A careful knock at the door startled Erica. She wasn’t expecting company, and it had been over three years since someone last knocked unannounced. The sound felt surreal, almost intrusive, as though it didn’t belong in her quiet, solitary world. When she opened the door, Doctor William Witherbark stood on the stoop, looking somewhat anxious as the late evening wind threatened to steal the hat from his head.

“Ah, Ms. Rivers, may I come in?” he asked, holding his hat firmly in place.

“Oh, Doctor Witherbark. Of course, come in,” Erica replied, stepping aside to let him enter.

“It’s quite cold tonight. Winter seems to be arriving faster than I expected,” he remarked, stepping inside and removing his hat. He set it on the small dresser by the door. His hair looked less greasy than usual, as if he hadn’t bothered with his usual grooming routine.

“It does seem that way. What brings you here today?” Erica asked, her tone a mix of relief and weariness at the sight of the familiar figure.

“I told you I’d return with paperwork about the experimental treatments,” William said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

“Ah, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Erica admitted, crossing her arms. She was exhausted; the day’s work had drained her more than usual, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy for this conversation.

“It shouldn’t take long. I even brought one of the treatments with me. If you agree, we can start right away,” William said hurriedly, his nervous energy palpable.

Erica sighed deeply. “Alright, but can you go over the paperwork with me? I don’t understand many of the words in these forms—they’re always so complicated. Most of what I’ve learned comes from reading tavern menus and children’s books. I still have a lot to learn.”

“Of course,” William assured her. “I’m happy to help.”

Erica led him into the small kitchen, where a rickety table and two worn chairs awaited. They both sat, but William flinched slightly as his chair groaned under his weight. It wasn’t a reflection of him but rather the state of Erica’s furniture, which had seen far better days. Replacing it was out of the question—there was no money for such luxuries.

“So,” Erica began, her tone firm, “can you give me a rundown of what I need to know before I sign anything?”

“Yes,” William said, folding his hands nervously. “To keep it brief, we’ve prepared a series of experimental treatments. The first involves an injection made from a mixture of herbs and plants commonly used in alchemy and potion-making. Some of the ingredients have magical properties, and we hope the combination will at least provide pain relief…”

“Okay… go on,” Erica prompted, crossing her arms and fixing him with a steady gaze.

“The mixture includes components found in some of the most potent healing potions, such as Armillaria mushrooms, Silvergrass, and other rare herbs. We hope these elements will improve her quality of life—or, at the very least, give us valuable insights into how her body responds.”

“Has this been tested?” Erica asked bluntly, her patience wearing thin as the explanation became harder to follow.

“There’s no one else to test it on,” William admitted reluctantly. “Cases like Molly’s haven’t been recorded for thousands of years. Any tests on a healthy individual wouldn’t provide meaningful results, as their reaction would differ completely.”

“I know,” Erica said with a sigh, “but I feel like I have to ask. She’s my daughter. I want her to get better—I need her to get better. But I’m so lost in all of this…”

“I understand,” William replied, his voice heavy with sympathy. “And I know how difficult this is for you. I wish I had more answers, but neither I nor the institute can offer guarantees.”

“Do you have any idea if this will work? Is there anyone else I could turn to?” Erica asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

“This treatment is likely our last option,” William admitted. “If it doesn’t work… then I don’t know what else to suggest. Perhaps a miracle, though the gods seem uninterested in us mortals these days.”

Erica leaned back in her chair, her thoughts swirling. Was this really the end of the line? A heavy silence filled the room until she finally broke it. “And how much will you be charging me for this treatment?”

“This one’s on us,” William said with a faint smile, though his usual confidence was still absent. “We’ve charged you enough for treatments that didn’t work. From now on, I’ll find a way to make the institute cover the costs.”

“Thank you,” Erica said softly, relief evident in her voice. “Things have been… hard financially. This will help more than you know.”

“It should’ve been done sooner,” William admitted. “Unfortunately, this line of work is costly. Rare herbs and plants can be worth a small fortune.” He slid the paperwork across the table, placing a pen beside it. “All you have to do is sign.”

Erica reached for the pen, but as she did, a cold shiver ran down her spine. It was followed by an inexplicable warmth, as though someone had draped a blanket around her shoulders. She froze, her eyes darting around the room. Was she imagining things? Faint whispers seemed to echo at the edge of her hearing, but the words were indecipherable.

