The northern forest near the Cellar was and had long stood as the place Jean went to get away from chaos, be it from the Cellar itself, the manor, or the daily chaos life inflicted on his psyche. When he was a child, it was also a place he let his imagination roam free from the constraints as a Lowell. As he grew older, the forest became less of a place for relaxation and introspection, tending to keep such things aside.

Looking back on it, Nicholae was right.

He was too hard on himself.

It was late afternoon when he arrived at the forest. The moment he stepped inside, he sensed his mate's presence, to his great relief. He began to smile, but it was somber, and he continued to walk forward. It was much darker in the forest, but he quickly adjusted, stepping over a fallen trunk and appreciating the scenery, smells, and sounds of nature.

As he walked, Celezar's presence grew. It acted as a beacon leading him to a place further inside, but where, he didn't know. Head slightly lowered, the scene kept playing over in his mind. However it was possible, that particular magic spell seemed to hurt Celezar. It was the second time he saw his partner's body charred beyond discernment, and it pained him to see that the first time too, he remembered.

His upper lip twitched, and he paused to rest back against a tree.

He couldn't believe his uncle would do that. It didn't help that among the three of them—Artie, Jean, and Friedrich—his uncle was more powerful with magic. It undoubtedly hurt Celezar twice as much than before.

Head dropping, he glared at the ground. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes...

Grass rustled, and he slightly glanced up to see familiar boots approaching him. He turned his head away. "I'm...I can't believe that happened," he murmured.

His partner continued coming closer.

"I feel...betrayed, in a way. My mother." He scoffed harshly. "That woman." Letting his eyes shut, his head swayed side to side in disbelief.

He felt the warmth of his mate's body in front of him, and he leaned forward to rest against his chest. Arms went around his waist, holding him close. He took a deep breath of his mate's comforting scent.

"I'm sorry, Celezar."

His body rose and fell from an exhale. "I am too, love. You...learned something...unpleasant...about your men. Some of them, anyway."

He nodded. "Tell me what happened after I lost consciousness."

Celezar made a soft, grim hum. His grasp around Jean tightened, and he fell back onto the forest's ground.

Jean readjusted atop him, his left hand resting on Celezar's chest, and entwined his leg between his mate's.

Once they were comfortable, Celezar began with a sigh, "The Entity...got me real bad."

Jean tensed.

"I'm okay, though. Domien; I managed to get a few hits on him before his mate got to me. I'd feel bad about it if he hadn't gone after you," came a low growl.

Rising, Jean looked him over. His expression wilted as he took in the sickly sheen and color to Celezar's skin. "You're anything but alright."

Celezar didn't respond, didn't even open his closed eyes. "Well," he murmured, "I got away and took you all with me. Calvin saw me in my Infernal form but...you know, to his credit, he didn't freak out nearly as much as he did in comparison to seeing the Entity."

Frowning from being ignored, Jean decided to let it go for now.

"We got back soon enough, but I was already healing you all before we returned to the Isle. That's the reason you five are still in your hunting garb. Verne just checked up on you; protocol, all that."

Celezar's sudden silence didn't go unnoticed. "But?"

"I got into an argument with Hugh and Friedrich. They suspected me of working with Domien. They asked how it was possible to come upon a devil not once but twice, more than any other hunter group, let alone the Entity as well. I told them. You're the infamous Lowell Hunters. Plenty of inhumans would jump at an opportunity to get rid of you, and Domien happens to be one of them. I didn't know Hugh went to call your mother. I stayed in the sickbay with you, watching your vitals with Verne. Only when her vehicle approached...did I sensed her.

"Gods, Jean. She carries such darkness within her heart. Such hatred. It startled me. I thought Hugh had it bad, but no. Verne tried, he really did, to keep her out of the sickbay. She threatened him, and though Verne, in good ol' Rhodes fashion, was completely unfazed, Hugh fought him out of the way."

Jean brushed some of Celezar's hair out of his face, his expression worsening as he pictured it all.

"Everyone went into the sickbay after that. I..." Celezar opened his eyes, his gaze distant. "I wanted to kill her, Jean. I could sense it, feel it. She was already thinking about possibly killing you if she had to, or felt she had to. It exuded from her, this maliciousness."

Slowly, Jean nodded, lips tightening from several previous recollections of such times he felt the same way about her.

Green eyes flickered to him for a moment. "Anyway. You pretty much caught what happened afterward..."

Placing his hand on Celezar's forehead, Jean lowered to give him a gentle kiss. To his surprise and worry, Celezar wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. "Celezar?"

There was nothing at first, and he let his head rest against his mate's.

The sudden, stifled sob alarmed him.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Jean," Celezar softly cried. "I...I just...I'd willingly jeopardize myself for each one of those fucking idiots."

Nodding, Jean held him, feeling prickles of tears in his own eye. "I know."

"What can I do? I can't think of anything else I could do to make them believe me."

Shaking his head, Jean murmured, "There is nothing else, Zarryel."

A harder sob wracked through his mate's form.

His jaw locked. If his men were beginning to fight among one another, he was going to have to put some boundaries in place. This couldn't go on, regardless if Celezar was with them or not. Internal squabbles could always break a group.

He already experienced that once.

He didn't bother with words to comfort his mate. His presence was enough.

"Are you really alright?" he softly asked. When there was a weary exhale and a slow shake of auburn hair, his brows creased in alarm and concern. "What can I do to help?"

