Sunlight filtered through the green summer leaves above the castellan's head as he burst out of the tunnel. Even though it had been cool down there, he found himself sweating and shivering at the same time. He wrapped his hands around his body, rubbing some warmth back into himself. The beauty of the summer day was lost on him. His mind was totally preoccupied by what he had just learned.

Osmund Saddler had appeared so, well, priestly. So good and almost pure. To learn that part of his religion was letting these...these things into the human body. That changed everything. There was no way Ramon Salazar was going to allow what amounted to parasites into his body.

No. Definitely no way at all.

He spotted a thin game trail through the greenery and aimlessly followed it, deep in thought. It twisted and turned, and in some areas became sparse or vanished altogether, picking up later a few yards away. The young man barely noticed, and the fear of becoming lost was the last thing on his mind on this bright summer day, with the sounds of the townsfolk still echoing cheerfully out of the cave in the distance.

His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes on the ground as his mind raced. Yes, he would turn around and tell Saddler 'no thank you'. He would put his foot down. This was just too strange, too risky. He couldn't believe that taking one of these Las Plagas into your body could possibly be safe, even at Saddler's reassurance.

He would just turn around and tell him no. He was the castellan, after all. Saddler would have to listen. He would go home, abandon the project, and Ramon would never have to listen to this Las Plagas talk ever again.

Ramon would go back to the castle. Saddler would leave to find another place to build his church. His days of conversing with Mendez, Luis, and the priest would end.

The forest grew thicker as he traveled deeper into it. He walked for hours, morning gradually wearing on into afternoon. He knew the others would be worried about him soon, if not already, but he dismissed them out of mind. Let them worry; he was ruler of these lands, wasn't he? He could do as he pleased.

A large oak tree loomed ahead, its boughs spread wide over the forest like some kind of protective spider. Ramon sighed and sat down between two of its rough, bark covered roots, leaning his back against the tree. Yes, if he said no, the days of feeling important, and busy, and useful would be over. The days of feeling like he had friends.

The days where he felt like he had power.

Didn't Saddler say that these Las Plagas made you stronger? More intelligent? Ramon knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. Maybe turning away this gift because of his instinctual reaction to what seemed like a parasite would be a mistake. How could Saddler, Mendez, and Lois all be wrong?

These thoughts floated through his head as the noonday sun, warm even when filtered through the canopy, beat down on him. His eyelids grew heavy as his internal dialogue went back and forth between revulsion and tentative curiosity. He could no longer hear the sounds of the villagers, and the birdsong grew distorted and gradually vanished as sleep took him.

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In his dreams, he was walking through darkness. Pitch black darkness. He reached his hands in front of him, and, fully stretched out, he couldn't see them anymore. Fear and loneliness filled him.

"Ramon..." a whispering, feminine voice drifted through the darkness. The castellan spun around with a cry of fear, but of course, he couldn't see anything. No twisted, clawed, monstrous hand reached through the darkness. No glowing eyes peered back at him. He strained his ears and could hear nothing more. He barely dared to breathe, and to call in response seemed like insanity.

He kept walking, heart hammering, hands feeling in front of him for obstacles, or something to guide him. He felt the cool dampness of stone cave walls and started to follow them gropingly onward. Eventually the squeak of bats and the telltale sound of dripping water reached him, but there wasn't a trace of fresh air or sunlight. He could see nothing, but as he walked along in darkness for what seemed like forever, he knew that he was descending deeper and deeper into the earth. He would have assumed that things would get cooler, but the deeper he went, the warmer it got, the heat almost throbbing around him.

"Ramon..."

He cowered against the cave wall, pressing his face to it. The voice sounded like a normal woman's voice. Maybe even a little bit weak and tired. Then why did it fill him with so much dread?

He thought his soul would leave his body with fright when a hand landed on his shoulder. He shrieked and turned around, and there, lit by some kind of otherworldly light that seemed to come from inside her, was his mother. His mother, who, like his father, had been dead since he was a toddler. A plague had swept through the town and taken them both. To be honest, Ramon barely remembered each of them. Jacobs had been a good father figure for him, and they had died so young he didn't have time to build relationships with them.

Still, a child misses their mother. It's only natural. So when he saw his mother, relief flooded him. She was tall - taller than he remembered, dressed in a white gown that looked old and careworn, almost tattered. Her dark brown hair, so much like his, hung well past her shoulders, seeming to move a little even in the still air of the cave. And her eyes, normally brown, had that golden, ethereal grow.

"M...mother?" Ramon eventually managed to say.

"Yes, my child. My love. Your mother is here."

She knelt and embraced him, pulling her young, small son close. He returned the hug, feeling safe, smelling her comforting, clean scent, and feeling the warmth that emanated from her that told him she was very much alive.

