Russel eyes shuddered awake with a start, met with the vague outline of a figure leaning over his bed. Out of instinct, his hand slipped under his pillow, grasping for the hilt of a blade that was not there. A dry chuckle cut through the stillness of the air, and as Russel's eyes fully opened he saw that the figure was actually Yssera Kolt, not the specter whose face still burned behind his eyes, and that the room was actually a recovery room in one of Cahryst's medical centers, not his own.
"Sssstil sso quick to ssstrike?"
"G-guess ambushes w-will do that t-to you," Russel laughed, and immediately regretted doing so. Sharp thorns of pain spiked throughout his body as his body roiled in discomfort, and waves of exhaustion slammed into him after instinctual adrenaline faded. His body collapsed into the bed with a thump, and his eyes fluttered while his mind flirted with sleep.
A heavy silence filled the air as Yssera watched Russel struggle with consciousness. He could feel her eyes on him, but wondered if he watched him with concern or disappointment. Tremors of pain still shot through his being, and with ragged breaths he pulled his knees up into his chest while he lay on his side. Bits passed as Russel breathed through the shooting vines and blooming roses of his curse, eventually falling into a steady, silent rhythm as the pain became manageable.
"You were never in any danger," Yssera began simply. "We had bagsss of ssalt and necromancersss on hand to ensure you were sssafe. It wass the only reassson I agreed to the experiment." She paused, allowing Russel a moment to respond. Silence began to overtake the room, and his captain took that as a sign to continue speaking. "The reasssearcherss had found your...bloomsss effective againssst spiritss and soulsss. They ssaid they needed to sssee you ussse it in a controlled environment."
Another pause, but Russel had no words to offer. Only quiet, hitched breaths as vines split his veins and sent spasms of pain down his arms.
"I wanted to sssee you ussse it. Needed to sssee."
"W-why?" He rolled over pitifully, a tremble of hurt clear in his voice.
Captain Yssera Kolt stood at his question, mouth half-moving to form a response, but then stopping to regain her composure. She sighed deeply, running claws over the scales of her skull. She placed an arm up against the cool stone of the building, collecting her thoughts. Again, she started to speak, but no sound escaped her scaly maw. Another few bits passed as an uneasy silence settled between the pair of the, but with a final, reluctant sigh, she turned and met Russel's searching eyes.
"Becaussse, I am a sssselfish perssson. Becausse I wasss hoping to use your pain to end mine. Becaussse no amount of honorsss or rank can replace the legion of bright young men and women the Foressest of Corpsesss hasss taken from me." She took a chain of service, the symbol of her rank, which hung off the neat black of her Imperial uniform, examined the offending metal held between her claws, and then tossed it gently onto Russel's bed. "I earned that for exemplary sssservice, at the last incurssssion of the Foressst. I would have every losst sssoul back rather than thisss ssspeck of metal."
The youth took the chain, and felt the weight of it in his still trembling hands. He imagined it how much heavier the weight must have been for his captain.
"I thought...I think you could redeem that, Russssel. Thissss cursse of yourss, it hurtsss them. Killsss them. Ssspirits and sssouls."
The image of roseblooms overtaking ghostlights flashed in the youth's mind. Of ethereal limbs stretched and twisted as vines took root in the creature's very essence.
"I would train you. Make it ssso that their kind," the consumed ghost's face was replaced with that of Ashan's, "could never hurt you again. Never hurt the Empire again."
Another uneasy pause filled the claustrophobic space of Russel's recovery room. He turned his eyes downward, staring hard into the chain of service that Yssera had passed to him. Eyes stared back up at him through the chain, clouded and corpselike where they had once been bright. His fingers closed around it, and he squeezed it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He moved to stand, unsteady as he was, and placed the chain back into Yssera's hand.
"W-when do w-we start?"