《The Kiss of a Lily》


 A Fever Dream

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 False Awakening

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 Between Nightmares and Blessings <1>

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 Between Nightmares and Blessings <2>

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 A Poisoned Heart

    "Beware, o dear, for once fate is unveiled, it becomes forever sealed and therefore, should not be uttered."


    Words of wisdom. The first commandment. You will not speak of everything you know.


    Fate was not a straight line but an intricate spider web of countless threads. The fate of one person was connected to the fate of others, and the bond between them could strengthen and tighten or weaken and break. People with the gift of foresight could see the different paths that might have unfolded. Yet, with such a gift came great responsibility. Even the lightest glimpse into the future could change the course of destiny. Thus, the first commandment came into play precisely here. You will not speak of everything you know. You will not lift the veil. For once fate is unveiled, it becomes forever sealed.


    Lea''s words echoed in my mind as I walked home, a bitter pill to swallow. I found myself questioning the truth of my own experiences. "It''s probably just an ordinary nightmare," Lea had concluded before I left, "You aren''t blessed with visions." Then what was this feeling in my chest? Was it pride or jealousy that made me want to believe in my abilities? Was I alone in my hopes and dreams? Was I imagining myself as a woman with a bright future, belonging to a noble family and possessing a sacred gift just because I was pretty? Just because I thought I was entitled? What if my dreams of a brighter future were nothing more than idle fantasies, conjured up by my delusions?


    Bright future. Beauty. A noble family.


    A noble family.


    Who wants me dead?


    In my heart, something broke.


    I dragged my feet along the cobbled path that led home. The weight of a sour sorrow seemed to tug at my every step. The moon was high in the sky. I closed the garden gate behind me. A faint glow seeped through the curtains of the parlor. Amidst the chirping of the crickets, I could hear the sweet sound of Misceria''s voice. With care, I tiptoed past my mother''s beloved pots of hyacinths and gently pushed open the foyer door. As I stepped into the hall, for a brief moment, the vacant armchair to my right caught my eye. How could I ever have missed the presence of my mother last night? Even in the dark? A shiver ran down my spine.


    "Fiera, is that you, dear?" My mother emerged from inside the salon.


    "Yes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.


    "What''s the matter?"


    "Nothing. I''m just tired."


    As I was taking off my cloak, I could feel my mother''s eyes carefully studying my face, but she didn''t push it forward. "Come. You should eat before you rest."


    I shook my head, looking at the ground. "No, thanks. I am not hungry."


    My mother sighed. "Alright. Can you take care of Misa for a bit then? I need to clean up the kitchen."


    "Okay."


    With a gentle nod, my mother went to the kitchen and I closed the door behind me. I glanced down the parlor as I walked down the hall to my room. The flickering light of the oil lamps cast a warm glow over the room... Misceria was playing with her doll on the couch, and she did not realize me watching her.


    I went to the washroom and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wash away my bad mood. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, seeing the exhaustion etched on my face. Then, I looked more and saw more.


    I stood before the mirror for a couple of minutes, gazing at my reflection. The flickering of the candles cast dancing shadows across my face. I traced the delicate curve of my jawline with my fingertips, taking in my beauty with a heavy heart. Yes, I was beautiful. Everyone said so. Beautiful, talented, intelligent, brave, and all, for what? "You could be a princess if you were found by the King that day, dear," my late grandmother would say. "All the good things that would make a graceful lady, Gods gave them to you, all of them, but luck." All the things but luck. I had to be seen. I had to be acknowledged. I looked at my eyes as if I could pierce through them.


    It was exciting to look in the mirror when I was young. All the possibilities I held too. As I grew older, my reflection only showed me false promises and shattered dreams.


    Sighing deeply, I turned away from the mirror and headed towards the door. Perhaps spending time with my niece would help to lift my spirits, if only for a moment. I hoped a child''s pure, innocent love could bring me some peace amidst the turmoil.


    The innocence of a child.


    A living, warm, smiling child.


    I sat next to her and watched as she created her world with her doll. For a moment, I felt a sense of peace taking over my worries. The joy of my niece was infectious, and I found myself getting lost in the moment. I looked at her big brown eyes, long eyelashes, and plump cheeks. I looked at her small lips like buttons.


    But the worries soon returned, and my thoughts drifted back to the events of the day. Looking at her reminded me of the same feelings. The inescapable destiny that awaits me, the sealed fate that beckons. The children I have lost. Did they once play and laugh just as she did? My heart ached as I watched her play, wishing I could recapture that same sense of joy in my own life.


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    Misceria turned her head and looked at me with her big, innocent eyes. Her eyes warmed my heart, and I reached out to stroke her hair. Then she crawled to me, resting her head on my lap. We sat in silence for a while. I caressed her hair. My mind was still with heavy thoughts, but the presence of her brought a sense of comfort. Her hands reached up to hold onto mine and I squeezed them gently.


    Misceria. Meaning both mercy and misery in Ancient Sapphire.


    She didn''t have to be a special kid for me to like her. I loved her anyway. For being here, for putting her head in my lap, for holding my hand. I loved her so much. ,


    Perhaps there was no need for me to be some sort of a remarkable child abandoned by some noble house to face an ill-fated end. I was simply the daughter of Lavanar of Silla, who plucked me from a bed of fire lilies, and Ilyona, who lovingly welcomed me into her arms at first sight.


    My mother entered the room, she kissed and took Misceria in her arms. "Come on, little one, it''s time for you to sleep," she said softly.


    I nodded and watched her as she took Misceria to their room. I walked over to my room, lit the oil lamp, opened the dresser, and changed into my nightgown. Before sitting on my bed, I stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath, closing my eyes. I reached up and began untying the ribbon that held my light auburn hair in a tight knot. As I pulled the ribbon free, my hair cascaded down my back in soft waves, reflecting the light.


    I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling its silkiness between my fingertips. I then reached out to the table next to my bed and took my comb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother quietly entering the room. She approached and stood behind me, without a word. I turned to face her, holding my comb tightly in my hand.


    Our eyes met. It was a silent conversation between a mother and her daughter, as she ran her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and smiled, and then handed her my comb. She took it, and I turned my back, gazing at my reflection.


    I turned my back and looked in the mirror. My mom started to comb my hair carefully, as she did when I was a child. I could feel the warmth of her hands almost.


    We looked so different. Her olive skin contrasted sharply with my white complexion. She had dark, thick hair and brown eyes, just like Misceria, and I had auburn hair with hazel eyes. I wish I looked more like her. I wish I had a part of her.


    I was standing there watching her when a thought suddenly came to my mind. I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it immediately. I wanted to ask her how my father had found me in the forest when I was a newborn and brought me here. The thoughts I was trying to shun were never leaving me, it seems like. I could not bring myself to ask. I knew it would upset my mother, but I''ve longed to talk to her about me, about them, as I couldn''t share my nightmare.


    "Mom," I said, almost whispering. "Did Dad look like me?"


    Her smile faded a little. I saw her hesitate for a moment before smiling subtly. "Your father had fair hair, just like you. You have his hair."


    I smiled too. I knew it was impossible.


    "How did he find me?"


    Her smile faded again. She continued to brush my hair. And she tried to avoid my gaze, a sign of her discomfort at the mention of my finding.


    "That''s what we were told," Mother replied, still avoiding my eyes.


    "Was there anything else? Did he say anything about my real parents?" I pressed on.


    "No. Your father didn''t mention anything. That''s all we know." my mother said, her voice trailing off.


    I watched her expressionless face for a while, feeling there was more to the story than Mom was letting me. I wanted to ask about my father''s death, but whenever I brought up the topic, my mom would seem very uncomfortable.


    "After he brought me home, did Ascula come to see me?"


    "Yes," she started to braid my hair. "She came to examine you."


    "What did she say exactly?"


    "She said you were healthy and did not show any sign of an illness," my mother replied. "She also said you were special and had great energy she had never seen before. She believed it could be used to help people."


    She believed it could be used to help people. I chuckled. I was using them, yes, to clean her house. "Did she say that?"


    "Yes, it''s been a long time now, so I can''t remember her exact words, but that''s what she meant," my mother confirmed.


    I shooked my head in disbelief. All that potential and divine energy that could be used to help people was wasted, huh? The one time I genuinely tried to help, she punished me for trying. Punished me for years. For years, she had refused to teach me Ancient Sapphire or let me accompany her on patient visits. For years she made me do menial tasks like cleaning and writing, only occasionally teaching me a potion or two on her good days. I had to work hard and learn on my own


    But what about my father? What had she said about his death? He had been a healthy young man when he found me, but he had died suddenly soon after. Had Ascula treated him? Or had she prevented anyone else from helping him? Why did he die at such a young age?


    "What about my father, then?" I asked. "What did she say about his death?"


    "Fiera." My mom''s expression changed. Her reflection looked into my eyes.


    "I want to learn about his death. That''s all."


    "You already know it."


    "I want to talk about it." I could feel my cheeks heating.


    My mother''s expression became pained, and she turned her gaze to my hair and paused in her braiding. She waited for a moment before speaking. "Your father died soon after he found you," she said softly.


    "Did she treat him?"


    "She tried to," I could see the sadness in her eyes. "But she wasn''t able to find a cure. His illness was persistent. He died of a fever and chills."


    I felt a lump in my throat. "Did she try everything?"


    "Yes, darling," Mom replied, her voice low. "Sometimes gods call upon the soul and no ties can hold it down."


    I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. I had always imagined my father as a hero. Someone who had saved me from certain death in the forest. But now, knowing that he had died very young and early made me realize that he was just like any other mortal. Vulnerable to sickness and death.


    "Thank you for telling me."


    Her smile was weak, but she leaned in to kiss my forehead before placing the comb back on the table.


    "You must rest now," she said. "It was a long day."


    I nodded and took hold of her hands, looking into her warm, brown eyes. "You are my mother, the mother I''ve chosen."


    She smiled and caressed my cheek. "I know, honey. I am."


    We hugged. She then made her way to the door.


    "Will you go to work tomorrow?" she asked before leaving.


