Night had fallen over the temporary office outside the Medical Center.
Tarnished was reviewing the latest diagnostic report. Frankly, it contained so much medical jargon that even his impressive twelve points of intelligence struggled to keep up.
Should I put some points into intelligence later? As Tarnished pondered this, he suddenly raised his head.
Two figures walked in.
Messmer looked stern, his cloak still damp with night dew. Morgott followed half a step behind him, his expression rather complicated, still clutching the nearly empty bottle of ale.
Tarnished glanced at the bottle and protested, "You went drinking without inviting me?"
Messmer ignored that and went straight to the point. "I hear you're going to seek out the Frenzied Flame."
His tone wasn't questioning. It was accusatory.
Tarnished blinked, looking from him to Morgott in surprise, wondering how word had spread so quickly. Still, he nodded honestly.
"That's right."
"Why?"
Messmer's brows knitted tightly. He advanced a step, looming over Tarnished with an imposing air. "Do you have any idea what the Frenzied Flame is? One touch can doom you forever, and you're going out of your way to find it?"
Before Tarnished could answer, Morgott stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"Messmer, don't get angry yet. We came to discuss this, not to condemn him."
Then he turned to Tarnished, his tone considerably gentler. "The Frenzied Flame is far too dangerous. If you release it to treat the Witches and something goes wrong, the losses will far outweigh the gains."
"Oh, that." Understanding dawned on Tarnished. He waved a hand to reassure them. "Don't worry. The Frenzied Flame in the Land of Shadow is only a fraction of the real thing-the residue and embers trapped here when Marika sealed the Land of Shadow."
He paused, then added, "The real Frenzied