened his eyes and half-turned to face her. His gaze was serious, but there was a hint of enthusiasm in his yellow eyes. “Let it grow.”

“Ramón...” Nicole bit her lower lip, unsure if she should protest. The eagerness in his gaze made her heart beat faster, but at the same time she felt uneasy.

“It could be a gift, Nicole,” he said in a soft but firm voice. His hands reached for hers, still resting on his shoulders. “A part of you that strengthens the power of the Plaga and the Illuminados. A symbiosis that is unprecedented.”

She sighed, feeling the pressure of his fingers on hers. His enthusiasm was infectious, but also unsettling. “If anyone asks, it's a Plagas experiment and not mine, alright?”

Ramón's grin was as wide as that of a cat that had caught a mouse. “Of course.”

He turned to face her in the tub. He motioned for her to turn so that she was sitting with her back to him. With a gentle movement, he pulled her towards him. His hands moved to her shoulders and began to massage them just as gently. He stroked her wet hair to the side and saw her plaga showing black under her skin. Nicole closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the moment, even if the thought of the growing mutamyzet remained like a quiet murmur in the back of her mind. She sighed softly as he touched her plaga, which sent a wave of well-being through her. Ramón sensed this too and kissed her lovingly on the back of the neck.

---

After the bath, Ramón led Nicole, both wrapped in large bath towels, to her room. Their footsteps echoed in the silent corridors of the castle, the light of the torches made their shadows dance long and distorted on the walls. “I'll leave you to change in peace, wait here, I'll come and get you,” with that Ramón disappeared to change in his room as well. When Nicole entered her room, her eyes immediately fell on the new closet.

It was made of dark wood that shimmered almost black in the light. The intricate inlays and carvings depicting plants almost seemed to be alive, they were so detailed. Curious, Nicole opened the doors and saw the wealth of clothing that Ramón had had made for her.

“Impressive.” She let her fingers glide over the fabrics, feeling the soft cotton from which the black underwear was made and the smooth surface of the dark robes. Her eyes lingered on the robes whose blue-black fabric was embroidered with golden plant ornaments, which also resembled the colors and ornaments of Ramón's clothing. They were her favorite. He had probably had several of them made. Now she could wear one of them again.

After she had changed her clothes and Ramón soon appeared at her door, she said to him: “I like this one.”

Ramón, who was leaning against the doorframe, looked at her with a satisfied smile. “That's what I thought. It suits you - and me.” He pointed to his outfit. He looked dressed as he always did - in his blue castellan's outfit with coat, frilled shirt, vest, shorts, dark knee-high socks and buckled shoes.

Nicole grinned. “Of course. You have several copies of your own outfit, don't you?”

“Of course.” Ramón's smile widened, almost mischievous.

---

Later, when the sun was already lower, Ramón took Nicole to the battlements of the castle. They had a blanket and a basket of food with them, and together they looked for a place from which they could enjoy the view.

The wind was fresh and carried the salty smell of the sea. Nicole let her gaze wander over the landscape: the glistening water, the dense forests that stretched out below them like a sea of green and the mountains that loomed in the distance.

“It's beautiful here,” she said as she settled down on the spread-out blanket.

Ramón sat down next to her, pulled out the picnic basket and opened it. He remembered that she had once mentioned how she had managed to get into his castle in the first place. “And yet you chose to climb the castle instead of coming through the gate.”

Nicole laughed softly. “That wasn't the plan. I thought it would be easier.”

“Easy ways are rarely the best,” Ramón replied, but his voice sounded amused.

Nicole told him how she had climbed up a part of the castle wall that seemed suitable to her. “I wouldn't exactly call it easy. I slipped and fell twice. And yes, it hurt.”

Ramón, who grew more and more serious as she described it, looked at her, startled. “You fell?”

“Don't worry.” She waved him off and took a piece of bread from the basket. “My self-healing powers have often helped me out of difficult situations.”

“That's not reassuring, Nicole.” Ramón's brow furrowed with worry, as she had probably found herself in awkward situations more often than he could have guessed.

“Oh, come on.” She smiled at him. “Without this action, I would probably never have met you and I wouldn't have a holy body inside me. So it had something good after all.”

Ramón's eyes sparkled and he leaned over to press a tender kiss to her neck. Nicole closed her eyes briefly and enjoyed the gentle touch while the wind ruffled her hair. Ramón's lip rouge left a red mark on her neck. The orange light of the setting sun touched both their figures and made their skin glow softly.

---

When night fell, they returned to Ramón's room. The large bed with its wooden top and heavy curtains offered them an oasis of security. Nicole lay in his arms, feeling his calm breath on her cheek.

The darkness enveloped her like a protective blanket and the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the room with a cozy warmth. Ramón's fingers stroked through her hair as she snuggled closer to him.

“Stay with me tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost pleading.

Nicole lifted her head and looked at him. “I want to go back to the village, Ramón.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Then I'll accompany you this time, along with my bodyguards. Would you like that?”

Nicole nodded, a hint of tiredness and contentment in her features. Together they closed their eyes, their bodies nestled close together as darkness descended over the castle.

---

The morning dawned, cool and clear, with a hint of salt in the air coming up from the sea. The first rays of sun broke through the low-hanging clouds and bathed the rugged landscape in a golden light. Nicole stood with Ramón in front of the lowered drawbridge of the castle. Her eyes glided over the narrow path that led down to the village.

Ramón's bodyguards, Pesanta and Verdugo, waited motionless nearby, their rigid figures like imperturbable shadows in the cool morning air. Nicole adjusted the fabric of her robe and stroked her golden Illuminados amulet, while Ramón placed a hand on her back.

“Ready, my dear?” he asked with a smile that expressed both encouragement and pride.

Nicole nodded and together they set off. The path was narrow and uneven, flanked by jagged rock faces and deep ravines crisscrossed by mist-shrouded chasms. The wind blew through the bare branches of the few trees clinging to the cliffs, bringing with it a low, plaintive howl.

“This reminds me of my home in Eastern Europe,” Nicole said as she balanced over a loose stone.

“Oh?” Ramón gave her a curious look, his face illuminated by the sun over the mountain peaks.

“The valley in the Carpathians. It's just as remote, just as winding and unpredictable.” She smiled fleetingly. “Only the climate is cooler. But here the air is interwoven with the sea and the Illuminados' past lies hidden in the shadows.”

Ramón's smile deepened. “A fitting description. Our castle and our land have a soul of their own, one that is inextricably linked to our faith.”

As they descended deeper into the valley, their path led them past ruined houses and cave-like passageways. The former inhabitants had long since abandoned some of these places, but the silent ruins told stories of lives that once pulsated here, of work, prayers and sacrifices. Nicole could almost feel the presence of these spirits, like a whisper at the edge of her consciousness.

The church appeared before them, an imposing structure of gray stone surrounded by a small cemetery. The gravestones were leaning and overgrown with moss and lichen. The wind carried the soft murmur of voices from inside the building.

“It seems we're walking into the middle of a mass,” Ramón remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

As they got closer, the voice of Mayor Bitores Méndez was clearly audible. It was deep, resonant, and filled the church like a powerful echo. They entered through the heavy wooden doors, which groaned softly under their weight, and stopped in the shadow of the entrance.

The interior of the church was filled with a gloomy, almost eerie atmosphere. Candlelight flickered on the faces of the villagers sitting on the wooden benches, their eyes fixed on Méndez. The mayor stood at the altar, his massive figure looking even more imposing in the glow of the dancing flames. Behind him, the insignia and signs of Los Illuminados were emblazoned on the walls.

His words extolled the grace of Lord Saddler and the majesty of the Plaga. As he spoke, Nicole felt the collective thoughts of the villagers engulf her. The voices of her plagas whispered, hummed, pleaded - a polyphonic chorus that settled in her mind and enveloped her.

It was as if an invisible wave was hitting her. She could feel the devotion, the unconditional reverence that these people had for their Lord. It was overwhelming, almost suffocating, like a dozen hands trying to grasp her at the same time.

“Nicole!” Ramón's voice snapped her out of her trance. He was already standing in front of the altar, his amber-yellow eyes fixed on her. He had one hand outstretched to call her to him.

She hesitated for a moment, then moved forward as if in a dream. Her footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor as the villagers' gazes followed her. When she grasped Ramón's outstretched hand, a soft, pleasant tingling sensation ran through her.

Ramón smiled at her, his voice soft but clearly audible in the silence of the church. “Nicole, my dearest companion.”

The villagers murmured in agreement, and Ramón lifted her hand to cover the back of hers with a tender kiss. His lips were warm, his gesture a mixture of affection and pride.

Nicole's heart beat faster, not only because of the attention they were receiving, but also because of the intensity of Ramón's gaze. His eyes seemed to penetrate her to the depths of her soul.

The villagers continued to whisper, and Nicole felt the voices of the Plagas stirring in her mind again. It was as if they were whispering their approval, their recognition.

---

After mass, they left the church. The sky was now overcast with heavy clouds and a cool wind blew through the streets of the village. Ramón hooked Nicole's arm under his as they walked through the cemetery.

“You did well,” he said quietly.

“What?” Nicole gave him a questioning look.

“Showing you by my side. Demonstrating our unity. It builds the trust and devotion of our people.”

Nicole felt a mixture of pride and doubt welling up inside her. She knew how important these moments were for Ramón, but she wondered how much of herself might be lost in this game of power and symbolism.

Ramón seemed to sense her thoughts, because he pressed her gently against him. “You are more than just my companion, Nicole. You're part of something bigger. You know that, don't you?”

She nodded silently, unsure whether she should tell him how overwhelming it was for her to feel all these voices and thoughts. But for the moment she left it at that and concentrated on the cool wind that brushed her cheeks and the warmth of Ramón's arm holding her. Pesanta and Verdugo walked silently and majestically behind them.

Chapter Text

The air in the village center was pervaded by a tense silence, broken only occasionally by the whispers of the villagers and the muted sounds of cows and chickens. Ramón and Nicole entered the village together with their two bodyguards. The square was surrounded by typical Spanish farmhouses made of fieldstone and red semicircular tiles on the roofs. The plaster was crumbling here and there, the ravages of time had been gnawing away at the architecture for some time. Mayor Méndez, as tall and imperturbable as a monolith, walked alongside Ramón, his deep voice murmuring soft words of respect to the young lord. A commotion in front of them made them sit up and take notice.

The excited villagers had gathered in the center of the village. Surrounded by the frowning Ganados, three strangers were kneeling. They were covered in blood, their clothes filthy and their faces marked by fear and exhaustion. Apparently they were unknown wanderers who had strayed here and had no idea that not every place promised hospitality. The villagers had not treated them kindly. Their wounds were evidence of resistance that had been quickly broken.

Nicole watched the scene with mixed feelings. While Ramón's face radiated pure contentment, her stomach tightened. She didn't want to look, but her gaze still lingered on the walkers. The three strangers were a picture of misery. Their modern outdoor clothing was torn, the woman's face marked by dried tears. One of the men was trembling, his eyes wide open, while the third, a wiry man with angular features, remained rigid and calm. But Nicole could sense that his façade was brittle.

“Mayor Méndez,” Ramón finally said in a sweet voice, ”It would be a pleasure to accomplish the work of our holy lord with you. These lost souls will find a purpose.”

Méndez instructed his people to bring the strangers into the chapel. The villagers nodded reverently. That was where the ritual was to take place.

The interior of the chapel was sparsely lit. The flickering light of the few candles made the shadows dance and gave the room an eerie aura. The trapped wanderers knelt trembling in the middle of the chapel room where they had been dragged. The woman wept silently to herself, her hands clasped convulsively in front of her chest. One of the men mumbled prayer-like words that were more desperate incantations than pious prayers. The third, who had seemed the calmest so far, just stared silently in front of him, but his gaze was blank and characterized by an underlying panic. He had briefly seen the altar with the many skulls.

Nicole felt the atmosphere around her tighten as Ramón took the floor. His voice was honey-sweet, but it carried the harshness of an unwavering zealot: “You have been chosen to become part of something greater. You will receive the blessing of the Holy Body and serve the cause of our beloved Lord.”

The woman broke into another sob while one of the men shook his head frantically. The previously calm one whispered quietly: “You are all sick...”

Nicole felt her insides tighten. These unsuspecting people, she thought, had no idea what was in store for them. She herself had been asked beforehand if she wanted to accept this blessing and had not really been forced to, at least not like this. Her fingers twitched slightly, an involuntary impulse to do something - but Ramón's hand tightened around her arm. She turned her head towards him. His eyes met hers with a warning look.

“Stay,” he whispered. “You have to see it.”

Then he raised a hand and beckoned Pesanta forward commandingly.

The dark figure of his bodyguard stepped forward.

Nicole had always perceived Pesanta as a silent presence behind Ramón, her menacing aura had always been palpable. Now she stepped out of the shadows and Nicole felt her heart beat faster. With a slow, almost ceremonial movement, Pesanta raised her arms and pulled off the robe. Beneath the robe, something only remotely resembling a human being was revealed. Pesanta's body was a grotesque mixture of carnal and insect-like elements. Her skin was pale and leathery in texture, crisscrossed with rippled ridges and sinewy strands of muscle. Two muscular legs supported her massive body, which merged backwards into an insect-like abdomen.

Pesanta let her plagas, which was connected to her abdomen, slide out of her back. It was a fleshy centipede, covered with claws and a mouth with a double row of teeth that looked like a grinning grimace. Two mandibles, long as horns, grew out next to this plaga mouth. Her plaga reached up to the ceiling and bent down menacingly towards the prisoners.

Nicole couldn't look away. Her curiosity was as great as her fascination. Pesanta's plaga was considerable, and Nicole wondered how it could be that the same parasites could develop into such different creatures. Her own plaga was almost dainty compared to this nightmare.

“She's a true masterpiece,” Ramón whispered, holding Nicole by the arm. She sensed his awe and could not hide the shudder she felt at the sight of Pesanta.

Pesanta bent down to the kneeling walkers. Her claw-like hands reached out towards the weeping woman. The three froze, their eyes wide. Then the woman shrieked, while the calm man suddenly panicked and jumped up.

His attempt to escape lasted only seconds before Verdugo caught him with terrifying speed. Verdugo's long, clawed hand held the man effortlessly, and Nicole remembered how she herself had once been seized by him with such ease.

Pesanta ignored the commotion and continued her work. She held the woman's head firmly and forced her mouth to open with one of her finger claws. A yellow liquid dripped from the mouth of her centipede plaga, in which something tiny seemed to be moving, or was it just the flickering candles?

The liquid dripped into the woman's open mouth with a wet sound. She wanted to scream, almost choked and gasped. Then she slumped down and crouched on the floor as Pesanta let go of her. The man next to her trembled in bewilderment: “What is this alien shit here?”

Nicole felt herself tense up at the painful thought that the same thing could have happened to her. Ramón's hand on her arm held her firmly, but not roughly. With his other hand, he stroked the back of her hand to calm her down.

“This is the will of our God, Nicole,” he whispered softly as he sensed reluctance stirring in her, ”Yes, I know.” Her eyes were still fixed on the scene before her. A part of her, a dark, hidden part, was mesmerized.

The trembling man was next. He barely had time to react before he too met the same fate. His screams mingled with the woman's gasps.

“You will be reborn soon,” Ramón said softly, his voice almost a whisper, but Nicole heard the undisguised excitement in it.

She needed to see this so she could tell Mother Miranda about it. After all, she still had her mission in the background to find out more about Los Illuminados.

The chapel was filled with a dark, claustrophobic aura, broken only by the quiet sobs of the two walkers sitting on the floor, inside of which the plagas would slowly unfold. The flickering candles bathed the room in an unsteady light that grotesquely brought the skulls on the altar table to life. Their empty eye sockets seemed to observe the scene as if they had witnessed countless such rituals.

Nicole stood close to Ramón and watched the scene with growing trepidation.

Pesanta, grotesque and majestic at the same time, bent over the last wanderer held by the villagers after Verdugo had stepped back. The long, fleshy centipede plaga at her back lowered its jaws to his mouth, which was held in the iron grip of a villager. A sound, half slurp, half click, came from the creature as it dripped the golden liquid into the prisoner's open mouth.

The man coughed, trying to fight back, but the villagers' strong hands forced him to swallow the drink. His face contorted in agony as the liquid ran down his throat.

Ramón stepped closer, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “This is the blessing of the Holy Body”, he declared coldly, heedless of the prisoner's despair. His voice was both hypnotic and merciless. “Whoever rejects this blessing proves that he is unworthy. And there is no place among us for the unworthy.”

“You're all crazy! It's all a sick spectacle!” shouted the man whose attempt to escape had been thwarted, his voice rising in anger. Then he willfully regurgitated the liquid he had been given and spat it to the floor in front of Ramón.

The villagers initially recoiled in horror, as if his rebellion was sacrilege, but Ramón only smiled coldly. “Someone is very bold,” he said quietly, his voice silky smooth but full of underlying danger. “Show him what it means to spurn the will of our Lord.”

Nicole felt her throat go dry as the villagers dragged the man out of the chapel. His curses echoed off the walls, mixed with the soft giggles of some of the worshippers. Her eyes fell on the skulls carefully lined up on the altar table. She felt her stomach tighten. She dimly remembered what Mayor Méndez had said about these skulls, that not everyone was worthy to receive the Holy Body.

“What will happen to them?” Nicole asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Ramón turned to her, a smile on his lips that both reassured and worried her. “They will be taken into care until the transformation is complete. They will become part of our grand plan.”

“And the other one?”

Ramón's gaze slid over the skulls on the altar table. His expression remained unchanged, but there was a spark of malice in his eyes that made Nicole's blood run cold. “Those who resist have no place in our community. He will meet his fate, like so many before him.” His tone was cool, almost casual, as if the man's life was nothing but a trifle.

The two prisoners, who offered no resistance worth mentioning, were led out by the villagers. Mayor Méndez escorted them out and closed the chapel door behind him.

Ramón let go of Nicole's hand and watched his lover as she gazed admiringly at Pesanta, who still stood there in her grotesque form without her robe. “May I...?” she asked quietly, facing Pesanta. Pesanta leaned down as Nicole hesitantly reached out a hand towards her face. The creature was huge and yet strangely graceful, its skin of a leathery texture that Nicole ran her fingers along curiously.

Her fingers touched the unusual surface and a wave of sensations ran through her. Pesanta's face was somewhat reminiscent of her human appearance. Her eyes glowed orange. The skin felt cool, almost reptilian, but there was a pulsing vibrancy underneath. Pesanta's plaga, that fearsome centipede creature, lowered itself closer to Nicole, as if it wanted to feel her touch.

Nicole felt her own Plaga resonate. A deep, soothing feeling spread through her, a strange, intimate connection that she could neither understand nor deny. It was like a dialog between her and the parasite, a wordless language that they both shared.

Ramón watched her with a strange smile. His gaze was soft, almost admiring, while Nicole touched Pesanta without fear. “You're amazing, Nicole,” he finally said, his voice a soft whisper. “You accept what others fear. That's what I recognized in you from the beginning.”

Nicole felt her heart beat faster, but she didn't look up. Her hand was still resting on Pesanta's skin while the Plaga made soft clicking noises.

“Incredible, isn't it?” Ramón's voice sounded behind her and she felt his touch on her back, exactly where her own plaga was. “Pesanta is a masterpiece of our work. She was an experiment and look how beautiful it turned out.”

“Her Plaga are purring inside me,” Nicole whispered. “It's... strange. But somehow it also feels right.”

Ramón smiled. “We're all part of something bigger. Something eternal. And we are all connected.”

Ramón's smile deepened and for a moment there was silence in the chapel. She turned to him, her eyes searching his. “I...” she began, but her words were swallowed up by the sombre intimacy of the moment.

Pesanta, Verdugo, Nicole and Ramón were the only ones left. The shadows of the skulls continued to dance on the walls while Ramón and Nicole looked deep into each other's eyes. At that moment, the world outside the chapel no longer seemed to exist, and the darkness around them became the stage for an unspoken, dark promise.

Chapter Text

“Does Verdugo look exactly like Pesanta under his robe?”

Dark shadows danced across the walls, cast by flickering candles. The old chapel was empty apart from Ramón, Nicole and the two bodyguards, and the other villagers had not returned. It smelled of melted wax and old, musty wood. Ramón's voice broke through the silence, imbued with a hint of pride: “Do you want to see Verdugo?”

Nicole lowered her gaze and met his sparkling pair of yellow eyes. She nodded invitingly. The slight smile that adorned his red-painted lips was seductive and promised secrets that fascinated and worried her in equal measure. Ramón snapped his fingers.

A scraping sounded from the shadows as Verdugo stepped forward. His footsteps were barely audible, just a soft clacking on the stone floor. He stood right next to Pesanta, whose plaga moved slightly back and forth like a cobra. Then he paused and let the heavy red robe slide off his shoulders with a rustle.

Nicole involuntarily held her breath. A grotesque yet fascinating figure appeared before her. The black chitinous armor shone in the candlelight, every fiber of his body seemed to tremble with strength. Verdugo's head had human features just like Pesanta, a strange illusion that was reinforced by the vivid, glowing eyes. But everything else about him was so alien, almost nightmarish. His long limbs were covered in rib-like patterns and bone-like structures, and his whip-like whorl-bone tail moved elegantly behind him, like a hunter circling its prey.

Beside him, Pesanta, standing almost motionless, looked like a massive, living, lighter shadow - more powerful, but less agile.

“Aren't they perfect bodyguards?” Ramón's voice was filled with a mixture of pride and arrogance.

Nicole took a step forward and held out her hand, unsure whether she was allowed to touch him. Verdugo leaned forward slightly, as if he understood her gesture. His surface felt hard and cool, like polished stone, but underneath she could feel the living, vibrating power. His plaga could also transmit a purring sensation to hers.

“Unique”, Nicole whispered, running her fingers curiously over the armor.

Ramón watched the scene with amused interest, his eyes fixed on her features, searching for any sign of fear or disgust. Even after she had seen the ritual, there was no sign of it. Instead, her curiosity was genuine, almost childlike. Her touch honored Verdugo as if he were a creation of art, not a deadly creature.

After a while, she stepped to Ramón's side. Verdugo and Pesanta silently put their robes back on, covering their true nature once again behind the heavy fabrics.

“How did you get your plaga?” Nicole asked, looking at Ramón.

Ramón's eyes narrowed slightly. Her interest had turned to him. His smile deepened, this time it became more thoughtful. He took Nicole's hand in his. His delicate fingers were cool, but their pressure was firm.

“Come,” he said. His voice had a strange warmth. “I'll tell you about it. But not here.”

Ramón led Nicole out of the chapel, while Pesanta and Verdugo walked behind them like silent shadows. The cool air welcomed them, carried by a faint, damp wind that brought with it the usual smells of the village - smoke from the wood-burning stoves and something else, musty, that reminded Nicole of decay. Wisps of cloud floated lazily across the blue sky.

The paths were narrow and uneven, flanked by broken fences and dense rows of trees that stood out like looming silhouettes against the light sky. The sun's rays shimmered between the branches, providing just enough brightness to bathe the surroundings in an eerie twilight.

They passed primitive homemade symbols made of old wooden planks, hung with human skulls hanging from ropes from their eye sockets and turning quietly in the wind. A shiver ran down Nicole's spine, but she didn't dare let go of Ramón's hand.

The only sounds were the rustling of the wind in the trees and the occasional creaking of the hanging skulls and symbols hanging between the branches. Ramón and Nicole walked on arm in arm, the play of light between the leaves transforming the path in front of them into a moving pattern. The blue, cloud-speckled sky shone above them.

Ramón's voice was calm, but carried a somber tone as he began to talk.

“At the time, I was little more than a child”, he said, pausing briefly as if the memory was pulling him back. “Weak, fragile and almost always confined to bed. No doctor could explain why my body was failing me. Every day I felt weaker, and my mother... She couldn't understand.”