    "Yes, Ascula will be at The Temple of Silla. A baby will be introduced to the temple. I''ll be taking care of her cottage."


    My mom''s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, that sounds like an interesting day. I hope everything goes well."


    "Me too," I said, watching her leave the room. As the door closed, I was left alone with my thoughts again.


    I hope everything goes well.

 The Slain Man <1>

    I couldn''t sleep, consumed with restlessness and constantly tossing and turning in bed. I felt lost, I felt uncertain about my place in the world. About my purpose in life. About my position as an apprentice. I longed for the chance to prove myself, to show that I was capable of something much more then just cleaning the shelves. I knew I was being mean, being bitter. Feeling jelous of a newborn. Jealous of his potential and the possibilities. Pathetic. However, I still felt trapped, bound by tradition and the expectations placed upon me. "Listen to your master." Yeah, I wasn''t sure.


    I yearned for something more, something that will allow me to break free from my shackles and forge my own path. The flames within me would not extinguish until I found a meaning and a goal to live for. I wanted to help, to protect, to heal, to save. To nurture. So I had to make a decision. A resolve to take action and seize control of my destiny. I was not going to sit and wait for Ascula to forgive me. I did nothing wrong.


    I might have acted on a whim but I did nothing wrong. The medicines I gave that woman gave her peace. If I was guilty, then so be it.


    My mind raced with new possibilities. I knew it was a risky move, going against my mentor''s orders, but the thought of being stuck in the same routine without any chance to prove myself was unbearable. I wondered if I could gather enough ingredients for making new potions, and if I could create them successfully without any mishaps. Or perhaps, I could somehow study on the ancient recipes. I had learned a few words before Ascula stopped teaching me, and maybe by comparing the words with the few recipes I already knew, I could figure them out! Oh holy God. How could I not have thought about this before? Was I dumb?


    I also wondered if I could visit far villages or  the nobles Ascula wasn''t serving. Would anyone even trust me, a mere apprentice, with their health and well-being? Well I wouldn''t tell them I was an apprentice anyways.


    The thought of exploring uncharted territories, interacting with unfamiliar faces and demonstrating my healing abilities filled me with excitement and hope. The odds might be stacked against me, given my mentor''s lofty reputation, but the possibility of a new and fulfilling life was worth the risk. I made up my mind to gather all the information I needed and start planning my journey, even if it meant defying Ascula''s wishes.


    There will be no new faces on the walls.


    My gaze shifted to the walls, away from the ceiling. These walls would always remain barren. I wouldn''t let any child I hugged perish. Mine or not.


    A smile tugged at my lips. The flames of hope and excitement still flickered within me, illuminating the darkness. As I drifted off to sleep, thoughts of new possibilities and potential futures filled my mind with peace.


    It was bright but unsettling.


    I found myself standing in a grand room, adorned with ornate decorations, precious valuables, and luxurious fabrics. A magnificent window, almost as tall as the ceiling and as wide as the wall, allowed a warm breeze to enter.  The peaceful rustling of leaves and sweet melodies of birdsong echoed inside, as if I was standing in the middle of a lush forest.


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    In the center of the room stood a massive bed, and as I drew closer, I could see the silhouette of a man lying on it, gasping for air.


    "He will die," I thought. "There''s no way to save him."


    I couldn''t see his face clearly no matter how hard I looked, but I could make out his raven black hair and the outline of his strong, masculine frame lying beneath the covers. His hands rested on top of the blankets, and I noticed a distinct mole on the index finger of one of them. Without thinking, I reached out to touch him, hoping to provide some comfort, but as soon as my fingertips grazed his skin, the vision abruptly ended, leaving me confused and disoriented.


    He will die, I thought, again and again.


    He will die. He will die.


    "Fiera?"


    He will die.


    "Fiera?"


    He will die, mom.


    I woke up.


    "Fiera."


    I struggled to open my eyes, my mother''s face slowly coming into focus as she leaned over the bed, peering at me.


    "Nadea just stopped by," she said, "and told me to tell you that they''re going to the temple with Ascula. She also mentioned that no one would be coming today, as they''ll be delivering the potions."


    "Oh?" I murmured, my voice barely audible.


    I blinked blearily as my mother''s words slowly registerd in my mind, a faint feeling of disappointment prickling at my consciousness. Ascula and Nadea were heading to the temple today? No visitors then. I had been looking forward to the possibility of making some new potions. How was she already ahead of me? She was a witch, wasn''t she?


    My mother hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I was going to let you sleep, but I have to head to town today. Can you take care of Misceria for me?"


    "Yeah, sure." I replied with a nod, still feeling a bit groggy from my interrupted sleep.


    "Don''t forget to eat."


    I nodded slowly, rubbing my eyes as I sat up in bed.


    My mother gave me a small smile before exiting the room. I let out a sigh and stretched my limbs, feeling a sense of unease wash over me. With nothing to do, I decided to take Misceria for a walk, maybe to my friends'' town and gather some herbs along the way. Maybe it would help me clear my mind and figure out what I wanted to do next.


    The mention of food reminded me of my growling stomach and I''ve realized I haven''t eaten for two days.


    I swinged my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched again, feeling my muscles groan in protest. I stood up and headed to the washroom to wash my face, then I headed to the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat that won''t upset my stomach. As I rummaged through the pantry, a flash of my dream came in front my eyes. That man lying on the bed. Who was he?


    I shaked my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind. Oh no. I needed to focus on the task at hand - taking care of Misceria.


    Who was he though? Is he okay? He seemed to be struggling to breath on his own.


    My mind was consumed with questions about the man in her dream now. Who was he? What did he want from me? Why was he struggling to breathe? Was it just a random dream, or did it hold some sort of significance? As I found a bread and an apple to eat, I tried to think who could he be. The room was the largest space I had ever laid my eyes on, nearly the size of our entire home. I could not recall the the details much. Was it possible that I was in the chambers of a nobleman I didn''t recognize? Was the man on the bed a sick lord, perhaps Lord Sillavont? But the man appeared far younger than the elderly lord.


    "Oh, heavens help me," I muttered in dismay. "Not now. Not again. No visions and shit."


    I went to kiss my mom goodbye, than to my room. I put on my sage green dress and tied my hair up into a bun. Then I went to the kitchen again, I grabbed a basket and filled it with some leftover bread, a few apples, and a small jug of water.


    As I stepped outside, trying so hard not to think about the young man I saw, Misceria excitedly ran towards me, pulling at my hand and tugging me towards the road.

 The Slain Man <2>

    As I walked along the forest path with Misceria, the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds filled the air, a melody I could never tire of. The sun was shining brightly. A gentle breeze was blowing.


    The elderly spoke of this season as the "Season of Storms". They spoke of fierce gales that could pluck trees from their roots and toss them like leaves upon the wind. They spoke of diseases running rampant, and of malevolent spirits alighting upon the earth beneath the guidance of "The Skinchanger". In these months, fear pervaded the land and men bid farewell to their wives each morning with heavy hearts. Women kept watchful eyes upon their children, elderly prayed for the safety and well-being of their kin, as before the day would end, you could lose everything you knew.


    Yet now, all that remains of those bygone days were these gentle breezes, wafting sweetly through the air. All that they could to was to tickle your skin.


    Thanks to our Holy King.


    Thinking of the sound of the forest, my mind somehow wandered...


    Could the sick man, confined to his bed, also hear it?


    A rabbit darted out from the undergrowth and ran across our path. Misceria giggled with delight, and I couldn''t help but smile at the unexpected interruption. She tried to follow it a bit, then spotted a stick lying on the ground and picked it up. She started to wave it around, fighting imaginary monsters, or I thought so. We continued walking, I watched her as she startted to chase after butterflies, laughing as they flit away from her reach.


    I suddenly heard the sound of approaching hooves and the creaking of wheels. I held Misa''s hand and moved aside with her to let the carriage pass, but as it drew closer, I recognized the familiar faces of some villagers from a neigbouring village. They seemed surprised to see us.


    "What are you doing out here, Fiera? Shouldn''t you be at the healer''s?"


    "I''m taking my niece for a walk," I replied. "Where are you all headed?"


    "We''ve got some goods to sell and trade. Would you like a ride?"


    I hesitated for a moment, thinking if I should go to the Temple of Silas, but ultimately decided to reject the offer.


    I rejected them politely. They warned me to be careful, as there were a lot of boars and jackals seen in the forest nowadays. I smiled at the villagers and thanked them for their concern. "Don''t worry, we will be careful," I said reassuringly.


    I took my niece''s hand and we continued walking on the forest path. They were right to warn. I had to be more careful and to keep my eyes open for any signs of danger.


    Meanwhile, Misa was having a great time exploring the forest, pointing out flowers and insects along the way.


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    As we approached the village, I saw the thatched roofs of the houses peeking out from behind the trees and a faint song could be heard. The sound of children echoed through the forest, and the sweet scent of freshly baked bread drifted in the air. As we got closer, the narrow dirt path we''re walking on widened into a cobblestone road. The village was bustling with people, with children running around and playing games, while adults went about their daily chores. The vibrant colors of the flower gardens and the neat arrangement of the vegetable patches were a sight to behold. The sun shining overhead casted a warm and welcoming glow over everything.


    When couple of children spotted me and Misceria walking along the path, they immediately started running towards us, their laughter echoing through the woods. I smiled warmly as they approached, happy to see the joy on their faces. The children clustered around us, jumping up and down with excitement as I handed each of them a bright, red apple from my bag. I''ve never understood why children would get so excited to see me everytime but I was not complaining, I loved it.


    Then I saw Kleiss, scratching his blind eye, also coming up to us slowly. I bent down to kiss him on the forehead and asked, "Where''s your big sister?"


    "With honour and with bravery,


    My knight rode off to fight.


    He held a ribbon close to him,


    A gift that gave me light.


    Amid the clash of sword and shield,


    He pledged to keep me free.


    And as he left, he turned to me,


    And said, "Forever thee.""


    Kleiss smiled up at me and said, "She''s over there, by the well."