"Mother...how...?" he started, but she held a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Sssh shh. My little boy. Quiet now. All that matters is that we're together again."

As her fingers caressed the side of his face, Ramon felt them...roughening? Yes, they were definitely growing harder, almost bony, with a scratchy, unpleasant texture. Some of that fear returning, he tried to jerk his head away, but her previously gentle, loving touch had now changed to a vice like grip, and the small boy was helpless to even turn his head around.

"No! Stop! Let me go! You're not my mother!"

Even as he spoke, his voice was muffled. He watched as her fingernails popped off like shed scales. He watched as the rounded tips of her fingers elongated like hoary tentacles, his eyes rolling wildly with terror, his feet helplessly scrabbling against the slick cave floor.

"Now now Ramon. That's no way to talk to your mother."

He choked as those rough tentacles that had been her fingers grew and started to push into his mouth and down his throat. He felt the horrible, dragging, scratching sensation as they went down his windpipe and esophagus. And he saw, with fear like he had never known before, other tentacle-like fingers slowly growing toward his ears, his nose... his eyes.

"It's okay, Ramon. Don't worry. Mommy's here."

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He awoke with a start, once again in darkness, but this time it was the normal darkness of a moonlit night. He jumped up away from the tree with a yelp, his hands flailing, rubbing and slapping his body to get rid of the horrifying grip of the apparition, but he was alone. A good look at the area around him confirmed that.

Great. He had slept until nightfall. There was probably a search party out for him by now, and getting lost like this was bound to make him look foolish in front of the others. He paced back and forth with agitation. What if Saddler decided this display of incompetence was enough to disregard the castellan?

And why did that worry him?

He started to head back in the direction he could best guess he had come from originally. The twittering birds had been replaced with the sound of crickets, frogs, and the night wind softly sighing through the trees. So far, he couldn't hear anyone calling for him.

He wandered for a while, trying his best to follow the path that had brought him out here, but it was so sparse and patchy that he quickly became lost and turned around, finding himself in places he was sure he had already covered time and time again.

Then, ahead of him, eyes in the darkness. Three pairs of glowing, yellow-green eyes. Ramon pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming again, but no such luck. As he squinted through the dimly lit foliage he was able to make out the shapes of lupine muzzles and pointed ears. Wolves. And as one let out a dangerous, low growl, he realized that they weren't just passing by.

They stalked closer, snarling, the fur at their napes standing up straight, their pointed, lethal carnivore teeth showing under curled lips.

"No! Stay back!" he picked up a rock and threw it, trying to sound commanding, but his throw was weak and one of the wolves effortlessly hopped to the side, and his voice came out as a shrill squeak.

In the distance, he heard the shouts of men and women, and the barking of a dog. A very familiar barking.

"I'm here! Help, help, wolves!" he cried at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly, one of the wolves lunged, knocking him onto his back, pinning him down. He smelled the dead, decaying flesh between its teeth from previous victims, felt the hot drool drip down onto his face as it leaned over him, jaws parting, intent on ripping his face off.

"Noooooo!"

The wolf was pushed off of him by a blurred creature that barreled into the predator and send him sprawling in the dirt. It stood over Ramon protectively, growling at the three approaching wolves. Ramon could barely believe his eyes. Another monster, and this time, it was real!

It was some kind of wolf-dog, bigger than most, with long legs that ended in big, clawed paws, it's bushy tail sticking out alertly behind it. Its shoulders were bulging and muscular, and its eyes didn't seem to have pupils. They almost seemed like holes in its skull, from which emanated a familiar, otherworldly golden light. Its jaw spread back much farther than it should have, as if someone had cut away the skin of its cheeks, revealing teeth that were too numerous and large to belong to those of a normal wolf or dog. And the worst part, God, the worst part, were the slimy, pale, writhing tentacles that erupted from its back, dripping a foul, pustulent liquid.

Ramon cursed his luck. Real or a dream, it was just one horror after another.

But then, quite the opposite of what he had expected to happen, happened. The wolf-dog didn't turn to claim its prey. It started attacking the three wolves. It sprang forward with incredible strength and speed, ripping the throat out of the first wolf with its grinning, impossibly toothy jaws. While it was distracted by tearing at the first, the other two leaped at it. The writhing tentacles sprang into action, whipping wildly around, making the air sing with their speed and power. One of them lashed the second wolf, catching it across the eye, half-blinding it and opening up a deep, bloody gash. It ran into the forest, yelping, and the third, realizing the impossible odds, was hot on its tail.

The tenacled wolf monster watched the wolves retreat, and once it was sure they were gone for good, it turned back to Ramon.