Nicole listened intently, sensing the raw honesty in his words. His fingers wrapped around her arm felt cool, and yet his touch seemed to be accompanied by a strange warmth - the warmth of trust and affection.

“My mother”, he continued, ”knew the stories about Los Illuminados. She believed they could perform miracles, bring healing. My father thought it was superstition, but as I got sicker and sicker, he finally gave in, not because of me, but because he loved my mother more than anything and complied with her wishes.”

The path in front of them became narrower, lined with gnarled trees whose branches stretched across the path like bony fingers. Completely derelict buildings lined their path. They had been abandoned for so long that trees had grown through their architecture. The scent of damp earth and rotting leaves lingered in the air, interspersed with a metallic odor that reminded Nicole involuntarily of blood.

“Back then, the Illuminados lived in exile on an island far out at sea,” Ramón continued. “You could see the island from the battlements of our castle when the air was clear. My mother wrote to them, begging for help. And Lord Saddler replied.”

Ramón's voice softened and Nicole sensed the awe that the thought of Saddler still evoked in him.

“The first time I saw him, I knew he was different. He had a charisma, a power... He promised my mother that he would save me and immediately began to investigate. He took blood from me, cell samples, as he said, to match my body to the 'holy body'. And meanwhile he told me about the history of his family, who were the leaders of Los Illuminados, generation after generation, and about the Plagas.”

Ramón's steps slowed and they stopped in front of an old altar, its stone surface marked with rust-red stains - dried blood. A symbol of Los Illuminados was carved into the front of the altar: four hands stretching out from a central center, like a dark mandala.

“Here”, Ramón said, pointing to the altar, ”they are said to have once held rituals. Offerings to honor the Plaga. It's a place that is still imbued with the power of the past and the present.”

Nicole carefully touched the cold, rough surface of the stone. Goose bumps ran down her spine, as if the ghosts of rituals long past still watched over this place. All sorts of symbols made of bones, metal parts and woven twigs, which the villagers had attached, hung from ropes around the altar. The symbols sang a monotonous melody in the light wind as they bumped against each other.

“Saddler told me about Adam Saddler, his ancestor”, Ramón continued. “He was the first to discover the 'sacred body of God' in the caves under our castle, which used to belong to Los Illuminados. My ancestors later persecuted and killed the followers and expelled the rest. They then sealed the plaga under the castle and received the land and castle as a reward. I swore my allegiance to Lord Saddler and to right my family's wrongs.”

Ramón's face hardened, his yellow eyes glinting in the dim light.

“I was barely sane when they injected me with the Plaga,” he said in a voice that betrayed both pride and pain. “I drank from the black water. It felt like a fire was burning me from the inside.”

Nicole tensed inwardly at his words, because she knew this feeling only too well. The burning, agonizing fire when the Plaga had reacted to the black liquid in her body was an experience she would never forget.

“Before”, Ramón said, turning to her, ”I had dark hair and dark eyes. Just like you. But when my plaga grew inside me, everything changed. My hair became light, my eyes yellow... My mother accepted me, still loved me, but my father...”

He paused, and a cold smile crossed his face.

“He only hated me all the more. Every time he looked at me, he saw a demon. Saddler taught me to control the Ganados he had gathered around him, and he taught me to be strong. But my father wouldn't accept that. When my mother became seriously ill, I begged him to let Saddler help. My father refused. And the night she died, he wanted to kill me.”

Ramón's voice became a dangerous whisper. Nicole felt the coldness in his words.

“He rushed into my room, grabbed me and put a dagger to my throat. But Saddler was there. Our lord showed his power. Tentacles erupted from his body and pinned my father to the floor, piercing his limbs. Then he handed me the dagger.”

His eyes glowed with enthusiasm and a strange, almost ecstatic smile played on his lips.

“I did what had to be done,” he said. “I completed my lord's work and ended my father's life.”

Nicole swallowed hard, but said nothing. Ramón's story was a spiral of pain, hatred and redemption and she felt that at that moment he was revealing himself not only to her, but to himself.

“And after that, you were the count?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

Ramón nodded, but his face darkened.

“Not immediately,” he said. “There were fights. Chaos broke out. My father's followers called me mad, a usurper. But in the end, I won. Saddler stood by my side and I... I became stronger.”

Nicole stepped away from the stone altar, a step closer to Ramón, her fingers finding his arm. She reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face, tenderly touching his pale cracked skin.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. Ramón trembled slightly under her touch, a pleasant shiver running down his spine. His yellow eyes lost their madness for a moment and looked into hers like a person finding comfort.

They continued on their way, past more symbols of Los Illuminados, through a forest that grew thicker and darker. The penumbra of the path seemed alive and the day was far from over.

Chapter Text

Ramón and Nicole walked side by side on a roughly stone-laid path that ran through the rocky landscape. The trees stood between stones and wildly growing undergrowth. The sun dabbed bright shadows on the path in front of them and the wind made the leaves whisper to each other.

“How did you get your mutamycete?” Ramón's voice broke the silence, his words borne of curiosity and a hint of reserve. His yellow eyes scrutinized her attentively.

Nicole felt his inquiring gaze on her as she lowered her head slightly. A sigh escaped her lips - she had expected this question or a similar one at some point, but the answer was harder than she would ever admit. As they walked over the weathered stones, Ramón held her hand tighter, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb as if to encourage her.

After a while, during which they walked silently side by side, Nicole finally broke the silence: “I don't know exactly when it happened, but I received my mutamycete during a ritual. Back then, the mutamycete was called the 'blood of the earth'. They told me it would connect us to the world, make us immortal.” Her voice was calm, but every sentence seemed to infuse her with the power of memories she had long buried. After all, she lived in the here and now, not in the past, no matter how far away it was.

Ramón stopped and turned towards her. The light wind made his gray-white hair flutter, as did the ruffles on his chest, while his eyes focused intently on her face. “What happened during this ritual?”

Nicole closed her eyes as if she had to bring back the images that were hidden in her mind under thousands of memories. “I had to drink this blood. It was thick, like liquid stone, and tasted like death. Afterwards...” Her voice broke, she touched her throat with her fingertips. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes and looked directly at Ramón. “I don't remember anything after that. When I woke up, I had to dig myself out of the ground like a mole,” she now stroked the ruffles of Ramón's robe. “I was buried, deep under a layer of earth. My family, everything I knew, was gone. It was as if someone had redrawn the world, but without me.” Ramón took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

A lump formed in her throat and her words were accompanied by involuntary trembling. Ramón could feel her tension; her hand trembled slightly in his.

“That sounds... cruel.” Ramón's voice was barely more than a whisper. Had his lover been buried alive?

Nicole laughed bitterly, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and continued to speak as if she wanted to dispel the heaviness of the memories with words: “It's all like behind a thick veil. What was before remains blurred, but everything after is clear.”

They walked on in silence for a while, the atmosphere dense and charged with emotion. Finally, Ramón asked quietly: “Do you know when that was, when you woke up?”

Nicole paused and smiled: “I'm older than your castle, Ramón.”

Ramón frowned, his lips opened slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Finally, he found his voice again: “That... that can't be.”

Nicole laughed softly. The sound was like the rustling of leaves in the wind. “When I woke up, there were no castles at that time. No Illuminados. Just the earth, wild and vast with dense impenetrable forests.”

Ramón stared at her with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. “You don't look that old.” She laughed again, more honestly this time, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “The blood of the earth won't turn me to dust.” Ramón nodded thoughtfully, stroking his neck, his skin criss-crossed with fine cracks. “I'm only twenty years old...”

Nicole raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. “You don't look that old.”

The absurdity of their conversation made them both laugh out loud. The laughter echoed off the rocks and scattered into many fading sounds. She felt liberated. Whether he believed her or not, Nicole's tension evaporated like a breath of mist in the first sunlight.

After the two of them had calmed down, Ramón took a step closer to Nicole. His hands rested gently on her waist. He pulled her closer to him. With a gentle squeeze, he laid his head against her chest, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Her heartbeat was like a soothing drumbeat.

Nicole put her arms around him and gently stroked his back. Her gaze wandered into the shady treetops, where the sun sparkled through like diamonds. Ramón's breathing was slow and she could feel his plaga resonating with hers, a connection that words could not describe.

He lifted his head and looked up at her. There was an expression in his yellow eyes that wavered between concern and tenderness. “I hope our age difference isn't standing between us?” His voice was quiet, almost uncertain.

Nicole shook her head, a warm smile on her lips. “Certainly not.”

Gently, she leaned down and placed her lips on his, a kiss that said all the words they couldn't say.

The afternoon sun cast shadows over the neglected village as Ramón led Nicole through the narrow streets. The silence was almost palpable; no wind, no laughter, no voices - just the soft crunching of the pebbles under their feet. They stopped in front of a half-ruined ironworks that must have once been a centerpiece of the village.

“They used to process iron here, which was extracted from the surrounding mines,” Ramón explained. His voice sounded muffled, almost melancholy. “Most of the mine shafts have collapsed. The forge has been dormant for years.”

Nicole looked at the building. Moss was crawling over the broken windows, the wooden sheds were marked by the weather and there were several holes in the roof. It was a symbol of transience, but also of resilience.

“Where are we going next?” Nicole asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the walls with the large open iron gate.

Ramón nodded forward, his face taking on a thoughtful expression. “To the mayor. There's something we need to discuss with him.”

The path finally led them to a large villa whose presence alone betrayed the power and influence of its owner. Bitores Méndez, the mayor, stood in front of the wooden front door. His imposing physique and long, bushy beard made him an impressive figure. His face was in the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.

Nicole immediately noticed the unusual arrangement of small wooden crosses around the house. Some were decorated with flowers and objects. As she approached, she realized that these graves were too small for adults.

Ramón stepped forward and greeted the mayor politely. Méndez nodded to them and invited them inside. Verdugo and Pesanta, who had followed them wordlessly, remained standing outside the door like two living statues.

Inside the villa, Nicole was surprised by the contrast with the dilapidated houses in the village. Everything here was rustic but well preserved - a touch of past wealth. They found themselves in a large room with a stone fireplace. A solid wooden table stood in the middle, surrounded by chairs. One of them was larger than the others. It matched the mayor's stature perfectly.

“Sit down, I'll get some tea”, said Méndez in his deep, rumbling voice. He hung his large-format hat on a stand next to the front door and disappeared behind a wooden bead curtain that concealed an alcove where the kitchen was located.

Nicole looked around. The room was furnished in an old-fashioned way, with patterned wallpaper and dark wood. On one of the walls, she spotted a collection of black and white photos hanging in frames next to and under each other. Curiosity drove her there, while Ramón took a seat on one of the wooden chairs. She stepped closer to look at the pictures.

The photos showed villagers in proud poses in front of their houses, working in the fields and gardens, a sawmill and the ironworks in better times. But one thing immediately caught the eye: many of the people pictured had been superimposed with improvised Illuminados symbols, that where handmade. Nails and pieces of wood formed the cross-like symbols that covered the people.

Nicole felt a strange unease emanating from the pictures. On a dark chest of drawers under the wall of photos lay more of these symbols, loose and seemingly carelessly discarded. She picked one up and ran her fingers over the rough wood, feeling the coldness of the iron.

“It's a tribute,” Méndez's voice suddenly sounded next to her. He had returned unnoticed and was standing with a serving tray in his hands. “A token of our devotion, if our Lord Saddler requires it.”

Nicole looked up at him, then at Ramón, who was watching the scene with watchful eyes.

“The mines... and the island, that's where our lord needs his followers”, Ramón added, his voice low and strained.

Méndez reached for Nicole's hand and gently folded her fingers around the symbol. “Keep it,” he said, his voice a whisper that nevertheless carried the weight of a command.

Nicole nodded curtly and slipped the wooden token into the pocket of her robe. Ramón cleared his throat, “Let's not let the tea get cold.”

They sat down and Méndez poured them tea from a silver teapot. The scent of peppermint and wild berries filled the room. Nicole sipped her cup and was surprised by the intense flavor, which momentarily displaced the bitterness of the atmosphere.

Time moved slowly as they sat at the table. The conversation initially revolved around everyday matters, but Méndez eventually steered the topic to more serious matters.

“It's going to take longer than we thought”, the mayor said in his deep, raspy voice, looking directly at Ramón. “Turning the road to the castle and the quarry into a fortified defense will take time and materials. A fort is no easy task.”

Ramón thoughtfully put down his cup and replied with a polite smile: “You'll get what you need. Wood, stone, tools - everything will be supplied.”

Nicole sat quietly next to him, her gaze wandering back and forth between the two men. She didn't quite understand why such an attachment was necessary, so she finally asked: “Who would want to attack us?”

Ramón's fingers slid gently over her arm, a comforting but also evasive reflex. “You can never be too careful,” he replied simply, but the subtle tension in his voice made her wonder.

The answer didn't make her feel any calmer, but she understood the logic. She nodded slowly. “That's right. After all, I got into your castle without being stopped.”

Ramón's red lips curled into a thin smile, but his yellow eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and amusement.

Nicole added, with determination and a firm voice: “But whatever happens, I'm in.”

A spark of surprise flitted across Ramón's face and his smile softened. His hand lay gently on hers. Méndez did not miss the connection the castellan had made with this girl. The mayor hoped it wouldn't break her. Lord Saddler demanded a heavy toll from everyone.

The atmosphere changed when Méndez, his teacup in his hand, quietly remarked: “The sun is setting.”

As if in response to a silent signal, Ramón and Méndez stood up almost simultaneously. Nicole sensed the change - a tension that rippled through the room like a gust of cold wind. Ramón turned to her, his tone serious but not unfriendly: “I would like you to accompany us, Nicole. It's important that you witness our sacred ritual.”

Her heart beat faster. She remembered the symbols and the drawings in the candlelit chapel above the many skull bones and what they showed - sacrifice. Still, she nodded, “If you insist.”

A satisfied smile flitted across Ramón's face. He patted her hand like an obedient pupil. Méndez rose from his rustic chair, put on his hat and opened the door through which the last light of dusk was falling. The sky was bathed in pink and blue, with wispy clouds floating like tattered veils over the glowing peaks of the mountains.

Verdugo and Pesanta were waiting outside, motionless like two dark statues dressed in red and black. The group set off, Méndez leading the way, followed by Nicole and Ramón, with Ramón's bodyguard behind them.

The paths they walked along were narrow and winding, overgrown with creeping weeds and flanked by dilapidated houses whose windows stared into nothingness like empty eye sockets. Primitive Los Illuminados symbols attached to ropes between the trees rattled in the wind like grotesque wind chimes.

The shadows of the mountains crept slowly into the valleys, and the world looked as if it was being swallowed up by darkness. A subtle smell of damp wood and earth lingered in the air, accompanied by the distant call of a bird that broke the silence.

Méndez led them through a narrow crevice where the rocks pressed tightly against their sides. Ramón muttered angrily to himself as he tried to keep his aristocratic clothes clean. Méndez half snorted in amusement: “It's a shortcut.”

“A shortcut,” Ramón repeated with a mixture of annoyance and derision as he squeezed through the narrow passage. His anger was only tempered by Nicole's silent smile, who turned to him briefly. Not to mention how Méndez had to squeeze through. He had taken off his hat and pressed it against his body.

Finally, the path opened up and they stepped out of the darkness of the crevice into an open space. Nicole stopped, her breath catching.

A ritual site lay before them, surrounded by high rocks that looked down on them like silent sentinels. Torches cast flickering shadows on the stone walls. Candles illuminated the altar in the center, which was covered with crudely carved symbols of the Illuminados.

Villagers had gathered, their faces bathed in ominous light from the flames. Some wore dark robes. Their silent prayers and whispers filled the air. They praised the Plagas and Lord Saddler.

Nicole felt the subtle vibrations of the Plagas around her. Her gaze wandered to the altar, where a man lay bound. His face was painted red - the sacred symbol of the Plagas.

A shiver ran down her spine when she recognized him. It was one of the wanderers who had been dragged into the village. The one who had refused the sacred body.

Méndez approached the altar with long strides, his powerful figure towering over the villagers. Ramón and Nicole followed him, while Verdugo and Pesanta lingered in the shadows, their shining eyes watchfully fixed on the crowd. Their mandibles clacked softly against each other. They had their huge insect claws folded in front of them.

The sounds of the villagers grew louder, the words of their prayers more urgent. A cold wind blew across the square, making the flames of the torches dance and bringing with it the smell of burning wood and dried grass.

Méndez raised his arms, his amulet sparkling in the light of the flames as he said a prayer. Ramón's face remained still, but his eyes followed the mayor's every movement with keen interest.

Nicole felt a strange mixture of fascination and unease. The plagas whispered more strongly to her, as if reacting to the energy of the ritual. Ramón leaned slightly towards her and whispered, “Do you feel them, Nicole?”

Chapter Text

The air was thick and heavy, impregnated with the metallic smell of blood rising from the stone altar. The light from the torches flickered fitfully as the wind blew across the ritual site. It cast fleeting, distorted shadows on those gathered. Voices murmured prayers. Spanish and Latin words mingled into a chaotic, oppressive chorus that sounded like a sinister song from the depths.

Nicole stood motionless, but her heart beat violently in her chest. Two followers in dark robes painted with symbols and silver braided chains with Plagas symbols around their necks held the bound and gagged wanderer on the altar. With practiced movements, one of them wielded a hand axe, its sharpened blade gleaming in the glow, in a precise, relentless strike. The muffled sound of the impact echoed through the ravine.

The warm, thick blood splattered over the altar and ran down the roughly hewn edges, flowing around the engraved symbol with the four hands. The body twitched in its last throes of life. The torches made the blood glow like liquid ruby, and the sweet, intense smell of it almost made Nicole hold her breath.

The cult followers cheered, their voices rising in a wild crescendo. “Gloria a las plagas!” Their faces were enraptured, as if they were in an ecstatic state.

Nicole felt the soft buzzing in her head. It was like a swarm of invisible insects fluttering through her thoughts, whispering, singing, demanding. She bit her lower lip hard to concentrate. It wasn't easy to ignore the strange voices that penetrated her mind, but they finally fell silent when she forced her own Plaga to be still.

Ramón stood close beside her. His slender hand held her arm, not firmly, but firmly enough to remind her that he was there. His grip was cool and reassuring, but when Nicole dared to take a quick look at his face, she felt goose bumps run down her spine. Ramón's face was cold, his yellow eyes glittering pitilessly.

Mayor Méndez, on the other hand, watched the ritual with an expressionless expression. His huge figure looked almost like a part of the ritual site itself - immobile and intimidating.

Nicole felt Ramón's gaze resting on her. His hand on her arm pulled her out of her stupor. “Relax,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, drowned out by the murmuring and cheering chorus of supporters.

She nodded, but her thoughts were not on the cheering people, but on her own internal struggle. When she looked at Ramón, she met his gaze. For a moment, a tiny, shocking moment, he had an expression of astonishment on his face - his eyes were locked on hers.

Her own eyes had gone black for a split second, like when Ramón had attacked her with a dagger. When she blinked, they were normal again. Ramón said nothing, but Nicole knew that he had noticed.

The wanderer had long since fallen silent. The dead remains were lifted from the altar and carried away by a few followers with deliberate, practiced movements. Their path left bloody traces that slowly seeped into the dust of the ritual site. The murmuring prayers gradually fell silent and an eerie stillness descended over the scene.

“And now, my dear, it's our turn,” Ramón broke the silence in a soft, almost playful voice.

Nicole flinched, her thoughts still caught up in the images of the bloody ritual. Ramón's warm hand took hers, guiding her gently but firmly forward. Her footsteps echoed between the high rocks. The smell of blood was strongest directly in front of the altar.

With a nod, he pointed to the altar, which was now adorned only by candles and the shimmering, dark red of blood. The old rust-red stains on the stone told of countless past rituals.

“We sacrifice our blood as a symbol,” Ramón explained, pausing before continuing, ”to strengthen our connection to each other.”

His voice was calm, like that of a teacher instructing a student. He was aware of her tension, but his words carried an unshakeable confidence that was almost reassuring.

“But not in the way you just witnessed”, he added, a faint smile on his red lips.

Nicole nodded slowly, letting him lead her. She tried to relax as they stepped behind the altar. The torches cast a restless light on them, while the assembled followers looked on with expectant, shining eyes.

Ramón took the dagger that lay ready on the altar. The blade was old but sharp, with an engraved symbol of the Illuminados gleaming in the candlelight. He raised his hand and cut his palm with calm precision.

Dark red blood gushed out, dripping onto the altar and merging with the remains of the previous ritual. Ramón paused, looked at Nicole and handed her the dagger, handle first.

“Just copy me”, he said quietly.

Nicole took the dagger and felt the cool metal in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then followed his example. The blade cut lightly through her skin and for a moment she felt a sharp, brief pain.

Her blood dripped onto the same spot where Ramón's blood had stained the stone. But before the next drop fell, the cut was already beginning to heal. Nicole had to hurry to make the bloody connection. She clenched a fist and squeezed out a little more blood.

The eyes of the followers seemed to glow in a collective frenzy as they surveyed the scene. Their prayers rose again, a crescendo of Latin and Spanish phrases about enlightenment, purification and devotion to the sacred body.

Nicole felt her plagas merging with hers. The buzzing in her head became louder, more intense, as if an invisible connection was being created between them all. She let go of her mind, opening herself to the whispers and urges that had held her back before.

The plagas surrounding her cheered her on, a chorus of unintelligible yet reverent voices. It was as if she was being drawn into a web, a web of thoughts and feelings that connected her to everyone else.

And then there was Ramón.

His presence was unmistakable. His spirit enveloped hers, drawing her deeper into this world of darkness and devotion. She felt his strength, his conviction, but also his unwavering control. It was as if he was tying her to him with a mental bond, holding her tightly, capturing her.

Nicole let it happen. She felt like she was in a trance, her senses heightened and dulled at the same time. The smell of blood, the flickering torches, the murmuring voices - everything became one, everything blurred.

The world around her became silent and the darkness seemed to envelop her. In that moment, she was not Nicole, but something bigger, something that was part of an unstoppable force.

And then ... complete silence.

The world stood still.

----

Nicole opened her eyes, high treetops rising into the morning sky above her. Beneath her, she could feel the soft moss of the forest floor. The smell of damp wood and earth hit her nose, accompanied by a hint of mustiness. A thin veil of mist hovered over the ground. The silhouettes of the trees loomed like menacing sentinels against the brightening sky. She startled and sat up. Her heart beat faster as she looked around in confusion.

Where was she and how had she even got here?

Her gaze fell on a dilapidated hut nearby, the walls of which had been reclaimed by nature. Vines and moss covered the rotten wood, while an old, broken well stood next to it, like a silent witness to days gone by. The symbols of Los Illuminados, made of wood, twigs and bones, hung from the branches of the surrounding trees and swayed gently in the wind.

Nicole pulled her knees to her chest and shook her head as if to dispel the dull thoughts that were swirling around in her mind. Her Illuminados pendant was still around her neck. She clutched it with her slightly trembling fingers for reassurance. She felt a cool breeze at her back. Her hand moved from her pendant to her back. Her robe was torn there, shreds hanging down from it.

“Not at all ... not my favorite robe.”

But the robe was not what worried her most. Where were the others?

Since the day she had been picked up in the castle by the Illuminados, no one had let her out of their sight. Ramón's watchful eye had always been on her, and even Pesanta and Verdugo had accompanied her like shadowy figures. But now ... she was alone.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to concentrate. Her Mutamyzet and her Plaga remained silent. No clues, no answers. Instead, only fragments of images flashed through her mind, jumbled and disjointed memories:

Herself, in front of the altar on a night lit only by candles. The blood flowing down the stone, her hand holding the dagger. And then ... the shadow.