    I looked over to see Ena, sitting by the village well with girls. I thanked Kleiss and told him to go play with the other children. As Misa joined the children to play, I went to the well to talk to Ena, Zulie and Glaudine. Before the grand oven, the other young girls of the village were kneading bread dough. I could hear their songs floating through the air.


    "The battle raged for days on end,


    And I prayed for his return.


    But news arrived upon the wind,


    And my heart began to burn.


    He fought with all his might and skill,


    But fate was not his friend.


    Now he''s just another nameless knight,


    Whose story has no end."


    Oh God, I had never liked this song. It gave me chills everytime.


    As they saw me approaching, Ena standed up to greet me with a warm hug.


    "Hey there, stranger," Glaudine said with a grin. "It''s been too long."


    "I know, I''m sorry. Things have been busy with Ascula."


    Zulie shook his head. "You''re spending too much time with that witch."


    "I agree." I giggled, looking at her upon Ena''s shoulder.


    "He was my love, my guiding light,


    My hope in times of war.


    But now he''s gone, and in his place,


    There''s only grief and more.


    I''ll hold his memory close to me,


    And cherish every day.


    For though he''s just another slain man,


    He''ll never fade away."


    My attention was drawn to the group of girls singing again, to their voices carrying a melancholic tune.


    "What''s going on over there?" I asked, my eyes lingering on the group of girls.


    Glaudine raised her brows. "Didn''t you hear? The Crown Prince has won the war in the south. He is coming back to the country."


    "Really?" I was quite shocked to be honest. The war had been going on for years, it seemed like it would never end. "But why are they singing such a sad song then?"


    "For the ones who were lost," Ena replied, with sadness in her eyes.


    For the ones who were lost.


    "But now he lies among the slain men,


    Lost upon the field.


    No one can tell him from the rest,


    No one knows his shield.


    The ribbon that I gave to him,


    Is all that they could bring.


    My heart is heavy with his loss,


    And the song that I must sing."

 The Slain Man <3>

    For the ones, we lost and had entirely forgotten.


    This thought troubled my heart.


    There had been a war in the South for years, led by the heir prince against the "Stained" Kingdoms, but we, being a city in the northwestern part of had not been affected much by the war, thanks to the efforts of Lord Sillavont. We continued our lives as usual.


    But every day, as we went about our daily lives, young men were perishing, their bodies forever lying on the battlefield. Those who would ride off to fight and never return. They wouldn''t even have graves. Left behind were the orphaned children, widowed women, grieving parents...


    I did not believe in the "honor" and "glory" brought by war. Wasn''t human life more than just simple ambitions? Why were we keeping so many people, so many young men alive, only for them to die on the battlefield? For what purpose? What lands, what riches could bring back the dead, and relieve the suffering of orphaned children? I asked myself these questions but couldn''t find an answer. I doubted there was. My eyes instinctively landed on Misa, who was chasing other children in the town square. No one could bring her parents back.


    These thoughts were on my mind now, but normally I would not think much about them. When I went down to the town, I would sometimes hear the traders complain about how difficult it was to do business with the south in their current state or how the low nobles talk about the economic damage caused by the country''s warlike attitude at the heir prince''s initiative. "The heir prince burns and destroys, leaving only ruins and death in his wake, while his brother strives to salvage what remains," they would say.


    And perhaps they were right. Before King Thawonar I, there were only massacres, disasters, plagues, and death. The Holy King, our Great Hero arrived and battled the Demon of the Skies, Askyje, to free our kingdom of long lasted suffering. He banished the demon from the earth forever. He brought peace and prosperity to our kingdom that would last for decades. Despite his sacrifices, his legacy of peace was destroyed now.


    They say the heavens frown upon lands where the blood of innocents has once seeped, and the ones who stay silent are the first to perish.


    So we were destined to perish, but when?


    "So it is over, for real," I said, sitting next to Ena.


    "Indeed," Zulie grinned. "A very handsome messenger from the town said so this morning."


    "Oh?" I chuckled. "You should have asked the details."


    Zulie rolled her eyes, pointing at Ena. "This grumpy lady wouldn''t allow it."


    I chuckled again. Ena didn''t react. She continued to watch the singing girls with a sad expression.


    I don''t know if it was because of her mournful demeanor, but something awoke inside me. Her sorrow was radiating out of her, permeating the air with its sour scent. Even though I didn''t touch her, I felt her body was freezing but her chest was on fire. The sorrow and anxiety passed on to me as well.


    I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. Ena turned to look at me, smiled warmly, then lowered her head and silently continued to sit.


    "They say it is over, but my father doesn''t think so," Glaudine shook her head. "He says he heard the merchants at the inn. The heir prince intends to start an even bigger war. He says The King will demand soldiers from every region."


    "What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows.


    Glaudine shrugged. "I don''t know either."


    "But The King doesn''t support his son''s politics, I thought?"


    "I don''t know."


    "Damn the heir prince," Zulie grumbled, playing with her braided hair. "Greedy pig."


    How cheerful. Either way, The King was old. One day, his eldest son would ascend the throne. Who knows what we would have to endure then.


    "Do you think soldiers will be recruited from our village too?"


    I looked at Ena, who was speaking softly. She had an expression that was difficult to decipher as she seemed to be still watching the singers.


    But she wasn''t. I could tell she was watching something else, someone else.


    When I followed her gaze, I immediately understood what she meant.


    She was looking at the young men walking in a group near the mill, carrying shovels and hoes.


    She was looking at Milas.


    Oh, Milas.


    I knew what she was thinking. She loved him, since childhood. Ena was a grounded girl with grounded expectations. Her mother was nagging her to get married, but it wasn''t even necessary. Ena already wanted to marry, start a family and raise her children. Before the year ended, as soon as the crops were harvested, their fathers were going to betroth them. She had been planning it all in her head for a long time.


    "Ena," I said softly, placing my hand on her shoulder again. "Don''t worry about that now. Let''s just be thankful that the war is over."


    Ena nodded slowly, her eyes downcast. I knew she was still thinking about Milas, about the possibility of losing him to another war. But we couldn''t do anything anyways. We were mere villagers, who were living the lives that seemed fit to those high noble lords and ladies and royals and all.


    "Have you heard about his lover?" Glaudine asked out of nowhere.


    "The heir prince''s?"


    She nodded, "Yeah, I heard that he took a mistress from the south, a witch they say."


    "Huh?" Zulie exclaimed, her fists clenched tightly.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "A what?" I was left in shock. "Are you serious?"


    "Yes. I''m not joking."


    "Oh the good Gods, I will murder him myself." Zulie laughed.


    I nodded in agreement, feeling the same disbelief and anger that Zulie did. We had all heard the tales of the heir prince''s crusade against the South, how he believed they were "stained" and "sinful" for studying dark magic. It was the reason he had led his armies to conquer their lands and bring them under his father''s rule. Or at least he reasoned it with that.


    "I thought he was very pious," Ena said, her voice filled with disappointment. "He would not do something like that."


    Glaudine shook her head, her expression was confused. "People are saying that he''s been bewitched by her, that she''s using her dark magic to control him."


    Zulie''s eyes flashed with anger. "Well, he should know better than anyone the dangers of dark magic! He''s the one who condemned the South for it!"


    "Careful, Zulie," I warned. I was just remembering it was still daytime and there were people near. "Someone can hear you."


    Zulie huffed but nodded her head in agreement. "I know, I know," she muttered. "But it''s just not fair. All those soldiers who died, and for what? So he could take a witch as his mistress?"


    She was right. We were all angry and confused. I did not know what to think.


    We continued to discuss the situation, while Misa continued to play with the other kids. Zulie''s anger simmered but Ena''s gaze kept drifting toward Milas. I could see the worry and sadness in her eyes, and I knew that she was not just upset about the prince''s hypocrisy, but also about the uncertain future ahead.


    As we finished our conversation by the well, the mood was somber, and we parted ways with heavy hearts. The news of the heir prince''s actions has cast a shadow over the village, and we couldn''t help but wonder what the future held. The only thing we could do now was to wait and see, hoping for the best, but bracing ourselves for the worst.


    As we walked through the woods with my niece, I couldn''t shake off the heaviness that hung over me. Wars and deaths, greed and hatred, dark magic and nightmares, evil spirits, unbreakable seals, and silent gods, were all swirling and swirling in a well in my head. Ena''s sadness and Zulie''s anger had taken me a prisoner. It followed me all the way from the village, piling over me like a heavy blanket. I felt that dark energy was trying to penetrate my body but it failed. The talismanic tattoo on my chest was tingling. I wanted to talk to Ascula as soon as possible to tell her what had happened, to ask about what I had heard, but I knew she was not in her house. The ritual would last several days. She must have heard all this gossip while she was in the temple and in the city.


    Had my mother heard it too, I wondered? She was in the city as well.


    My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves. I turned to see my niece reaching out to pluck some wildflowers. A smile formed on my lips as I watched her.


    I distracted myself by collecting some herbs along the way. Yarrows, thymes, sages, and meadowsweets. The soothing scent of the greens calmed my nerves. As I looked around at my peaceful surroundings, I tried not to guess how long this serenity would last.


    My niece, who walked next to me, sensed my low mood and reached out to hold my hand. Her small, comforting grip brought me back to the present moment, and I gave her a grateful smile. She was too young to understand the complexity of the situation but she seemed to understand something was wrong.


    As we approached our home, I took a deep breath and tried to push away the worries. I needed to be strong for my family, to provide them with a sense of security in these uncertain times. My mom was emotionally strong but her health was delicate. I had to continue to do what I could protect those I cared about, even in the face of uncertainty.


    My mom was home. I washed my hands and face, then I helped her prepare the table. As we sat down to eat, my mother began to speak about the first day of the ceremony at the temple. She had managed to watch it from the sidelines after she finished her work in the town, and her description of the stunning beauty of it all made me feel as though I had missed something special.


    "Even the Lord Sillavont was there," she said, her eyes lighting up with awe.