The warmth deepened, reminding her of standing in sunlight on a summer’s day—a sensation utterly out of place in the approaching winter. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Was she losing her mind? The eerie whispers had haunted her ever since William’s last visit, creeping in whenever exhaustion and silence weighed her down.

“Is everything okay?” William’s voice cut through Erica’s thoughts, snapping her back to the present.

“Y-yes, why?” Erica asked, her tone tinged with concern.

“It’s just… you’ve been staring at the pen for quite some time,” the doctor explained, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Oh, I’ve just been tired lately,” Erica replied with a forced smile, waving dismissively. “The exhaustion must be catching up with me.”

In truth, she knew she wasn’t fine. The signs were all there—she had been blacking out more frequently over the past few months, but she couldn’t afford to rest. And then there were the whispers. They crept into her mind from some unknown source, making her question her sanity. Yet, strangely, there was a soothing quality to this potential madness. It felt almost as though something—or someone—was watching over her. A guardian angel with a deep, unfamiliar voice? An ancestor’s spirit? Whatever it was, she was certain no one else could hear it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she carefully signed her name on the papers in front of her. As the ink dried, the distant whispers went silent, and the warmth that had been enveloping her vanished. The cold autumn air suddenly felt sharp against her skin, sending shivers down her spine and raising the hairs on her arms.

“Perfect,” William said, standing and gathering the signed papers. “If you’re ready, I’d like to administer the treatment now. Then I’ll leave you to get the good night’s rest you deserve.”

“If you think it’s best to do it today, I’ll trust your judgment. Just… Please be gentle with Molly. Her nightmares have been getting worse lately,” Erica said as she stood.

“It won’t take long,” William assured her. “And it sounds like both of you could use some time to relax.”

“Relaxation hasn’t been an option for me these past few years,” Erica replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “But now that I won’t be paying for treatments anymore, maybe that will finally change.”

“Let’s hope so,” William said warmly. He started down the hall toward Molly’s bedroom and knocked gently on the door.

“Come in,” Molly called from inside. Without hesitation, William opened the door and stepped in.

“Good evening,” he said, kneeling beside her bed and reaching into his robes to retrieve a large metal syringe. “We’re starting a new treatment today.”

“Is it going to hurt like last time?” Molly asked, a hint of anxiety plaguing her voice as she pulled the covers up, trying to shield herself.

“I can’t promise it won’t, but let’s hope it doesn’t, okay?” William said, glancing briefly at Erica, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching closely.

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“Okay… Can I hug Mr. Bear while we do it?” Molly asked nervously.

“Of course. Just try not to tense up too much,” William replied. Gently lifting the shoulder of her nightgown, he revealed a large black blister near her armpit. His expression grew tense as he carefully avoided the blister and inserted the needle into her arm, slowly administering the treatment.

Molly winced, turning her head away as William finished the injection. Only after he wrapped a thin bandage around her arm did she glance at her mother, her eyes watery but brave.

“Make sure to get plenty of rest, okay?” William said softly, placing the used syringe in a paper bag before standing.

“Okay,” Molly murmured, rubbing the bandage on her arm. Her small frame trembled slightly, her face a mix of discomfort and exhaustion.

Without another word, William left the room, and Erica followed him into the hallway. He held up the bag as he spoke. “I’ll make sure this is disposed of properly.”

“Thank you. Let’s hope this treatment works,” Erica said, her voice heavy with weariness.

“Yes, let’s hope so,” William replied, shrugging on his coat. “I’ll leave you both to rest. Have a good night, Erica.”

“Thank you. You too,” she said as he swiftly exited, leaving her alone in the silence of her home.

But the silence wasn’t comforting. It felt heavy, almost oppressive, and sent a chill through her that was colder than the autumn air. She wasn’t truly alone—Molly was just down the hall—but the weight of the quiet and the creeping chill of winter always made her feel profoundly lonely. Wrapping her arms around herself, she let out a shaky breath and stood there for a moment, fighting the sensation that something unseen was watching her.

Erica gathered herself and returned to Molly’s room to check on her daughter. Starting a new treatment was always frightening for Molly, though the girl did her best to put on a brave face. The door was slightly ajar, and Erica pushed it open gently. Molly was sitting on her bed, clutching her stuffed bear tightly. Her expression was somber, her sadness reminding Erica of a gray, stormy sky—an expression fit for a funeral.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Erica asked softly, sitting down beside her.