Behind her on the rocks, an unnaturally distorted image of her had emerged - a body with huge, spider-like legs growing out of it, just like the symbol of the Illuminados.

Nicole opened her eyes and a shudder ran down her spine. What had happened?

She stood up slowly, brushed the leaves and moss off her robe and looked around again. Nothing looked familiar. But she must still be in the cult's territory, as its symbols were everywhere.

The signs of the Illuminados were her only guide. She decided to follow them. “At least they lead somewhere”, she murmured before setting off with cautious steps.

The trees stood close together, their crowns forming an almost impenetrable canopy through which little light fell. The ground was uneven, covered in roots and undergrowth. Nicole had to be careful where she stepped. The twilight of the morning intensified the eerie atmosphere and every sound - the cracking of a branch, the rustling of leaves - made her pause.

After a while, she noticed that the path was getting narrower. The undergrowth on either side grew thicker and seemed to almost completely swallow up the path. Nicole stopped, undecided whether to continue or turn back.

Ramón. The thought of him kept her going. She knew he would go crazy if he found out she had disappeared. But this forest was confusing and nothing she had seen so far looked familiar - no lake, no village church, no sign of the castle.

Suddenly there was a metallic click, followed by a sharp pain in her leg. Nicole cried out and dropped to one knee.

When she looked down, she saw the rusty, fanged trap that had closed around her leg. The pain was sharp and blood was slowly seeping from the wound.

“Damn it!” she hissed between clenched teeth.

Nicole reached for the trap, grabbed the two halves with both hands and tensed her muscles. With a final, powerful tug, she pulled the trap apart and freed her leg. She threw the rusty thing aside with a clanking sound.

“Who puts something like that out here?” Nicole cursed under her breath and looked at the bloody wound. But the very next moment, it began to heal. Her mutamycete and her plaga worked in sync, pulling the skin back together and closing the injury as if nothing had happened.

Nicole plucked a long, sturdy stick from a tree to feel the ground in front of her. If someone had laid bear traps, she didn't want to fall into their trap again - literally.

She carefully poked around in front of her with the stick. Sure enough, she discovered two more traps, their rusty teeth hidden in the foliage, and a third completely concealed under a layer of twigs.

“As if no one is supposed to get through here,” she muttered, bumping her foot against one of the traps she had disarmed. But the discovery only made her more curious. Who had set these traps? And what or who were they supposed to protect against?

A low humming sound entered her head. Nicole stopped and listened, but she couldn't make out anything. There were no Plagas nearby, at least none that she could reach.

Nicole continued to fight her way through the increasingly dense undergrowth. The branches scratched her skin, the damp leaves caught in her robe and the musty smell of the forest became more and more intense.

She could feel her legs getting tired, but she refused to be discouraged. She knew she had to find a way out of this labyrinth.

The signs of the Illuminados seemed to be getting fewer and fewer here. Did this path lead further away from her actual destination? She sighed inwardly.

An icy gust of wind rattled the symbols on the trees. An uneasy feeling crept over her skin as she gripped the stick tighter and walked on with slow steps.

Nicole continued along the wild path, the slender branches and leaves brushing against her arms as she made her way deeper into the eerie forest. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head like a bolt of lightning, so intense that she hunched forward and held her temples.

It felt as if her head had been caught in one of the bear traps she had discovered earlier. Panting, she slowly straightened up, looking around frantically. Nothing. Just the wind rustling through the branches and the creaking of the dilapidated wooden fences that stood at the side of the path.

What was that?

Nicole took a deep breath and cautiously continued on her way, her eyes remaining alert. After a few meters, she heard noises ahead of her: a wet cracking sound followed by smacking chewing. The sound grew louder as she rounded a bend in the path around a rock.

A hulking figure sat there in the middle of the path. The body was tall, broad and muscular, but the proportions were not right. The arms were longer than normal and the hands large and strong. The gray, leathery skin shone in the dim light of the forest. The creature held a bloody piece of fur and flesh in its hands, from which it greedily tore morsels. The remains of the animal were so mutilated that it was hard to tell what it had once been.

Nicole could feel the plaga in the creature, weak yet pulsing. Carefully, she tried to make contact via her own plaga, mentally feeling her way towards it. The creature paused, raised its round head and slowly turned it in her direction.

Its face was grotesque. Small yellowish eyes, wide apart, stared at her. The mouth, smeared with blood, stood half open, while saliva dripped down in thick threads. The head was embedded in the massive shoulders, almost without a neck. It looked like a small troll, only a little taller than Nicole in height.

Nicole swallowed hard, but remained calm. The creature seemed to be listening to her, but what she got back through her plaga was confused and incoherent. A primitive echo: Hunger. Food. Pain.

She noticed the bloody bear trap that had dug into the creature's fleshy leg. Perhaps that was the pain she had felt before? She pointed at the trap and hoped the creature would understand her intention.

Slowly, she approached.

But as she stretched out her hand towards the trap, the creature leapt forward and grabbed her forearm with surprising speed. The strength of its grip was painful, and Nicole gritted her teeth to keep from crying out loud.

Stay calm.

She remained motionless and concentrated on her plaga. A pulse of pain was transmitted through the connection to the creature. A tremor ran through its body, and suddenly it let go of Nicole's arm. Then it turned back to its meal, tearing the flesh apart with its large teeth.

Nicole took a deep breath. “Good ... I'll take that as a sign that we understand each other.”

She carefully walked past the creature and continued along the narrow path. But the footsteps behind her made her pause. When she turned around, she saw that the creature was following her.

The bear trap on her leg rattled with each of her heavy steps, and the sight was grotesque: a troll-like creature holding a mutilated animal carcass in one hand as it plodded along like a huge, misshapen child.

Nicole stopped and took a closer look at the creature. It was like a shadow of itself, controlled by the Plaga that pulsed within it. The creature's primitive mind seemed to know only two things: Hunger and obedience. And now the plaga had decided to follow Nicole.

“Wonderful”, Nicole muttered sarcastically and continued on her way.

She was so distracted by the heavy footsteps of the creature behind her that she paid no attention to the path ahead. A rusty snap and a renewed pain made her cry out.

“Not again!” Nicole cursed and looked down at her foot. Another bear trap had dug into her ankle. The pain was sharp and she had to brace herself against a tree trunk to keep from falling.

She bent down, forcefully opened the trap and pulled her foot out. “That's enough ...”

Behind her, the creature growled, apparently having observed what she was doing. Nicole watched as it broke its own bear trap with tremendous ease. Then the creature tossed the metal scraps aside like it was a piece of trash and went back to chewing on the carcass.

It was ... impressive.

“All right, now let's move on”, Nicole said quietly, limping forward. Her ankle was already healing, but the pain still echoed.

The creature continued to follow her. Nicole's suspicion grew with every step, but she knew that the creature could hardly think straight. It was a puppet, controlled by a Plaga who was obviously interested in her presence.

Perhaps it was even an advantage to have the thing with her. Whoever or whatever had set these traps could be intimidated by her new companion.

-----

The flames of the remaining candles cast trembling shadows across the ritual site, dancing like distorted creatures on the uneven rock walls. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the woody aroma of damp earth and moss. Ramón stood in the middle of this gloomy scene, his hands clenched into fists, while his golden robes shimmered in the faint light.

His gaze was fixed on Mayor Mèndez, who looked like a living statue, tall and immobile, his watchful eyes fixed on the castellan. Ramón's own appearance, as proud and immaculate as ever, now seemed tinged with a hint of despair.

“Has this happened before?” Mèndez's voice was low and calm, like the rumbling earth before an earthquake. Ramón's eyes narrowed and for a moment he didn't seem to hear the question. Then he shook his head, barely perceptibly. His voice was a soft whisper, meant more for himself than for the mayor.

“No.”

But inside, a storm was raging. The image flashed before his mind's eye again and again: Nicole, how she had stood in the middle of the altar with her head bowed, before the spider-like legs of her plaga broke free from her back. Black, shiny limbs that had moved, pulsating and alive. The way her eyes had suddenly been filled with a pitch-black emptiness that seemed to have swallowed up everything human in her.

He saw her again, the way she had swung up the rock faces with an unnatural elegance, a dark shadow against the glittering starry sky. And how she had then disappeared like a phantom - into the cold, all-consuming darkness of the night.

His breathing quickened and his calm facade of detached arrogance began to crumble.

“You don't understand what she is! What she means to me!” Ramón's voice cut through the silence, his words shrill and full of inner torment.

Mèndez, who regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and pragmatic respect, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The mayor knew that Nicole's role for the castellan was more than mere loyalty. But the hint that something even greater, perhaps more dangerous, lay dormant within her remained hidden from him.

After the transformation, Ramón hadn't had time to think clearly. The panic inside him had stifled all logic. As soon as Nicole had vanished, he had scurried Verdugo and Pesanta to look for her.

“Find her! Bring her back! Alive! Do you understand?”

His voice was commanding, but the trembling in it betrayed the desperation that coursed through his veins like a poison.

The minutes that had passed since then seemed to stretch out like hours. Ramón stood alone at the edge of the ritual square, the cold night air biting into his skin. His heart was pounding heavily and the silence echoed in his head.

He tried to connect to her through his own plaga - a faint whisper, a hint of her presence - but there was nothing. Just the eerie, oppressive emptiness that frightened him more than he wanted to admit.

When Pesanta finally returned, she was holding a small torn piece of cloth in her claw.

Ramón's gaze fell on the piece of cloth and his breath caught. He took it with a care that seemed almost tender and examined it in the flickering light of the candles.

It was a piece of her robe, soiled with earth and small twigs. The scent that wafted towards him was unmistakably hers. A whiff of fresh earth, of something wild and yet so familiar.

The memory of her transformation flashed through his mind again, but this time he felt a deep fascination as well as fear. Her grotesque beauty, the power that had emanated from her - there was something overwhelming, sacred about it.

His fingers closed around the scrap of fabric and he pressed it to his lips, almost unconsciously.

“She's mine,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I'm not leaving her out there alone.”

With a determined step, Ramón approached Verdugo, who had silently stepped out of the darkness with empty hands.

“We're looking for her,” he ordered, his voice now firm again, but his hands trembling slightly. “Pesanta, back to the castle. If she finds her way back.”

Pesanta bowed her head and disappeared into the darkness, her massive figure blending into the shadows. Ramón, on the other hand, turned away and walked with Verdugo down the path that led into the forest, in the direction where his beloved had disappeared. The forest seemed like an impenetrable labyrinth, but Ramón was not deterred. Mayor Méndez mumbled that he would keep an eye out in the village and left the square. The remaining villagers followed their mayor.

Ramón's breath became visible in the cool air, while his gaze remained fixed ahead. The shadows of the trees moved past him like menacing figures, but his focus was only on one thought:

Nicole.

She was everything to him, apart from Lord Saddler of course, - and he would not return without her.

Chapter Text

Nicole walked along the half-overgrown path that wound its way through the dense forest. The air was damp, and despite the afternoon, a heavy mist hung over the ground, bathing the scenery in an otherworldly light. Gnarled trees with moss-covered trunks framed the path, and occasionally jagged rocks protruded from the ground like the teeth of an ancient monster.

The troll-like creature trotted a short distance behind her. Its hulking, muscular arms swayed slightly with each step. It held the last of its meal - a bloody scrap of fur and flesh - in its gigantic hands. Nicole could feel its plaga, like a constant, dull echo inside her. It wasn't following her, but the presence of her own plaga. The thought was not entirely unpleasant to her, so she let it.

After a while, she caught sight of a hut by the side of the road, surprisingly intact in contrast to the abandoned and crumbling buildings she had seen before. Its roof had not collapsed and the windows were shuttered. The purple flame - the unmistakable mark of the merchant - flickered in front of the door in a small lantern, giving the scene an almost surreal atmosphere. It was like a beacon of familiarity in the midst of this gloomy world.

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. A familiar face, she thought, and stepped closer. The troll-like creature stopped and sat down in front of the door of the hut with a thud. It continued to chew on its scrap of meat, drooling and eyeing her with its small yellow eyes. 'Maybe there's something for him to eat at the merchant.'

The merchant opened the door before Nicole could knock. His hooded figure cast long shadows inside the hut, which was lit by a small open fire. “Ah, my dear customer. The sight of you is, as always, a delight!” His voice was friendly, though laced with a touch of irony as usual.

“It's good to see you”, Nicole said and stepped inside. The hut was sparsely furnished: a table, a shelf with goods and a few chairs. Hanging on the wall were various food items, including an impressive leg of pork ham. The smell of dry wood and light smoke lingered in the air.

“What brings you so deep into the forest?” the merchant asked as he inspected a small vial of green liquid. His face was hidden behind a scarf that he had pulled over his mouth and nose. His eyes flashed curiously from under his hood.

“I somehow got lost last night”, Nicole replied evasively. She didn't want to go into details - not about the ritual and certainly not about her possible transformation. “Can you tell me the way back to the castle?”

The merchant nodded and pointed east. “Just follow this path in that direction. There are hardly any forks and if you stay alert, you should see the castle walls again soon.”

Nicole nodded gratefully and then asked the question that had been burning on her mind for days. “Have you heard anything from my mother? Or about your buddy, the Duke?”

The merchant shook his head. “No news, I'm afraid. But I always keep my eyes and ears open. If I find out anything, you'll be the first to know.”

Nicole felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. She reached into her pocket, where she had turned a small portion of her mutamycetes into a milky white crystal. Then she held it out to the merchant. “Is this worth anything?”

The merchant's eyes sparkled behind his mask. “Oh, that is indeed an interesting piece! Yes, it has value. What would you ask for it?”

Nicole pointed to the leg of pork. “Just that one. I need it for my friend outside the door.”

The merchant laughed softly. “A fair trade. Must be for your El Gigante, huh? A guy like that can chow down, ha ha.”

With the heavy club over her shoulder, Nicole continued along the path the merchant had described. Fortunately, there were no more bear traps hidden here. The afternoon dawned into early evening and the shadows lengthened as she found a suitable spot - a flat rock jutting out of the misty ground. She sat down on it and swung the club in the direction of the troll-like creature that stood drooling in front of her.

“Here, this is for you,” she said and tossed the piece of meat to the hungry giant. With a deep grunt, he grabbed it and began to devour it greedily. Nicole watched him while she tried to collect herself for a moment.

'Maybe I'll send out a plaga call like that in case I'm close to a receiver. She closed her eyes and let some kind of signal be sent out by the plaga's voice inside her. It was as if she was throwing a thread of dark energy into the air. But nothing stirred, no answer came back. Only El Gigante blinked and shook himself before continuing to chew his cud.

Nicole sighed softly and remained seated, breathing in the forest air deeply. The wind made a wistful sound in the treetops. The sound grew louder. And it was no longer the wind.

A soft rustling broke through the subdued silence of the forest. Nicole raised her head and peered through the tangle of leaves in the undergrowth. Four figures emerged from the thicket. Their bodies were wrapped in ragged, dirty clothes, their movements were restless and marked by an eerie restlessness. They seemed even more neglected than the villagers Nicole had met. One of them held his head unnaturally crooked on his shoulders, as if his neck had almost been severed. Dark, slimy Plaga tentacles wriggled out of the wound on his neck.

Nicole felt the whisper of her own Plaga deep inside her. A faint, lost echo that mingled with the restless pulse of the four strangers. “I must have lured them in with my call,” she murmured, a hint of regret in her voice in the face of neglect. The four figures crept closer, their greedy eyes fixed on the meat that El Gigante was slurping down with relish. One of them dared to reach for the meat.

With a threatening growl, the El Gigante struck. Like annoying flies, he carelessly flung the attackers aside. Muffled thuds echoed through the forest, accompanied by sounds of pain. Nicole barely flinched, watching the action from a cool distance, but a quiet pity flared up inside her.

A sudden, piercing screech cut through the damp air far ahead of her. A red shadow shot through the undergrowth, snapping branches and stirring up leaves. Verdugo. In his long, scarlet robe, he looked like an ominous demon running with long strides towards the small clearing. With a mixture of animal cruelty and merciless efficiency, he drove the wild Plaga apart. Without resistance, the ragged creatures fled back into the shadows of the forest.

El Gigante was not bothered by this. Unimpressed, he continued to chew on his food. Nicole slowly stood up from her rock and raised her hands in a calming gesture. “I'm fine,” she said calmly and looked into Verdugo's glowing orange eyes, who had stood in front of her. But he didn't move, standing there rigidly as if waiting for someone.

Nicole felt it before she saw him. The familiar tug inside her that emanated from her plaga when he was near her. Ramón.

With hurried steps, he emerged from between the trees, panting. His eyes scanned the surroundings. Verdugo stepped to the side and let his gaze fall on Nicole. Ramón's gaze softened. He tried to look more relaxed and not like he'd just rushed through the forest. “We heard you. Your plaga.” He gave Verdugo a quick glance. “Then he just rushed forward. Did something happen to you?”

Nicole shook her head, the golden Illuminados amulet on her neck jingling softly. “There were villagers, but... They looked bedraggled. Verdugo chased them away.”

Ramón's gaze hardened briefly. “Savages. They don't follow our Lord Saddler. We leave them alone as long as they don't disturb us.”

His gaze wandered to El Gigante. “Our people were supposed to look after him.”

“I found him in the forest. He just followed me.” Ramón reached his hand up to her and helped her down from the stone. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I don't even know what happened to me during the ritual... and my robe is broken.” She stopped in front of him while he still held her hand in his, as if he didn't want to let it go.

Ramón's shoulders relaxed as his eyes looked into hers. His anger, which had accompanied him all this time because he had been unable to find his beloved anywhere, had subsided. He gently stroked the back of her hand. “Mi corazón”, he whispered tenderly. Then he pulled her tightly into his arms. His fingers slid over the torn fabric at the back of her robe, finding her warm skin underneath. He felt her plaga like a relief that seemed normal again. Not like hours ago, when her parasite had struggled free with huge spider-like legs to abduct his beloved into the night.

Ramón breathed in deeply, leaning his head against her chest and feeling her heartbeat and warmth: “I was so worried.”

Nicole snuggled up to him. Mist rose up from the ground and cast its milky veil over the world around them. The gloomy forest faded into the background for a moment. All that mattered was Ramón's soothing heartbeat against her body.

---

The forest lay silent and heavy in the twilight as Nicole and Ramón walked along the narrow, winding path. Wisps of mist crept over the damp ground, enveloping the gnarled tree roots like ghostly fingers. The air smelled of damp leaves and musty wood, while somewhere in the distance a lone owl called.

Ramón had his arm wrapped tightly around Nicole's forearm as if he never wanted to let her go. His voice was quiet, but there was a deep restlessness in it. “When the ritual began, everything was as planned. But then... then you changed. Your plaga let his legs break out of your body. Your eyes turned black as night. Your plaga... kidnapped you, so to speak. There was nothing I could do. Even my bodyguards weren't that fast.”

Nicole lowered her eyes and looked at the stones beneath her feet, shiny and damp from the fog. “When my eyes go black like this, my Mutamyzete takes over. It protects me when things get dangerous.” She smiled faintly. “I heard your voice very clearly inside me... and then my plaga reacted.”

Ramón stopped for a moment. His eyes sparkled in the twilight as he looked at her. “You are a wonderful example of union with the Holy Body.” His voice was full of admiration, almost reverence. “And your Mutamyzet... the blood of the earth, as you called it.”

He gently stroked her forearm with his fingertips, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric of her robe. His touch was tender, but at the same time imbued with a deep possessiveness. Nicole felt her skin warming under his gentle pressure. She enjoyed his attention, which she had somehow begun to miss.

Ahead of them, Verdugo walked in heavy silence, his red cloak barely lifting in the mist. Behind them, El Gigante plodded ponderously along the path, his steps making the ground tremble slightly as he chewed his leg of pork with relish.

Nicole glanced over her shoulder and laughed softly. “He does look kind of cute.”

Ramón followed her gaze, his lips curled into a wry smile. “But he'll get even bigger. Four times as big as it is now. Then you won't find him so cuddly anymore.”

She frowned. “So that's... a baby there?”

Ramón chuckled softly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Not quite. Lord Saddler had the Plagas' ability to mutate researched. That's one of the results. Our lord is very pleased. The brute strength of an El Gigante is... extremely useful.”

Nicole's thoughts drifted back to the chapel, to the skulls on display there. Especially the one huge skull, which she said out loud.

Ramón noticed her thoughtful look. “The skull you saw... it belonged to an El Gigante. He worked in the quarry until... an accident happened. His plaga was crushed. An unfortunate end.” His voice softened. “In honor of his sacrifice, we laid out his skull in the chapel.”

The fog thickened, creeping towards them like living shadows. Dusk fell and the sky turned blood-red and purple. The familiar Illuminados symbols began to appear along the way - small stone altars, piles of bones, signs made of woven branches hung in trees.

Soon the first huts appeared. Their wood was dark from the fog, their roofs overgrown with moss. The village lay silent, as if waiting for their return.

“First we'll deliver him to the village”, Ramón said with a nod in the direction of El Gigante.

By the time they reached the village, darkness had completely covered the land. Torches cast dancing shadows on stone houses covered with red roof tiles. The fog glowed orange in the faint light. The villagers slowly emerged from their homes, gathering reverently around her. Whispered prayers filled the air as they caught sight of Nicole.

Mayor Méndez emerged from the crowd. His large shadow fell menacingly over the square. He approached Nicole with slow steps, scrutinizing her insistently.

“You are truly blessed by our Lord,” he murmured and placed a heavy hand on her back, brushing her hair aside. His fingers slid slowly over the raised, black lines of the plaga that moved slightly beneath her skin. He was amazed that her plaga looked like the symbol of the Illuminados.

Ramón's gaze darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed into slits. With a demonstrative clearing of his throat, he took a step closer. “There's this one”, he said coolly and pointed to El Gigante with a curt nod.

Méndez slowly withdrew his hand without taking his eyes off Ramón. Then he turned to the villagers. “Take him back to his crib near the quarry.”

Without another word, the villagers obeyed and led El Gigante away.

Ramón put an arm protectively around Nicole and stroked her hair over her plaga again. They said goodbye to the mayor, who looked after them as they made their way back to the castle. Verdugo walked leisurely behind them again.

After a moment of silence, Nicole raised her eyes. “Do you think... that with my Holy Body... could I control that at will?” Her voice was quiet, but determined.

Ramón's grip on her arm tightened, his voice a soft whisper. “We can try that. Together.”

A dark smile played around his lips as they returned to the shadows of the castle.

Chapter Text

The mighty gate of the castle was lowered by its thick chains with a deep, echoing creak as Nicole and Ramón waited outside the rocky moat. Cool air hit them, mingling with the earthy scent of the ancient stone walls and a hint of smoke from the fire bowls along the entrance held by the stone gargoyles. The darkness of the night seemed to grow even denser inside the castle, with only the orange flickering of the fire casting trembling patches of light on the walls and floor. Verdugo walked silently behind them as a red shadow.

Pesanta was already waiting in the large entrance hall. Her massive shadow looked even more menacing in the deceptive light. Her bright eyes sparkled when she caught sight of Ramón and Nicole. But she wasn't the only one there. Next to her, surrounded by an unnatural aura, stood Lord Saddler. His gaunt body was wrapped in his black, elaborately decorated robe, which swept almost silently across the floor. The hood of his purple cloak covered his face and concealed his gaze. Next to him stood three women in white robes, their faces hidden behind closed hoods fastened around their necks with ropes. They held themselves motionless, like statues, but their presence seemed to make the air around them even cooler.

Ramón paused. His grip on Nicole's hand tightened, while his breaths became shallower. With a deep, perfectly executed bow, he greeted his master. “My lord.” His voice was respectful, but Nicole could feel the slight tremor in his words. She followed his gesture, lowering her head and not taking her eyes off Saddler.

Saddler scrutinized them both with a cool, penetrating gaze before nodding slowly. His voice echoed through the great hall, soft yet infused with an authority that brooked no argument. “I'm here to show Nicole the island.”