    I couldn''t help but feel a bite of envy. I had never seen the Lord in person, and I couldn''t imagine what it would be like to be in his presence, especially in a big ceremony like this.


    A ceremony I did not deserve.


    "Did he say anything?"


    My mother shook her head. "No, he didn''t speak. But just being there was enough to make the whole ceremony feel more momentous."


    Momentous. I smiled.


    We continued to talk about the ceremony as we ate. She talked about her day and I fed Misa after I finished. With a grateful heart, I helped my mother clear the table and clean up the kitchen.


    As I scrubbed the last dish clean, I remembered the gossip at the village. I tried so hard not to ask as I was feeling low, but my curiosity won in the end.


    "Mom?"


    "Yes, dear?"


    "Have you heard about the war ending?"


    My mother paused from wiping the table and looked at me. "Yes, I have," she said softly. "It''s a relief, isn''t it?"


    I nodded, but my thoughts were still on the possibility of another war. "But do you think there will be another war soon?"


    "I hope not, dear," my mother said, continuing to wipe the table. "We can only hope for the best and be prepared for the worst."


    I sighed, knowing she was right. I guess there was no talk of another war in town yet.


    After finishing up in the kitchen, my mother and I prepared for bed. We lit candles in the small room and I helped her and Misa change into her nightgown. I could tell she was tired from the day''s activities, and I didn''t want to burden her with my worries just yet, so I did not tell her about the rumors.


    Once they were settled in bed, I gave her and Misa a gentle kiss on the forehead and bid them goodnight. I then went to my own room and changed, then laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.


    The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls, and the night was quiet, save for the distant hoot of an owl. My mind was still filled with thoughts of the war, Ena''s concerns, and the prince''s actions.


    I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear my mind as I drifted off to sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow. I could not shake the feeling of unease that has settled deep within me.


    As I lay there, the walls were getting higher and higher, with holes being carved up on them, and the boards were rotting and falling to the ground.


    The moon hung high, casting an eerie glow over the world below. It was so high that no one can touch it. I reached out to touch, farther and farther. I felt like I was going to be ripped out of my body somehow.


    But I did not. I rose with my arm and glided through the night.


    But before I can make a decision, the dream fades away, leaving me standing alone in my room, with only the moonlight to guide me.


    I flew through the moonlit forest, my feet barely skimming the dew-kissed grass, feeling its sweet cold. The silver beams of the moon guided my way, casting shadows that dance around me as if they were whispering in my ear. The forest was silent other than the light, holding its breath as if to not scare me.


    I let myself be carried away by the wind.


    I could feel the chill in the air, the wind brushing against my skin, as I approach the Ascula''s cottage. As I draw closer, the light''s voice echoed in my mind, a voice I recognized as my mother''s. "He is going to die, Mom, he is going to die," it whispered.


    He is going to die, I remembered. He is going to die.


    He is going to die, Mom.


    My heart quickened with fear and I did not want to continue.


    Against all my wishes, I reached the steps of the cottage.


    And there, I saw him.


    A young man with tousled dark hair. His clothes were soaked in blood, and he looked so pale, so fragile. He lay motionless, his breathing shallow, his eyes closed. Blood oozed from his wounds, pooling around him.


    He is going to die, Mom, he is going to die.


    I did not know what to do. I froze in place, watching the young man''s chest rise and fall with shallow breaths.


    A cold wind blew.


    I reached out to touch him, to offer aid, but I couldn''t fly there no matter what I did. I gasped, my heart aching with helplessness. His face was familiar, yet I couldn''t place it.


    Who was he? Why was he here?


    He was so young. So fragile.


    Now he''s just another nameless knight,


    Whose story has no end.


    I reached out again but this time my vision blurred and the scene faded away, leaving me desperate.


    I awakened with my heart pounding in my chest, covered in a cold sweat.


    He is going to die.

 The Slain Man <4>

    I awakened with my heart pounding in my chest, covered in a cold sweat.


    He is going to die.


    I sat up in bed.


    My heart was beating fast enough to explode. I held my breath as if the slightest inhalation would cause tears to pour out of my eyes like a waterfall. The image of the young man''s pale skin illuminated by the moonlight, his body barely twitching, drenched in blood, flashed through my mind. He was going to die. If he was not already dead. Maybe he was already dead. Was he?


    Was it real? Was he real?


    I felt nauseous. I put my hands on my mouth not to throw up and sat hunched over in bed. My stomach was turned upside down. Was it real? Was he really, really lying there now?


    I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down.


    The room was silent except for the faint sound of the wind outside. I looked around, trying to shake off the dream but no matter how hard I tried, the image of him lying in his on blood never left my mind. Who was he? Why was he there?


    What if I go to the cottage in the morning and see someone unconscious on the stairs?


    Unconscious?


    What if I see someone dead?


    Dead, because I did not help them?


    Was my dream a prophecy? Was this really a prophetic dream? Was it a warning or a clue for me to save his life?


    Was it from tonight or from the future? How could I know? How could I tell? I felt like I was going to lose my mind.


    "It''s probably just an ordinary nightmare," Lea''s hesitant but reassuring voice echoed in my head once again, "You aren''t blessed with visions."


    I took deep breaths, tried to calm down, and focus on Lea''s words but hers was not the only voice echoing in my head. He is going to die, it also said. He is. Don''t you agree?


    I felt like the room was freezing though I also desperately needed some cool air somehow. I got out of bed and walked over to the window, staring into the depths of the forest across from our house, into the darkness of the night. The moon was full, high in the sky, so high that no mortal could reach it. Despair engulfed me like a heavy fog. In front of me the tree branches swayed gently in the breeze, the leaves rustled, and their shadow danced on the walls of my room. Everything was calm and peaceful but the fog was planting seeds and growing its roots deep inside of me. The talismanic tattoo, the one Ascula tattooed on my chest when I was little was tingling. I felt a chill running down my spine. It was meant to protect me from the evil spirits and their deceits.


    The dream felt so real, so vivid. Was it a trap then? It must have been, right? That young man, lying there in a pool of blood, his face twisted in agony was just an imagination of my dark mind.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Perhaps I was touched by the sad song that the girls sang.


    Perhaps, he was the young knight lying on the battlefield.


    Why?


    I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. It was just a dream, I told myself but still, the feeling of unease continued to linger.


    I decided to get a glass of water, hoping it would calm my nerves. As I made my way to the kitchen, I wondered if I should wake up and tell my mother about the dream because something inside me told me it wasn''t going to be that simple. I didn''t want to make a decision alone. I didn''t know what to do but my mother always knew what was best, what was reasonable.


    What would she say? She would never let me go and check the cottage, that was for sure. She would not even let me leave my room till morning. It was so late. There were no houses near us that I could ask for help. Our house was a 20-25 minute walk from other villages at best, while Ascula''s cottage was just as far in the opposite direction. It would take me an hour to get help for a dream.


    I filled the glass with cold water and took a sip but I couldn''t drink more.


    I set the glass down and returned to bed. I laid down, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and closed my eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep but instead, I started shivering in anxiety. I kept turning from one side to the other.


    I stood up again, my mind racing with thoughts. I looked out of the window, staring at the moon in the sky. I knew I wasn''t supposed to leave the house alone, especially not in the middle of the night but my consciousness kept nagging and nagging at me. Who could I call anyway?


    I paced back and forth in my room, trying to figure out what to do. I could wake my mother and tell her about the dream, but I knew it would only worry her. She would never let me go. I had to go. I could not bear the guilt of seeing him tomorrow morning, realizing that I left him there all night. All alone. Acting hastily and foolishly rather than acting like a coward made more sense.


    There would be no harm in checking, right? I was going to check, then return home.


    I dressed quickly and quietly, trying not to wake my mother. I put on my cloak and sneaked out of the house, my heart pounding in my chest like it was going to explode. The night was quiet and dark. The only sounds were the creaking of stones under my feet and the sound of an owl hooting somewhere far away.


    He is going to die. Don''t you agree?


    As I walked down the path to the Ascula''s cottage, I couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach. The gloom of the night loomed all around me, watching me, making the trees that lined the path appear sinister and foreboding. Oh how much I loved these trees in the morning. I thought about leaving the path I always follow and walking through the forest to get to the cottage faster, but the darkness of the night terrified me. The moonlight offered a small comfort, casting its glow on the dirt path, giving me a glimpse of what lay ahead. Despite this, I was walking fast as if I was being chased by something I couldn''t see. Even the slightest rustling of leaves or a snap of a twig made me jump.


    As I ventured deeper into the forest, my anxiety only grew. I already regretted leaving the house. The villagers'' warnings about the dangers of wild boars came to my mind, and at the same time, I heard a branch snapping from the depths of the forest to my right. I was frightened.


    I quickened my steps, and kept walking, praying to the spirits above to protect me. The talismanic tattoo on my chest was still tingling and seemed to be getting worse. It scared me, but at the same time, the talisman''s tingling made me somewhat at ease, making me feel protected by the dangers that surrounded me. I knew I had to press on. The young man''s life, if he existed, was depending on me. And so, with every step, I pushed aside my terror, hoping to reach the healer''s cottage before it was too late.


    I prayed and prayed to the spirits in the sky that they would get me in time and make a fool of me. I prayed I would not see anyone when I arrived.


    As I turned left by the little fountain and approached the cottage, I saw a shadowy figure lying on the ground.


    My heart skipped a beat as immediately recognized the shadow from my dream, covered in blood.

 The Slain Man <5>

    He was lying motionless at the top of the stairs, in front of the door.


    It was real. Real! My nightmare was confirmed. It was right in front of me, right in front of my own two eyes.


    I was out of breath. I couldn''t breathe at all. What was I to do now? What was I going to do? Was he dead? I rubbed my eyes, hoping the shadow would disappear, but it was still there when I opened them. Still there. Covered in blood.


    I ran to the cottage with my heart pounding as loudly as it could ever do.


    I climbed the stairs and bent over the shadow lying face down. It was just like I saw in my dream, it was covered in blood from the dirt road to the place where he was lying. My heart was hurting, my chest was on fire. The talismanic tattoo on my chest was on fire. I was afraid to touch it. Was he alive, was he breathing? I had to check, but I was afraid to touch a cold body, to be late.


