"In what way will you be fine? You're not fine now," Rae points out, her voice full of worry and frustration. It's all she can do to resist the urge to check for fever. "You won't last another three days. If the ritual doesn't work when you start out rested, what chance is there that it'll work better when your start out already dead on your feet?"

"You need something to drink, at least - there's tea, if you want," she offers, seeing his cracked and parched lips, "and you need a good long sleep. Things will look better in the morning, I promise."

"Please, Autor," she pleads, quietly.