Nicole's plaga stirred slightly inside her. There was a strange tingle running through her spine, as if her instincts were warning her of something. Something about Saddler's words sounded too casual, too easy, as if this was just part of a larger plan. She sensed Ramón's unease even more clearly. His grip on her hand was so tight now that it almost hurt.

“My lord?” Ramón's voice was now thin, almost pleading. His bright yellow eyes searched for some clue, some explanation in Saddler's expression.

But Saddler ignored Ramón's inner struggles. “I'm not taking Nicole with me until tomorrow, Ramón. I have things to do in the village.” His words were clear, almost casual, as if they required no further explanation. He nodded to them and then turned to leave. The three servants followed him silently, their movements perfectly synchronized. The black hem of his robe disappeared behind a corner, and the cool, oppressive atmosphere that his presence brought with it slowly dissipated.

Pesanta still stood at her position, but she too withdrew now as she realized that her presence was no longer needed. The echo of her heavy footsteps reverberated through the halls. Verdugo followed her. Ramón wanted to be alone with Nicole.

Ramón's hand did not loosen. Instead, he clung to hers even tighter. Nicole felt his breathing quicken. His skin was warm, almost glowing against hers, but she could feel the cold creeping through his thoughts.

His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Let's make the most of the time we have.”

Nicole smiled gently and lifted her free hand to place it on his cheek. Her fingers glided over the soft, warm skin while her thumb gently stroked his cheek. She could hear the slight tremor in his breathing, see the hint of desperation in his eyes.

“I'm here,” she whispered, trying to dispel the darkness that hung between them.

Ramón closed his eyes as her hand slid over his cheek. For a moment, he seemed to forget everything else, allowing himself to be comforted by her touch and her closeness. His fingers wrapped around her hand, holding it in place.

He breathed in deeply, pressing his face against her hand for a moment, as if he wanted to hold on to her scent, her warmth. “I can't...” His voice broke off and he slowly opened his eyes, which were now shining, not only with desire, but also with fear.

Nicole leaned forward slightly so that she could touch his forehead with her own. The shadows of the torches played on their faces. In the cool darkness of the castle, their proximity seemed like a fleeting glimmer of light.

“We have the night,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “I'm not leaving you alone.”

He remained silent for a moment, then Ramón slowly pulled her closer to him, his forehead still leaning against hers. “I never want to lose you again, Nicole.” His voice was a quiet confession, a promise that came from the depths of his heart.

Their closeness was the only thing that seemed to dissolve the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere in the great hall. At that moment, the world was no bigger for either of them than the small space between them.

-------

The castle's dining hall was bathed in cool, golden light emanating from the electric chandeliers, their glass prisms sparkling in the light. The old, dark wooden furniture cast long shadows across the carpeted stone floor. The stuffed animals gazed blankly at the scenery. The heavy velvet curtains kept the darkness out. Despite the magnificent surroundings, an oppressive silence hung in the air that even the golden glow could not dispel.

Nicole sat at the long table, which was decorated with a white tablecloth, silver candlesticks and crystal glasses. Ramón sat opposite her, poking listlessly at his food with a small, gold-plated fork. On his plate were finely arranged dishes - meat, steamed vegetables, a few exotic side dishes - but his interest in them was more than minimal.

“What can I expect on the island?” Nicole's voice broke the silence, calm but with a hint of concern. She looked directly at Ramón as her hands closed around the cool goblet of her water glass.

Ramón barely lifted his head, his eyes remained fixed on the plate. He let out a soft, tired sigh before he spoke: “The sanctuary of the Illuminados is there,” he began in his softly trembling voice, “a collection of old buildings, ruins from times long past. And... that's also where the laboratory is.” He put down his fork and leaned back, his eyes darting over the high walls of the room as if searching for the right words. “Scientists are experimenting with the plagas there, under the strict supervision of Lord Saddler.”

Nicole noticed how his expression darkened at these words. His already pale features now looked as if they were chiseled from marble, his eyes sparkling with an unspoken anger.

She put her fork to one side, let her gaze glide over him and felt the tension in the air. “Ramón,” she began in a soft voice, ”I'll be back, even if I have to swim back from that island alone.” She smiled slightly, hoping to take away some of his sorrow.

Ramón's gaze finally wandered to her, but the shadow of his worry remained. “Our lord would not take you from me,” he said softly, almost more to himself than to her. His hand clenched slightly into a fist on the tabletop.

Nicole leaned forward a little, placing her hand gently on his. Her skin felt cool against his warmth, a reassuring contrast. She waited until he looked her in the eye before she whispered, “I'm yours.”

These words seemed to snap him out of his gloomy mood for a moment. A small, faint smile crossed his lips. He placed his other hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. His darkly painted fingernails gleamed in the light.

But the atmosphere of the room remained heavy, and despite the rich food in front of them, neither Ramón nor Nicole had much of an appetite. The sound of cutlery clinking against china was soon replaced by complete silence.

It wasn't long before Ramón stood up and held out his hand with a slight movement. “Come,” he said quietly. Nicole placed her hand in his without hesitation.

He led her out of the dining room through the endless, dimly lit corridors of the castle. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, accompanied by the soft whisper of the wind passing through the narrow windows. The darkness was thick, but the light from the candlesticks that flashed here and there created an almost surreal contrast.

When they reached Ramón's bedchamber, two servants dressed in black robes silently opened the heavy wooden door. Inside, they were greeted by the warm glow of a blazing fireplace. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls. The room, with its many still life and landscape paintings on the ornate walls and the large, magnificent four-poster bed, looked like a mixture of refuge and prison.

On a small table next to the fireplace stood a silver platter laden with grapes, figs and other fruits, whose colors seemed almost unearthly in the flickering light. Ramón led Nicole directly to the fireplace, where the warmth enveloped them both, while the cool stone floor made their feet shiver slightly.

“I want you with me,” Ramón said, his voice soft, almost fragile in the quiet stillness of the room. He placed a hand on her back, where he could feel the warmth of her skin under the torn fabric of her clothes. She was still wearing the clothes she had worn in the forest. “I want to enjoy the hours with you before you leave.”

Nicole returned his gaze, her eyes glittering in the glow of the flames. She lifted a bunch of grapes from the plate and held them out to him. “Then let's enjoy the here and now,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm.

Ramón took the grape from her fingers, holding her hand for a moment longer before leaning forward slightly. “I won't let you go, Nicole. Never.”

He held the grape out to her, watching as she took it with her lips and ate it with relish. Ramón pulled Nicole down and kissed her on the lips. He tasted the juice of the grape.

He removed her robe with deft fingers. She felt the touch of his fingertips, which also brushed the underwear from her body and let it slide carelessly to the floor. As Ramón pressed himself against her, she could feel the smooth fabric of his coat against her bare skin.

His hands wandered over her back to her plaga. Both of their arousal was passed on from their plagas to the other and they surrendered to their feelings. Her breathing quickened and she could feel herself getting wet. Ramón led her to his bed, where she sat down. Bit by bit, he removed his clothes before her eyes until he stood before her completely naked. The fire from the fireplace illuminated his graceful body. His eyes sparkled at her, glancing over her nakedness. There was no mistaking his own arousal.

The shadows danced over their bodies as Ramón lay down next to her, snuggled up to her and began kissing her all over. When he penetrated her, she moaned. She braced herself against his thrusts. Their union lasted for what seemed like an eternity. When release came, they sank back into the pillows with satisfaction and snuggled under the comforter. Not before Ramón fetched the plate full of fruit from the table and they gorged themselves on the food in bed until the tray was empty.

They lay in each other's arms, their breathing calm and they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The dull rumble of the engine vibrated the boat as it cut through the dark water. The salty spray settled on Nicole's skin as the wind ruffled her hair. Krauser sat motionless at the wheel, his angular face looking stubbornly ahead, focused on his task. The robust, military design of the boat matched his stance perfectly - hard, unyielding, purposeful.

Nicole turned backwards in the black leather seat and let her gaze wander over the distant castle. The huge structure nestled into the rocks towered over the sea, its towers and walls slowly disappearing into the hazy horizon. She sighed softly. There was still so much to discover there, secrets that lay dormant behind the ancient walls. But now, with every passing second, she was moving further away from this dark but fascinating place - and from him.

The water beneath them was deep and deceptively still, broken only by the rapid rhythmic lapping of the waves against the hull and the humming of the engine. The rocky coastline stretched out to their right, barren cliffs jutting out of the sea like dark monoliths, sculpted by centuries of storms and tides. A small island loomed in the distance, its silhouette barely recognizable against the hazy sky. It was surrounded by rugged cliffs. Despite its small size, it radiated a menacing presence.

Nicole pulled her robe tighter around her. She had chosen a new robe similar to the previous one, dark blue with golden plant ornaments. She also had her golden Plagas amulet hanging around her neck. She touched it briefly with her fingertips and slowly breathed in the humid air, which tasted distinctly of salt and the sea. She knew that the island was the place of exile of Los Illuminados, a place where Ramón's ancestors had banished those who had previously ruled this region. Ramón had told her this on the way to the boat. The thought that her sanctuary was right there made her curiosity rise.

Memories of the farewell made her forget her surroundings for a moment. Ramón's arms were wrapped around her as tightly as if he could hold her with his embrace alone as they stood at the covered jetty. His kiss - long, longing, full of unspoken feelings. The softly whispered words as she stroked his cheek and wiped away the single tear: that he needn't worry about her. And his reply, little more than a whispered promise: that he would eagerly await her return. She could still feel the pressure of his fingers on her wrist, the reluctant farewell that visibly pained him.

Saddler's three servants sat on the back seat of the boat - motionless, silent. Their faces hidden under their white hoods that covered everything, their figures little more than empty shells. Nicole could feel her plagas - weak, suppressed, completely under Saddler's control. Lifeless puppets with no will of their own. Had they once been girls from the village? Were they part of the tributes handed over to Saddler?

Nicole tore her gaze away from the figures and turned her attention to Krauser. His grip on the wheel was firm, his gaze fixed ahead. She could feel him too. His Plaga was different - controlled, strong, but not controlled by others. He was no will-less puppet. He was a warrior through and through and his will was strong.

Suddenly Nicole flinched slightly. A cold, moist touch entwined itself around her forearm. She lowered her gaze and saw a slimy, pulsating tentacle wrapped around her skin. The feeling was cold, strange - like a living wetness trying to burrow its way under her skin.

A shiver ran down her spine and the moment her eyes turned to Lord Saddler, images flooded through her mind. Not her own memories - but fragments that were not hers. Dark halls, rites, a surging sea of plagas anchoring themselves in flesh. The presence she sensed was ancient and alien yet familiar and omnipresent. She gasped and yanked her arm back, tearing herself free of the connection.

The tentacle withdrew as if nothing had happened. Saddler's expression remained motionless, his gaze difficult to interpret. Had it been intentional? A test? Or had his plaga acted on its own? She couldn't tell.

Nicole breathed calmly, collected herself. She forced herself to become aware of her surroundings again, to concentrate on the shallow waves of the sea, on the approaching outline of the island. She would learn more about Los Illuminados. Whatever was waiting for her on this island - she was curious. She had taken a sketchbook and a few pencils as a precaution in case she saw or heard something interesting to record.

The rocks of the island came closer and closer. The sea beat against the rugged cliffs in irregular waves, the spray clinging to the rock like a restless ghost. Nicole gazed at the bizarre beauty of the jagged formations, which in some places seemed to be covered in algae.

As the motorboat rounded a bend, structures made of metal and concrete suddenly emerged from the mist. The sight was different than expected - a collection of platforms, towers and buildings reminiscent of an industrial complex. Red and white warning lights flashed rhythmically on the steel scaffolding, their reflections twitching across the wet surfaces like cold sparks. There was a buzzing in the air, a machine humming somewhere. This part of the island was not old, but a more recent construction - built for a purpose that did not bode well.

The boat glided up to the jetty, where figures were moving between crates and containers. Men dragged loads, while others stood at their posts with motionless vigilance. Their movements were jerky, mechanical - they were Ganados. Nicole could feel their plagas vibrating in the air like a silent current. Their presence felt like countless tiny threads pulling at her, as if they wanted to weave themselves into her.

Krauser tossed a rope to one of the waiting men and without a word, the military-clad Ganados began to tie up the boat. The metal of the pier sounded hollow under their feet as Nicole took her first steps onto it. Lord Saddler and his servants also left the boat. The floor of the pier consisted of grid plates through which the sea below could be seen. Black waves washed around the piers, white sea foam and barnacles clinging to the metal.

A few meters away, other boats were moored: old, weathered fishing boats, as if they had long forgotten their original purpose, and a larger, grey ship that lurked in the fog like a stranded leviathan. Motorboats, similar to her own, lay moored in untidy rows. Nicole glanced back one last time. Krauser stopped at the pier, his steely blue eyes following them with lurking watchfulness as they passed him.

At the pier stood an elevator made of lattice panels and iron girders that blended into the rough surroundings of the industrial complex. Judging by its size, there was room for several people. Lord Saddler, his three white-robed servants and Nicole got in and the lattice door closed. The soft whirring of the mechanism mingled with the dull clanking of metal parts as the cabin slowly moved to the upper levels. A light fog had settled over the island and pale sunlight moderately illuminated the surroundings, the rocks that made up the entire island swallowing what little daylight there was.

Nicole looked through the grille, her gaze gliding over the unadorned rocks that jutted out into the sea. The rock appeared to be basalt - rough, unyielding and defying the force of the sea. There was an almost ghostly beauty in the dull daylight, the gentle sound of the sea breeze in the ears and the smell of wet rock and sea in the nose.

The elevator reached a narrow, arched entrance that led to a storage hall. When the car door opened, it squeaked slightly. The storage hall area was stacked with shelves and crates and had an industrial feel to it. This was supposed to be the former exile of the Illuminados? Nothing here looked too historic.

A corridor of concrete slabs stretched behind a door. Wiring and pipes on the ceiling ran along a door, next to which a map hung on the wall, indicating that a laboratory wing was located here. The faint hum of electrical machinery and the soft drip of water from leaking pipes added to the atmosphere. The footsteps of the small group echoed along the bare walls.

The corridor continued and the concrete walls changed to natural rock. Their path led them to a massive iron door, its surface crisscrossed with ornate reliefs. Plaga symbols were sculpted on the cold metal plates, delicate and ancient at the same time, as if this was a much older part. This door was the entrance to the sanctuary, as Saddler explained to Nicole. He had a servant step forward to open the door with a heavy, loud creak.

Behind the iron door was a huge hall, carved out of the island's natural rock. The air in this room was oppressive and still, as if time had ceased to exist here. Huge stone pillars towered up to the enormous ceiling, each of them decorated with a checkered net relief - an artistic, almost archaic pattern that ran in broad lines across the massive stone. Some of the columns were broken and lay scattered on the floor as cold, stony rubble. These ruins of former splendor stood in stark contrast to the industrial buildings Nicole had seen from the pier.

At one end of the hall stood a simple altar, a stone square whose sides bore witness to carved scenes of the Illuminados. The reliefs depicted religious representations, sacrificial figures and mystical symbols - a reminder of the rituals that once took place here. Two tall stone figures, bearded men in plain cowls, their faces deeply hooded, stood like silent sentinels on either side of the altar in the background. Their oversized presence was haunting, almost eerie, as if they would keep watch here for all time.

Scattered throughout the room were candles on the floor and torches on the walls, casting an eerie, flickering light on the rough surface of the stone and the faces of the statues. Each ray of light seemed to bring the shadows to life. This quiet grandeur and decay lent the sanctuary an almost sacred atmosphere in which time and space merged together.

Nicole walked alongside Lord Saddler along the upper corridor with the balconies overlooking the hall. The three servants silently kept pace with them. Their path led down a narrow, inconspicuous staircase into the sanctuary, past the fallen pillars. Saddler walked leisurely and majestically up a wide staircase, the last hurdle to the altar. Nicole kept to his side. She would have preferred to poke around on her own and absorb as much knowledge as possible. But she kept quiet. Next to the altar was a stone pedestal with a large open book that looked handwritten.

Her gaze was caught by a tall monolith placed behind the altar. Carved on the smooth, dark surface was a blood-red symbol that Nicole had never seen anywhere else. It was the plaga symbol, but interwoven in a ribcage - as if the plaga was fused with a body without arms, head or legs. 'That's exactly where my plaga is, in the back of the ribcage.

Nicole stood motionless in front of the monolith, which towered like a silent witness to past rituals. As she walked slowly around the tall stone, the distant scent of history penetrated her senses - the atmosphere carried the dusty smell of centuries, while the echo of her footsteps reverberated softly against the gray rock walls. On the back of the monolith, a plate set into the rock was visible, on which the year 1554 and a short text in Spanish were engraved in an elaborate serif font. The stone inscription was concluded with the name “Adam Saddler”.

Saddler's voice rose almost theatrically, penetrating straight to her core:

“The Holy Body - to share its blessings with the whole world and create paradise on earth, that shall be our quest.”

Lord Saddler turned towards her, bathed in the flickering yellow light of the candles from the large deer antler chandelier above them. But his face was in shadow. Only his eyes shone out of it in a bright, almost supernatural blue. His cool gaze seemed to want to bore into her soul. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he let his gaze wander over the awe-inspiring vaults of the hall while Nicole listened to his words.

“My ancestor, Adam Saddler, had once found the holy body of God and renewed his faith. He was the founder of Los Illuminados,” he continued, his voice accompanied by a low, rhythmic hum - as if the ancient walls themselves agreed with him. With a flowing, almost ritualistic gesture, he stroked his fingers over the blood-red lines of the plague engraved in the stone. Every detail of his words seemed to reveal the connection to his painful past.

“Buried deep under rock, right where the castle complex is on the mainland,” he murmured, and the words seemed like an oath that had been fulfilled.

Nicole, who at that moment felt like she was under a spell, watched Saddler's slow, deliberate movements. Her thoughts were a jumble of memories and uncertain feelings - the touch of his plaga on the boat had awakened fleeting images in her: scenes of a past that was not hers.

“Your Plaga can remember?” Nicole asked quietly, almost timidly, her voice quivering with curiosity and a hint of fear.

Saddler looked at her with an expressionless, cold gaze, which nevertheless resonated with something ancient and wise. Then something unexpected happened: fleshy, shadowy tentacles emerged from Saddler's hand and wrapped themselves around Nicole in an almost hypnotic rhythm. The touch was not rough or threatening, but firm and controlled, as if they didn't want to break her. Nicole stiffened.

“Don't resist,” Saddler whispered urgently. His voice, or rather the voice of his plaga, seemed to penetrate directly into her mind - a silent command that caused the resistance within her to crumble. Nicole closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be overwhelmed by this strange touch. It was as if an invisible wall had dissolved in her mind, and a stream of memories and uncanny power flowed through her.

The space around her seemed to blur in that moment. The cold, stone walls, the flickering candles, the smell of burnt wax and damp rock - everything merged into a single, overwhelming presence that captivated Nicole. In the silence, she heard the soft hum emanating from the depths of her plaga, a sound like a distant, mysterious whisper that only she could understand.

The world around her sank into a gloomy, almost transcendent silence. Nicole felt her heart beat faster as her senses were overwhelmed by the impressions. The cool touch of the writhing tentacles and the humming whisper of her plaga merged into a single, intense sensation. Then all her senses were lost in the darkness and time seemed to stand still.

Chapter Text

The world had disappeared. Her consciousness became distorted as if in a dream. Everything around Nicole became like a capsule. She felt Saddler's grip on her body like an unbreakable clamp in the distance. Her mind was torn away and thrust into something strange and ancient.

Then images rose up - jerkily at first, like a sequence of motionless scenes:

An abandoned castle in the distance, high on a cliff, surrounded by rugged mountains. Its stonework was old, partly collapsed, marked by abandonment and decay.

Figures in coarse linen robes wandered through a ravine, their faces hidden, their steps heavy. Some leaned on wooden sticks, others held each other upright. They were on the run.

Nicole lifted her arm - no, his arm, a sinewy arm marked by work and privation, dirty and full of scratches. She looked through the eyes of a man. His finger pointed to the castle.

They were fleeing from the Inquisition.

The scene shattered.

Now she was in that castle. Cold crept through the cracks in the stone walls, the wind whistled through the empty corridors. The strangers had taken up residence here, surrounded by dampness and decay. Their breath steamed in the stuffy air, candle flames flickered.

Then came the dreams.

Confused images. A dark ocean of black gold. Something stirred in the depths. Voices that spoke no language, but hummed.

An ancient song vibrated in their bones.

The darkness drew her onwards.

She was standing in a cavern.

Nicole gasped, but no sound escaped her lips. She stared at her hands - but they were not her hands.

They were rough, covered in calluses, bruised and bloody. The hands of the man who had pointed to the castle. They were trembling, but not out of fear.

Confusion flooded through them. She could do nothing, influence nothing. She was a mute spectator, trapped in a long-gone memory.

The man wore the same coarsely woven linen robe, its sleeves frayed at the edges. She could feel the heavy, coarsely woven fabric against her skin.

He turned around.

The cave passage behind him had collapsed. Boulders and fallen wooden beams protruded into the cavity like the fingers of a frozen giant. His fellow brothers called his name - Brother Adam - but their voices sounded distant, the rocks swallowing their echoes.

They had been digging. Deep under the castle. Because of his visions. And now he was alone.

A cavern stretched out before him, filled with a pale, unnatural glow. It should have been dark. No ray of sunlight could ever have reached this place. But the light was there - cool, ghostly, pulsating.

Nicole was aware of every breath the man took. She could smell the dust of centuries filling the air, heavy and dry. There was a metallic smell in it, like rusty blood. And underneath - something else. Something alive.

His legs felt heavy. Every step was a stumble, a forced advance, as if he was not only exhausted, but being pulled by something.

He wiped his forehead. Warm moisture clung to his fingertips. Blood. He almost got hit by the falling rocks.

Then he saw it.

Nicole sucked in a sharp breath - or would have done if her body had still obeyed.

A monolith rose up at the end of the cave. A huge crystal, its interior filled with golden reflections. It pulsed as if it were breathing.

The air was different here. Dense, pregnant with floating particles that reflected the light like luminous dust. But it was no ordinary dust.

They prickled on his skin, burned into his lungs, tiny needles that made their way into his flesh and blood. A tingling sensation spread, a pulling, deep in his bones. The warmth crept into him like a living breath.

And in it -

The figure.

The blood-red symbol Nicole recognized from the stone monolith she had seen in the shrine. But here it was real, three-dimensional, encased and pitch-black in an amber-colored mass.

A spider-like plaga - like hers, but different, more primal, fused with a ribcage, as if it had once been part of something larger. His frozen body seemed to be awake, lurking, frozen in time, but not dead.

The man froze. His chest rose and fell heavily. His vision blurred with dust and tears.

Something hovered in the air.

Nicole felt it. Fine particles, invisible but deadly. They crept into his lungs, nestled in his flesh and blood.

Spores.

They felt like hot needles, penetrating deep into every fiber of his body. He gasped, coughed, sank to one knee. His gaze remained fixed on the monolith.

The holy body of God.

The words formed in his mind at first, then his chapped lips whispered them softly into the darkness.

He didn't know it, but it had already happened.

The Holy Body had chosen him.

---

A gasp escaped her throat as Nicole came to. But it was not her own body in which she awoke. Still trapped in the memories, she felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest - a foreign heart that was not her own. Her gaze wandered around the small room she was in: rough fieldstone walls surrounded her, the mortar between the stones crumbling in places. Only a narrow candle on a rough wooden table provided flickering light. The air smelled of wax and cold stone, with a hint of damp wood. On the wall hung a simple wooden cross, unadorned, the symbol of a faith that would soon take on a new form.

