Chapter 1

A hooded figure walked slowly through the heavy mist, his weathered boots treading in surprising silence on the muddy path despite a sword strapped to his back and heavy bags on his shoulders. An expansive field of flowers surrounded his path, painting an ocean of deep purple shades to each side. But he was uninterested in the scene of beauty around him, in fact he was noticeably cautious.

The man was headed for a small, isolated village. In his baggage were supplies ready for trade, and tools for his craft. The village of his destination held no more than twenty occupants, and he usually only visited them once a month to sustain his sequestered lifestyle. It was mere happenstance that this week he’d decided to pay an extra visit. There wasn’t a real reason. Perhaps he’d merely felt lonely.

As the mud beneath his feet turned to paved stone and the village finally came into sight, he saw a little boy in the distance stop what he was doing and wave from the closest huts.

“He’s here again Mother!” The boy shouted as the man came upon their dewy fence, “the doctor from Devilshood!”

The man smiled at his welcome and pulled back his hood, revealing a head of auburn hair, and a face of rough, masculine features. He chuckled at the sounds of panicked clambering and commotion from within the dishevelled hut that the boy had just run into, and shortly after, a pretty young lady of no more than twenty years of age burst out from the wooden doors.

“Oh, the six spirits and beyond! I did not expect you to grace us with your presence again so soon doctor!” She said, flustered and blushing from her surprise, “Was your journey through the fields without trouble?”

“Yes, the fields were no problem; but thank you for your concern Sansa.” He replied.

The man would never admit it, but Sansa’s animated presence lent a warmth to his heart. A particular warmth that he had missed on the other side of those purple fields.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Sansa sighed in relief, dramatically clutching her bosom in one hand, “There are still times when I cannot fathom how any man could manage to cross those fields once a month.”

The man chuckled.

“No, no. It is nothing to be proud of” He murmured,

“On the other hand, I see Sil is doing quite well.” He motioned toward the hut, “The boy seems as energetic and boisterous as ever.”

“Ah yes.” Sansa responded with a bright smile, “It is all thanks to the miracles you work, dear doctor.”

“No. It is through your efforts that he has grown up so well.” The man smiled softly, then briefly paused.

“Is there something afoot in the village? Apart from Sil, it seems no one is out and about.”

“Well…” Sansa replied, her face visibly darkening with thought, “The village head… though we just troubled you a week ago…his condition had only worsened.”

The man tilted his head in concern. A week ago the chieftains sickness was minor, arguably un-needing of treatment. But the possibility of a severe misjudgement made him uneasy.

“Take me to his hut then.” He muttered after a while, “If what I suspect is true, I’ll need to see him immediately.”

As Sansa guided the man towards the chieftains hut, he, even from far away, quickly noticed a faint, but obvious scent drifting from the direction they were headed. It was a familiar scent, but it was also a scent which, worryingly, sent a chill down his spine.

As he approached the hut, he blocked Sansa from getting any closer with an outstretched arm.

“It may not be safe. Stay outside.” He ordered.

Sansa wanted to refuse, but eventually merely nodded with a look of concern etched upon her face.

The man nodded back, then promptly entered the hut and shut the door behind him.

Inside, the scent he had caught before hung oppressively in the air. In the corner of his eye, he caught the elderly man known as the chieftain lying limp on the only bed in the corner of the hut. Even without any diagnosis he could already tell that the chieftain had been extremely weakened, and upon closer inspection, his symptoms were severe, to an alarming extent.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The chieftains skin was deathly white. The usual sheen of life accompanying the colours of the living person was no-where to be seen. Beneath that sickly pale skin, a faint purple could be seen coursing through engorged veins, and with a press of the finger, the chieftains muscles seemed to sag from decay, refusing to bounce back. All remnants of doubt had left the man’s mind as he continued to inspect the barely breathing chieftains wreck of a body. There was only one possible sickness, with only one possible cause.

Without a second thought, he immediately unpacked his bags and began preparing a mix of dried roots and herbage. It was crucial that he began treatment immediately.

Suddenly, a faint rustling caught his attention. It was the chieftain. Beyond belief, he was still conscious despite his horrendous condition.

“Old man, I thought you had promised me to remain far, far away from the fields.” The man glanced towards the chieftains face as he worked the medicine.