"No! Stay back!" Ramon said again as the beast approached. But it's body language was easygoing, and, amazingly, with disgusting, wet sounds, the tentacles on its back receded back into its body, the skin between its shoulder blades sealing up again. Ramon gulped, realizing that what had looked like well muscled shoulders were really housing that disgusting weapon. And on the monster approached. Its tail wagged easily, and its maw closed. As it got inches from his face, realization dawned on the young castellan.

"Ruk? Is that you? What...what happened to you?"

For it was Ruk, his easygoing wolf-dog face back to normal. Since last winter he had grown from a small puppy to a gambolling young adult. With a friendly whine he closed the distance completely and licked his master's face.

Just then, a group of townspeople lead by Mendez and Saddler burst into the small clearing, carrying torches. Saddler took stock of the situation, then smiled with relief, approaching Ramon and Ruk.

"Ramon, are you all right?" Mendez asked from the head of the crowd.

"I'm... I'm..."

"He's fine," Saddler finished for him, kneeling next to him. He pet Ruk's head, and, with a burning anger, Salazer realized what Saddler had done. "Thanks to the incredible power of the Las Plagas, our castellan has escaped a pack of vicious wolves without a scratch. If it weren't for his pet here, we would have arrived too late."

Ramon was stunned. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears, feel his hands shaking. How dare he. Ruk was one of his only friends. How dare he. How dare he, without first getting his permission. But Saddler was ignoring him in favor of making a speech to the gathered search party. He held his torch aloft, casting a glow over Ruk so that everyone could get a good look at him.

"This proves everything that I have been telling you. This is the last day any of you will live in fear of the wolves that live in this forest, if you accept the Los Illuminados into your lives. You will have strength enough to fight off a whole pack, without need of even a weapon." His gaze lingered meaningfully on Mendez and his eye patch. "And his dog will live well past his original life span, immune to all diseases, and capable of incredible miracles of self-healing. Think long and hard about whether you want to receive this gift. When my church is complete, every person in the countryside will be offered this spiritual enlightenment, if they so choose. The benefits that I have described to you today only begin to scratch the surface."

It was clear that many of the townfolk had heard these promises before, and were suitably impressed with this display of their truth. They lived an isolated, hard life. The winters were long and the summers short, and many in the past had died of disease or starvation. With these Plagas, the weight of isolation and poverty could be lifted.

"Amazing." "So it's true." "I think it's worth it." "Bless you, Saddler, bless you," they murmured.

"Head back to the town. Ramon was just attacked, and would probably prefer less of a crowd," Mendez ordered them gruffly. The hugely tall mayor was not one to be ignored, and, with some last glances over their shoulders, the group made their way back through the first toward the village, the light from their torches marking their way.

Mendez stood watch as Saddler knelt close to Ramon. When the priest looked back at Ramon, he was surprised to see tears streaming down his face, the young man's fists clenched and shaking.

"What have you done to Ruk! What have you done to my dog!"

"I have given him a great gift. I have given you a great gift, Ramon. Not only has Ruk had the honour of becoming one of the first animals to test out the response of the Las Plagas, he has become even stronger than I could have hoped. And retained his obedience. He is still yours. Only... improved." He chuckled to himself. "You are probably wondering when I did it. Last winter, Ramon. He healed from that scrape in no time, didn't he? You both have the Las Plagas to thank for that."

Ramon was up on his feet. A loud smack echoed through the clearing as Ramon brought his hand up and struck Saddler across the face with all his might. Which, admittedly, only made Saddler's head turn to the side. Mendez took a step forward, then a step back once again.

"Hah. Still, you are ungrateful," Saddler said after a few moments of chilling silence. He got to his feet, touching the place on his cheek where Ramon had slapped him.

"Ungrateful? You turned Ruk into a monster! A monster! You didn't even ask me! You pretended to heal him, but you turned him into a monster!"

Ramon hugged Ruk around the neck, burying his face in his fur. He was a little afraid of him, now, but so far he had shown himself, at least mentally, to be the same old Ruk. He smelled the same, only with a mixture of blood, and some kind of unidentifiable, somewhat sour and unpleasant odour. An enormous wave of love and pity washed over Ramon. Then, at the end of that wave, was pride. That was his dog. His dog, that had killed one wolf without effort, and scared off the other two, without so much as being touched. And without the changes Ruk had undergone, Ramon would surely be dead now. As revolting as it was, it had saved his life, and he still had his dog. His dog that, apparently, would be with him for many more years than normal now.

"Ramon... you would never have accepted it. How else would I show you this miracle, that you would not have believed without seeing with your own eyes? You have been given a great gift. But much greater gifts could still be given to you." He reached out a hand to help Ramon to his feet, and after some hesitation, wiping away his tears with his sleeve, Ramon accepted, rising shakily to his feet.

"Lets get ourselves back to the village before there's another incident," Saddler said, and without a word, started to lead the way.