    I shook my head, pushing my thoughts away. I reached out and tucked his long hair behind his ears. His face was pale as a ghost. His eyes were closed. "Are you alright?" I wanted to ask, but I felt like I was going to burst into sobs as soon as I open my mouth. Instead of talking, I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him.


    He didn''t even move. I shook his body harder.


    "Wake up," I was able to say. "Can you hear me? What happened to you?"


    He didn''t answer. I continued to shake him, but nothing happened. It just then occurred to me to check his pulse. I quickly reached out and placed my hand on his neck, checking his pulse while looking for any wounds on his head or neck, which could be lethal, but I didn''t see any.


    I felt a faint beat on his neck. I sighed with relief, knowing that he was still alive. I also knew he needed immediate medical attention, which I could not give. I was not that educated. The only medical aid I could give was to tend to simple wounds, nothing worse than that.


    I examined his body again as far as I could see without turning him. He was wearing a gray cotton tunic. His tunic was wet, and I could see it was soaked in blood, especially on his torso. There was no tear on his backside. He obviously had a wound on either his chest or stomach, which was not something I hoped for. It couldn''t have been a simple wound that caused this much bleeding. The smell of iron on the air was making my nose tingle.


    I knew very well that there was no one around who I could turn to for help. There was only me, and him. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I could help him if I only stayed calm.


    I thought about what I would do. I would take him inside, examine and clean his wound, and, if necessary, prepare a poultice for his wound or medicine for him to drink. I couldn''t have done more. What could I do more? Should I then run to the nearest village to find a carriage? How long would it take us to travel to the temple in the town? Could he survive the road? Was the bleeding heavy? I had to see it. It would probably take us hours to travel from here to the town, and there was no other healer nearby other than Ascula.


    I gazed around helplessly. The forest was all silent. Not even a whisper echoed through. Time was passing, and I needed to act fast. The young man lying on the ground was not tall, but he was big, making it impossible for me to carry him, especially up the stairs. I was not very strong. I began to consider my options. Could there be a slippery sheet in the cottage that I could use to wrap him up and pull him up? Or maybe I could oil a sheet, but the thought of how to do it left me feeling uncertain. I would have to spend a lot of oil.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I hesitated for a moment, looking back and forth between the unconscious man and the cottage. With a deep breath, I got up, stepped forward, and opened the door with the keys. My hands were shaking. I took a loud breath and pushed the door open. It was so dark inside.


    I ran to the supply room. As I looked around, my gaze fell on a pile of linens in the corner. Without hesitation, I began rummaging through them, searching for a large enough sheet to put him on. I grabbed a clean white one and hurried back outside.


    I quickly laid the sheet under him, then I tried so hard to push and roll him onto the sheet, careful not to jostle him too much. It did not work out. When I let go of his shoulders my eyes started to fill with tears. He was so heavy. How was I going to carry him inside? I thought about going inside to get a rope to tie him or something but then, I heard someone whistling deep inside the forest.


    Almost like a whisper...


    Almost like a silent whisper that I knew, in a way, was crawling on the ground.


    "Huh?"


    I quickly laid the sheet under him, then I tried so hard to push and roll him onto the sheet, careful not to jostle him too much. It did not work out. When I let go of his shoulders my eyes started to fill with tears. He was so heavy. How was I going to carry him inside? I thought about going inside to get a rope to tie him or something but then, I heard someone whistling deep inside the forest.


    Almost like a whisper...


    Almost like a silent whisper that I knew, in a way, was crawling on the ground.


    The noise was coming from the depths of the forest where the trail of blood was on.


    I remained very still, listening intently for any sign of movement or sound. My mind was racing with all the possibilities of what it could be. Was it an owl in the distance, or perhaps a bird making a whistling sound? Did I mishear due to stress? What was it?


    I didn''t hear anything else.


    I slowly let out my breath, didn''t even realize I was holding it. Must have been a bird. I leaned to the man lying on the ground again and tried to roll him onto the linen sheet with all my strength, holding his shoulder and torso.


    Although I jostled him a little, I was able to roll him this time. Now he was lying on his back on the sheet. The moonlight hit his copper-colored but pale face, gray lips, and shiny black hair. He was so young. My age, probably. My heart clenched. I tried to push my thoughts away and checked his head and neck for any wounds, but no blood was visible.


    Then, my eyes moved to his abdomen.


    His tunic was torn. No, not just the tunic. His abdomen was full of blood. My hands, my scalp started tingling. I couldn''t look anymore. He was going to die. No way he could survive this night. No way. Never. I knew. He is going to die, Mom.


    I stood up trying to hold back my tears but it was no good. I climbed a stair or two and reached for the sheet. I was hoping to be able to pull it without having to tie him up. I don''t know. I did not know anymore. I could not breathe.


    With all my strength, I pulled the sheet but it was too heavy for me. I let go of my hands for a second to take a deep breath, then leaned back to hold the sheet and, suddenly, something whistled in the distance.


    When I turned my head, I saw branches and bushes swaying in the dark.


    There was no wind.


    It was nor a human, nor a bird whistling.


    The whistle sounded more like a hiss, as it got closer.


    The branches swayed harder. The air was vibrating. The whole floor was shaking.


    I didn''t know what was coming, but I knew for sure what wasn''t. Not something sacred. Without taking my eyes off of the darkness, I grabbed the sheet and pulled the man up the stairs at the risk of tearing my arms off.


    As I dragged the man inside, the air around us grew thick with malevolent energy, and I caught a glimpse of it.


    A flicker of red, greasy scales and glowing yellow eyes, whose face contorted and twisted, shifting between human and reptilian forms.


    I will feast upon... your soul... your tender flesh... devour... every last limb... savoring... your screams... of agony...


    It was singing.


    I was numb as its body emerged from the trees. And its eyes fixed on us with a glowing, malevolent gaze.


    Its grin stretched wider and wider as its body grew bigger and bigger, its eyes transforming into those of a human. Cheeks and lips began to appear on its face, a huge, twisted snake-child, with rows of razor-sharp teeth.


    I''m losssst, and ssssscared, helllllp me.

 The Slain Man <6>

    I was frozen. I couldn''t believe what I was seeing was real.


    The forest fell into a suffocating silence as the serpent''s transformation unfolded before my eyes. Its elongated body twisted and contorted, sinews popping and bones cracking. The once scaled skin now was turning to fleshy lips and patches of human flesh, devoid of a nose that should have been there. Its face, a grotesque fusion of serpentine features and twisted child resemblance, contorted into a grin that just stretched and stretched. Tears streamed down its watery, humanlike eyes, while it was smiling at me.


    No. This couldn''t be true. I was still dreaming. I was either still asleep or hallucinating from fear. My mind, my body, and my emotions were frozen.


    Before I could understand what was happening, the snake suddenly curled up to attack us as if it was flying. An insane fear made my whole body tremble and melt. Thinking of nothing, I bent down, gathering all my strength and will in a second, I reached out and grabbed the sheet and dragged him in. The moment we stepped inside the house and closed the door, a thunderous bang hit the door, jolting the entire house. The walls started to shudder and the floor quaked beneath my feet. As I struggled to regain my footing, a heavyweight crushed down my entire body. The whole world turned black. The surroundings buzzed around me and I trembled uncontrollably, and collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe.


    I didn''t know where I was.


    I was suffocating in a dark void, deep within. I couldn''t scream. Somewhere far away, the world was collapsing. Glass shattered, the ground shook, and the earth and sky merged into one another. I remained motionless, but I was being tossed from one place to another. Every time I tried to speak, my throat constricted. Something was winding around my body, tightening slowly, squeezing my life out.


    What was happening? Was I in a dream? What was going on? Something was squeezing me so tightly that I couldn''t even move.


    Then I saw fires. Fires of various sizes, pale flames filling the entire void. They appeared out of nowhere.


    Perhaps they had always been there, but I was only just opening my eyes to them.


    I gazed at the fires, at the shapeless faces within each one. Glowing eyes filled with sorrow.


    I looked at them. I watched them.


    Whatever was squeezing my body began to burn. All the eyes, all the faces I was watching turned towards me, my glowing, blazing body.


    They could see me.


    They were coming for me.


    Somewhere far away, the windows shattered, their fragments scattering like stars. The terrified scream of a child pierced the air.


    When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on the floor of the cottage. The door was closed, and the air felt still and calm.


    Everything appeared normal. My ears were ringing. My head was spinning. I looked around trying to grasp what was going on. My gaze shifted to the wounded man lying near me on the sheets, his breathing shallow.


    As I sat up and looked at him, a mix of emotions flooded me. My heart pounded heavily in my chest. My legs trembled with fear. I stared at the man lying beside me for a while, still unable to believe what had happened. I watched his expressionless face, parted lips, and chest rising and falling with difficulty. My tears were poised to flow, but I couldn''t move. I couldn''t cry. I reached out and touch his cold hand.


    I struggled to grasp the reality of the situation. Everything felt unreal, like a hazy dream I couldn''t quite wake up from.


    What was it?


    Where was I? Where were we?


    The windows were intact, and the door remained closed. I was sitting on the floor of Ascula''s house. I looked around, scanning the room and the shelves. Not a single item had fallen or even moved. It was as if time had stood still. For a while, I remained motionless, straining my ears to listen. The only sound I could hear was the weak, raspy breath of the man lying next to me. There was no wind, not even a whisper outside.


    Had I seen a hallucination? Was I still trapped in a dream?


    He is going to die, Mom.


    A shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea what was happening. My senses felt numb as if they had been frozen. A sense of emptiness filled me, leaving me hollow inside.


    I turned my gaze towards the door as if expecting it to be torn off its hinges, and the ground beneath me to shift away. It felt like I would be trapped in that darkness forever. Perhaps I was already imprisoned in some way. Nothing around me seemed real. It was all an illusion, like the flickering light of a burning flame.