The body she was in - his body - moved sluggishly. A cold shiver ran over her skin as she felt the weakness lurking in his limbs. Then a jerk - a choking, a cramp in his stomach. He bent forward, his chest contracting painfully, and a gush of blood shot from his mouth as he coughed. Dark and heavy, it dripped to the floor, pooling in the grooves of the stone tiles.

A tremor ran through his bloodstained fingers, which he had just held in front of his mouth. He lifted his arm with difficulty and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his sleeve slipping up as he did so. Then he froze.

Her skin - no, his skin - was no longer the same. Black veins stood out all over his forearm, crawling under his skin like dark tendrils, pulsating to the beat of a strange, ancient being. Nicole could feel it awakening inside him, anchoring itself in his flesh and spreading through his thoughts.

Then came the buzzing.

It began quietly, a vibrating sound, barely perceptible. But with every second it swelled, became stronger, more intense, as if dozens of invisible voices were whispering, hissing, singing together. Words that were not words echoed through his skull. His body contracted under the alien presence, a dizziness took hold of him - and then everything fell apart.

---

The world was a fever.

Nicole looked through his eyes, but it was as if she was reeling. The surroundings danced, blurred in distorted colors and shapes. Stone walls, soot-blackened torches, and a golden glow ghosting through the flickering light. Voices murmured words, unintelligible yet full of meaning.

Then she was in a different place to the one before - an old chapel.

She stood in the middle of the room with her arms outstretched. Kneeling before her were figures clad in long cowls, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods. But their eyes - the eyes glowed a dark red, a glow that not only blazed with reverence and fanaticism, but came from their connection with the Plagas.

And she was him - Adam Saddler.

His name was whispered. Softly at first, then louder. A chorus of voices, an eerie litany.

“Do not despair, brothers! It is the trial of the Holy Body. We will emerge from the darkness stronger!”

His gaze wandered to the wall.

There, emblazoned in shiny, fresh paint, was the sign - the abstract symbol that the Illuminados would still bear centuries later. A stylized, thorny-looking plaga, painted in dark red on the stone as if it were written in blood.

The voices continued to swell. They praised him as their prophet, as the voice of God. The air was heavy with his presence. Nicole could feel it, like a burning in her veins. Adam could control the others. Those who carried the body within them. Those who were infected with it.

Some must have been in the tunnels with him. Others... he had chosen others himself and made them his own.

“We are the enlightened ones, following the true path of God!”

A tremor shook the walls of reality.

The images shattered, changing in jerky scenes, a flickering slideshow of disjointed memories: Bloody clashes. Screaming men. Swords cutting into flesh. The desperate cries of his confreres calling him a devil.

“A plague! An outrage against the faith! The Plagas are a work of hell!”

Torches blazed, an uprising broke out. Those who were not infected fought against their former brothers. They called them fiends, wanted to exterminate them, wanted to destroy the Holy Body.

But the body gave Adam's followers strength.

They were superhuman. Their bodies were faster, stronger. The blades cut through their skin, but it began to heal, their reflexes were inhuman. They were no longer mortal men.

Adam Saddler and his chosen wrestled down the rebels. Those who did not fall in battle were infected. They were handed the black water - a thick, dark substance that seemed to flow from the plagas themselves, along with the plaga eggs. Nicole watched as they drank it, reluctantly having it poured down their throats, their eyes twisting - until even their veins turned black beneath their skin and the buzzing in their heads began.

And then there was only darkness.

The memory broke off - and Nicole fell into the blackness with it.

---

Cold stone pressed against her back. A dull ache throbbed in the back of her head as Nicole slowly regained consciousness. The air was heavy, saturated with the sweet scent of burnt wax mixed with the earthy smell of damp rock. She blinked to see more clearly.

Above her hung the chandelier made of deer antlers, its crude bone frame holding dozens of burning candles whose flickering light made restless shadows dance across the ceiling. The soft crackling of the wax and the occasional dripping intensified the silence of the room.

She opened her eyes wider and inhaled sharply. Her fingers fumbled over the fabric of her sleeves - dark blue robe, decorated with golden embroidery. Her heartbeat slowed. It was her own robe. Relieved, she took a deep breath as she realized that she was herself again.

“Awake again?”

The voice made her flinch. Jerkily, she turned her head in the direction of the speaker. Her gaze fell on a familiar figure leaning casually against the monolith. The candlelight bathed Luis' face in a warm glow. His white coat stood out brightly against the gloomy surroundings.

“Where is Lord Saddler?” Her voice sounded hoarse. She couldn't feel him nearby at the moment. She cleared her throat and tried to banish the last shreds of strange memories from her mind.

Luis casually lifted up an empty syringe and circled it with his fingers. “He asked me to wake you up again. I gave you something and waited... now you're back with us.”

Nicole swung her legs over the edge of the altar as the numb feeling in her limbs subsided. The strange memories still echoed in her bones, an echo from times long past.

“Have I been out for long?” She massaged her temples as if she could chase away the whispering voices that still stirred in the depths of her mind.

“Do you faint often?” There was an amused undertone in Luis' voice, but behind his curiosity shone an analytical precision that matched his scientific mind. He couldn't help but grin mischievously.

Nicole scrutinized him with narrow eyes. “I could also ask back why you're around me right then.”

Luis shrugged his shoulders. “Must be fate.” He took a step closer and reached out for her, but paused when Nicole waved him off and slipped off the altar herself to stand on her feet. She braced herself on the surface of the altar with one hand.

The cool stone slab beneath her fingers felt reassuringly real. “History class was really exhausting,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.

Luis raised an eyebrow. “History class?”

“Lord Saddler showed me part of the history of Los Illuminados. Transferred directly into my head.” She sighed. “Very intense history lesson.”

“Interesting,” Luis looked thoughtful for a moment, then tightened because he remembered something important. “Um... I'm supposed to show you to your room.” He beckoned her to follow him. “It's not as luxurious as a castle, but it's bearable.”

'It's been everything from a dungeon to a four-poster bed,' the thought occurred to her, but she kept it to herself. Nicole let her gaze wander through the sanctuary one last time - the high walls carved out of the rock, the warm candlelight dancing over the stone statues and columns, the scent of incense in the air. Then she followed Luis.

Chapter Text

Ramón stood on the stone castle wall, the rough sea breeze whipping against his pale skin with fine cracks as he watched the boat move off into the morning expanse of water. The rising sun bathed the hazy horizon in a dull light that bathed the sea in a light gray. His heart beat heavily in his chest, but his face remained impassive, his aristocratic features outwardly marked by cool restraint. Whatever his lord had in mind, he fervently hoped it would not take away the one person who had touched his heart.

Lord Saddler's plans would demand sacrifices. He was aware of that. But Nicole was strong. She would prove herself worthy. A bitter tug tightened around his lips as he took a deep breath of the salty air and closed his eyes for a moment. The humming of his Plaga inside him was the only answer to his thoughts.

His steps fell heavily on the ancient stone tiles as he turned away from the wall. His two bodyguards, Pesanta and Verdugo, followed him silently, only the subtle click of their claws audible in the rhythm of their movement. The mere sight of them was a reason for many of his servants to make way for them, for the knowledge of their power held them all in terrible awe.

Ramón allowed himself to be led to another part of the castle complex, where his subordinates were attending to a task assigned to him by his lord. The great hall was filled with the forges, armor and weapons that had been dormant in the Salazar family for generations and were now being restored. Metal gleamed bronze in the light of the blazing fireplaces as weapons were sharpened and armor polished. Crossbows were oiled. Shields were dusted. Illuminados symbols were applied to them. They had to be prepared for an emergency. Lord Saddler had worked out plans with the American newcomer Krauser and these were now taking shape.

Just as Ramón entered the hall, two servants rushed towards him. Their dirty robes looked even more pathetic than usual, their postures deeply stooped. They did not dare to look him directly in the eye, their hands trembling slightly.

He stopped, his narrow shoulders straightening. He clasped his hands behind his back in a bold gesture, lifted his chin and fixed them both with cool condescension: “Is there something in particular why you are stopping me?” His voice was silky and at the same time laced with cutting severity.

One of the servants hesitantly lifted up something - a worn, dusty hiking backpack marked by the journey. With a casual movement of his delicate hand, Ramón motioned to Pesanta to accept the object. The creature did so with frightening precision, its claws clutching the fabric without tearing it. Then, without waiting for a direct instruction, it carefully opened the backpack with its sharp limbs.

Ramón frowned. He was about to send the servants away, but Pesanta's behavior gave him pause. There was a subtle expression of confusion in the creature's posture.

He stepped closer. A familiar scent reached his nose. Soft, earthy, with a hint of leather and ink. His heart leapt imperceptibly. Nicole's scent.

With a sudden curiosity, he reached for the contents of the backpack himself. Inside were clothes, a map of the area, a compass, a small pair of binoculars. All the things you would pack on a journey. His fingers touched something square, leather-bound.

A book.

Ramón pulled it out and opened it. Sketches, drawings, fine lines that captured scenes from Nicole's life. There were playful flourishes in every corner, delicate decorations that could only have come from her hand. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the pages. This was a window into a time before Los Illuminados.

He continued to turn the pages, his cold fingers carefully stroking the paper as if it might crumble under his touch. He felt an unexpected tug in his chest, a slight pressure spreading through his core. This kind of encouragement came in handy.

With a motion of his hand, he sent the servants away. Today seemed to be a little less gloomy.

---

Ramón had made himself comfortable by the fireplace in his bedchamber. The fire was blazing and gave off a warm, flickering light that cast dancing shadows on the ornate walls hung with paintings. The crackling of the wood and the occasional flickering of the flames filled the room with a cozy atmosphere.

He had sunk into his brocade-covered wing chair, which he had had specially placed in his room. His robe was thrown loosely over his nightgown and tied at the front with a fabric belt. The day had been long, full of instructions and stern looks at his servants. Now that the castle was quiet and only the soft crackling of the fire could be heard, he could finally do what he wanted to do: devote himself to the sketchbook he had found in his sweetheart's backpack.

His slender fingers glided over the worn cover before he opened the first page. A fine work of art revealed itself to him - a snow-covered landscape, drawn with meticulous care. The stream, bordered by smooth stones, reflected the bare trees that stood out against the sky in the background. The precision of her strokes lent the picture an almost tangible depth.

Ramón turned the page. The next motif showed a rustic village, the houses built of rough wooden beams, painted doors and shutters. The style looked Eastern European. It was a place where time seemed to have stood still, secluded, hidden. The roofs were covered in snow, tiny threads of smoke rose from the chimneys.

His lips curled into a gentle smile as he turned to the next page. There he found a seal, ornate and stylized. Four symbols adorned the parchment: a flower with crossed sabres, a circle with the faces of the sun and moon, a mermaid and a horseshoe with a horse's head in the middle. It seemed to be significant, but he couldn't place it. None of the knightly shields that hung on the walls of his castle had these symbols.

The more he leafed through the pages, the more fascinating the collection became. Sketches of monstrous creatures, grotesque beings with wild looks and sinewy limbs, alongside the faces of strangers who had perhaps once accompanied her. Nicole had captured a hidden world, a life he did not yet know.

Ramón leaned back, his gaze fixed on the flames as he gently closed the book. His fingers stroked the ruffles of his nightgown, lost in thought. Underneath was the amulet she had given him. This small piece, which contained her Mutamyzet, was a talisman, a secret connection with her, he hoped.

He placed the book on the side table, untied the knot of his robe and stood up from his armchair. As his robe hung over the backrest, Ramón slipped under the covers of his large bed, which now seemed even bigger without her. The pillows still carried her delicate scent, a hint of warming memory still lingering in the fabrics. He snuggled deeper into it, his eyes closed, while his thoughts revolved around her.

Soon she would return. And when she did, he would question her about every single drawing. Until then, however, he would leaf through this sketchbook every evening, studying its lines as if it were a window into her soul.

He sighed softly as the fire continued to crackle gently. The castle might be large and magnificent, but without her it seemed almost empty.

---

Luis had led her into a small room that didn't look very cozy at first glance. The walls were made of light gray concrete. The cool air was heavy and you could feel the proximity to the sea. A single milky light bulb flickered on the ceiling, which was full of cables and pipes, and cast a weak, yellowish light on the barren walls.

Opposite a wall of steel shelves stood a simple metal-framed bed. The mattress was covered in faded blue stripes and appeared to be somewhat used but relatively clean. Next to the bed was a simple wooden side table with worn edges. And on the wall above the bed hung an iron Plagas symbol.

Nicole let her gaze wander around the room. The gray concrete floor felt cold under her shoes. It was relatively quiet here. Under the ceiling, she noticed a narrow, elongated window with clear glass, through which the faint light of day could be glimpsed. Her fingers glided over the rough wall as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Your five-star room in the most beautiful island paradise in Spain, designed in the local style of the area.”

Luis' exaggerated gesture made Nicole smile. His nonchalant manner seemed almost out of place in this depressing place - and yet was a strange relief to her.

An imperceptible shiver ran through her body. Her plaga pulsed with a dull hum in her back and a shiver coursed down her spine. She wheeled around and looked at the door. It was half open, and something was stirring in the darkness behind it. Luis followed her gaze and lowered his arms. Slowly, the door opened wider. Two figures, cloaked in white robes and hoods that hid their faces, entered. In their slender hands they held bundles of dark cloth and a tray of steaming food and bread.

Without saying a word, the servants approached, made up the meagre bed and placed soft pillows and a blanket on top. The plate they placed on the side table exuded the salty smell of canned meat and vegetables.

Nicole watched them in silence. With a synchronized, silent bow, the women left the room. The door closed quietly. Nicole turned to Luis, who was leaning against one of the shelves with his hands in the pockets of his coat. His gaze rested thoughtfully on her.

“Can I move freely around the island?” Her voice sounded calm, but she knew that he noticed her inner tension.

Luis shifted his weight to the other leg and hesitated briefly. “You are not a prisoner, but I would not recommend straying too far from the sanctuary. Our dear lord will call you to him soon.” There was regret in his tone, as if he wasn't entirely at peace with the situation himself.

Nicole nodded slowly and returned his gaze thoughtfully. For a moment, Luis seemed to want to say something else, but then he just shook his head slightly, raised his hand in farewell and left the room.

Silence. Nicole took a deep breath. She pushed the bed under the window, climbed up carefully and stood on her tiptoes. The pipes above her must have been carrying heat, but the floor below her was and remained cold. She could barely see anything, just the sky and the distant waves of the sea. The smell of salt and damp rock echoed in the air.

A flicker made her jump, but it was only the light bulb. Sighing, she jumped back onto the floor, pushed the bed into place and lay down on it. She felt the cool mattress give way beneath her and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She placed the tray on her thighs. The canned food didn't smell freshly prepared, but her growling stomach left her no choice.

While she tasted the food with a piece of bread in one hand and a blunt metal spoon in the other - lukewarm, salty, with a hint of sour preservative flavor - she concentrated on her plaga. As if from afar, she sensed the other plaga on the island. They were bustling back and forth. At least that's how it felt inside her.

When she had finished eating, she took out her little sketchbook and one of the pencils and began to record her impressions of the island that she had seen so far.

Every now and then she glanced at the door. So she could move around freely and wasn't a prisoner?

A shiver ran down her spine. Whatever was to come, she could hardly wait.

Chapter Text

Krauser wiped the blade of his combat knife with a leather rag until the metal flashed in the sparse lighting. The light from the electric lamp above him was cold and occasionally flickered, casting harsh shadows on the coarse fabric of the tent. In the mirror-smooth surface of the blade, he could make out his own eye area, sharply cut, scarred, hardened from years in the field. A snake was artfully engraved into the blade, its body curved as if it were alive.

He sat with his legs apart on a metal crate, his boots resting on the dusty ground. The tent, his makeshift home on this godforsaken island, was functional: a cot with a simple blanket, a folding table stacked with maps and reports, shelves of ammunition, weapons and equipment he remembered from his days in the US Army. Despite the new alliance, he still felt like a soldier - only now he was on the other side. A cold grin crept across his lips.

He let the knife glide playfully through his fingers, turning it with practiced precision. In a lightning-fast movement, he snatched it out of the air, the handle firmly in his hand, while the tip of the blade pointed at the open tent opening. His reflexes were sharper than ever, his body stronger, his mind clearer - the power the Illuminados had given him was intoxicating.

A barely perceptible shadow flitted past in front of the tent entrance. Krauser felt it before he saw it - the soft, almost hypnotic hum of another Plaga. He could mostly block out the voices of the Ganados in his head; they were nothing more than a distant, disturbing murmur. Saddler's presence, on the other hand, was like a hot spike boring into his skull, a haunting voice with barbs. But this Plaga felt different.

Without taking his eyes off his blade, he spoke in a raspy voice, “Are you lost, little one?”

Silence. Only the soft electric hum of the lamp, the distant sound of the sea and the wind blowing over the island. But she was still there - he could feel it.

He snorted a fact he had written himself: “You're lost.”

In one swift movement, he slid his knife back into the leather sheath on his shoulder holster, reached for a pile of loosely stapled papers and rummaged through them until his fingers came across a folded map. When he lifted his eyes, she was already standing in his tent. Her dark hair fell into her face, covering part of her eyes. In the cool light, her skin looked almost pale, her posture tense.

She stepped closer. Her plaga seemed to interact with his, a barely perceptible impulse that gave him an inkling of her presence before her footsteps even touched the ground.

“I'm not lost.” Her voice was calm, but he heard the irritated undertone in it.

He grinned wryly, holding out the map to her, which she took from his hand without further hesitation.

“Sure thing, girl.”

He turned away, thinking the conversation was over. He heard her gritted teeth, felt her annoyed look at his back. Seconds later, the tent entrance rustled and with a curt “Thank you” she disappeared back into the gathering darkness.

Krauser leaned against the table, slipped the knife out of its sheath and circled it once between his fingers. He knew her name. Of course he knew it. But luring her out of her reserve was fun for him.

At first he had thought she was a pretty plaything of the castellan - a pleasure for this nasty dwarf. But Saddler obviously saw more in her. And if the great lord was interested in anyone, it was only a matter of time before he wanted to find out why himself.

With a weary grumble, he stepped up to a heavy metal box, opened it and pulled out new arrows for his composite bow. The night was still young - and there was always work to be done on this island.

---

Krauser moved silently through the ruins, his body a shadow among shadows. The cold wind carried the distant sound of the sea as he scanned his surroundings with the practiced precision of a hunter. The old stone walls, scarred by the ravages of time, offered him cover while his gaze remained fixed on his target: her.

There she sat, looking at the map, amidst the weathered remains of times past, surrounded by crumbling pillars and cracked arches that towered into the sky like the skeletons of forgotten titans. The place was far from the busy research facilities - a lonely, inhospitable spot, perfect for his training sessions.

The artificial spotlights he had set up here bathed the scenery in a pale light that cast long, distorted shadows. Just the way he liked it - enough visibility for target practice and enough darkness to hide in.

Then they appeared.

A barely audible snort escaped him as the insectoid creatures buzzed towards him. Novistadores. Those damn ugly things. Huge, human-sized nightmares with chitin shells and glowing eyes. Their whirring wings made a sickening buzzing sound, a noise that cut through the air like a poisonous blade. They glided down and landed on the stone remains around her, crawling restlessly closer.

She reached out her hand.

Krauser could hardly believe what he was seeing. The girl really had no fear of contact. One of the beasts left a shimmering, viscous trail of slime on her hand as it slobbered on her. She did not flinch. He remembered the scene at the lake - the way she had lured this huge monstrosity of a salamander, even if it wasn't as tame as the Novistadores. This woman was either incredibly brave or simply insane.

Then he felt it.

This overwhelming presence that seized his every thought and enclosed it in an iron fist. An unnatural shiver ran down his spine as a figure emerged from the darkness and entered the scene before him. Lord Saddler.

The high priest of the Illuminados moved with a deliberate, almost menacing slowness. His long, ornate staff rested heavily in his hands, his plaga wrapped vividly around it. Krauser watched how the Novistadores reacted to the man - how they approached him submissively, how their chirping changed to a different, almost reverent tone.

He didn't know what the lord was saying to the girl, couldn't hear it from a distance. But he could see. And what he saw gave even him pause.

She pulled down the robe.

Krauser's eyes narrowed. An icy cold expression came over his features as something stirred on her exposed back. Then something burst out.

Long, shiny, shadowy limbs, black as polished obsidian, protruded from her body. First four, then they split until there were eight - skeletal, insect-like legs that curved gently as if exploring their new existence.

Krauser was familiar with this sight. He had seen how these spider-like plagas broke out of their hosts, tore out their spines, shredded their flesh until there was nothing left but a grotesque image of their former connection - on one side a lifeless human shell and on the other side this plaga spider, dragging bones and torn out organs with it. But the girl... She was not torn apart. Her body remained intact. Her plaga did not devour her - it was a living symbiosis.

A grim smile crept onto his lips.

“Interesting,” he murmured, leaning on the edge of the wall in front of him. That was worth keeping an eye on.

Krauser couldn't even begin to imagine what Saddler was discussing with her. The words between them were just a muffled murmur in the silence of the night. After a while, Saddler finally stood up, his posture calm, as if he had everything under control. Then he disappeared into the shadows of the ruins, his long coat billowing for a moment before he too was swallowed up by the darkness.

The Novistadores remained behind, sitting motionless in their camouflage among the ruins. Krauser could feel them - a tingling, alien presence that warned him inside. Even when their glowing eyes had gone out, he knew that they were registering every movement in their surroundings. They had fixed themselves to the walls and pillars, motionless as grotesque stone statues, ready to respond to Saddler's command.

Nicole pulled her robe back over her shoulders after her plaga limbs retracted against her back. The pale light from the spotlights made her skin appear even paler. Now she looked human again. Almost.

“He knew you were watching us.” Her voice was calm, unexcited, but almost unnaturally clear. Not a trace of fear. Krauser didn't let on at first. Then he decided to let his guard down, straightened up and silently jumped along the edge of the wall. With one fluid movement, he landed on the sandy ground near it. Fine dust scattered under his boots.

His gaze wandered to the Novistadores, then back to her. “How did you get to the Illuminados?” he asked in an emotionless voice.

Nicole returned his gaze with dark, unfathomable eyes. “All I had to do was climb over a castle wall, then I was thrown into the dungeon and politely asked if I wanted to join in.” She shrugged slightly, as if it were a minor matter. She looked as if she couldn't hurt a fly.

Krauser crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against a pillar. The cold rock pressed through the fabric of his short-sleeved shirt. “Since when do they ask politely?” There was no surprise in his voice, just a dry statement.

Nicole let her fingertips glide over the surface of the stone she was sitting on, her movements slow and deliberate. “Are you here to watch stars?” she then asked casually, the hint of a smile in her voice, and looked up.

Krauser raised a brow and followed her gaze briefly to the sky. Thick, gray clouds obscured the stars. No light filtered through. The night was black and heavy, crisscrossed by veils of shadow.

“Shitty view for this,” he muttered and let his gaze wander over the surroundings again. The Novistadores remained unseen and motionless, but their presence was omnipresent. Their mere existence made him wary. He preferred human opponents.

Nicole was silent, her posture relaxed. Krauser sensed that she was not intimidated by his presence. There was something about her that appealed to him - no fear, no naivety. Whatever Saddler saw in her, it was not the same as what he himself recognized in her. But he would find that out.

“How about a practice fight, kiddo.” Krauser felt the pleasant heaviness of the boot knife in his hand as he drew it from its holder in one fluid motion. The slender blade flashed dully in the cool light of the headlights as he held it out to her, handle first. She didn't hesitate for a second as she reached for it. Not a trace of uncertainty or restraint.

“Any wish as to where I should bury you afterwards?” Her dark eyes sparkled at him challengingly, her mouth twisted into a grin.

Krauser laughed, a deep, harsh rumble that vibrated in his chest. “Cheeky.”

