“How is the situation with the Slumber Leaf?” I asked Na, my voice carrying a hint of concern.

“The Slumber Leaf helps the children sleep, but the rest they’re getting is far from peaceful. They twist and turn in their sleep, as if plagued by nightmares.” Na replied, hesitating before continuing. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s more cruel to force them into a restless sleep. Are you sure this is the best approach?”

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “Sleep deprivation can be just as deadly as the Plague itself, Na. Lack of sleep can lead to problems to the brain, including hallucinations that could be worse than the nightmares. If they’re not sleeping at all, their bodies won’t be able to fight off anything.” I personally didn’t think equating the lack of sleep to the Plague was fair, but I knew back on earth no sleep killed. Or worse. Left you impaired in ways even modern science could detect. Sleeping through nightmares was the least of the worries here, not sleeping for weeks on end would end in death.

Na grimaced slightly, acknowledging the truth in my words. “How much of the Slumber Leaf are we able to grow right now?” I asked, bracing myself for her answer.

“The Plague makes it incredibly difficult,” she admitted. “The flowers are struggling to sprout, and those that do are fragile, barely able to cling to life.Even with no insects to destroy the plants, the slightest mishandling during care can cause them to wilt and die. We’re expecting the next batch to sprout just as we run out of our current stock.”

“And the Firefall Roots? How are they faring?” I asked, hoping for some good news.

Na’s expression brightened slightly, offering me a glimmer of hope. “The Firefall Roots are doing much better than the flowers. They seem to have some resistance to the Plague’s influence, though not completely. We will be able to increase the amount of patients that we can treat with the herbs and continue increasing the amount we can grow.”

That was indeed good news. The Slumber Leaf, while important, could be rationed to ensure the children slept at least every few days. But the fevers, they were one of the real threats. The fact that we might outpace demand for the Firefall Roots was a victory I very much needed.

However, the good news couldn’t distract me from a more pressing concern I needed answers to. “Have we found any herbs that can help lower heart rates?”

Na’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression as she bowed apologetically. “Forgive us, Sage. We’ve never encountered issues with heart rates before, so we have no knowledge of herbs that might help.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Na,” I reassured her, my mind already drifting. “We can’t predict every challenge that will come our way. We do the best we can with what we have.”

I wish I could help find some plants that deal with heart rates, but none of the plants here looked the same to earth's fauna. Even the grains had an off color and texture, but that could be due to its primitive nature of not being domesticated. What made it even more difficult was that we couldn’t know the effects of new plants before ingesting them, which obviously could lead to dire consequences. I've tasked all the healers to discuss amongst themselves if they have ever heard of any such plants, and if so, go out and find them. I didn’t have any expectations, but trying something was better than doing nothing. Maybe I should ask Priest Xuan Shan if there are any mentions in his texts.

Before I could dwell further on these thoughts, I heard hurried footsteps approaching the door. I turned to see a healer standing there, panting slightly as he caught his breath. He bowed to us both before speaking.

“Sage, Healer Na,” he addressed us, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Another five children have passed into the embrace of the goddess.”

I shut my eyes tightly at the news. The number of deaths was nearing a dozen. Without opening my eyes, I asked, “Was it another possession?”

Silence followed before a hesitant, embarrassed voice finally replied, “Yes, but this time it wasn’t an aggressive possession, but a lazy one.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Instead of thrashing, this one child that got possessed simply slurred their words and layed down to rest.” He replied. A hint of worry in his voice.

I clenched my fists, frustration and helplessness coursing through me. There was nothing I could do. Despite all our efforts with the Slumber Leafs and Firefall Roots, the only thing we were stopping them from dying was insomnia and the fevers. There seemed to be another cause for the seizures. All I was doing was buying the children and their parents a false sense of security and peace until the inevitable happened. Either a violent seizure, or the new symptom of slurring that ended in death.

“I’ll go prepare for the funeral,” Na said softly. I opened my eyes and met her gaze, seeing the same sadness reflected in her eyes that I felt deep within. I nodded, not offering to accompany her to console the parents. I couldn’t bring myself to face them, not after the last time.

I’ve been avoiding the Healer Center since.

The memory was still fresh. I had approached a grieving parent after another child had succumbed to a seizure, only to be met with anger and vitriol. They had looked at me as though I had betrayed them, as though my failure to save their child was a personal affront.

I knew it was my duty as a Sage who everyone was relying on during this Plague, especially one who was supposed to be knowledgeable about the arts of healing. But the people had assumed I was all-knowing, and when I proved otherwise, their disappointment turned to anger. I couldn’t blame them. To them, my failure felt like betrayal.

Another set of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see Shan approaching. His expression was serious, but he waited for my acknowledgment before speaking. “You asked me to report anything strange with the animals.”

I nodded, signaling him to continue.

“I think it’s a minor thing, but you emphasized that anything unusual should be brought to your attention.”

Already mentally exhausted from the news of another death, I wanted to move this along quickly. “What is it?” I asked, my tone sharp.

Shan didn’t flinch. He got straight to the point. “One of the animals we butchered just now bled more than usual from the cuts.”

That caught my attention. “What do you mean? How much more?”