    A rasping sound rose from beside me, followed by a cough. When I turned my head to look, my mind snapped back to reality.


    I reached out towards him, my hand trembling slightly as I gently touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice filled with concern. "Do you hear me?" But he was in too much pain to hear me. His face contorted with agony, and his eyes remained closed.


    The weight of helplessness settled upon me. What was going on?


    My gaze shifted back to the door, but this time it didn''t seem like it would be torn off its hinges. It appeared colossal and sturdy as if it would protect us from whatever lurked outside.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Ascula was not only a healer but also a skilled enchantress. Within every door and window frame of her house, she had inscribed various protective charms of her own making. No malevolent spirit could enter this place. Their entry would be their demise. I knew it. I should feel safe. Although it was evident that its enchantment couldn''t fully shield me from the nightmares, Ascula had also imbued the talisman onto my chest. Nothing could harm me. Nothing could touch me. We were protected. Even if what I had witnessed was real, we were safe.


    I sprang to my feet, praying to the spirits in the sky to protect us. I would think about all of this when Ascula arrived in the morning. That''s when I would talk to her. Hurriedly, I grabbed a candle and a pair of scissors from one of the wooden shelves. With trembling hands, I struck a flint against a piece of steel, sparks flying into the air. After a few attempts, a small flame emerged, dancing at the tip of the wick. I carefully held the candle and placed it near the man lying on the floor. The flickering flame illuminated his face.


    I needed to see the condition of the wound. The man''s tunic was drenched in a vivid crimson, still wet with the blood I hadn''t seen until now. The metallic scent of the blood stung my nostrils. With trembling hands and shortness of breath, I carefully cut through his tunic, exposing the injured area.


    I was taken aback as I revealed the wound. It was larger and deeper than I had anticipated. The gravity of the situation hit me hard, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.


    I couldn''t help him. The bleeding seemed unstoppable. I couldn''t even see the extent of the damage amidst the sea of blood, but his organs could have been torn apart. They probably were. The fact that he had survived this long was nothing short of a miracle. I could not help him. I could not. I was just a simple girl who could make basic remedies and assist Ascula in treating the sick. I couldn''t stitch up a wound like this. I couldn''t do it. I did not know how to.


    He was going to die.


    Reality hit me hard once again.


    He is going to die, Mom.


    I felt trapped in a state of uncertainty. I couldn''t leave him to his fate, but I also didn''t know how to help him. Thoughts raced through my mind, yet clarity eluded me. My legs tensed, ready to spring into action, but something held me back. I was torn, indecisive about the best course of action. The weight of responsibility and the fear of making the wrong choice immobilized me, leaving me standing there, frozen in a state of hesitation.


    I had to try.


    I knew I had to do something.


    I looked at his pale face, distorted by pain. I couldn''t waste another moment.


    I needed to clean his wound first. I had to clean it as quickly as possible, to stop the bleeding. I needed to light the fireplace, prepare the needle and thread, and get clean cloth ready. I had to boil some water. Herbs, plants. I needed to tend to them. Breathe, breathe. I had to make a poultice. I would have to stitch up the wound. I needed to try. Breath. I could do it.


    With my heart pounding in my chest, I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself. My head was spinning like crazy.


    Okay.


    I rose to my feet and swiftly grabbed the candle, then I walked to ignite the fireplace. With a sense of urgency, I hastened to the supply room, scanning the shelves filled with an array of herbs. My mind raced, trying to recall the exact location of the ones I needed.


    The first logical step was to clean the wound with water and salt, or with vinegar and to stitch it up, but I hesitated, not wanting to take unnecessary risks while he was still in such a fragile state. Before stitching the wound, I could give him poppy milk to alleviate his pain. The more he could be eased, the better. Though I had never performed sutures on anyone before, I was willing to take the risk, but only under the condition that he remained unconscious.


    My hands were trembling still. I searched through the jars, desperately seeking the poppy seeds. My usual organization had eluded me, and frustration grew inside me.


    Then there it was, the jar of poppy seeds.


    I delicately measured out a small portion and crushed it into a fine powder. Carefully, I added the poppy powder to a cup of water, stirring it until the liquid took on a tinge of pale gold.


    I placed the cup of poppy milk by the fireplace, ensuring it was within reach. Summoning my last strength, I carefully dragged the injured man closer to the fireplace. Then I approached him, supporting his head as I brought the cup to his lips.


    "Drink this," I murmured, hoping that he would understand, and the milk would ease his suffering.


    Time seemed to stand still as I waited for the poppy to take effect, my gaze fixated on the man''s face, searching for any signs of relief. Even though I wanted to watch him, I could not wait.


    I carefully poured water from a nearby jug into a sturdy iron pot resting upon the open flames of the hearth. I delicately submerged the needle into it. While waiting for the water to boil, I went to the table to prepare a poultice that would help to heal the wound after I stitched it up.


    I gathered the calendula, comfrey, plantain, and lavender. Then I took a small amount of each dried herb and ground them together using a mortar and pestle until they formed a coarse powder. Crushing the herbs would help release their beneficial compounds. To create a paste-like consistency, I added warm water, as it was readily As the mixture took shape, I transferred the herbal blend into a clean bowl.


    After leaving the poultice on the table, I went to check on the young man. His face appeared more relaxed, yet his chest still rose and fell with a raspy rhythm. I knew he was breathing with all his remaining strength. Even if I stitched up the wound, I couldn''t restore the blood he had lost. Was it a mistake to give him the poppy infusion? It weighed heavily on my conscience. It would only add to his burden, considering how little life force he had left.


    I did not know. If only I had more time to contemplate.


    I approached the fireplace with a sense of heaviness in my heart and made my way to the boiling pot. The sound of the boiling water echoed in the room.


    I carefully retrieved the needle from the boiling water, using a pair of tongs to protect my hands from the scorching heat. I looked at the needle, feeling a mix of excitement and preemptive regret for what lay ahead. My stomach twisted with cramps, but I knew I had to proceed. Despite the discomfort and anxiety that gripped me, there was no turning back now.


    Oh, good spirits.


    I took a deep breath and approached the wounded man. With a mixture of warm water and salt in a small bowl, I dipped a clean cloth and gently cleaned the edges of the deep gash. The sight of the exposed flesh made my hands tremble, but I couldn''t afford to. I had to be precise, careful, and do my best. I could not faint either. Good, heavenly spirits, help me.


    With a needle and thread in hand, I leaned in closer, my focus intense. The books I had read provided some guidance, but this was my first time attempting such a delicate procedure. I knew I had to be steady, sewing each stitch with care. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing as I examined the deep, bloody wound. It was difficult to see the extent of the damage amidst the crimson pool. I feared that vital organs might have been torn. I carefully reached for a clean cloth soaked in warm water. Gently, I pressed it against the wound, applying just enough pressure to help cleanse away the excess blood.


    The blood-soaked cloth revealed fragments of torn tissue, but it was difficult to ascertain the exact nature of the damage. Frustration grew within me but I tried to remain calm. I would stitch the wound to the best of my ability. What else could I do?


    Taking a deep breath, I steadied my trembling hand and carefully guided the needle through the layers of skin at the bottom of the wound.


    O spirits of light and mercy,


    Spare this young man from death''s journey.


    And me.

 The Slain Man <7>

    I was about to faint.


    With every stitch, I fought back tears and battled the overwhelming urge to faint. My mind felt lighter than ever before. I tried to stay as calm as possible. I looked at his face from time to time, searching for any signs of consciousness, any indication that he was in pain. But his features remained still, devoid of any reaction at all. I didn''t know if I had given too much poppy, but it felt like he wasn''t in this world now. His consciousness seemed to be wandering in another realm.


    I turned my gaze away and refocused on my work. I couldn''t believe what I was doing. Shaking my head, I continued to take deep breaths. I couldn''t believe it. The thing in front of me wasn''t a piece of fabric; it was human skin. I was stitching a man with needle and thread. I was stitching a man. Without knowing what I was doing. With each movement, more blood drained from his wound. My hands were covered in blood. I was sweating profusely, beads of sweat rolling down my face even though the room was chilling. Time seemed to stand still as I worked, my mind filled with a mix of anxiety and doubt. Was this going to be enough? To sew up his wound like a raggedy doll? Good Gods and Spirits. It had to be. I had to believe. Doubt was a luxury I could not afford at this moment. I could join him in the realms he was wandering at any moment.


    Trying to be resilient, I continued to stitch his wound slowly and carefully, starting from the inside. I didn''t even know for sure if I was doing it right. With each stitch, I prayed for it to be effective, and in the end, for life to return to his pale face. I just continued my work, praying, and praying. I was reciting all the healing prayers I knew by heart. I wanted to express something myself with sincere feelings, but how?


    What was his name? Who was he?


    Thankful to the guiding spirits who led me to him, I pleaded that tomorrow he would be able to tell me his name. I pleaded that he would breathe and talk again. As my hands became stained with his bright red blood, I continued to stitch his wound. I pushed aside all other thoughts from my mind. Only tranquility and focus. Nothing else.


    As the last stitch was secured, I leaned back, a mix of exhaustion and relief washing over me. The wound was now closed. It was over. My hands were stained with the young man''s blood, I was drenched in sweat. I glanced at the young man''s face once more, hoping to see a flicker of life, but his stillness remained. What if I gave him too much poppy?


    I felt a tingling sensation in my hands as if the blood running through them had come alive. The face of the young man seemed different now. There was something unfamiliar, something I hadn''t noticed before. I couldn''t quite put a name to it. I was being drawn deeper into something unfamiliar, something that seemed to pull me in.


    Without thinking further, I leaned back. I had to cover the wound and apply the poultice I made now.


    I quickly got up, washed my hands and found a clean cloth. Then I returned to his bedside, sat next to him again. Applying the poultice on top, I hoped it would aid in the healing process. Then wrapped the injured area with the clean cloth, ensuring it was snug but not too tight.