Then she jumped up. Her robe swirled around her as she plunged into the shadow of a half-ruined wall. Krauser pursed his lips in approval. She knew how to move.

He drew his combat knife and shifted his weight, his stance low and steady. Not a sound. But he sensed her. Instinctively, he turned around, but nothing was there.

A sharp scratch on the back of his neck.

“Gotcha.” Her voice was calm, almost amused.

Slowly, he raised his hands and turned around. He expected her hand with the boot knife - but it was something else.

One of her Plaga's black, chitin-armored legs was pointing at him. She had tapped him with it. He blinked. Her plaga had stretched out his legs again.

She raised the knife. “I needed that. Now my plaga has more room to move, and I'm not standing there naked.” Her voice sounded almost amused. She must have cut her robe open at the back.

He involuntarily took a step back. The things on her back were longer than his outstretched arms, darker than the night and they moved with an uncanny elegance. She looked like a human spider.

“Then let's see what you can do with it.” His voice was a low growl as he raised the knife and got into a defensive stance. “Strike.”

And she struck.

He dodged to the side, fending off the first attacks with the blade and his forearm. Her plaga legs jerked forward, hard as steel. He deflected her instinctively. But she repeated the movement. Faster. More aggressive.

His combat knife clinked against the chitin armor. The movements followed in quick succession, a punch, a parry, a kick, a leap back. She held the lower, shorter legs of her plaga in front of her body like a living shield. How practical.

He kicked, aiming for her legs. But instead of hitting her, his foot bounced against the springy limbs of her plaga - and he lost his balance. He staggered, catching himself at the last moment. The damn thing acted like a trampoline.

Krauser glared at her, dodged to the side, grabbed one of her plaga legs to pull her off balance. A mistake.

The blade of the boot knife slid across his forearm, burning a sharp pain into his skin. He hissed and let go, taking two steps back. She was fast. Damn fast.

Sweat beaded down his temple. Her breathing quickened, her pupils dilated, wild.

And then she hit him.

The lower plaga legs hooked around his ankles and tore his legs away with a sudden jerk. Krauser crashed to the ground, stone and dust scattering under his weight. A dull pain exploded in his ribs and the air was forced out of his lungs.

A groan escaped his throat before he could collect himself.

Then she was on top of him.

The plaga legs held him pinned to the ground, pinning his arms and legs against the stone but not impaling him. Her weight pressed against his chest, the boot knife lay cold against his neck. Sweat trickled down his skin.

To make matters worse, the damned Novistadores buzzed and hummed from the pillars. Krauser grimaced. Were the beasts just applauding?

Nicole leaned closer, her gaze dark, triumphant.

“My name is-”

“I know.” Krauser interrupted her with a breathless laugh.

His gaze met hers, a spark of recognition glowing in his eyes.

“Nicole.”

Chapter Text

She had enormous potential for the development of new bioweapons. Luis had realized this completely when he looked under the microscope at the tissue sample he had secretly taken from her a small eternity ago. The substance, mold-like, black, pulsating in its structure, reminded him of mycelium. But it was not pure fungal tissue. It was something else. Something that had bonded with the plaga.

The pungent smell of disinfectant and machine oil hung heavy in the air. The whirring of the vacuum pump filled the room. Cables snaked across the floor and ceiling like metal veins. The robotic devices hanging from the ceiling looked like silent witnesses to previous interventions. Everything was bathed in cool, sterile light, which nevertheless did not illuminate every corner of the laboratory. There were also darker corners, which made the room seem a little sinister.

Nicole was standing next to a glass cabinet, looking at some of the preserved samples inside, when Luis stood up and lifted his eyes from his microscope.

"This mold-like substance, it's also in your plaga," he said calmly. "But I'm sure you knew that."

She sighed softly without looking at him. "All right, then. The doctor won't let up... I was lucky that both are compatible in me."

That was all she said. Her voice sounded neutral, almost bored, but Luis sensed that there was more to it than that. There was always this subtle mistrust, this wall between them.

"Show the doctor your back," he said, trying to keep his tone relaxed.

She sat down wordlessly on the swivel stool in the middle of the room. He heard the soft squeak of the rollers as she turned. Luis stood up. The white coat rustled as he stepped towards her. He noticed how she kept an eye on him from the side, as suspicious as a cat of prey that only wanted to be tolerated.

He carefully pushed her dark hair to one side. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the cold light. Two long cuts in the robe revealed her upper back. Beneath her skin lay the body of her Plaga, shaped like that cursed Los Illuminados sign, dark as a shadow.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper.

Suddenly, something tightened under his hand. He stepped back with a jerk as four black, shiny plaga legs erupted from her back and stretched left and right into the room, then split. The movement was silent, almost majestic, but the sight of eight long spider-like plaga legs sent a shiver down his spine.

Nicole laughed. "My Plaga just wanted to say hello."

Luis took a deep breath. His heart was beating faster. "Warn me first, please..."

Despite the shock, he stepped closer again and took a closer look at the strange limbs. The chitin reflected the light dully, almost like black onyx.

"Can you control it?" he asked, fascinated.

Nicole bent her legs like fingers and let them relax again. The distorted outline of her silhouette appeared on the wall.

"Does it affect you in any way?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. "And when they're out, I can climb better and beat people up. You'll have to interview Krauser for the latter."

Luis laughed softly. Then he reached out a hand and tapped his finger against one of the legs. It was hard, smooth, cool. Mechanical and yet alive.

After a moment, Nicole let the legs slide back into her back. The sound was soft, moist. Her skin closed as if nothing had ever happened. No blood. No wound. Nothing. As if she were a perfectly sealed cocoon.

Luis stared at the spot where those limbs had just been. He wondered how they had found a place inside her at all. How they were brought forth. Pressure? Liquid? Organic folding?

His scientific mind worked feverishly. But something else flickered in a part of his mind: Awe. And perhaps even a hint of fear.

---

Another place. Deep below the scientific facilities, in the belly of the island. The humming of the cooling units was the only thing that broke the silence - a monotonous, muffled sound that went through your bones. The cold room was lined with pipes covered in hoarfrost. The air was stale, heavy, enriched with the acrid smell of frost, metal and something indeterminate - something animal, rotten.

The temperature was below freezing. A thin layer of ice had formed on the floor, and even the thick, zipper-sealed black bags on the hooks attached to the ceiling were covered in hoarfrost, as if they had been hung there decades ago. A dozen of them hung there - like carcasses in a slaughterhouse. Lifeless. Quiet. At least that's how it should be.

Then a twitch.

One of the sacks moved. Only slightly. A barely noticeable movement, as if something was breathing inside - slow, deep and throaty. Another twitch made the rusty iron chain on which the sack was hanging creak. Hoarfrost trickled to the ground. A shadow stirred. Something bulged against the leather as if it wanted to get out.

The sack burst open with a sickeningly wet tearing sound. A dull thud echoed through the room as a shapeless mass smacked onto the frozen concrete. The ice crystals cracked under the force.

A rattle.

Heavy. Wet. Human - and yet not.

The creature moved. A jerky twitch ran through the deformed body, which was covered in light gray, wrinkled skin. Arms far too long with human hands and claw-like fingernails that were too long, the torso grotesquely covered in fat pads, the limbs covered in too much skin, like clothes that were too big. She struggled to hold herself up on two legs that trembled as if the body had been reborn and was not yet ready to bear its own weight.

A single LED strip on the ceiling flickered, casting a cold light on the creature's bald skull. The eyes glowed orange. The mouth was armed with huge teeth. There was no nose or ears. The bare feet with long toenails pattered across the ground, awkwardly but steadily propelling the body forward.

One of them had awoken from its stasis.

It rattled again, gurgling. Its gaze moved to the muffled sounds of footsteps growing louder behind the metal door. It waited for a movement to react.

-----

The cold in the freezer room was below -20°C. Ice had spread like a disease over the walls, pipes and even the lights. The two technicians, wrapped in their thick protective suits, trudged through the frost-covered room. Their breath was visible, every step crunched on the frost. The first one was about to carry out a routine check of the control terminal for the cooling unit when a sickening rattle sounded behind him.

Something splashed on the floor behind him. He turned around, but before he could catch his breath, a hulking figure had reached him. It looked like a human whose limbs had grown too long under his skin, as if his insides had slipped out of place. The creature grabbed him with long fingers, its skin stretched slickly over protruding bundles of muscle, then it tore him apart with its bare hands.

The second technician roared and reached out with a wrench, and the monster snapped. Teeth like a shark's bit off his hand along with the tool. He screamed, staggered, but before he could escape through the exit door and close it again, the creature squeezed itself into the emergency shaft at an inhuman speed. The metal grating burst as if it were cardboard. Traces of blood and a flashing alarm button were left behind. The scientists would be too late.

-----

Nicole stood in front of one of the guard buildings, reminiscent of the labyrinthine concrete complexes in industrial parks. The watchtowers towered into the cloudy sky. It was daytime, but the light was only gray and hazy through the layer of fog. In the distance, you could occasionally hear the mechanical whirring of headlights or the rattling of security doors.

The Ganados marched across the lattice floors of the walkways that connected the buildings, always in groups, with piercing stares. They seemed more tense than usual. Nicole had overheard rumors: The alarm had gone off in one of the labs. Something had gone wrong.

Her eyes wandered to the map of the island that Krauser had given her. After their practice fight, in which she had thrown him to the ground, he had only laughed and seemed not to have minded. She had thought he hated her at first. Maybe he still did. But he accepted her. Somehow.

Nicole missed the old walls of Ramón's castle. There it had been crazy, theatrical and old-fashioned, but it had had character. Here, everything was functional, cold and military. Modern weapons, concrete, steel. She was alone on a walkway that stretched further inside the research complex. Saddler had granted her access.

"Do what you want," he had said. "But don't die on me."

She knew that his eyes were everywhere. In every ganado. In every one of those invisible lurking Novistadores hiding between the walls.

And yet she went on. Step by step into the heart of darkness.

-----

Nicole stood in front of the massive research building, a faceless colossus of steel and rough concrete. She couldn't make out any windows. The entrances were sealed and secured with electronic locking mechanisms. Not a Ganado for miles around. The alarm had gone silent, nothing to indicate that anything had happened here.

Nicole adjusted her robe, peered across the site and followed a path that led between the containers, crates and planks lying around, past a crane and a wedged-in truck. She discovered a maintenance shaft three meters above the ground. The Novistadores followed her, crawling behind her across the littered square, like a rearguard that would cover her back.

She let her plaga emerge from her back - she stretched out his legs and tried to reach the bars. With a jerk of her front legs, she tore out the bars, which clattered to the ground. The Novistadores came closer. Nicole turned around. The human-sized insect monsters didn't stop her. 'Good,' she thought, 'I guess I can keep going then.'

After squeezing through the opening with the help of her Plaga legs and crawling through the shaft to the end without any further problems, she landed on a pile of garbage - pieces of metal, scraps of fabric and something gooey.

"That's wonderful. Keep going through the dirt," muttered Nicole, pressing herself against the concrete wall and balancing over the pile. The ground beneath her vibrated slightly, the distant hum of heavy machinery filled the stuffy air.

With a rough slide, she landed on the floor of a huge, filthy hall. Piles of garbage, old medical equipment, empty canisters and black, slimy bags covered the floor. The stench of decay and chemicals bit into her nose. Nicole kept her balance and scratched the area with her insect legs. Small lights on the ceiling sparsely illuminated the surroundings.

A smacking, grinding sound made her freeze. Her eyes scanned the hall. A shadowy figure emerged from a pile of metal and fabric. Its humanoid form appeared to be stretched over too long, false bones, a row of razor-sharp teeth bared in a lipless shark grin. The small eyes glowed orange in the darkness. Nicole felt the buzzing of Plagas before her in this form, like a small shoal.

"Oh damn..."

Nicole raised her parasite legs in front of her, ready to defend herself. The thing rattled, breathing. Faster than its hulking form suggested, it jerked its arms up and they shot forward like rubber bands, aimed right at Nicole. She dodged to the side, the monster missed her by a hair's breadth and instead tore a metal support from its anchorage.

Slowly, it pulled its arms back towards itself. Nicole tried to calm it down with her plaga, but it seemed to speak a different language. That little angry buzzing sounded in Nicole's head again.

"NICOLE!"

Luis' voice echoed over the buzzing in her head. He was standing on a metal staircase that led to a glass-enclosed lab section, waving frantically. Behind him stood a few other people she didn't know in white coats.

"Get over here!"

Nicole growled, blocking the blows as the thing struck at her again. She yanked its legs out from under it so that it fell to the ground with a dull splat. Then she took off running, over debris, oily pools and pieces of scrap metal, the gasping monster crawling across the ground close behind her.

Luis cursed and pressed a switch. Nicole sprinted through the open hatch, which was already closing, the beast chasing after her. At the last moment, she threw herself forward and found herself with Luis and the others. The monster rose up outside the bulletproof glass, just stood there and waited, gasping.

"You came here at the worst possible time." Luis glared at Nicole.

"Or at the right time," a woman's voice rang out. Nicole now realized that the others in the room were staring tensely at her Plaga.

Chapter Text

The air was stale, permeated by the acrid smell of disinfectant and something putrid, damp and organic, which was due to the close proximity to the waste disposal site. The dim, flickering light from the neon tubes on the ceiling bathed the room in a sickly green that cast eerie shadows on the faces of those present. Nicole sat quietly on an old examination table that looked as if it had seen more corpses than patients. Dry, rust-colored stains stuck to the ring of the drain in the floor.

“Follow the lamp with your eyes.” Anabel's voice was calm, professional, but chilled like the room, her hair tied back in a severe knot, her features appearing more angular than they really were because of the harsh shadows.

She was the lead researcher on the island. Nicole looked up and followed the request. The cone of light from the small medical flashlight bore into her eyes. Her pupil reacted, but her irises were so black that they were almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders. The contrast with her pale skin was sharp - in this light she looked almost ghostly.

Anabel took a step back. "No signs of damage. The change in the iris structure remains stable. No bleeding in the eye."

Nicole shrugged her shoulders slightly. Her Plaga had long since withdrawn his legs again, resting in the depths of her back. To those present, she now looked like a woman again. One with a cut-up robe, a golden Illuminados amulet around her neck and outwardly completely composed, even though she had tangled with a Regenerador earlier.

A younger man, probably one of the technicians judging by his clothes, raised his voice. “Should we recapture the Regenerador?”

Anabel gave him an annoyed look that could have set the air on fire. “If we don't have a solution soon, we'll have no choice but to destroy it.”

“And Saddler?” muttered Luis.

“His patience could be at an end.” Anabel's voice remained icy, as if she didn't already know what might happen. Then she looked at Nicole again. "You're Nicole, right? There's a cell area above. If you could lure the thing there..."

“If it follows her,” Luis interjected dryly, “and doesn't try to bite her head off.”

Anabel looked through the thick, armored glass that separated the trash area from the lab. Behind the glass stood the Regenerador - hulking, disturbing, waiting. Its form was grotesque. Its rattling breathing echoed dully.

“Plagas communicate via sound waves,” murmured Anabel, almost to herself, as her eyes looked at the figure behind the glass.

Nicole frowned. "I heard their voices. How many plagas did you put in that thing?"

A man, previously silent, stepped out of the shadows. His appearance indicated that he was part of the research team. His voice was quiet but insistent with a hint of pride: "At least three. They are linked together, like a collective consciousness. How... how do they sound to you?"

Nicole looked at him: "Like angry, shrill voices and they sound very pissed off."

"Oh," apparently the scientist had expected a different answer.

Nicole stood up from the examination table and approached the glass window, behind which the pile of garbage and the Regenerador could be seen as shadows.

Luis was now standing next to her, also looking through the glass. “I'm afraid you can't cuddle with that.”

“Oh, you don't say...” she replied.

“Could you lure it away?” he then asked.

In the semi-darkness, the thing smacked and rattled, seeming to sense her gaze. Its eyes shone over to her.

“I can try,” determination sprouted in her.

---

The access card stuck to her hand, soaked with sweat. The edges dug into her palm. The cold, smooth plastic felt like a fragile lifeline as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The door closed behind her with a heavy, thudding sound. Luis' last words of encouragement faded in her head after he had described the way, then she was alone. Alone with the Regenerador.

The air of the waste disposal was thick, a foul stench of decay and chemicals biting into her lungs. A soft, metallic drip emanated from the ventilation shafts, as if the building itself had begun to bleed. The rattling of the Regenerador vibrated through the air, sometimes hoarse, sometimes rattling, accompanied by the wet smacking of its bare feet on the concrete floor. Nicole felt the researchers' eyes on her back through the reinforced glass. She swallowed hard. The Novistadores would probably have warned her if the thing had been right on her neck - but they weren't in here. She had to walk this part of the way alone. The way through the labyrinth of corridors and laboratory rooms to the isolation chambers.

As she stepped onto the first metal steps of the staircase, a roar rent the air. A glance over her shoulder and she saw the Regenerador storming off. Nicole rushed down the steps, hearing the splashing footsteps behind her, the unmistakable scraping of his elongated arms against the mountains of garbage.

Her footsteps echoed across the floor, followed by the sounds the Regenerador made as it ran. She followed Luis' instructions: through the door at the far right end of the hall. With trembling fingers, she pulled the card through the slot. A red light. Nothing.

“Damn... the wrong way!”

Another attempt, this time with the right side. Then - click. The door opened a crack. Nicole rushed through while claws crashed against the wall behind her. The door was only open a narrow crack. She hoped that the Regenerador would be able to squeeze through, because that was the goal, to lure it after her.

But she had no time for relief when the misshapen body of the thing squeezed through the gap like a snail. She wouldn't need her plaga at the moment with its long limbs. It was quite narrow here in places. She ran on, along a narrow corridor with pipes and loose dangling cables. The Plagas voices inside the monster were now screaming so loudly that Nicole felt like they were echoing in her own bones. It was as if they were accompanied by a chorus of hatred.

Another door. Another card slot. This time only one sign lit up. Nicole cursed, pushed the card again. The second sign flashed on the tiny black display. Behind her there was a metallic tearing sound - the Regenerador had managed to shred the door frame.

On the third attempt, all the symbols lit up. The door slid open. Nicole jumped through. A room full of surveillance monitors showing flickering black-and-white images from cameras and control consoles with flashing lights. She counted the second door to her left and ran towards it. This time the card reader worked with the card without any problems. Behind her, she heard the monster thundering its long arms into one of the devices.

She ran past large devices that looked like servers and a storage room with large sealed containers and the Regenerador was always hot on her heels. She encountered no one else.

The next room that followed was a nightmare. Stretchers lined up like in a crematorium. On some lay corpses in sealed transparent bags, their distorted faces frozen in an expression of horror. Others lay open, chests sliced open, organs riddled with thin Plagas tentacles. Or severed limbs from which worm-like tentacles grew. Insect legs protruded like grotesque claws from decomposed bodies. Everything here was lifeless and dead. Her plaga could no longer detect any vibrations. The smell was indescribable: sweet like overripe fruit and metallic like rusty blood. The sacred body had not exactly been handled with care here.

A splash. The Regenerador had continued to follow her. Its rattling breathing mingled with the buzzing of the flickering neon lights. The light shone on its wrinkled skin, making it look like pale, pudding-filled leather.

Nicole rushed to the next door. Just one more corridor - Luis had said that the cells were just behind it. She couldn't hesitate for a second now. The Regenerador simply knocked over everything in its path behind her - corpses, containers and stretchers. Everything rumbled, splintered and fell to the floor, slapping wetly.

The door in front of her was one of those damned models with the Los Illuminados card reader that always seemed to open at a snail's pace when it mattered. The slot flashed briefly as the laser scanned the card, two symbols lit up - then the third. Finally. The lock clicked as the door opened, agonizingly slowly.

"Come on... One more room..." She didn't look back. Only forwards. Just one more corridor.

The Regenerador bumped into a tall shelf full of chemicals in glass bottles, which groaned and toppled under the strain as its shoulder brushed against it. The different colored liquids from the broken containers flowed together, forming foamy mixtures that sent up rippling vapors. An acrid smell spread through the room at lightning speed. Nicole had to blink. Tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened. Behind her, the creature gasped, but the chemical fumes did not stop its movements.

A wheezing hiss behind her. The Regenerador had almost reached her. Its shuffling footsteps sounded like wet rags of flesh on the ground. Its boneless arms shot out, narrowly missing her.

Nicole jumped to the side, panting, adrenaline whipping her heart. She threw herself through the half-open door, almost slipping on the smooth floor of the corridor. The corridor was long and made of concrete, the neon lights buzzed aggressively, as if they wanted to accompany her every step with a buzzing protest. Pipes ran along the walls, steam billowing from some of them. Her shadow danced in front of her, while the Regenerador squeezed through the door behind her. Its aggressive presence was like a creeping nightmare.

At the end of the corridor was a steel door, rounded at the corners, with a large wheel at arm's length. Nicole gripped the ring, turning it until her knuckles turned white. The metal creaked, then the wheel turned and the door swung open. She hurried inside.

The room behind it was round, large, eerily sterile and pale in light. There were six doors set into the walls, each with thick glass windows, behind which were the isolation chambers. It smelled metallic, cold and of blood that had long since dried up. She hurried to the central console and inserted the card. The display flickered, then one of the chambers opened, a red light flashing above it. The door lifted upwards into the wall. Heart pounding, she ran to the chamber and stood in the doorway, ready to jump to the side.

The Regenerador trudged through the rounded steel door with its clumsy steps. Its body almost completely filled the frame. Its rattled, smacked its lips and let out a guttural sound. With the distance between them getting smaller and smaller, Nicole now found this plan to be totally half-baked.

When Nicole tried to get out of the way, it was already too late.

It rammed into her, pushing her into the chamber with it. Her plaga legs shot out of her back, instinctively, straining against the creature's flesh, trying to push it back. But the Regenerador pressed her against the wall, its weight inhuman. Its drooling jaws came closer, teeth like a shark's. Thick slime dripped from its mouth onto her cheek.

And to make matters worse, the door closed. There was no way to get out of here!

Nicole gasped, not out of fear of dying, but out of the deep panic of being unable to move. Her eyes turned black, her pulse was racing, she forced herself to calm down. And then there was a tingling in her back, a twitch deep in her plaga, which was completely new.

Tentacles shot out. Thin, black, shiny, whipping tentacles that found their way. They dug into the pale, wrinkled body of the Regenerador, penetrating its overgrown layers and unerringly finding the plagas inside. It paused.

Nicole suddenly remembered. In the castle, back when a plaga without a host had jumped on a servant's back and dug its tentacles into his head... It was similar here. Except that her plaga bonded with the other plagas of its counterpart - not to destroy it, but to dominate it. They found a connection.

A stream of strange, fragmented memories flooded her mind. Images of pain, operations, cages, cold needles and coercion. She felt the pain, the despair, the agony as the plagas were implanted in its body. The Regenerador had no longer been a being with its own consciousness, but its plagas remembered.

Its grip loosened. Nicole's plaga legs held it like spider arms, but the pressure eased. The Regenerador rattled dully, its eyes glowed, but it no longer moved. Their tentacles connected them. It seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was no telling how much time passed.

Nicole turned slowly towards the chamber door and pressed her back against it as her consciousness cleared. Through the thick bulletproof glass, she saw blurry figures out of the corner of her eye. Luis' voice crackled through a loudspeaker:

"Can you hear me? I'm opening the door now. Then you have to be quick - don't hesitate for a second."

Nicole nodded automatically in response, though she couldn't be sure if he even saw that. She took a deep breath, then fell backwards as the door hissed open behind her back, rolling away as her plaga legs buckled and her tentacles loosened. The Regenerador reached for her, but too late, Nicole was out of reach. The door slammed shut like a cleaver.

A muffled crash, a trapped arm cleanly severed by the edge of the door. The flesh still twitched on the floor. The plagas in the Regenerador buzzed, still angry, but also a touch desperate?