Shan shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure of the exact amount. The butcher said it was unusually excessive.”

I stood up, my interest piqued. “Take me to the butcher.”

Shan bowed and led the way through the halls and outside. A group of guards joined us, who quickly led us after Shan informed them of our destination. I hadn’t left the hall since the second death, avoiding any potential encounters with the grieving mothers. Thankfully, the streets were mostly empty. People were either at work or hiding in their homes, afraid to venture and possibly get infected. No matter how much I assured that's not how that works.

We exited the city and made our way to the fenced-off area where the animals were kept. Skirting around the edges, we arrived at the butcher’s shop, a crude structure with mud walls and a roof made from spare hay and grasses. The smell of blood greeted me as we stepped inside. Carcasses hung from ropes, and severed heads were neatly stacked in a corner.

“Shan, welcome back!” the butcher greeted cheerfully, but his demeanor changed the moment he saw me. His eyes widened, and he quickly bowed. “My apologies, Great Sage, I didn’t notice you were here.”

I returned the bow with a formal nod. “There’s no need to apologize. I take no offense. Shan mentioned you observed something unusual with the animals you were butchering?”

The butcher nodded nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the presence of someone so important. “Yes, indeed. The ox I butchered bled far more than usual when I put it down. It’s unusual, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted your attention.”

I replied. “It might be related to the Plague, it is better for me to be here to confirm anything. Would you be able to show me?”

The butcher nodded, then turned to Shan with a request. “Could you have someone bring me an ox? Preferably one that’s old and near death.”

I shook my head. “Make sure it’s a young ox, and bring it here alive.” Both men gave me quizzical looks, and I decided to explain. “The younger children are experiencing the worst of the Plague. I want to see if the same holds true for the animals. If it is true, we can experiment on the young animals to see what we can do to reduce the symptoms.” It wasn’t a perfect idea, as I wouldn’t be able to confirm a heart rate or ask it questions, But it’d have to do.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The butcher spoke up. “It does hold true. The farmers in charge of providing me with the carcass of animals have been bringing me calves, said that they simply dropped dead without any signs.“

No matter how morbid the thought was, it was music to my ears. “That is good then, experimenting on the calves would be the best, no matter how limiting it will be.”

Shan barked out some orders and in no time I heard the ox calf long before I saw it. The bawls made me feel sorry for killing an ox that was not full grown. But we didn’t have the privilege to take care of them, we had to use them.

Once the calf was within view the butcher scurried around, getting everything ready. It was forcefully laid down to the ground. While I was watching all of this, a thought crossed my mind. How did they get it out of the pen? I doubt its parent would let anyone approach it without a fight, especially since they haven’t really been domesticated.

The butcher looked a bit out of his element, clearly unused to killing animals directly, instead likely relying on carcasses instead that had been brought to him already. The butcher got in place, raising what looked almost like an ax, with a wooden handle and a stone blade. I didn’t know much about slaughtering, since the only thing I’d ever butchered was a chicken when my friend offered that one time, but didn’t one need to stun the animals to butcher them?

Before I could voice my concerns, the butcher slammed the ax down, cutting through the front of the neck causing blood to splatter amongst everyone's feet. The calves' cries gurgled to a stop. Everyone but the farm hands and the butcher stepped back to avoid getting their feet dirtied by the blood.

“As you can see, the bleeding rate is clearly abnormal. I wouldn’t be surprised if the calf bleeds out within several breaths.” The butcher spoke. I watched the bleeding, and although it looked intense, I didn’t have the authority to speak definitively about whether it was.

I turned towards the farmhands that finally stepped away as the calf stopped struggling. “Do you find the bleeding rate abnormal?”

They looked surprised to be addressed so directly, looking between each other before one of them finally spoke up. “Sage, if I am so bold as to speak.” I nodded, giving him the go ahead. “I am one of the hands overseeing the hunting of the animals in the pen.” That was an interesting term for slaughtering, but I guess since they can’t really approach that made some sense.

I continued listening to the man. “The bleeding from the arrows that puncture is also more intense, before we safely come in and butcher the animal. This bleeding from the throat is also indeed an noticeable increase, and although I don’t personally see a reason why it matters, you obviously see a grander vision in all this.”

Not even half a minute had passed before I approached the calf and carefully stabbed it in the side with a knife. Blood spurted out briefly before settling into a steady trickle. Increased bleeding. What could that mean? I mentally looked for anything to connect the dots with. An elevated heart rate could cause that, right? Or was it blood pressure? Either way, it didn’t really matter, both could lead to increased bleeding. If the blood vessels were under too much strain, they could rupture, especially in vulnerable areas with a high concentration of blood, like the brain.

Oh.

That’s what’s been killing the kids, aneurysms and seizures, at least in part. If I could find a way to alleviate the pressure, I might be able to buy them more time than what the herbs have managed so far. Or, at the very least, narrow down the cause even further. But how could I reduce blood pressure? I sifted through what little I knew, but most of it required modern medicine. After some thought, one ancient technique came to mind. It had been dismissed in later eras as a medieval sham: bloodletting.