"Not much, love. I need something from Hallowed Ground...A plant."

"Do you want to go now?"

There was no hesitation when Celezar nodded. "Majihl has them, too. I'd rather go there."

"Alright." Jean sat up and scanned his mate's body as he also moved upright. His alarm spiked when Celezar couldn't keep himself up and fell back onto the ground, groaning.

The sickliness to his skin was worse, and black veins were clearly visible underneath his skin, as well as larger, uncanny ones that did not look natural in the slightest—even for an inhuman—that twitched and pulsed.

"Celezar?" Jean lowered to his side, taking his hand.

He began to speak again when Celezar started to violently convulse, his eyes rolled back into his head. Blackness began to pour from his eyes, and deep, blackish-red blood trickled from his mouth, down his neck. Not knowing what to do, scarcely knowing how to react, and feeling helpless for it, Jean only held tightly onto Celezar's hand while tears formed in his eye.

Hobboilen did something to him.

Hobboilen did something to his mate.

The realization sent a sweeping horror through his body, and he scowled deeply before repositioning them so Celezar's head rested in the crook of his arm.

Deep, raspy keening sounds began to emit from the spasming form, yet Celezar's teeth were tightly clenched, and his other hand clawed at the ground. Jean felt the hand in his grasp give a vigorous twitch before it squeezed painfully. He shut his eyes from the throbbing, but continued to hold on.

The helplessness was overwhelming.

Desperation to do something gripped at him. "Zarryel? What—I..." He shut his mouth and continued to hold his mate close. "Please, no," he softly whispered, watching Celezar's eyes roll about.

"C-call..."

He placed a hand on the side of Celezar's cheek. "Zarryel?"

"C-call...hi-him," Celezar managed with a wheeze. "Ma...Majihl...oghr...th-three..."

Jean's eyes slightly slanted with confusion. "Call him? Three...? Three times?"

Swallowing, Celezar emitted a groan, but he nodded.

"Majihloghr," Jean said, somewhat hesitant at first. But there was a feeling—however that was possible—of power in the air after he said the older inhuman's name. Recalling this when he said Celezar's true name, he firmly repeated, "Majihloghr."

He began to call again when a shadow, darker than the darkness in the forest, passed overhead. There was a swell of tingling power, and then he sensed someone approaching from behind.

He turned just as a short, white-eyed man kneeled beside him. It was indeed Majihl, and he lowered a large jar stuffed with strange, bulbous plants inside. His expression was grave, and he looked upon Celezar with a twist to his pursed lips.

"You've been careless, little one," he said, opening the jar. A low, plaintive groan was the response, and he leveled a soft glare on the younger inhuman before taking one of the sapphire plants and handing it to Jean. "There's no time to grind it. Chew it and feed it to him, stem and all," he ordered.

Taking it, Jean obeyed without delay and began to bite at the strange plant. It was surprisingly harder than it looked, making it easy to grind in his mouth. It was silky, tasted peppery and heady but wasn't unpleasant.

Once he had ground it all in his mouth, he lowered over Celezar's and slipped his tongue between the pale lips to feed it to him.

The moment the liquid touched Celezar's tongue, he began to gulp greedily, sucking it from Jean's mouth. He softly groaned as the black veins pulsed while he drank. When Jean moved back, he saw the liquid on Celezar's lower lip was navy-green in color.

Celezar licked his lips, then went limp, breathing hard in Jean's arms. The black veins under his skin were slowly overtaken by the blue color.

"He'll be...better," Majihl explained.

Swallowing, Jean blinked the tears out of his eyes. The older inhuman was still staring critically at Celezar. "What...what's wrong?"

Majihl's white orbs flickered briefly at him. "He's putting great stress on himself, facing the Entity. He's...far...far too young. He'd have died the moment you met in Ridridge had the Entity not found you two entertaining."

"Entertaining?" Jean sputtered with a scowl.

Majihl frowned. "I'm afraid that's sometimes the only way to survive most encounters with the Entity. If it finds you entertaining, your chances of living to see every next second are greater."

Jaw locking, Jean couldn't find anything to say at that.

Closing the jar with a sigh, Majihl beckoned towards Celezar. "Make sure he rests, preferably in Hallowed Ground."

"I will." Jean held his mate closer, glad to see he was breathing easier.

There was a momentary silence between them, and then Majihl sighed, bringing Jean's attention to him.

"I...have an idea why the Entity finds you entertaining. Quite frankly, there are many possible reasons," he said, crossing his legs. His eyes still hadn't moved from Celezar.

Much as he didn't want to acknowledge that, Jean did understand.

He was a Lowell, a family once so much greater than they were in current time. He recalled the Entity's immediate interest in him when he used his magic that time in Ridridge. There was furthermore its "personal visit" to him near Cadron. He shuddered at the memory.

"Be careful, both of you."

Majihl's words brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned to nod at him.

But the white-eyed inhuman wasn't there.

Blinking, he glanced around, then turned his attention back onto his mate. Unbreathing, Celezar was in a deep sleep. The blue veins were still visible under his skin, but they were far less worrying than the black ones.

Lowering, Jean pressed a gentle kiss onto the freckled forehead, then rubbed their heads together.

"Thank you, Zarryel," he murmured. "You saved my life, again."

His lips tightened, and he couldn't help but softly swear at them in the moment. Them, those of his men who were indeed idiots. Foolish, blind idiots.