AN: This and the next chapter have scenes with sensitive content. Beware.

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I held the wrist of the poor kid who was only around three years of age, feeling the rapid pulse beneath my fingers. His heart was racing as if the kid was running a marathon. His wide eyes flicked around to and fro. When I reached for his forehead, the heat radiating off it was alarming, but not severe enough to lose sleep over it. Several other healers huddled around me, observing the situation. This boy was one of the first active cases of the Plague in this city.

“Is he going to be alright Sage?” a woman asked, her voice trembling. I looked up to see the boy’s mother, her face etched with concern.

“For now, there is nothing to be worried about.” I replied, keeping my tone calm. Her face softened slightly, though the concern didn’t fully leave her eyes. I winced internally at my reply. I had sidestepped the truth. The boy was fine for now, but I knew this was only the beginning. As the Plague reached its full force, things would get much worse.

I moved on to another child, this one a four year old girl. The healers followed behind me like chicks following a mother hen.I took the girls and monitored her pulse. It was elevated, but not nearly as bad as the first child’s. My eyes darkened at the realization of what would likely happen to the kids if I don’t find a cure, or at the very least a treatment for the symptoms.

The mother watched me closely, just like the others. All their eyes were on me, and outside of the kids whining and complaining, no one else spoke. Everyone was waiting for me to give hope to the current situation. I forced a lighter expression, wanting to avoid realizing their fears.

Some children were here without their mothers, who had other duties to attend to. I ensured that a healer would keep the children company whenever they could, so they weren’t as distressed. For now, all our patients were five years of age or younger.

I turned to the mother of the girl, who was carefully studying my face. Hopefully I didn’t let anything slip. “Has anything else unusual been happening with her?” I asked, trying to gather more information. Without a specific word for ‘symptom’, I had to phrase it in a way she would understand. I touched the girl's forehead. Too warm, but not as bad as the previous one. At least not yet.

The mother thought it over before answering, “She has had trouble sleeping, and refuses to eat some of the mixed nuts I have given her. She also has been more disobedient than usual.” She continued, listing every small issue she could think of. .

“Wait, hold on.” I interrupted, raising my hand to stop her. She trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. “I need to know what’s changed since the time it was announced that the Plague has arrived. Anything from before won’t help me treat her now.”

She looked down, flustered. I gave her a moment to herself before asking again. “What signs has she shown since the Plague had reached us?”

She looked up, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “Well, Rui hasn’t been eager to eat, and hasn’t had any restful sleep. It takes her longer to fall asleep, and when she does, she tosses and turns.”

The lack of appetite could be related to any illness, but it was still worth noting. The sleep was more concerning, though that could be tied to the fever. Perhaps it could even be tied to the increased heart rate? This will be difficult to isolate.

I turned to the healer who was assigned to assist me while I was in the healer center. “Na, put down eye twitches, increased beating of the heart, fever, lack of appetite, and trouble sleeping.”

Na raised her eyebrow, “All children have trouble sleeping, Sage. It is nothing unusual. We should focus on calming the heart and lowering the fever.”

I shook my head. “Right now we need to treat all effects of disease and see what helps. It’s too early to say which issue is leading to another. For now, prioritize treating the fever. Do we have any herbs that help with sleep?”

She nodded. “Yes, but we only have enough to last the children here about a week.”

I looked around, counting up the children we currently had. Around a hundred at this point in time. This isn’t nearly enough. “Are we growing more?” I asked, keeping the concern out of my voice.

“We are.” Na replied, “but since the plague hit us half a moon ago, the plants have been struggling to sprout.”

“Replant all the herbs, focusing on the ones that are struggling the least,” I instructed. “What about the herbs for fever?”

“We have enough for almost a full cycle of the moon.” Na replied.

I considered my options. Herbs took time to grow, and while replanting could lead to an increase to our yields, the Plague was already impacting our harvest. We were only able to gather a fraction of what we planted. It would be a miracle if we broke even with our replanting efforts. Herbs that produced seeds would be easier to replant, but flowers posed a challenge of their own.

I pulled Na aside, lowering my voice, “For now, we should focus on treating the ten most severe cases. The Plague hasn’t reached a critical level yet, and we need to see if the herbs we have now are effective.”

Na’s face darkened with disapproval. “You’re suggesting we let the rest of the children fend for themselves?”

“We have enough to treat all the kids here for a week, but what about the children that haven’t gotten sick yet and are going to arrive? And even eventually the adults?” I could see she understood, but her expression remained stern.

“You speak logically, but that doesn’t make it right. I refuse to abandon these children,” she insisted, her voice firm.

I suppressed a sigh in frustration, knowing it wouldn't help and even possibly escalate this. “If we treat everyone now, we’ll run out of herbs within days, especially as more children arrive. It would be a miracle if we could stretch the sleeping herbs past half a week. What we need to do is make sure that the treatments work, and if its effects last over time.”