“Yeah… it just hurts a little,” Molly admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. “And I ran out of goodnight stories to tell Mr. Bear. How is he supposed to sleep without a story?”

Erica smiled, sensing an opportunity to lift her daughter’s spirits. “Sounds like you need some inspiration,” she said, her tone playful.

“Inspiration? What’s that?” Molly asked, her curiosity momentarily brightening her mood.

“Inspiration is something that helps you think of new ideas or imagine new things,” Erica explained after a brief pause to find the right words.

“Like Mr. Bear?” Molly asked, tilting her head as she tried to understand the concept.

“Maybe,” Erica replied with a chuckle. “I’m sure Mr. Bear could be very inspiring.”

“What do you think is inspiring?” Molly asked, a faint sparkle returning to her eyes.

“Hmmm… I suppose things that are strong or beautiful,” Erica said thoughtfully. “But honestly, I don’t think about it much.” If she were being truthful, she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. The most inspiring thing in her life was Molly—her strength, her resilience.

“Strong and beautiful… like Mr. Bear and Mom?” Molly said, her innocent words catching Erica off guard.

“That’s very kind of you, sweetie,” Erica said, ruffling Molly’s hair as a smile spread across her face. She deserved so much more than Erica could ever give her, especially while confined to this room. Yet now that the institute would be covering her medical costs, perhaps that could change.

“If you could do anything at all, what would it be?” Erica asked, her voice tinged with hope. “Maybe we can try something new and fun. It might even help you come up with fresh bedtime stories for Mr. Bear.”

Molly went quiet, her small brow furrowing as she thought hard. After several minutes, she finally spoke, her voice filled with a hopeful excitement. “I think… if I could do anything, I’d want to make a new friend.”

Her words hit Erica like a knife to the heart. Tears threatened to spill as she fought to keep her composure. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t fulfill that wish. Molly wasn’t allowed to leave the house, and Erica couldn’t risk introducing her to anyone. Even buying her another stuffed animal felt inadequate. Erica couldn’t shake the feeling of failure—that she couldn’t protect the one thing that mattered most: her daughter’s smile.

“Is there anything else you’d like to do?” Erica asked, trying to redirect the conversation. “Something to eat, see, or try?”

“I’d love to pet a dog… or a cat…” Molly said shyly, as if asking for something forbidden. “Or ride a horse!” she added, her voice suddenly brimming with excitement.

“Hmmm…” Erica hummed, pretending to think. Animals were out of the question, but perhaps there was a way for Molly to see them from a distance. Molly had only ever seen a fat cat through her window a few times. Maybe seeing more animals would bring a smile to her face. “Anything else?”

Molly looked up at the ceiling, her expression and posture radiating deep thought. After a few moments, she spoke. “Maybe see glittery fey magic… or ride a dragon!”

Erica chuckled softly, giving her daughter a gentle pat on the head. “I don’t know any dragons, unfortunately. But, if you promise to keep it a secret, we could go outside and look at something else that sparkles,” she said, lowering her voice as if sharing a grand conspiracy. She placed a finger over her lips to signal secrecy. “It’ll be our little secret, just you and me.”

Molly’s face lit up like the sun, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Let me grab some clothes for you,” Erica said. “We’ll need to dress up in a bit of a disguise.”

Soon, Molly was bundled in layers of fabric, with only her eyes peeking out. A large scarf covered her face, and a winter jacket several sizes too big draped over her small frame. Loose gloves concealed the blister on her hand, while a floppy hat completed the disguise. Dressing her while she sat had been a challenge—she couldn’t stand for more than a few seconds—but it was necessary. Erica dressed similarly, though her clothes actually fit. A scarf wrapped around her face, a hat hid her hair, and a large jacket covered most of her body. Only her eyes and ankles were visible.

“Ready?” Erica asked.

Molly nodded, and Erica carefully lifted her onto her back, carrying her like a backpack. She locked the door behind them and stepped into the cold night air. The wind cut through their layers, but Erica pressed on with determined steps toward the outskirts of town. Passing the farms, she pointed out the few remaining horses still grazing outside. Molly’s muffled voice piped up, declaring with pride that she would one day own a horse and learn to ride it.

