Pain racked Gilla’s body. The putrid stench of disease filled her lungs with every labored breath. Fighting aching muscles, she lifted herself from where she had collapsed on the pavement, moving her hands to avoid resting on blisters. Her head felt as if it was going to explode, and the change in position made her want to vomit. She forced herself to swallow the rising bile in the back of her raw and searing throat. She gently shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts without making herself sicker.

She was not entirely sure what had happened. After Gilla’s discussion with her father, they had gone through the town, one at a time, curing people, starting with the sickest person they knew. It had not been long before word slipped from the mouth of one overjoyed person or another, and she and her father ended up in the town hall surrounded by insistent neighbors and strangers. Most of the issues were minor, like a sore back or an aging grandparent, and many just wanted to see the healing in action. Other than the few who had to be berated to calm down, most were understanding, if eager.

Gilla remembered relaxing in one of the meeting chairs across the room from the commotion. She had been smiling all, to the point that her jaw had begun to hurt, something she could not imagine now; there was nothing left to smile about.

Just before everything went wrong, she had slipped her hand into her pocket to fiddle with the blessing Rhea had given her at the start of the day—the morning felt so long ago. Turning the coin over, she traced the engravings in the smooth metal, until she had felt a sharp ridge at the center that she had not noticed before. She removed it from her pocket and held it up in front of her. The terror that had washed over Gilla was cold as ice. In the center of the coin she found a small, pin-sized hole, but more than that, the engravings were slightly different: where the blessing coin had an eye in the center, the coin before her did not. Somehow, the coins had become swapped.

Time had slowed down, then. Before Gilla had had time to react or call a warning, people began screaming, a chorus of harrowing, ear-piercing shrieks and wails that she would never forget. The effect had moved like a wave, flowing across the room. Boils formed on the skin of one person before Gilla’s eyes, spreading from their fingers and down their arms. And where they had touched another, more boils blossomed. People had made futile attempts to flee. They had fled to the doors and the far walls the moment they realized what was happening. But no one escaped. Then the coughing began, blood spewing across the room, and where it had fallen, the sickness bloomed. All their pushing and shoving to get away had only caused it to spread like wildfire. Gilla thought she caught a glimpse of Pana standing in the middle of the room amid the chaos, her arms raised and a wide maniacal smile stretched across her face, but Gilla was unsure if that had been real. A hallucination, maybe, or her anguish trying make sense of things or shift the blame.

The terror on the face of Gilla’s father was still etched clearly in her mind. She could not remember the last time he had held her in his arms, and it would have been a fond memory if not for the screaming and panic. Reaching the far end of the park, her father had stopped and turned back toward the hall. For a moment, she had thought they were safe, then she fell, and her father landed in the grass beside her, screaming at the boils that had appeared on his hands raised in front of his face.

Holding herself upright against the strain of her aching muscles, Gilla tore her burning eyes from her father’s stiff body, frozen in perpetual pain and shock with his fingers hooked and rigid, and looked toward the road littered with the silent dead. She knew she would soon join them. Jonnathan lay curled up in his mother’s arms. Both gaped in her direction, as if their wide, terror-stricken stares blamed her for their sorrow.

Gilla let her head drop in exhaustion and rolled onto her back. She closed her eyes, waiting. Not much longer and she would join them all. She would die, and the pain would stop. The blazing sun high in the midday sky seared her tender, blistered skin, but she did not have the will to try to cover it.

The sound of footsteps on the road stopped near her head. It took effort to open her eyes again.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Well, this is a right mess,” said the old store clerk, standing beside Rhea.

“Poor girl.” Rhea bent over Gilla, a blend of pity and disappointment on her glimmering face. Her eyes sparkled on the brink of tears. The goddess reached down to touch Gilla’s forehead.

“Stay back,” Gilla tried to scream, but only a frantic, hoarse whisper escaped.

Rhea looked amused, then. “Don’t worry. You can’t make me sick. I cannot heal you either, but with enough luck, I can keep you from death.”

Gilla weakly brushed the woman’s hand away and reached for her father. “Please, help him,” she whispered. And then she rolled to reach for Jonnathan and his mother. “Help them all, please.”

“They are already gone, child.” the shopkeeper’s face was twisted in a mix of sadness and disgust as he looked around at the bodies.

Gently but firmly, Rhea pushed Gilla flat onto her back. “I’m sorry,” she said. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I wish there was more I could do, but they are beyond my power. I cannot undo what has been done, but … where is the coin?”

Pointing toward the town hall, Gilla said, “In there, I think.”

The goddess sprinted into the building and returned to Gilla’s side just as quickly. Rhea placed the coin on Gilla’s head, pressed it firmly with her palm until Gilla thought her skin was going to bleed from the indentation. At the same time, she stabbed the sword point unto Gilla’s chest, then snatched them both up quickly. Gilla felt a cold rush like water pass through her body, and then something she could only describe as vile flowed out of her and into the objects. When it was over, she did not feel healthy, but she did not feel as though she was going to die, either.

Rhea sat next to her and pulled Gilla’s head onto her lap. The goddess ran her fingers through Gilla’s hair to soothe her, but she barely felt it. Her thoughts were a jumble of sorrow, horror, and loss, the events of the day playing on repeat.

“I know what you must have been thinking when you took these,” the clerk started, pointing at Gilla with the bit of his pipe, “but no mortal can use them without risk. They are created from the gods’ own wills, and unpredictable in the wrong hands.” He sighed. “It will be a good example for others, at least.”

“And a terrible lesson to have to learn.” Rhea kissed Gilla gently on the forehead. “I am sorry for your loss. You will live a good life, I will see to that myself. Help her up.”

The clerk pulled Gilla to her feet, and to her surprise, she found she was strong enough to stand. “Don’t you worry. We will find a place for you,” he said, his smile splitting his beard again. That smile did not touch his eyes, which seemed to quiver on the verge of crying.

“You’re coming with us, then, Pyrien, sir?” Rhea asked the clerk.

Gilla felt a vague hint of surprise amid the heartache that had filled her after the physical pain had vanished: Pyrien, the eidolon of fire and leader of the gods had been living among them all that time as a normal human, tending a store that she visited nearly every day. It did not matter any longer; there was no one left to shop.

He looked around with his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice. There’s not much left here … for either of us. I’ll tag along for now, if you’ll have me, that is.” Patting Gilla’s head, he gave her a comforting grin. It did little to ease her.

“Of course, Pyrien.” The weak smile Rhea gave him did not touch her eyes. Full of anguish, they took one last look around at the calamity before starting down the street.

Gilla was numb. She let them lead her in a daze by one hand, while she used the other to wipe the tears that streamed from her eyes uncontrollably. Out of town they went, leaving the death of all she ever knew behind her.