Na hesitated, the frown softening into a pensive expression. “...Fine. But I don’t approve, and I’ll be reporting this to the Chieftain and the Priest.”

I nodded. “You're free to do so. I am thinking about the future of these children, while you’re focused on the present. Believe me, this is not an easy choice for me, but we need to do what is necessary.” I started to turn away to check on the other patients but paused, adding, “If it looks like any of the children are getting worse, you have my permission to provide the herbs to those in immediate danger. Just keep me informed.”

She gave a curt nod, clearly unhappy but respectful enough of my position and reasoning not to argue further. I moved around the room, checking the pulse, fever, and other symptoms of each child.

My findings were worrying. The youngest children were suffering the most. The fevers were running high and heart rates were elevated to what I assumed to be a dangerous level. These are the ones we should treat first, buying them time while we worked on finding a more permanent solution. Nine children needed immediate attention, leaving us with one additional child to observe as we tested whether the herbs could effectively combat the Plague on a less severe level.

After a quick discussion with Na, I decided to double the number of children we would treat, as one child wasn’t enough to identify any patterns. Then, I headed to my study, where I kept clay tablets ready for notes. Sitting down, I began to record the symptoms I had observed so far: fever, lack of appetite, rapid heartbeat, and trouble sleeping. I noted a single case of vomiting, marking it with a question mark in case it was unrelated.

As I was deep in thought, writing my observations, a voice interrupted my focus. I looked up from the clay tablet to see Shan entering the room. “Sage, I am here to report on the farms and the animals.”

Stolen story; please report.

I nodded, setting the tablet down to give him my attention. “How are things looking?” I asked.

He grimaced. “Not great. The plants that had already sprouted after we replanted them once the bugs passed, have started to wilt. The rate of wilting varies, but overall all the grains are being affected.”

I nodded without a reaction. It was the outcome I had feared, though I’d hoped for a better one. He continued, “the animals are faring better, but we’ve noticed that they have grown more agitated. It could be that they have sensed the arrival of the Plague or some of them have gotten sick already and are reacting as a group.”

I initially felt a small sense of relief that the animals were doing better than the children, but that relief quickly vanished. I recalled the tales that were told by the refugees. Of them doing their best to flee the influence of the plague and coming across the bodies of wild animals on their path. The children would die before the animals.

“How much grain do we have in reserve?” I asked, changing the subject to distract myself. “If we stopped producing any more, how long would it last us?”

Shan considered this, his expression calculating. “Likely three seasons, maybe four if more people leave.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. That was longer than I’d expected. A year was a seriously long time to find a solution to our food crises. I hadn’t been keeping up with the exact figures, but it seemed unlikely we had that much grain stored away. “How did you come to that estimate?” I asked, skeptical.

Shan explained. “Well, the grain alone will last us around two seasons, but we’ve also traded with some of the passing tribes for jerky, which should stretch our supplies for another season, especially when combined with the surplus of our own hunts.”

That was unexpected. I hadn’t realized we were trading with the other tribes, apart from …that particular one. I should stop avoiding the meetings. “That’s good news. I need to speak with the Priest and Chieftain about rationing immediately.”

Now it was Shan’s turn to look surprised. “May I ask why, Sage?”

I replied, “While the Plague hasn’t fully set in, people can live on less food. But once people fall ill, they will need all the energy to fight the illness. we’ll increase how much we distribute when that time comes.”

He nodded, his face unreadable. I couldn’t glean if he thought that my reasoning was solid or not. With nothing more to discuss, Shan excused himself, likely heading back to his duties.

Left alone with my thoughts, I reflected on the decisions I’d made. Was it right to restrict treatment to only twenty children? It had to be. We simply don’t have enough herbs to treat the symptoms of every child. As for restricting food so early—yes, it might demoralize people, but until we can reliably grow more grain and produce, it is better to be prudent in these situations.

I was making the right choices. I needed to stop second guessing myself. Everything else was out of my control.

* * *

“We should plant closer to the river. The soil there is richer. It should help the plants fight off the plague, even if just a little.” I suggested.

Shan shook his head. “That would be too risky. Any flood could wipe out the fields.”

“It is worth the risk.” I replied. We had been debating the logistics of the fields and their future for over an hour now, each of us presenting our own ideas. I glanced out towards our current fields, now sparsely manned. People were retreating into their homes more and more lately, trying to avoid infection.

I decided to shift the conversation a bit. “How successful have we been in getting people to come out and work?”

“Minimal success.” Shan said with a sigh. “People are too afraid to get infected.”

“Even after explaining that it’s not about being near others, but just being here in ‘its presence’?” I pressed.

“Yes.” He confirmed simply.

I thought about how to solve this. I might have to resort to implementing a token system, where only people that have worked receive a token that can be turned in for food. It felt cruel to force people to seemingly choose between starving or the plague, but we were in a dire situation. It was a harsh necessity.

