Debbie awoke to a swollen cheek, her mind still enchanted by dreams of being a princess with fairies swirling around her head. In her dream, she found herself reprimanding Mary for her perceived insolence.

In the dream, the slap unfolded as a straightforward disagreement, a moment where Mary defied Debbie’s command. However, the impact resonated with a sharp sting, almost as if it were a genuine slap.

“Kneel, you wretched witch,” commanded Debbie, and this time, in both her dream and reality, Mary delivered a genuine slap.

“SMACK!”

Debbie bounced off the forest floor, settling onto her knees. Her gaze fixated on Mary through a haze of swelling. Her vision struggled to stabilize, details flickering in and out of focus. Each shake from Mary and every beam of sunlight piercing her eyes brought new fragments of clarity.

She realizes, for some reason, that she has slept all alone in the forest for the entire day.

“Did the mist take your brains with it?” Mary yelled at Debbie.

Debbie shook her head, displeased with the unfolding dream. “Show me the first one,” she groaned, only to witness another approaching slap before everything turned black once again.

“What do I do with this girl?” Mary sighed and concealed Debbie within a heap of leaves. With another pressing matter at hand, carrying a little girl would only escalate the danger.

After offering a small prayer, Mary ventured deeper into the forest, hoping no one would discover her or Debbie. She soon reached the spot where Ric lay unconscious and meticulously inspected the area. As she suspected, a pool of blood saturated the ground. After further examination, she returned, carrying Debbie in her arms.

“Intentional,” Mary muttered, fury evident in her eyes.

Mary also feared that, upon learning about her visit, her children might initiate efforts to reclaim their lost lands. She did not comprehend the intricacies of worlds, nor the reasons behind the Fea’s retreat, but she firmly believed that no one withdraws without intending to strike at a later date.

Her children, the people, clung to the miracle, their hope bolstered by its presence. Unlike them, she didn’t place her trust in an invisible shield.

Miracles and myths are double-edged blades; you never know which end swings first or doubles back for a second strike.

All of Mary’s worries came true once they entered the town of Hope. This town didn’t exist on any map; not even the citizens of Cathel perceived its existence, despite it enveloping the great walls of Cathel. The people and area around the walls were treated as discarded trash, and Mary renamed it hoping to instill hope—a myth for the citizens of Hope.

Mary prayed for the first edge, where everyone unites and fights for a better future, while simultaneously fearing the second edge, as it might bleed them dry and cripple them to a state where they never dare to venture out for hope.

The hundredth story finally drew the blade out of its scabbard, and the first blade was poised for sharpening.

Mary had awaited this moment all her life, but when it finally arrived, she could only see the second blade being sharpened alongside the first. After all, they were part of the same sword.

Power comes at a cost, so she chose freedom instead. Mary aspired to achieve victory without shedding a single drop of blood, whether it be the blood of her children or others.

In times of power, everyone labeled her as naïve, including her children. Yet, with age comes stubbornness, and Mary believed one has to find the right place to plant their sword to find freedom.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Placing the sword in your foe’s heart will never end the cycle of hate. Shift the same sword a few inches to the side and into the ground, and it can pave the path for peace.

The heavens heard her cries and sent a healer. Now she could bring salvation to everyone who dreamt of it. Mary understood that without struggle, there is no peace, or rather, there is no value in peace.

One needs to witness hate to understand love.

A price is required to cherish a boon.

That’s why the heavens sent a child for her to nurture—a test of her resolve. While she worried her time was limited, now she couldn’t depart unless the child took on the mantle of hope.

The heavens sent healers during the [Apocalypse], but everyone misjudged the heavenly signs.

Their purpose was to bring peace to this world, not merely to win the war.

Even Mary misjudged them, assuming they were sent to protect others and grant them a second chance at life. However, they always returned to the battlefield, fighting for reasons as trivial as pride, honor, and land.

Only after witnessing a miracle did she realize: that the gods had sent them to heal the wounds of hate and sow the seeds of love.

Mary spotted the townhouse in the distance, and by her instructions, the people stayed away from the townhouse where Ric rested.

Heavens sent a healer again, and this time the price...

Mary stepped into the compound and glanced at Debbie’s face, noting the wounds healing at a visible rate. A beautiful smile formed on Debbie’s face, a testament to the intense healing aura surrounding her. Yet, to Mary’s dismay, all she saw was a demonic grin overlapping Debbie’s face—a smile she had witnessed not too long ago on Ric.

…The price was beyond any dragon’s treasury.

Mary left Debbie on the floor and headed inside alone, signaling the others to take her, while warning them not to follow.

The townhouse had no walls or doors stopping someone from entering. People had enough walls in their hearts, so Mary didn’t see a reason to build any physical ones. However, at this moment, she wished at least one separated her and the kid from others.

Every step filled Mary with immense power. It was as if she regained her lifespan, the closer she got to Ric.

Ric lay at the end of the hall. His eyes were closed, yet they darted around as if he perceived everything in the area. The crude bandages were replaced with better leaves and knots to hold them firm. Following Mary’s instructions, they even tied Ric to the bed, restricting his movement.

Her eyes shifted to a walking stick nearby as painful memories flooded her mind.

Ric had already spotted Mary. No other body reeked of death worse than hers. ‘How pathetic,’ he frowned. Mary’s body was too worn out, and his initial plan to replenish her life force had failed.

‘She needs immortality more than me,‘ he mused, opening his eyes and greeting Mary with a blink.

The sudden fluctuations he sensed were gone, so he retraced her steps and spotted a walking stick. ‘A few stages shy of becoming a cursed tool,’ he noted, and followed Mary’s gaze as she looked back at the stick, witnessing her entire being shudder once again.

‘How is she still alive?’

“We need to talk,” Mary demanded.

Ric eyed her with a stern look, pointing to the leaves she had stuffed in his mouth.

“Eat it!” Mary replied grimly.

Ric grunted before chewing and swallowing the leaves whole. A warm liquid seeped down his throat, followed by an itch he could not scratch. The liquid healed his throat before reaching his stomach and forming a sour taste.

Ric winced, then frowned at Mary. “What?” he said with an intense glare.

Mary remembered the voice, immediately connecting him to Sir Reynold. “What is your name?” she asked.

“It’s hard for humans to pronounce. Just call me Ric,” he snorted.

“And why don’t you want to heal yourself?”

The question baffled Ric. “Bring a scholar, why don’t you?” He retorted. “And I will spill all of my secrets, so you imbeciles can stab me in the back the right way this time around.”

“I understand.” Mary nods and shoves a handful of leaves into his mouth. “Keep your secrets,” she said with a blank face.

Ric flipped out with a puzzled gaze, but the bandages obscured Ric’s face, and Mary mistook it as a relief.

“But that doesn’t mean I am letting you choose the path of death. Heal, and we can fight together.”

Ric pounced onto Mary, but the flimsy bandages held him down. ‘Enchanted?’ Ric wondered.

“We will be waiting,” said Mary, before walking out.

Ric struggled to break the chains holding him down, but nothing he did work—he truly left his body behind...

Mary left the house and ordered everyone to stay far away from the townhouse for a couple of days. She didn’t realize how long, but if he couldn’t heal anything else, he would be forced to heal himself.

A tremendous weight lifted off her heart, and she felt light enough to soar past the skies. The world turned on him, and he wanted to end his life. Treated like a boon, then a mere tool. She noticed that kind of suffering all too well; after all, even she wanted to use him for salvation without asking his opinion.

“Something is seriously wrong with that woman!”

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