Nicole stood up, panting. The thin tentacles of her plaga were still hanging out of her back, wrapped gropingly around her body. Her plaga legs surrounded her like grotesque, black wings. Her eyes regained their human appearance.

The scientists stood frozen. No one said anything. Their gazes were a mixture of fascination and horror. The room smelled of sweat, blood and smouldering fear.

Luis, who was standing at the console in the middle of the room, raised his thumb with a grin: "Not bad, princesa!" Nicole snorted, then laughed briefly. Her eyes fell on the Regenerador behind the glass. The monster was already regenerating its lost arm. Its wound closed with a wet, smacking sound that rang out over the loudspeaker.

"Now I know why the beasts are called that... Regenerador," she mumbled. Then she smiled wryly. "I would have called them rubber-grabbing sharks. Or rattling shark mouth."

Chapter Text

The light from the only unadorned ceiling lamp buzzed softly, casting a pale, flickering pattern on the walls of the provisionally furnished room, which had once been a storage room. The metal bedstead with an old mattress, a worn side table, a metal shelf on the other side of the room. A very familiar sight for Nicole, ever since her arrival on the island. No flickering open fire - she sighed inwardly. Her gaze wandered around the room for the hundredth time. The walls were made of concrete, the stains had become familiar shapes. On the bottom shelf lay folded forgotten tarpaulins with a thin layer of dust on them. The air smelled of detergent, metallic and stale, mixed with the distant aroma of oil and machine grease.

Nicole had draped the blanket over her shoulders. The fabric was a little scratchy, but warm, and protected her from the chill emanating from the floor. Her sketchbook lay on her lap. Her fingers ran the soft pencil over the paper, drawing almost automatically the impressions the day had left her with: the cold light of the lab lights, the grotesque face of the Regenerador, the panic, and then that deep, strange connection between her and the plagas in its body. Her lines were fine and precise, almost like a kind of meditation that helped her to process what she had experienced.

She had been glad that she hadn't ended up as a guinea pig. That she hadn't been kept here to be experimented on. Even though she knew that some of the researchers were just waiting to circumvent Lord Saddler's orders. But Luis had stood protectively in front of her - at least in a figurative sense. He had made it clear to them: Nicole was under Saddler's special protection and only he himself had the right to work with her. That was no guarantee of safety, but it was enough to keep the others' eagerness in check for the time being.

Nicole sighed softly. Her mind wandered back, away from the lab, away from the penetrating gaze of the Regenerador, back to someone whose closeness she had been sorely missing lately. Her pencil formed a small, shapely head with a pointed nose and white, curved eyelashes. Ramón. His figure took shape as if of its own accord - smaller than her, elegant, a little quirky. His aristocratic clothing, his frown when he thought he was unobserved and his strangely affectionate way of holding her by the arm.

The more she drew, the stronger the feeling inside her became. This quiet, whispering melancholy that spread through her chest like a veil of mist. It wasn't a tangible pain, but a subtle but constant sting. What if she never saw him again? What if Lord Saddler had other plans for her? Ramón, alone in his great castle, sick with loneliness... or already...? She broke off the thought.

Suddenly there was a knock. Softly, barely audible.

Nicole flinched. The pencil almost fell out of her hand. She straightened up a little, pulled the blanket tighter around her.

“Yes, please?”

No answer.

Then the door opened slowly. A white-clad shadow glided in, the figure completely enveloped in a floor-length robe, the face hidden under a completely concealing hood. One of Saddler's silent servants.

Nicole relaxed a little, but some suspicion remained. The woman was carrying something in her hands - a small figurine, perhaps a music box. She cautiously stepped closer and placed it on the side table. With a soft click, she pulled it open. A mechanical whirring sounded. The figurine slowly raised and lowered its small arms alternately, elegantly, almost theatrically, as if it had to weigh something with its hands.

Nicole looked at her more closely. A tiny aristocrat with a tricorne hat, dressed as if from another era.

Somehow the music box figurine reminded her of Ramón.

“Uh... thanks... but why did you bring me this?”

The servant didn't answer. Instead, she sat down silently next to Nicole on the bed. The mattress gave slightly under her weight. In a slow, almost solemn gesture, she raised her arms and untied the knot on her hood.

Nicole's heart began to beat faster.

The fabric slipped quietly over the woman's head and slid into her lap.

What was revealed underneath made Nicole's heart stop for a moment because she had expected something else. The woman next to her had dark brown hair tied in a simple knot, some strands of which were already turning a silvery color. Her face was pale, even, with high cheekbones, fine but striking lines around her mouth and eyes - traces of a life full of decisions and hardship. Her eyes were dark brown, but not cold. Rather, they gleamed with an expression of patience, kindness and... melancholy. The taint of a plaga infection was not visible.

“I wanted to get to know you, Nicole.”

The voice was warm, almost familiar, and yet strange enough to make Nicole blink as if she were speaking in a dream. Soft, a little raspy, as if she had been silent for a long time. Something inside herself - her instinct, or perhaps her Plaga - whispered to Nicole that this woman was not what she seemed. Or rather, that she was more than she pretended to be. There was an echo in her mind, a hunch... another Plaga, hidden deep within the woman, quiet and almost humble.

Nicole slowly slipped the covers off her shoulders. The metal bed frame creaked under her movement. The soft whirring of the mechanical figure on the bedside table - the little aristocrat with the tricorn hat and his moving arms - became a background noise, barely audible, but strangely symbolic.

“I know your face...” Nicole murmured. The memory came slowly but inevitably: the painting in the throne room. A lady in an elegant pose, with an expression of pride and watchful seriousness and a hint of sadness.

“I am Catalina Salazar.”

A flash went through Nicole. She involuntarily took a step back before fascination spread across her features.

“You... the painting in the throne room... you are Ramón's mother!”

Catalina smiled faintly. A sad, knowing smile. “Then you've heard from me.”

“Ramón told me you had died.”

"We lied to him about that. Lord Saddler said it was for the best after that night at the castle..."

Nicole swallowed hard. “Was that the night Lord Saddler helped Ramón kill your husband?”

Catalina just nodded. Her lips tightened into a thin line. Words seemed too difficult for her at that moment. Instead, she placed her cool hand on Nicole's. Her grip was firm, not weak - a gesture with more strength than Nicole had expected.

Catalina's gaze dropped to the sketchbook. On Ramón's figure, captured on paper with pencil lines. His posture, his clothes, even the expression in his eyes - the way only someone who knew him with all their heart could draw him.

“Don't worry,” Catalina said quietly. “You'll see Ramón again.”

Nicole wanted to say something back, but her throat was dry. She just nodded, meekly, with a hint of shame at her own longing.

Catalina paused for a moment before continuing, “I first saw you when you were supposed to show off your Holy Body powers to Lord Saddler.”

“I remember!” Nicole sat up straighter. “So you were one of the three veiled servants I was supposed to try my hand at - oh... I hope that didn't hurt so much.”

Catalina smiled softly, almost amused this time. “Probably less than it had hurt you...” She sighed. “I hope Ramón treats you decently, too.”

Nicole shrugged her shoulders. "I'll be fine. But why are you hiding the fact that you're still alive from Ramón?" Catalina let her gaze wander around the dimly lit room. It was a sparse room, a makeshift solution. But somehow Nicole had managed to bring a touch of warmth into it - through her drawings, through her mere presence.

Catalina stroked the back of Nicole's hand with her thumb. “I was supposed to get the Count to return the legacy of our Holy Body, which was sealed beneath the castle...”

Her voice softened. A shadow flitted across her face. The mechanical ticking of the small figurine on the bedside table had stopped. The room was plunged into an eerie silence - the kind of silence where you could hear the rush of your own blood.

“But it turned out differently...” Catalina finally said. “Very different...”

The shadows of the few pieces of furniture flickered slightly in the light of the weak, humming ceiling lamp. Catalina's voice echoed softly between the cool walls as she began to speak with gentle melancholy. The dull sheen of her skin looked like porcelain in the pale light. Her fingers, which closed lightly around Nicole's hand, were cool, yet comforting.

“To get the Holy Body of our Order back, our Prophet had smuggled me into the castle,” Catalina began with a soft sigh. Her words sounded almost like a soft whisper, carried by the shadow of memories. "It was an evening with a ball hosted by the old countess. Everything was bathed in golden light, the sound of stringed instruments filled the air as the guests moved around in sumptuous gowns. I was a stranger in this game of splendor and masquerade, but I had a plan. The old countess wanted to match her son Diego with a suitable wife. I wasn't naive - I knew what I was doing."

Catalina ran her hand through her hair, as if the memory still weighed heavily on her shoulders. "I didn't have much hope, but I knew how to get his attention. Diego was a man who took little interest in his mother's intrigues and games. But I played my part well. I told him that I was from the area, familiar with the little stories and legends of the land. My words were like sweet honey, and soon he trusted me."

Her voice became softer, almost brittle. "He had a room prepared for me, a place that smelled of fresh linen and expensive wood. The flames in the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls. Even his mother, the old countess, didn't mind my presence. I was so close to our legacy and yet it seemed unattainable. But I stayed and continued to play my role. No one suspected who I really was, not even Diego. He was sincere and honest, a man who carried the burden of his legacy - the Plagas, sealed deep beneath the castle."

Catalina lowered her gaze, the shadows under her eyes looking like traces of sleepless nights. "I kept the truth from him. Even on our wedding night, he didn't know that I was carrying a plaga myself. I was in love with him, but I was also a deceiver. My life as a countess made my old self seem like a fading dream. I lost myself in this life of velvet, gold and secrets."

She let go of Nicole's hand and ran her fingers gently over the sketchbook as if she could find answers there. "Diego's mother told me the story of the Salazars - the other side that I had never heard before. She spoke in a warm voice about her family's heritage, the responsibility they carried and the burden of duty that weighed them down. I listened and kept quiet about my own past. Instead, I made up the story of a local farm girl. I lied to her, while never losing sight of the goal of my assignment."

Catalina looked at Nicole with a look so full of guilt, love and regret that it almost hurt. “It was a lie that I told myself until I eventually believed that I really was that woman.”

Catalina's voice became quieter, almost a whisper, as she talked. It was as if even those around her were following her story with bated breath. "I should continue on my way and not lose sight of our legacy. It was buried right under my feet, hidden in the depths of the castle, as if it was just waiting to be discovered and reawakened."

Her gaze was lost in the distance, while her voice sounded like a soft, melancholy song in Nicole's ears. "When I became pregnant, it was a great blessing - both worlds united in one heir. But Ramón incurred his father's displeasure right from the start. He was not what Diego had envisioned as a worthy successor. The older Ramón got, the greater Diego's alienation from him became. I tried to smooth over Diego's anger, but..."

Catalina sighed, as if she could still feel the bitter taste of her memories on her tongue. "Ramón... his character was... special from an early age. The servants told me stories that I didn't want to believe at first. But then I saw it for myself - his impatient nature, the way he exalted himself over others. These little acts of cruelty that you would hardly expect from a child."

Nicole listened in silence, able to feel the mixture of regret and love in Catalina's voice, like a delicate melody floating between the shadows of her makeshift room. The smell of salty sea air hung in the silence as the two women sat opposite each other.

“Ramón got weaker and weaker over time,” Catalina continued, her voice trembling slightly. "No doctor could help him. I could feel him slipping away from me. I had to take action. Our prophet - Lord Saddler - was there when I asked him for help. He healed Ramón with the Holy Body. I... I didn't know what it would mean. But I didn't want to lose him."

Her eyes filled with tears as Nicole felt the faint shadow of her own Plaga wrapped around her thoughts like a warm breeze, absorbing and reflecting Catalina's grief.

“You could see it in Ramón's face,” Catalina whispered. "His appearance changed, but his character remained the same. And our prophet took him under his wing. Ramón was literally glued to his lips. He was... dazzled."

A soft, bitter laugh escaped Catalina's lips before her voice became even softer. "I thought this was the right time to confess everything to Diego. I hoped our love would be strong enough to bear this truth. But... it wasn't like that. He... he couldn't accept that I was one of the devils myself. He chased me away, locked himself away for days. Finally, he told everyone I'd died."

Catalina swallowed hard. Nicole felt the weight of those words like a cold stone in the pit of her stomach. "I only heard what happened after that through stories. My husband died at the hands of our prophet... and Ramón... he was there. He helped him kill Diego."

Nicole involuntarily hunched her shoulders, as if the cold breath of the past was touching her. She gently placed her hand on Catalina's, which was shaking like a withered leaf in the wind. She brushed a single tear from her cheek and said softly, full of compassion: “I'm sorry for your loss, Catalina.”

At that moment, Catalina's plaga seemed to recognize Nicole's own plaga, as if an invisible bond stretched between them. Nicole felt the echo of grief and connection penetrating deep into her mind.

Catalina smiled faintly, almost ghostly. "We must all pay a tribute. I... I was just talking about me. It's getting late. Would you like to join me tomorrow?"

Nicole nodded slowly, the shadow of the experiments and the Regenerador in the back of her mind. “Yes. I'll wait for you.”

Catalina put her hood back on, hiding her face as if she were slipping back into the role of a common servant. With deft fingers, she tied the rope to the hood and once again looked like one of the countless figures who followed Lord Saddler's will.

“Good night, Nicole,” she said quietly before silently striding out of the room. Nicole stayed behind, the sketchbook still on her knees. Her fingers were heavy on the paper, as if they were feeling the weight of the revelations. Her thoughts swirled like loose leaves in the wind, caught between compassion, concern and an inexplicable fascination for the woman who had just held her hand. She gently stroked Ramón's drawn figure, the lines seemed to vibrate under her fingers, as if Ramón himself was reacting to them.

She leaned back, feeling the rough blanket against her skin, the cool metal edge of the bed, the faint echo of Catalina's words in the stuffy air. The dim light bulb above her buzzed softly as Nicole listened with her eyes closed to the shadows of the story that had been cast around her.

Today she had been given a glimpse into the hidden side of Los Illuminados and the Salazar family - and she knew that there were more secrets waiting to be brought to light.

Chapter Text

Quite a while passed after Catalina had left, when Nicole put her sketchbook aside, slowly lowered herself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her arms lay loosely beside her, her fingers still slightly tense from drawing. The soft yielding of the mattress under her weight felt soothing. Her gaze wandered around.

The sign of the Illuminados was emblazoned on the wall - a dark, sharp-edged metal cross in the stylized shape of a plaga. It looked as if it were looking at her, mute and judgmental. The dull light from the ceiling lamp flickered, whirring and casting wandering shadows across the exposed pipes on the ceiling, which looked like mechanical veins and intestines. The noises from outside - the harsh wind rattling the window frames - sounded as if the island itself was sleeping fitfully.

Nicole closed her eyes for a moment. Catalina's story resonated with her. Mother Miranda had never set limits for her, but what was unfolding here was something else - like a path that no one had foreseen. And she herself let herself be swept along by the current. Into uncharted waters.

She had only confided and revealed her secret to Ramón. What did Luis know? And what had they both passed on to Lord Saddler? And what about Catalina? She was certainly no Ganado.

Nicole slowly got out of bed to turn out the light. Then a blue-grey twilight crept through the windows and painted ghostly silhouettes on the walls and floor. The room fell silent. Only the distant sound of the sea and the howling of the wind through the corridors reached her ears. She lay back in bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to release her thoughts into the darkness. The fabric of the bedding smelled of faint soap.

Sleep came over her slowly like a fog.

When Nicole awoke, the floor beneath her bare feet felt icy as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and touched the concrete surface. Her skin prickled, the shiver crawling up her spine. It was dusk, all the colors of the world were still bathed in gray. Her gaze fell on the small music box figurine that Catalina had left on the side table. The tiny metal and enamel construction looked like an old toy from a bygone era.

Curious - and a little shivery - Nicole leaned forward and found a hidden key at the back. She turned it carefully. A soft click sounded, then the figure's delicate arms began to move - up and down, almost like a greeting. The soft ticking of the figurine mingled with the sound of the awakening island.

Shortly afterwards, there was a soft knock. Two cloaked servants silently entered. They brought a steaming bowl of warm water, a bar of soap wrapped in a fine cloth and two soft towels. Then they left her alone again. The scent of lavender was in the air. Nicole washed herself with slow movements and enjoyed the touch. The warm steam tickled her nose.

When the servants returned to collect the utensils, one of them stopped. Her movements were graceful, almost feline. Nicole felt it immediately. It was a faint, familiar sound that vibrated in the air. Catalina's plaga.

“Would you please come with me, Nicole?”

The voice was soft but firm. Nicole nodded. Without a word, she left the provisionally furnished room with Catalina, who looked no different from the other servants.

Their footsteps echoed on the concrete floor as they walked through the winding corridors. The path led them into deeper areas of the structure until they reached the chapel carved out of the rock, The Sanctuary. The smell of candle wax and old stone greeted them.

Tall ornate pillars, half of them broken, supported the high vaulted ceiling. Above the altar hung the familiar deer antler chandelier, in which dozens of candles flickered. Their light refracted off the pointed antlers and danced on the walls, where novistadores sat cloaked motionless. Nicole could feel them. Her presence was like the quiet crackling of static electricity.

Catalina was already standing at the stone altar. As Nicole stepped closer, she untied the rope around her neck and slowly pulled the hood off her head. Her face was pale, almost waxy in the candlelight, but there was a warm glow in her eyes.

“I'm supposed to give you this from our merchant.”

She held out a sealed envelope to Nicole. The seal shone faintly reddish in the light. Nicole stepped closer and hesitantly took it - her fingers brushed Catalina's briefly, an almost electric touch.

“Is the merchant a friend of yours?” she asked quietly.

Catalina nodded, a soft, almost sad smile on her lips. “A very good friend, yes.”

Nicole lowered her eyes. The seal was unmistakable: a cross-like symbol surrounded by the marks of the four lords.

The envelope felt heavy. Her heart leapt with excitement.

At the same time, an icy shiver ran down her spine.

A message from home.

Nicole let the envelope disappear unopened into her robe pocket. The paper felt cool and dry, her fingers glided over it. The wax seal with the symbol of the four lords, on the other hand, felt hard and rippled. Her eyes turned to Catalina.

“I'm sure you want to know more about me,” Nicole said with a hint of composure, an inevitable fate that was bound to befall her sooner or later.

Catalina just nodded, almost shyly. Her gaze was calm, expectant - not demanding. Whatever she already knew, she wanted to hear it from Nicole's own lips.

“I come from a small, closed community far to the east of Europe. We are also a cult, with a leader... we call her Mother Miranda.” Nicole looked down at the ground for a moment, then raised her eyes again. “I came here to find out if Los Illuminados has the same origins as our community.”

As she spoke, her gaze wandered over the walls of the sanctuary. The silence now weighed heavily. The room, hewn out of the rock, was permeated by a natural coldness that could not cool her inner turmoil. Candles flickered in niches, their light casting dancing shadows over the relief-patterned pillars.

The larger-than-life statues carved out of the stone in stone cowls, their faces hidden under hoods, watched in silent silence. They looked as if they were silently witnessing every movement in the room - ancient judges looking down with a blank stare at those who entered their halls.

Catalina listened intently. Her face was almost translucent in the light of the deer antler chandelier, as if she had been made of thinly cast wax. Her hands lay folded silently in front of her stomach, but suddenly, as if in response to an inaudible signal, she twitched slightly.

A cold shiver ran through Nicole as the familiar Plaga impulse passed through her - like fine, vibrating threads under her skin. Catalina drew in a sharp breath, her pupils constricted.

A shadow moved in her periphery.

A figure emerged from the depths between two of the colossal pillars. Lord Saddler. His long robe roamed silently across the stone floor, the sound of his footsteps drowned in the crackling of the candles. His plaga snaked up the shaft of his staff - glistening in the warm light, inhuman eyes peering out from between the tentacles.

Catalina immediately lowered her gaze. Nicole stood rigid. She hadn't seen his presence coming. All over the island, Lord Saddler's presence was omnipresent that she couldn't even tell how far he was from her.

“We do not judge you for your past, Nicole,” he said, his voice low, almost kind. “Don't be afraid, child.”

The candles flickered as a cool current of air slid through the room, as if Saddler's presence itself had changed the room. Nicole felt the pressure in her temples increase. The light played across the staff, its plaga moving its eyes in all directions.

Saddler's gaze rested on Catalina. He stepped closer and lifted her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him.

“Nor do we condemn the sin you committed with the enemy, for it led to regaining our rightful inheritance.”

Catalina's jaw tightened, then she defiantly wriggled out of his grip.

“Ramón is your grandson!” she hissed. ”Don't always treat him as if he has to pay for the sins of his ancestors forever.”

An echo seemed to move through the hall. Nicole's heart beat faster. What had she just heard? Saddler - Ramón's grandfather? She struggled with the temptation to ask out loud, but didn't. v'And I bet Ramón doesn't know anything about it. What's going on here?” she thought.

“Are you here to give me another sermon, Father?” The word father was cold and full of resentment.

Saddler seemed unimpressed. An amused, almost affectionate smile played around his lips. He turned to Nicole.

“And I see you've done well from what I've heard. Taking on a Regenerador was foolish, but brave.”

Nicole swallowed. The thought of the grotesque creature made her blood freeze again. But she forced herself to calm down.

“I wanted to put the scientists out of their misery. They tremble more before you, my lord, than before a Regenerador.”

Saddler snorted softly - half amused with an underlying warning.

The Novistadores on the walls barely stirred, sensing Saddler's plaga.

---

The surface of the stone altar in front of them was polished smooth, clean except for a few scratches and dust. Behind the altar loomed the monolith, a massive block of dark stone, almost black, engraved with the symbol of the first plaga Adam Saddler had found centuries ago, or rather, who had summoned him.

Catalina's voice was soft, almost reverent, as she spoke: “My father cares about finding the Holy Body.” Her finger pointed to the monolith. “He showed it to me in a vision, just like you. Through the eyes of our founder, Adam Saddler.”

Lord Saddler was gone, lost in the shadows, just as he had come. Only Nicole and Catalina remained, alone in the windowless hall, while high above the antler chandelier cast a dancing play of light and shadow on their faces. The stone statues of the Illuminados leaders watched them wordlessly with their faces hidden beneath their cowls, a silent congregation of stone.

Nicole remembered the vision vividly. The Holy Body: a skeletal plaga encased in a huge, honey-colored crystal. The light inside had shone like a soul locked in amber.

“We found many plagas encased in amber,” Catalina said softly, running her hand over the lines engraved in the stone of the monolith, ”but not this one.” Her fingers lingered on one of the lines, the red in it looking almost fresh, as if the symbol had just been drawn.

Nicole thought of her own mutamycet. Of how it could crystallize. Maybe this was the same thing. A way to outlast the ages, not dead, but dormant.

“And you're still looking for it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Catalina said, stepping a little closer, her voice almost pleading. “Would you help us find the source?”

Nicole was taken aback. Was this her new task? Was this the tribute she was supposed to give? The thought of it almost felt like a relief. No lab, no cold dissecting table, no glass walls between her and freedom. Instead: a mission. And maybe the chance to get back to the castle. Back to him.

“I have no idea how to do that,” she said honestly, ”but I'll do it.”

Catalina smiled, almost proudly, and gestured to the wall. “They can help you with that.”

At first Nicole saw nothing. Then she noticed the flicker. The barely visible movement in the darkness. Novistadores, cloaked like the rock, moved like shadows.

“There are a lot of them in the castle,” Catalina explained. “Also in the mines below. There's an elevator that can take you straight there. It's next to the gondola to the clock tower.”

Nicole nodded. “I think I know where that's supposed to be. Near the ballroom, isn't it?”

Catalina returned the nod. Then she asked, “Have you ever driven one of them?”