Shan nodded, understanding where my thoughts were heading. “I’ll inform the Priest and Chieftain of our plans, especially after the disagreement over your last decision.”

I nodded, recalling the incident. The Priest had been furious when I decided to treat only twenty out of the hundred or so sick children. He eventually calmed down after I explained my reasoning, but his dissatisfaction was clear. The Chieftain, Cai Lin, was easier to deal with. He still respected me, even after his elevation to Chieftain. “Go ahead. There’s no reason to delay.”

“Sage!” A shout snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Must have been my imagination.

The voice came again, clearer this time. I turned to see a man sprinting toward me, shouting my title until he was sure he had my attention. He didn’t bother with formalities as he skidded to a stop in front of me. “Someone’s possessed!”

“What do you mean?” I asked, completely thrown off by the term.

“One of the children sick with the Plague started twitching! They are possessed! We need your help! The healers can’t do anything and word has already been sent to the Priest!” His voice was tight with stress and fear.

He didn’t waste any time. As soon as I began to move, the man turned and started leading the way back. My mind raced as I followed, my feet pounding the ground, now littered with dying grass. Several possibilities ran through my head before I narrowed it down to one: seizures.

This isn’t good. Do these people know how to handle a seizure? I mentally crossed my fingers, quickening my pace until I was nearly catching up to him. I hope she was in bed and not walking around. The bedding should give her the cushion so that she doesn’t hurt herself.

As we ran past the gates and neared the city center, we skirted around the edges and ran directly to the healer’s center. My heart pounded in my chest, but it wasn’t just from the run. A cry of anguish pierced the air, making my hair stand on end. Please tell me I’m not late.

I mentally reviewed what I remembered about seizures. They could be dangerous, even fatal if seizures went on for longer than several minutes. Unfortunately, I didn't remember exactly at what time there was a cutoff. I quickly calculated how long we’d been running. Maybe three minutes, four at most. If I doubled that, it would mean that if the seizure is still going, that it had been going on for at least eight minutes.

A wave of dread washed over me. I could only hope the seizure had stopped, and that the cries I heard were out of worry, not grief. But deep down, I knew. We reached the door and burst inside without hesitation. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

The center of the healer’s hall was eerily clear, with everyone—including the sick children—huddled along the walls. The children stared wide-eyed at the scene before them, their faces pale with terror. The healers and mothers stood frozen, their expressions mirroring the children’s fear. On the far side, two healers struggled to hold back a frantic mother, her anguished cries filling the room. I recognized her—she was the one I had assured that everything would be alright.

In the middle of the clearing stood the Priest, motionless, surrounded by flowers and markings, a clear sign of an exorcism attempt. My heart sank. I ran through the crowd, ignoring the hands of the healers that tried to hold me back, elbowing my way through the healers. They scattered like bowling pins.

“Sage, it’s dangerous! He could still be possessed!” someone called out, but I paid no attention. I ignored the Priest standing over the child’s twisted body, his silence more telling than any words.

The child wasn’t seizing anymore. Maybe that was a good sign. But then I saw the liquid seeping from his mouth, and my hope faltered. I quickly shifted him onto his side to clear his airway. Leaning down, I pressed my ear to his chest, praying for a heartbeat, for some sign of life.

Silence. There was nothing. No heartbeat, no breath. The child was gone.

A crushing weight settled on me. This was my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on treating only the twenty most severe cases, maybe this child would have lived. I had made that decision without consulting anyone, and now it had cost a life. The guilt was overwhelming.

“Na,” the Priest called out, his voice breaking through the oppressive silence. The healer stepped forward hesitantly, her nervousness palpable.

“Yes, Priest?” she replied, trying and failing to keep her voice from trembling.

“Were there any signs of possession before it happened?” he asked, his tone grave.

Na paused, her brow furrowing as she thought back. “No, not that I am aware of. Fei only mentioned feeling dizzy before it happened. He was healthier than most of the others.”

Fei… so that was his name. The seizure had come out of nowhere. Before I could fully spiral into despair, the Priest’s voice cut through the silence. “Did you know this would happen?”

“No.”

The word barely made it past my lips. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

“Do you still think that was the right decision?” the Priest asked, his tone cold and hollow.

I wanted to say no, I wanted to admit that I was foolish and that there was a better plan. That I had stumbled upon a cure. That we wouldn’t need to worry about the herbs supply issue. But I thought of the other children. The children that are staying alive because I am funneling herbs to them to buy them even more time.

“Yes.”

My answer was meek, devoid of any strength. It echoed through the clearing like a death knell. The mother’s cries grew louder, more piercing, and I felt like a monster. I didn’t want to be listened to anymore. I wished someone would defy me, so I could be proven wrong. But this was the reality. I was a Sage, and people listened, even when it meant others would die.

I wept.