Erica couldn’t help but smile. Molly’s childlike innocence and unwavering optimism brought her hope. If her daughter could face her challenges with such bravery, Erica too felt she could endure anything. More than hope, Molly gave her purpose—a reason to keep going. Before Molly, her life had felt aimless, her days filled with meaningless work and nights of shallow gossip and drunken parties. Back then, she had no reason to care about anything, no true motivation to get out of bed in the morning. But now, everything she did was for Molly. And that made all the difference.

Time seemed to stretch as Erica climbed the small hill on the outskirts of town. The cold air bit at her skin, her body ached from another grueling day at work, and the soothing warmth she had occasionally felt was absent. Yet none of that mattered in this moment. All that mattered was the sound of Molly’s delighted gasps and the radiant smile on her face.

At the top of the hill, Erica sat down and carefully lifted Molly off her shoulders, settling the girl in her lap. From Molly’s window, the view of the sky was nearly nonexistent, blocked by the narrow gaps between the town’s buildings. But here, the night sky stretched out in all its glory, unbroken by even a single tree.

Erica remembered how much she had once loved stargazing. She’d snuck out countless times as a teenager to sit under the stars with friends, gossiping late into the night. Yet even then, her attention was never on their words. It was always on the sky. The stars looked just as they had back then, unchanged and eternal, yet they no longer held the same beauty for her. But as she looked at Molly’s wide, awe-filled eyes, she realized they still had magic—for her daughter, at least.

Molly pointed excitedly toward a constellation shaped like a small bird. Erica followed her gaze and smiled. “See those stars? If you draw a line between them, they form what’s called ‘The Messenger of the All-Knowing.’ People say it’s a sign from Sopheia, the goddess of knowledge, that you’ll soon learn something new,” Erica explained, carefully tracing the constellation with her finger.

“Like how to ride a horse? Or pet a dog!?” Molly exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful.

“Maybe,” Erica said with a soft laugh. “Only time will tell.” She leaned back slightly, feeling more at ease than she had in what felt like forever. She pointed toward another constellation, this one in the shape of a sword. “That’s called ‘The Sword of Zoltan.’ It’s a symbol of hope, a reminder to treasure life and fight for what you believe is right.”

“Who’s Zoltan? Was his sword cool?” Molly asked, looking up at her mother with shining, curious eyes.

“He’s the god of life. And I’m sure his sword was the coolest anyone has ever seen,” Erica replied warmly.

“I wish I could see it…” Molly said, her voice soft with wonder as she stared up at the stars.

Erica shifted slightly and pointed toward another constellation, one that took the shape of a large flower spanning a wide section of the sky. “That one is said to be a sign from Calanthia, the goddess of nature and growth. It means you’ll bloom into a new, stronger version of yourself.”

“You can tell all that just by looking at the stars?” Molly asked, her small face scrunching up in thought.

“Well, that’s what I’ve been told,” Erica replied. “It was figured out by some very smart people a long, long time ago.”

“If smart people said so, then it must be true,” Molly said with a shy smile.

“Let’s hope so,” Erica said, her voice soft. “Maybe the gods watch over us more than we realize.”

As she spoke, that familiar warmth returned, as if she were wrapped in a cozy blanket by a roaring campfire. Erica watched Molly’s lips move, but strangely, she couldn’t hear her daughter’s voice. The wind, the distant rustle of trees, even the faint chirping of birds—all sound seemed to fade away.

“You have let their deceive you. Do not trust them; they do not care about you or your child,” a voice boomed, resonating through Erica’s very core.

Her breath hitched. The voice was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its intensity. “Who are you?” she asked aloud, her tone trembling with worry.

“What do you mean, Mommy?” Molly’s small voice shattered the spell, pulling Erica abruptly back to reality. The sounds of the world returned in an instant—the wind, the faint rustling, and Molly’s gentle breathing. The warmth vanished, replaced by the sharp chill of the autumn night.

“Oh… it-it’s nothing,” Erica said awkwardly, forcing a smile as she tried to mask her unease. “I think Mommy’s just a little tired. How about we head home and get some sleep? Maybe we can do this again another night.”

Molly nodded, her smile unwavering, and Erica held her daughter close, determined to protect that spark of joy for as long as she could.