The chieftain turned his head weakly, then smiled as he faced his doctor.

“Ha. My village is next to the fields, yet you expect me to hide far away?” He replied in a defiant whisper.

The man sighed, “You know what I mean.”

“…hmm”

“You would never have gotten this bad if you hadn’t wander too deep into those damn fields.” The man frowned in frustration, “You went in didn’t you. Again.”

The chieftain put up a brave smile.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I did.” He replied.

“So you did. and I assume... to remember her.”

The chieftain was silent for a moment.

“To love like I did-”

“It’s not worth your life now.” The man cut in.

The chieftain paused again, then murmured under his breath.

“…perhaps you would feel differently… if you had ever loved or been loved truly.”

The man hesitated. His face twisted into an unreadable emotion.

“…Well…” He replied slowly after a while, “perhaps.”

The room fell silent, and for a long while, the only noise was the sounds of a grinding pestle and mortar. As the hour passed, the man patiently fed portions of the healing mixture to the chieftain. Pouring sachet after sachet of multi-coloured powders into his mouth and washing down with water. With every portion, normal colours returned slowly to the old man’s sickly cheeks, until eventually, he fell quietly into a peaceful sleep. When the mixture finally ran dry and the man had run out of ingredients, he finally stood up and pat himself clean.

“Chieftain… you…” He sighed as he stood over the resting body of his patient, “you’re still as inconsiderate of a man as ever”

At least, now, the procedure was mostly complete. But the man’s expression hardened. The next part was the hardest.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations enveloping his body. The tingling of his nose at the musk of the Devilshood, the pain in his wrist from the hours of medicinal grinding, the condensation upon his skin from the sweat of his concentration. Gingerly, he touched the intricate group tattoos that embraced his upper arms and murmured a silent spell.

Slowly but surely, the temperature of the room began to rise, the atmosphere becoming positively electric. As the room elevated into burning heat, sparks of charged energy arced through the air, bouncing off walls and furniture, leaving burn marks in their wake. In midst of the chaos, the Man delicately formed an arcane gesture with his hands.

The mark of the God of Life.

Suddenly, a burst of energy, a colourful myriad of lights formed in the middle of his palm. He held within his hand a little ball of coloured brilliance. As the spell complete, the world around him began to calm. The temperature shot back to normal, leaving the man surprisingly cold despite the warm and humid day outside. The man shivered, then chuckled at his success. It was finished, the last step of his procedure. In a smooth motion, he placed the ball of light upon the chieftains chest and watched as the colour faded into the old man’s body.

It was done.

The man sat down, exhausted, on the floor of the makeshift hut and looked to the room around him. It was all grey, drained of colour. A price paid, for the healing of the chieftain.

Suddenly, the door to the hut slammed open, and Sansa appeared with a look of panic on her face. The man said nothing, but simply nodded. Without a word, Sansa rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the mysterious man and burst into tears. They stood there for a few minutes, comforted and comforting, until the man gently pushed her to one side.

“You did it again. The miracle.” She whispered, “The forbidden ritual.”

The man sighed.

“Well.” He replied chuckling, “Not so much forbidden, just difficult to do.”

Sansa shook her head in disbelief but did not speak. Until finally she found the courage to ask.

“When will you be back?”

“In a month.” The man replied simply.

Sansa sighed, then nodded.

“Well. Stay safe doctor.”

The man nodded back.

“You too, Sansa.”

For the rest of the day the doctor ran his rounds and traded goods for his journey home. Each member of the village thanked him for the chieftains recovery, and he accepted their gifts with grace. But as the day ended, he left, as always, into the fields and onto a place where no one had ever been. Leaving the village mostly unchanged, so that it may seem that he was never even there.

“Why does he live beyond the Devilshood Mother?” asked Sil as he sat by the fence with his mother, watching the doctor leave, “He should live happily with us!”

Sansa chuckled at his child’s youthful optimism.

“Yes, I agree.” Sansa replied as she looked out over the field of flowers, “But he won’t, because he cannot forgive himself for something he did.”

Sil frowned, confused. “What could be something so bad that you can’t even live with other people ever again?”

Sansa sighed, she herself frowning in sadness.

“I don’t know Sil.” She murmured under her breath, “I don’t know.”

- End Prologue -