    I gazed at the young man, his face peaceful yet shrouded in mystery. Who was he, and what had brought him to the depths of the forest? Questions swirled in my mind. A sense of unease crept into my thoughts as I sat beside him, watching his chest rise and fall. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remembered. The vivid memories of recent events played out in my mind. A chilling shiver ran down my spine as the image of the serpent flashed before my eyes. Were the things I witnessed real? I swiftly turned to survey the room, casting a glance at the door, the shelves, and the windows. Everything appeared to be in its rightful place. Could it have been a figment of my imagination? Or, what if it wasn''t?


    My gaze returned to the young man lying before me. What if that thing, the one that attacked him and followed him all the way here, was indeed the serpent? How could he have sustained such a wound? And at this late hour of the night? Moreover, how did he manage to make it this far? It was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived until I found him and stitched his wound.


    There were no signs of struggle outside, and the trail of blood droplets seemed to originate from the depths of the forest, where the serpent came from. It was evident that he had walked all the way here, from the forest. Had the serpent been following him?


    I took a deep breath.


    Was that thing a serpent?


    No.


    The answer was clear. I knew it in my heart.


    A cold breeze seemed to sweep through the room, sending shivers down my spine.


    The night was long and dark.


    As the night went on, I tended to his wounds, monitoring his condition with a heavy heart. I offered him water, adjusted his blankets, and spoke softly to him, hoping my words reach his unconscious mind. I fought against my weariness, knowing that every moment counts. Time seemed to stand still as I watched over him, my thoughts consumed with worry and prayers for his recovery.


    I sat by his side, observing his face intently, searching for any clues about who he was and what had happened to him. He had a commanding presence, with a sturdy, muscular frame that hinted at his strength. His body appeared vigorous and well-built. What had befallen him? The thought of losing him filled me with dread. I studied his features¡ªthe thick brows, the slender, arched nose, and the unkempt beard. He seemed to be in his late twenties at most.


    Would I ever discover his name? I hadn''t yet seen the color of his eyes; would I ever have the chance? Would I hear his voice, witness how he spoke? The uncertainty weighed heavily on my heart.


    Throughout the long hours that stretched into the night, his condition continued to deteriorate. I wanted to cherish every moment and be there to support him in any way I could. I wanted to pray for him, but I didn''t even know who was I praying for.


    His labored breaths were the only sound in the room. I tried to stay occupied, tending to his wounds, changing the bandages, and praying but the weight of helplessness and the presence of death crushed my soul. I longed for the sun to rise quickly, for someone to come to the house and share this burden with me, to help me.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.Restlessness overcame me. I gathered the courage to look out the window. I stood up and silently made my way toward the window, careful not to make any noise. I gently parted the closed curtain, allowing a sliver of light to enter. The night was still and silent. The moon was high in the dark sky. There was nothing more.


    I returned to his bedside. I felt the death creeping at the windows of the cottage, peeking inside. It was like a cold, skeletal hand, trying to reach out for him.


    "May the Great Spirits hear my plea," I prayed, "Spare this young man''s life, let him breathe the air of the living, and not be taken away to the realm of the dead. May his wounds heal, and his strength return, and may he walk and talk among us once again."


    As the night progressed, I continued to monitor his wound and pulse. Despite stoking the fire in the fireplace, his body was growing colder. But as I looked at his expressionless face, I sensed something different. It felt like there was a burning fire raging inside him, consuming him from within. I couldn''t comprehend it. I leaned closer to his body, trying to understand.


    I knew it, yet I couldn''t understand. It felt like there was a veil between us.


    A sense of unease washed over me. I placed my hands gently on his cold body, trying to feel the heat radiating from within.


    It was a contradictory, weird sensation. There were no words to describe how it felt. I closed my eyes and held my breath. It was as if something dark and rotten resided beneath his skin. The air around him grew heavy with a smoky essence, his very essence was being consumed by darkness.


    Although it was forbidden by Ascula, sometimes I would provide massages to relieve people''s pain, using my hands to relieve their discomfort. Aches and pains felt to me like different forms of negative energy. Perhaps what I was sensing was one of those. A strange feeling stirred in my stomach.


    I let my hands glide over his wound, feeling the burning flames within his cold body more intensely. Or perhaps it was all just my imagination. Taking a deep breath, I began to pray. I imagined a pure, white light flowing from the universe, particularly from the moon, towards my hands, growing stronger with each passing moment. I visualized this light entering through my hands and attempting to dispel the dark mist that enveloped his body. But it wasn''t working. Even in my mind, something was resisting.


    Taking a deep breath, I envisioned an even stronger light. I imagined all the good lights coming from the sun, the moon, the fireplace, and the candles, not just from this room but from all the fireplaces and candles in the world. I imagined the light streaming from the stars, the hearts, and the souls, gathering all the positive energy I could find. These lights illuminated both his body and my hands, which were now starting to burn from the cold. The room shimmered with radiance as the light-filled every corner.


    My eyes remained closed as I continued to pray, and the light I envisioned seemed almost blinding, piercing through my eyelids.


    In the realm of my imagination, shadows began to dance. They grew larger and larger, gaining color, shimmering, and materializing before me.


    I saw the young man.


    He was beneath a massive oak tree, so colossal that three people side by side couldn''t even embrace its girth. People surrounded him, and the sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow on the green grass. I could see the joy in his hazel eyes, as they crinkled with happiness, and his pearl-like teeth formed a beaming smile. I could feel his contentment. I watched him speak and laugh. The garden was crowded and lively, but none of the people around him caught my attention. I couldn''t take my eyes off him.


    I watched this young man, illuminating the surroundings in his pristine white shirt. An inexplicable connection, a sense of familiarity, bound my heart to him with compassion and gratitude. My heart fluttered with delight. At that moment, I couldn''t see anyone else but him.


    But then the vision started to shift once more.


    I saw him again.


    Clad in a black cloak, he stood alone in a pitch-black room, sweating and trembling.


    The emotions I sensed were completely different now. Fear and panic consumed the room, emanating from him. The room was dark, and I couldn''t see anything else. However, he was staring at a spot without taking his eyes off as he could see very well, trembling. His eyebrows were furrowed with sorrow and unease, his lips drooping, and his forehead was covered in beads of sweat. His eyes no longer sparkled, no longer crinkled. They were filled with intensity as he just stared. I wanted to approach, to touch his still-warm body and talk to him, to warn him of something, but I couldn''t move. Within the confines of the dim room, I could hear whispers, though I couldn''t comprehend their meaning. But I knew, they commanded him to do something dreadful. I could hear them, but I wasn''t certain if he could. He was terrified. He was helpless.


    I saw his lips moving silently.


    He was praying.


    I longed to say something, to apologize, to offer help, but again, I couldn''t. I extended my hands, reaching out. I tried to absorb the darkness in the room with my hands, channeling all the light from within my heart to him, to his trembling body, with all my strength. It wasn''t a coldness, but rather a tranquility, a coolness emanating from the light. It would soothe his burning soul and warm his shivering body. I knew. I understood. He would understand it too.


    The feeble lights emanating from my bare hands reached him. As the lights illuminated the surroundings, the young man''s blurry and colorless face brightened up. I could discern his sweaty forehead, black strands of hair falling on it, his hazel eyes, long eyelashes, and well-defined lips. The walls of the room were still whispering to him, trying to capture his attention. I wanted to silence them. I wanted to calm the young man. I closed my eyes and thought about the fires I had seen tonight, how they suddenly appeared and rescued me from the dark abyss I was in and the people I saw within them. They had illuminated my world, and I had seen them. I had also burned to illuminate them, and they had seen me too.


    As soon as I felt a pair of eyes on me, I opened my eyes.


    He looked at me.


    He saw me. His gaze changed.


    Startled, I opened my eyes.


    I flinched. Overwhelmed by all those images, I withdrew and found myself in the room, opening my eyes beside his bed.


    Shaking my head from side to side, I tried to regain my composure. I turned my attention to the young man lying on the bed, hoping that perhaps I had truly touched his soul lurking in the depths somehow and brought back his consciousness. I looked at his face, but it remained the same. Although he no longer gasped, he lay there unconscious, with shallow breaths.


    Yet, it seemed as if the fire within him had been extinguished. The only things still burning were my hands now. From the tips of my fingers to my elbows, a dreadful tingling sensation, a burning sensation had begun. I wanted to wash my hands and then light some sage incense to keep bad spirits away.


    Away. Or outside?


    I glanced towards the door, waiting for a movement. However, it stood still.


    Taking a deep breath, I tried to stay calm. I changed my mind about washing my hands and lighting incense. I decided to wait by his side for a while and pray.


    I looked at his hands, motionless by his sides, with calloused and strong palms, and nails filled with dirt and dried blood. I shook my head in disbelief. How? How could he have ended up here? I wondered if he had loved ones as I imagined, a family waiting for his return.


    I hoped he did. And I hoped I helped him ease his pain a little.


    I gently reached out and held his hands, the same hands that I could not touch in my dreams. I closed my eyes, praying for him to see the light of the morning.

 The Price of Compassion

    The night was dark and long.


    I spent the entire night trying to keep the stranger who lay on the sheets warm with layers of blankets. I diligently stoked the fire in the fireplace as it dwindled, and I replenished the candles, whispering prayers as each one burned out. As the effects of the milk wore off, he grew restless, tossing and turning in bed moaning, even though his eyes remained closed. At every opportunity, I wiped his sweaty skin and moistened his parched lips with water. His breath was so delicate as if it could dissipate at any moment. I didn''t know what more I could do while he was still unconscious. Time seemed to stand still. Despite no light seeping into the grand hall through the distant window curtains, I occasionally turned my head and glanced at them. I longed for morning to come, for someone to arrive, even if it was just Lea, Nadea, or anyone else. We were completely alone.


    I tried not to dwell on what had happened. It would pass. I would find answers eventually. Ascula must have known what needed to be done. She always knew. I had to dismiss Lea''s unwavering insistence on the immutability of fate. I had to confide in Ascula about my dreams. Deep down, I already knew, and it had been proven before my very eyes: the presence of this nameless man, lying on those stairs, and now here we were. Lea had been mistaken. I had been mistaken, by accepting what I heard.


