Caius's Arc

Chapter 2 of 10

Caius bent down and felt along the stranger's pack until his claws caught on something crisp and flat. Paper, but fragile — brittle at the edges like it had been burned. He drew it out carefully. His companion leaned close. "What is it?" "A telegram," they said softly, reading over his shoulder. "It's... the words don't make sense. Like whoever sent it was already losing their mind." Caius held it between his paws, feeling where the heat had curled the corners. The stranger had carried this from somewhere. Had clutched it even as The Red took hold. This wasn't a warning from the distant past — this was fresh proof that the disease had already spread beyond his village. He stood, tucking the telegram into his satchel. The garden behind him had become a place people would avoid now, marked by warning chimes and a low fence his neighbors had built in hours. He couldn't change that. But he could use it. "We go to the tavern tonight," Caius said. "Before anyone has time to convince themselves this was an isolated case." His companion hesitated. "What if no one comes? What if they're too afraid?" "Then we go alone," Caius said. The weight in his chest hadn't lessened, but it had sharpened into something he could carry. "But we ask. We tell them what happened here. We show them this." He touched the satchel where the telegram rested. "And we give them a choice." The tavern was loud when they arrived, full of voices trying to drown out what everyone had already heard. Caius stepped inside and the room didn't go quiet — it went watchful. He felt the shift in attention, the way conversations dropped to murmurs. Someone near the bar said his name. He walked to the center of the room, his stick tapping against the floorboards, and stopped. "The stranger in the garden isn't dead," he said, loud enough to cut through the noise. "But they're gone. The Red took them in less than a day. And they were carrying this." He held up the telegram. "Proof that it's spreading. That it's not just visions anymore." A chair scraped. Someone stood. "So what do you want from us?" Caius turned toward the voice. "I'm leaving for the ruins in three days," he said. "To find what the humans knew about this disease. To find a cure before it takes everyone we know." He paused, feeling the fear in his chest, and named it. "I'm scared. I don't know if we'll find anything. But the stranger in the garden is the first here, and they won't be the last. Staying means watching it happen. Coming with me means risking everything on a chance." The silence stretched. Then the same voice spoke again, closer now. "Three days. Where do we meet?" Caius felt his breath catch. One more. That was two. "The garden," he said. "At dawn." When he and his companion left, three others followed them to the door, asking questions, wanting details. The collapse had made it real. The telegram had made it urgent. And Caius had turned his terror into something people could choose to join.