She slowly raised her arm and one of the Novistadores detached itself from the wall, unfurled its translucent wings and landed on the ground with a dull, dry clack. Its insect legs scraped across the stone. The candles flickered in the breeze from its wings.

“Do you hear it? Inside you?”

Nicole closed her eyes. There it was - a high-pitched buzzing, an echo. It wasn't a sound, but an impulse, a resonance in her Plaga. She felt the contact growing, spreading.

She imagined the insect moving. It obeyed. It moved. More Novistadores detached themselves from the walls, their flapping wings vibrating the air. They floated towards her, sat down on the floor in front of her and surrounded her.

Catalina watched them. “You're doing well, Nicole.”

Nicole stretched out her hands carefully. The Novistadores felt their mandibles over her skin, their heads bowed as if in greeting. Then their jaws opened. Thick saliva dripped down, accompanied by metallic sounds. Nicole saw precious stones and gold coins fall onto her palms - covered in drool, but unmistakably valuable.

She looked at Catalina in amazement.

She laughed softly, her laughter echoing between the stone pillars. “They do that sometimes. They collect little things. And if they like someone, they give them to you.”

Chapter Text

A mild wind blew over the battlements of the old castle, carrying with it the smell of salt and seaweed. Ramón stood transfixed on the parapet that separated the castle plateau from the steep slope down to the sea. Below him, the water broke lazily against the rocks, foamed up white and retreated again like a breathing body. Above the horizon, the sea was a heavy, deep blue, interspersed with a few white clouds that slowly drifted by.

His hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers slightly intertwined, but you could see how tense his posture was. The wind ran through his white hair, causing individual strands to shimmer in the light. The fabric of the ruffles of his aristocratic clothing fluttered gently. He enjoyed the cooling breeze for a moment. The blue of his coat shimmered in the light, the golden buttons gleamed as if freshly polished.

His gaze, sharp as that of a bird of prey, rested on the horizon. He searched for movement among the rocks. Saddler's message still echoed in his mind. Nervousness had settled on Ramón's stomach like a stone. His eyes narrowed as he finally recognized a dark boat carefully making its way through the labyrinth of rocks.

Verdugo and Pesanta stood silently behind him, like two grotesque guards. Their mere presence was a silent threat to anyone who tried to approach him and at the same time a last vestige of safety.

Ramón broke free from his stance and turned away. His footsteps sounded hard on the stone as he descended the narrow staircase to the lower platform. The metal elevator waited like an iron cage, swallowing him up. As the lattice door closed and the elevator jolted into motion, Ramón took a deep breath. Memories of the day Nicole had to leave him crept into his mind. How her footsteps had faded, her silhouette disappearing into the distance. She would return today. His palms were damp with excitement.

He stepped out of the elevator into the storage room. The smell of wood, oil and old sea air was heavy in the air. Ramón walked between barrels, crates and shelves, purposeful but inwardly restless. The uneven stones beneath his feet were dusty and cool. Light fell sparsely from the lighted lanterns through the twilight of the room. Flakes of dust danced in the air.

The echo of his footsteps accompanied him to the covered pier. The ancient walls there were covered in seaweed and shells, the water lapping gently against the stones as if to greet him. Servants in long robes, heavy with moisture, stood on the quay. Their faces were hidden, their movements ritualistic and calm. They secured the ropes as the boat docked.

Krauser was the first to disembark. His movements were swift, his gaze hard. He helped to moor the boat without saying a word. Ramón barely noticed him, his eyes were already on another passenger - her.

Nicole.

She stepped off the boat with confident movements. The sight of her figure made his heart beat faster. He felt her plaga, sensed it like a warm glow in the darkness. Her presence was like a familiar scent that enveloped his senses. Her lips curled into a smile that was meant just for him. But before he could take a single step towards her, Lord Saddler stepped in front of him.

Accompanied by three of his hooded servants, who moved like white shadows, Saddler blocked Nicole's view with a smile.

"We'll have a chat first, Ramón. There are important things to discuss, child." Ramón bowed his head briefly, maintaining his composure. “As you wish, my lord.”

He followed Saddler, the golden light of the lanterns flickering across his inscrutable features. Behind him, he heard Nicole's soft footsteps and the gentle rustling of the servants' robes. He turned around briefly - just for a moment - and saw Nicole nodding at him. A barely perceptible vibration ran through his spine, her plaga had touched his.

When they reached the hall where Ramón had been shown a few of her mutamycetes' abilities, he couldn't hide the fact that the mutamycetes had risen from the depths, just as Nicole had predicted. The air was heavy with the metallic smell of organic presence. Black, pulsating veins had pushed their way up the walls like rampant roots. They twitched weakly at rhythmic intervals.

“An experiment?” Lord Saddler's voice echoed as his gaze scrutinized the veins.

“Yes, my lord,” Ramón replied calmly. He dared to glance back and saw Nicole grinning barely perceptibly.

A hint of warmth ran through him. Yes, she was back. And although he couldn't take her in his arms just yet, her presence alone was a comfort that made his heart lighter.

--------

Dark, ritualistic whispers accompanied Lord Saddler's every step as he stepped into the hall of the throne room with Ramón at his side. The scent of cold stone, wax and that peculiar damp heaviness that emanated from ancient walls hung in the air. The echo of their footsteps was lost in the high, vaulted ceilings supported by mighty pillars. The banners of Los Illuminados hung from the walls. Above it all lay the reverent silence that lay like a blanket over the past and the guilt that dwelled within these walls.

Verdugo and Pesanta, silent as ever, had taken up positions to the left and right of the entrance. Their insect claws gleamed black in the candlelight glowing from iron candelabras. Their gaze was blank, but Saddler knew: they were aware of everything. Guardians of purity, pillars of his power.

Saddler led Ramón to one of the side altars. The shrine was a large, wooden cabinet. Pleading sinners in contorted poses, their bodies pierced by spear-like plaga tentacles, begging for salvation and finding only damnation, were emblazoned as a carved image above the shelf. The candles on it had gone out until Ramón lit them with trembling fingers. The flames cast flickering shadows on the relief, bringing it to vibrant life.

“You wish her to search for the origin in the mines, my lord?” Ramón asked in a hushed voice as the white wax began to melt under the heat of the flames.

Saddler placed a long, strong hand on Ramón's shoulder. The gesture was almost gentle, but the grip was firm, like that of a stern father. The glow of the candle fires was reflected in Ramón's golden eyes, but he did not flinch.

"Don't be afraid, child. She is strong. Do not underestimate her." Saddler's voice was little more than a whisper, but it echoed through Ramón's mind like a song of ice. "The Holy Body has chosen her. It knows her worth. As do I."

He watched Ramón closely. Searched for the slightest twitch in his features, for a shadow of doubt. But there was nothing. Ramón's face was a mask, perfect in faith, in obedience - and yet... Saddler sensed it. Something inside him pulsed differently, more strongly, when Nicole was mentioned.

“And we must serve the Holy Body as it serves us.” Saddler's words were the age-old dogma, but at that moment they flowed like poison and comfort at the same time.

He let go of Ramón's shoulder and stepped further into the hall. Memories briefly spread through Saddler's mind. Back there was the pit. A gaping hole in the stone, created by previous generations of the Salazar family. The flat stone, decorated with a sinner and tentacle relief, which usually closed it off, hung from chains and hovered over the abyss. Ramón had once taken his first steps as a master here. So small, so young - and yet he had given the order in a calm voice to overthrow the traitors from his father's entourage. Saddler remembered how proud he had been.

“He is docile,” his Plaga whispered inside him. Saddler heard it not with his ears, but with his soul.

He stopped in front of the oil painting that hung on the wall next to the throne. Catalina. Her features were captured in dignity and melancholy. She was the reason why Saddler didn't let Ramón follow the same path as the rest of the Salazar family. Blood was blood - even tainted blood.

His grip on his staff tightened. The tentacles wrapped around the shaft stirred, whispering, watching with rolling eyes. The plagas trapped in amber in the depths of the caves had remained silent when they found them, but they were not dead. He was still looking for that origin, the one he had seen in Adam Saddler's memories.

He turned to Ramón, who was waiting quietly with his hands clasped behind his back, ready. Loyal.

“If you wish to stay longer in the castle, I'll have rooms prepared.”

“We'll stay a while.” Saddler nodded curtly. His voice was calm, but a hunger grew within him. For knowledge. For control.

And perhaps - for redemption.

-------

The metallic squeak of the elevator faded behind Nicole as the doors closed again behind them. The three hooded servants stood silently beside her. The damp coolness of the underground vault immediately hit her like a breath from the ancient depths. Their footsteps echoed across the floor, which changed from rock to wooden planks beneath their feet, covered in a thin layer of dust mixed with shiny moisture. The smell of metal, earth and a hint of something decayed lingered in the air.

In front of her, the enormous cave opened up like the yawning maw of a stone monster. The Novistadores' nest hovered high above like a grotesque crown of chitinous layers, from which tentacles hung at irregular intervals, dangling around glowing orange ridges. It clung to the ceiling like a mutated coral, the ulcers pulsating barely visible in the light of the spotlights.

A nest just like the one Ramón had shown her was growing on the ballroom building on the surface.

The electric lighting flickered in places, bathing the cave in uneasy light. Directly beneath the nest was a platform made of old wooden planks. They creaked under her footsteps as Nicole made her way under the enormous nest. In front of her, she saw a huge drill hanging from the ceiling. A monster of rusty gears and dark metal. Its rod disappeared into the fog-shrouded depths. Nicole stepped up to the railing, which creaked faintly under her grip. She couldn't see the ground from here.

She took a deep breath, the echo of the cave answered her with a soft murmur. There had to be an air supply to the outside from somewhere. The Novistadores on the walls barely moved, sitting camouflaged on the rock, but Nicole could feel them - her thoughts groped for them, like feelers searching in the darkness. The servants stood next to her, as still as statues. But it was Catalina whose plaga she felt next - warm, strong and determined. She stood veiled between them.

“Catalina, do you want me to keep quiet with Ramón about you?” Nicole whispered the question barely audibly, as if the cave had ears. Even though she could already guess the answer, she had asked the question anyway, just to be on the safe side. Catalina stepped forward, her figure clad in white cloth like all of Saddler's servants. The hood that hid her face moved where her mouth was as she spoke.

"It would be best if you didn't tell him. It will remain our secret. For now."

Nicole nodded in understanding and listened again to the buzzing sound of insect wings as they began to live aloft above them. This was where she would begin her search for the origin of the Sacred Body.

------

Ramón stood in front of the door to Nicole's chamber and wrestled with himself. The twilight outside had now turned a deep purple and the sky had descended over the castle like a dark veil. Two candlesticks cast dancing shadows on the old stone walls, which were decorated with pictures and tapestries. Behind him stood Verdugo and Pesanta, motionless like monstrous statues hiding their true form under heavy fabric.

Ramón was here to pick them up. He had arranged for an evening feast to be held for his guests.

He raised his hand, about to knock, when the door opened of its own accord. Nicole appeared in the golden glow of the sunset.

His breath caught. The gown she was wearing was one of those that matched the color of his own robe. Dark blue, interspersed with fine golden plant embroidery that caught the light like dewdrops. Her Illuminados amulet, his gift to her, shone like a hidden sun.

“You look enchanting, my dear,” he said in a low voice and opened his arms. His heart hammered against his ribs as if he were an animal in a cage that was too tight, waiting to be set free at last.

Nicole approached him: “How charming,” she smiled. Then she placed her hands on his narrow shoulders - he could feel her warmth through the fabric - and kissed him. Meanwhile, he tenderly grasped her hip.

A deep, demanding kiss, as familiar as fire and at the same time like the first rain after a long drought. Ramón closed his eyes to linger in the moment. Her lips, the pressure of her hands, the soft scent of her skin - everything burned into him.

But like everything else in the world, this moment was fleeting.

"We should go now, Ramón. We can continue this later."

She let go of him with one last look. Ramón just nodded, his expression composed but his eyes glowing. He offered her his arm, which she took with a natural gesture. Together they stepped out into the dim corridor that led them to the dining room where the banquet was waiting for the guests.

Chapter Text

The gold and silver of the tableware sparkled exaggeratedly opulently in the candlelight, as if even the spoons and forks wanted to pay homage to the madness of this sect. But the real brilliance came from the electric chandeliers, whose light refracted in countless prisms and was lost on the gold-framed paintings, marble busts, and stuffed animals. To Krauser, it all seemed like a macabre parody of a royal court. Decadent. Dead. Like the stuffed animals that were supposed to be considered alive. Just like the owl next to him, placed on a pedestal, staring ahead with its cold glass eyes.

He stood apart, leaning his shoulder against one of the heavy, dark oak cabinets, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His boots crunched slightly on the wooden floorboards, some of which were covered with lush carpets. The entire room was decorated in red and gold. The smell of wax, old wood, and some strange incense hung heavy in the air and stung his nose slightly. Far too much of it. Like the whole castle. Full of symbols and pomp that someone like him found useless.

He watched the castle servants, dressed in dark robes, as they arranged plates and cutlery with stoic precision. Other servants darted between them, heavy iron chains jingling around their necks, looking like intertwined plagas, carrying carafes and bread baskets in their hands. Like human machines, precisely programmed. Not a word, not a glance to the side, no distractions. Only movement and the constant murmur, like a prayer.

And at the head of the table stood Saddler's three female servants. Krauser had had no direct contact with them on the island, but he knew that they surrounded Saddler like moths. What did they see, what did they know, what did Saddler use them for? Something about them was wrong, too quiet, too elusive, you never saw their faces. Always passive in the background.

A slight twitch in his neck told him that other Plagas were approaching. A mixture of whispers and pressure, as if thoughts were wandering through the marrow of his bones. Uncomfortably familiar. This thing inside him, this damn little thing—with every training session, every test, his connection to it grew. It made him stronger. And that was all that mattered.

Even the candlesticks on the table were shaped like Plaga runes. A permanent reminder of who was in charge here.

Then the door opened with a dull squeak. The murmuring whispers of the servants fell silent instantly. Lord Saddler entered, tall and imposing. Behind him, Bitores Méndez moved with measured steps, his imposing silhouette, dressed in a dark leather coat, looking menacing even in this hall. He was the mayor and priest of the village, as Krauser recalled. One of the leaders.

Finally, the castellan and Nicole entered the room.

The servants left the dining hall. The doors closed behind them. Now only the inner circle and Saddler's three shadows were present.

Krauser detached himself from the wall, walked to the table, and sat down next to Méndez, who had taken off his wide-brimmed hat and still towered impressively over everyone at the table. Salazar and Nicole sat opposite him. Their chairs were so close together that it seemed almost provocative.

Saddler took his place at the head of the table. One of his servants took his staff and held it like a monstrance.

Salazar, overly pompous, reached for Nicole's hand to clasp it. She didn't even flinch. Either it was iron self-control or she had no reservations about touching him. Perhaps it was both. Her gaze was calm and composed.

Krauser had expected the little man to put on a show as usual, and he was not disappointed. With a sweeping gesture of his free hand, framed by ruffles, Salazar began to speak:

“It is an honor, my lord, to welcome you and your guests.”

Saddler nodded. Those eyes glowed unnaturally bright from the shadows of his hood. The pupils literally pierced the soul, or rather, every Plaga. As Salazar continued, his voice sounded like liquid syrup:

“Let us give thanks to the Holy Body and its blessings.”

Krauser forced himself not to roll his eyes. All this litany. All this fuss.

He was grateful for the strength the Plaga had given him. But this cult? This pious drivel? Not his style.

But he nodded. Like a good soldier. Because he knew his hour would come. To prove himself—and to take revenge.

Two of the veiled servants poured drinks for the guests with precise, deliberate movements. The servant with the staff in her hand did not move and looked like a statue behind Saddler's figure.

After all the canned food on the island, the freshly prepared meal was a welcome change. The aroma of roasted game, herbs, and baked bread mingled with the ever-present smoke from the incense burners. The fat glistened on the crispy skin, the meat was tender, steaming, and richly seasoned. The glasses sparkled in warm red—a heavy, dark wine that tasted of berries and blood.

Krauser knew why they had been called together. Together with Saddler, he had worked out a plan for how to begin spreading Las Plagas throughout the world. Saddler's holy blessing, as he sometimes called it. Religious delusion with a sinister agenda behind it. This allowed Krauser to set his plans for revenge in motion. For everything that had happened during Operation Javier, the cover-ups afterwards. After his injury, Krauser was dismissed from service as a special operations agent.

The only thing that mattered now was power and strength. Krauser clenched his fist, his tendons bulging. He felt a tingling sensation in his arms, as if anger were trying to burst out of them. A sharp pain in his head brought him back to the here and now. Saddler had snapped him out of his thoughts with his Plaga.

Saddler stared at him with those eerie eyes and asked him to reveal their plan to the others. That was why they should prepare the village and its surroundings and the castle to ward off attacks from outside.

Krauser cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him.

“The next step in our Holy Crusade,” he began, “will lead straight to the heart of our enemies.”

He let the sentence sink in.

“We will kidnap the daughter of the President of the United States. She will return – with a Plaga inside her. And through her, we will gain control.”

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Our researchers have developed a variant,” Krauser continued, “that does not impair her intelligence. She will talk. Think. Command. But she will be ours.”

A nervous smile flitted across his face. Deep inside, he felt a burning sense of satisfaction. The government that had betrayed him would suffocate in its own blood.

“Preparations are underway in the village and the castle. No one will get through. No one will take them from us.”

He looked at Saddler, who simply nodded—and in that nod lay divine will, madness, and control all at once.

---

The smell of heavy roast fat and iron-rich wine hung in the air. The candles in the table candlesticks cast an uneasy, flickering light over the shiny tableware on the long table. Shadows hid behind the heavy window curtains. Nicole looked at her distorted reflection in her water glass as Krauser's voice glided through the room like a well-oiled knife.

Nicole sat back, the cold armrests of the heavy oak chairs beneath her hands. She tried to concentrate on the words, but the sound had become muffled, as if behind bulletproof glass. She was lost in thought. Only when Ramón's fingers clasped her arm did the sharpness of the present return. His grip was too hard, too tense. It betrayed a tension he was trying to hide from the others.

Their eyes met briefly, but with an intensity that outweighed all the words Krauser had just uttered. No one objected, no one dared to oppose the “plan.” Only a dull nod from Méndez, who grumbled as he described the preparations in the village: barricades made of wood, armed villagers with blank stares, a defense that resembled more of a trap. All for a prisoner, for a body that they wanted to fill with the parasite and then send back.

Nicole pressed her lips together. The words echoed in her head like blows. ‚I'd rather dig in the mines for ancient monsters than expose myself to the wrath of a government that could wipe me out. And Los Illuminados would then be treated like vermin. If this goes wrong, she would kill that Krauser...‘

She was so deep in thought that she missed the moment when Ramón leaned forward. Only his breath on her ear, soft, heavy, and hot, brought her back to the hall. His hand now clasped her forearm, stronger, more demanding: “Are you okay?” he whispered, barely audible.

She nodded, but his gaze held her captive. A spark glowed in his eyes, restless, feverish—like a light that began to blaze the more he looked into her. With an almost ceremonial gesture, he turned to her, took her hand, and held it like a relic. Nicole felt it even before his lips formed the words. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Will you be my wife?”

The words cut through the stifling silence of the room. Chairs creaked, cutlery clattered. Nicole felt hot, her skin burning, while an invisible weight pressed down on her. She hadn't expected this at all. All eyes were on her, piercing, curious, judgmental. Ramón's gaze, on the other hand, left her no escape, holding her fast as if in chains.

Her cheeks glowed, but she forced her lips into a smile, fleeting and defiant at the same time. She placed her free hand on his and whispered, “Yes... why not?” Her voice sounded like a distant echo, not quite her own.

Saddler tilted his head slightly, as if he had lost his train of thought for a moment. But then that false, all-consuming smile spread across his face. “Of course, my children. You have my blessing.” His voice tasted like poison, sweet and smooth as oil, and Nicole noticed the silent servant with the staff—Nicole could guess that it was Catalina—nodding almost imperceptibly. A silent sign intended only for Saddler.

Méndez raised his wine glass, his red glass eye sparkling in the candlelight, an inscrutable expression on his face as he nodded. Krauser, on the other hand, seemed merely amused by the scene. When Nicole's gaze met his, he took a hearty bite of his steak, fat glistening on his lips. He grinned broadly, suggestively, a predator enjoying a spectacle whose ending only he seemed to know.

Ramón finally loosened his grip, his body relaxing as if after a long battle. He brought Nicole's hand to his lips and kissed it—a warm but demanding pressure. When he let go, the echo of his touch lingered on her skin. Nicole wondered if his proposal was love... or a sign that he was claiming possession. Perhaps both.

---

Osmund leaned back, the wooden chair creaking under his movement. Slowly, he folded his sinewy hands in front of him as if saying a prayer, but there was nothing sacred in his eyes—only calculation. The voices in the hall had died down, the details of the plan long since discussed. He saw no doubt, not in Krauser, not in the others. Silence fell over the group, enveloping them like the incense rising from the incense sticks.

He reached for the chalice beside him, lifting it with the elegance of a man accustomed to being worshipped. The glass was old, cut, and the candlelight refracted in the blood-red liquid. Slowly, he raised it to his lips. His sacred body had long since changed his sense of taste, but the wine—from the dark cellars of the castle, old and heavy—rolled over his tongue, leaving a sweet, metallic trail. Like blood, he thought as he savored the last drop.

A quick swirl and the red swirled in the glass. The lights of the chandeliers were reflected in this movement, a sea of mesmerizing liquid fire.

Ramón's request came as a surprise, but it was not unexpected. This little zealot—the way he treated the girl, it was a wonder he wasn't already dragging her through the halls on a chain, docile as a dog. Saddler's lips twitched imperceptibly. But as long as it didn't interfere with their plans, there was no reason to deny him his wish. Even Catalina had no objections, and her silent consent was more important to Osmund than any spoken word.

Nicole was to descend into the caves beneath the castle, to the roots of the Plaga, back into the abyss from which all life and all death had crawled. Saddler remembered their last connection all too well—the moment when the Holy Body had touched her thoughts. He had shown her the memories, fragments of a past deeply woven into the flesh of the Plaga. It had worked without tearing her apart mentally.

Other attempts had left only corpses behind. The villagers he had used had gone mad, their bodies twitching as they sank into the dust before spewing blood and darkness. Catalina had also been able to see the past, but even she could not access it, could not bridge the gap to what Nicole carried within her.

And Saddler remembered something that still tormented him to this day: strange images that had involuntarily penetrated his innermost being. No belief, no ritual could have prepared him for this. It was as if his mind had been torn into the vortex of a foreign time—images of antiquity and prehistory, stone and metal, wars older than any empire he knew. Like fragments from an endless history book. The onslaught had been so violent that he had had to hastily sever the connection before his own mind burst. It had come from her.

He saw again how he had laid her motionless body on the altar in the sanctuary. She had been pale, her eyelids twitching as if she were still dreaming in the shadows of those visions. For a moment, he had wondered where this girl had come from. From what darkness, from what ancient web of flesh and memory.

Catalina had helped to strengthen her confidence. The girl had revealed fragments of her origins—a name had been mentioned, like a whisper from afar: Mother Miranda.

A name that slithered into Saddler's mind like a cold snake. Perhaps one day he would seek contact. But not now.

First, the grand plan had to be completed. With Krauser at his side, he could pour out the blessing he carried upon the world—where his ancestors had failed. A seed that would take root in every nation, in every body.

A slight twitch ran through his temples. The Plaga inside him began to stir, to writhe, as if sensing the coming fulfillment. Visions glided before his inner eye: cities singing in the chorus of the Holy Body. Nations bowing before him. A sea of eyes staring at him in awe, his children.

Slowly, Saddler set down his wine glass. The last drop ran down the inside like blood. His Plaga writhed and hummed an inaudible melody.

The beginning had been made.