    While he struggled to hold onto life, I held onto his soul, silently praying to the celestial spirits above, begging them not to claim him. I hadn''t seen those visions in vain. I had to help him. If my efforts would be useless and this young man, despite everything, would still die in my hands, why had he visited my dreams? Why had I seen him? Even if I couldn''t make sense of my other dreams, I decided to tell Ascula everything. If I had prevented this, I could prevent the others as well. Oh, if only he could survive until morning. If only he could.


    Hadn''t I just seen him again, a moment ago? Under the shelter of an oak tree, laughing joyfully with other people, then waiting alone in a room, quietly praying. He had turned in the darkness and looked deep into my eyes. Just a moment ago.


    He would endure.


    We were going to meet again.


    I looked at the young man, whose cold, calloused hands I held. His bronze skin glistened with sweat from the flickering candlelight. I gently withdrew one hand from his grasp, delicately wiped his face with my handkerchief, running it tenderly, then smoothing out the unruly strands of thick locks that fell on his eyes. Please, do not let his soul ascend to the skies just yet. Let him live a while longer among us.


    As the night deepened, the room grew colder, and shadows danced upon the walls of the hall. My heart grew heavy, and my mind became clouded. I was sleepy and fatigued. I tried to struggle against slumber and to continue caring for my patient. Whenever my eyelids threatened to close, the image of the twisted, half-human, half-creature face of the serpent slithered before my eyes, jolting me awake. I was occasionally startled, mistakenly believing the house to be trembling once more. A part of me began to doubt the reality of the serpent I had seen. However, the worlds outside remained eerily silent, with no crickets, no whispers of the wind. Just an endless abyss of darkness and an unsettling silence. Stillness. Everything was too still. Almost suffocating.


    It was an endless darkness and silence. My hands tingled with an eerie sensation. I shifted within my cloak, absentmindedly gazing at the walls. The room was warm enough not to make me shiver.


    Then suddenly, it turned cold. I felt myself submerge into the depths of icy waters. In an instant, everything vanished, leaving me disoriented and bewildered.


    I had no idea where I was. I was wet and cold, dampness clung to my skin, seeping into my bones. I tried to open my mouth, to call out to someone, but I couldn''t. I had no lips. No tongue. I couldn''t see where I was, for I had no eyes. Somewhere in the distance, the world was crumbling. The sense of impending doom engulfed everything that remained of me. Worry. Anger. Resentment. Grief. Fear.


    What has remained of me?


    What have I become?


    Then, flames ignited.


    I found myself traversing an interminable corridor, where darkness prevailed above, save for the cold, ethereal glow of the moon. Along the path, fires of various sizes and colors continued to materialize. Flames flickered on the ground while others danced freely in the air, stretching towards unreachable heights, thousands of trembling flames extending from the emptiness to the nonexistent end of the corridor.


    Perhaps they had always been there, never gone.


    Only I hadn''t opened my eyes.


    Without moving, I watched the faces in the fires; their scattered, shapeless, blurry faces. Though I knew they were there, I couldn''t discern their features. Their eyes were crystal clear. Eyes brimming with sorrow, with helplessness, with lips that moved silently in their own way.


    My body burned. Flames ignited an inferno within the depths of my chest.


    I have the light and the hell, I thought.


    The fire that consumed me did not illuminate the corridor, unlike the others. As I burned, and burned, radiating light with fury, and grief, my light darkened the holy sky. And then, as if the flames possessed a collective consciousness, all the eyes I had watched, eyes that were filled with sorrow and vulnerability, turned towards me.


    Stolen story; please report.


    They saw me.


    They knew me.


    I yearned to reach out and embrace them, to bring them close. Come to me, I wanted to say, all of you. If you come to me, you won''t be cold. I will grow you in my heart. You will be warm, and you will be safe.


    No one will harm you.


    But I couldn''t speak.


    A piercing sound suddenly shattered everything I beheld, dispersing them like ripples in water. A loud crashing noise echoed in the distance, growing nearer and more persistent. I tried to comprehend what was happening. Even though everything had disappeared, the moon and the faces, I still burned, my chest aching as if pierced by a dagger.


    Breathing became increasingly difficult.


    From my blazing hands, a warm, gentle breeze passed through. I looked at my hands and saw something strange, thick and rigid fingers intertwined with mine. At first, I couldn''t  make sense of it.


    When I realized that the sound was the forceful knocking on the door and I was still at the cottage, I was about to jump out of the chair. Yet I noticed that the sound had not only startled me but also awakened the young man lying on the bed before me. Beneath partially opened, drowsy eyelashes, his brown eyes wandered. My heart pounded with excitement. "Are you okay?" I asked, leaning, "Can you hear me?"


    The brown eyes stared vacantly at my face. Warmth filled my heart anyways.


    The door was struck once again.


    With joy and thrill, I released his hands and rushed towards the entrance of the house. I had no idea when morning had arrived or when I had drifted off to sleep. I didn''t know when or how I had moved the young man to the bed, or how I had cared for his wound. One moment he lay on the ground, the next he rested in bed, one moment lifeless, the next alive.


    Sunlight was seeping into the house through the curtains. The serpent I saw, or thought I saw, during the night didn''t even cross my mind. Without a second thought, brimming with happiness, I opened the door. Nadea, Ascula, and the other girls were standing on the doorstep. The world slipped away from beneath my feet. Taking a deep breath, I tightly hugged Nadea.


    "What''s going on?" Tysha asked with concern. "Why are you here? Why did you lock the door?"


    "I did not." I loosened my arms with a smile and stepped back from Nadea. "I waited for you all night. I was terrified you wouldn''t come for a few more days. I prayed all night."


    "What''s happening?" Nadea looked at me with confusion.


    My heart was still pounding. Excited and proud, I looked at the girls first and then at Ascula. The healer stood before me, adorned in her silver cloak adorned with golden-threaded oak tree embroidery, and wielding her enormous staff. Her deep, cold blue eyes stared at me. Ascula was always like this, but for some reason, I didn''t like the look in her eyes this time. I sensed my joy fading, replaced by an unsettling feeling, and a shiver ran through me. I didn''t know what to say all of a sudden. I didn''t know how to explain what had happened. Everything that occurred last night seemed absurd now, and the words failed to form on my tongue.


    Avoiding eye contact, I took a few steps back and opened the door wider for them to see. I retreated to the side, near the wall, and pointed to the young man lying in bed.


    The girls looked at the spot I indicated, puzzled. Then, with shock and concern on their faces, they passed by me and entered the house. I heard them leaning over the bed, speaking to him, but I couldn''t comprehend their words. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, happiness, and turmoil intertwined.


    When Ascula turned her head towards the dirt path ahead, I then noticed the carriage and the driver waiting. The healer nodded her head in gratitude to the driver. As the carriage turned and retreated along the path, Ascula, without casting a glance at me or uttering a word, walked past me and entered the house.


    The silence and Ascula''s distant expression bothered me. Ascula had never been the warmest person, but I could sense that she wasn''t sharing my concern and had something else on her mind. Unsure of what to do, I stood at the door and watched her. Then, closing the door behind me, I entered as well.


    The girls made way for Ascula, as she approached. Their head turned towards me one by one. Nadea shook her head, seemingly questioning what what had happened, but without looking at any of them and maintaining a slight distance from the bed, I watched Ascula. I felt deeply uneasy.


    "The young man," the Healer said in a calm, authoritative voice. "Can you hear me? Can you understand me?"


    The young man seemed not fully recovered. He was visibly disoriented. Taking deep breaths, he looked at Ascula with half-empty eyes and shook his head hesitantly.


    "I''m Ascula. I am the High Healer of the Five Southern Villages. Can you tell me what happened? How were you injured? How did you get here?"


    "I don''t remember," the young man replied weakly. "But I know you."


    "Is that so?"


    "Yes... I saw you in the castle."


    Ascula nodded. Slowly uncovering the sheets, she examined him, noticing the bandage on his abdomen. She paused.


    I couldn''t see Ascula''s face, but a chilling sensation ran through me. Unintentionally, I took a couple of steps forward before quickly stopping myself. I couldn''t comprehend why she acted like this. I knew her. She was mad at me. I wanted to explain myself, even though I didn''t understand the reason for her anger or how to defend myself. "I found him outside the house last night," I explained. "The wound on his abdomen was very deep. It was split from top to bottom. He had lost a lot of blood."


    Ascula appeared indifferent to my presence. Without responding, she reached for the scissors next to the bed and started cutting the bandages. I wanted to get closer to the bed, see her face, and talk to her again. It was unfair for her to be angry with me for intervening. I knew very well that she was upset. Her stubbornness and assigning me cleaning tasks as her way of punishment for something that happened a few months ago were childish and know she was mad at me for this? It was unjust. Should I have left him to die?


    If I wasn''t going to heal people, if I wasn''t going to do my best, why did she keep me around?


    I leaned towards Ascula, looking at her intently, but she ignored me completely. "I had to do something; he would have died otherwise. I couldn''t just wait until morning," I said, hoping to justify my actions. "I was alone. All alone. I didn''t know what else to do."


    She remained silent, cutting the bandages without lifting her gaze. Then, without turning her head, she asked in a subdued voice, "Do you work at Lord Sillavont''s castle, son?"


    My throat tightened, and my face grew warm.


    "Yes, I am Sir Grimwald''s apprentice," he replied hardly, meeting my eyes as he spoke. They were the same brown eyes I had seen in my dream, eyes that had shimmered with laughter.


    "Sir Grimwald? The Lord''s blacksmith? What''s your n-"


    Ascula''s voice trailed off, and a heavy silence filled the room.


    I turned around to understand what was happening. The Healer squinted her eyes, furrowed her brows, focused on examining the young man''s wound with a clenched jaw.


    Trembling and reluctantly, I also looked at the wound. I couldn''t shake off the feeling of unease, fearing that the wound might be infected or worsening because of me.


    However, there was no sign of infection.


    No trace of blood.


    There was nothing there.


    The wound had completely disappeared.