There had to be a reason why bloodletting was abandoned as a medical practice, but right now, it was the only idea I had. I turned to Shan. “Can we get another calf? We’re not going to butcher this one. Also, I’ll need a pair of needles.”

Shan nodded and quickly sent out the necessary personnel. While some went to fetch another calf and the needles, the rest helped the butcher clean up the area. The butcher had already begun the initial stages of processing the previous calf, skinning it and letting it bleed out.

Soon, the bawling of the second calf echoed through the room as it was dragged in. This one seemed to cry even louder than the first, its distress unsettling. Once it was forced to the ground, I had its feet tied and secured to a pole in the middle of the hut. I stared at the calf, trying to figure out a systematic approach to this. Eventually, I decided to start with a simple puncture in a less vital area.

I inserted the needle made of some kind of bone, likely an antler, near its rear, and when I withdrew it, the blood spurted out even more forcefully than with the previous calf. I waited, watching the flow carefully, until it reduced from a worrisome gush to a slightly elevated trickle. I was operating on pure guesswork, with no real knowledge or guidelines to follow, trusting in my gut. I couldn’t risk testing this on a child as the first attempt at bloodletting.

“Monitor and feed this calf,” I instructed, fashioning a makeshift bandage to cover the wound. “If there are any symptoms, report them to Shan immediately so he can inform me. I also want daily updates.” The team nodded in agreement, and I quickly made my exit. The smell of blood was too overpowering, turning my stomach.

For several days, I waited anxiously in the hall, my mind preoccupied with the calf’s condition. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to experience any obvious side effects. I held my head in my hands in frustration as I tried to figure out what to do with this information.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve come to announce the daily fatality rate.” I didn’t bother looking up to see who it was.

“How many today?” I asked, my voice muffled as I kept my head buried in my arms.

“Seven,” came the reply.

I exhaled slowly. “Thank you. Please notify Na for me.”

I listened as the footsteps retreated, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Should I start bloodletting the children without further experimentation? Should I just go for it, even though it is a risky endeavor? The thought made my hands tremble. But how much longer could I afford to wait? It would take at least a week to draw any conclusive results from the animals. Even if I started experimenting on the prisoners, it would likely take just as long. Seven days. Fifty more children dead by then, maybe more.

My hands clenched into fists as I weighed the decision. Bloodletting based on nothing but gut instinct was reckless, but I didn’t see another option. It reminded me of the choice I made to only treat the children with the worst symptoms, a choice that still haunted my nightmares. The guilt wouldn’t go away as I never repealed that idea.

I stood up abruptly, before I could talk myself out of it, and walked out of the room. I needed to run this by the Priest, as I’d have to convince him that it was the right course of action. Entering his chamber, I found him gazing out of the window, staring at the empty streets and the dying weeds lining the roads.

“Priest.” I began.

“Sage.” He replied, turning to face me. “What brings you here?”

“I need your permission to try something new. I believe the children’s deaths might be caused by, as strange as it sounds, ‘too much’ blood in their bodies. I want to treat it by bloodletting.”

He nodded solemnly.

Silence hung in the air before he sighed deeply. “Alright, if you truly believe this is the best course of action, you have my permission.”

As I prepared to leave, I noticed the burnt edges on his robes and the new marks on his hands. It seemed he was as busy as I was, searching for solutions. With his approval, I headed straight to the Healer Center to find Na.

When I found her, I quickly requested bowls, needles, and bandages, instructing her to meet me at one of the smaller healer centers in the East near the city wall. As I made my way through the streets, the once-refreshing air now carried the stench of decay. The smell of plants succumbing to the Plague.

At the Eastside Healer Center, Na arrived with a few other healers and the supplies I had requested. She approached me with a concerned expression. “Sage, you seem to have a plan. Can you explain what you’re intending to do?”

I nodded. “In simple terms, I believe the blood circulating in the body is under too much pressure, which might be causing these ‘possessions.’ My plan is to bleed out some of the excess blood in hopes of restoring balance.”

She frowned. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It is,” I admitted, “but we don’t have the time for safer options. I’ll have to be extremely careful not to draw too much blood.” She hesitated, then nodded.

Alright. It's roll time. I tried hyping myself up to no avail. It was time to find the first patient. I searched for the youngest child, knowing they were at the greatest risk. I also needed a parent present, as I wouldn’t feel comfortable proceeding without explaining the risks and getting their consent. I spotted a mother with her child and approached them, offering a small bow.

“Greetings, I am Sage Jie Mins. May I speak with you privately for a moment?”

She knelt down to her son. “I’ll be back in a moment. The spirits will watch over you.”

The boy nodded, and we stepped away from him. I explained the process of bloodletting and the potential risks, including the possibility of bleeding out. The woman didn’t hesitate for a moment. “If you believe this is the best way, then please, Sage, save my child.”

Her unwavering faith in me did nothing to ease my anxiety. I approached the boy gently. “How are you feeling today, kiddo?”

“I feel sick,” he replied, his voice small.

“Oh? Can you tell me more about it?” I asked, as I set a pot of water to boil for disinfecting the needles.

“I feel really hot. And dizzy. My head hurts,” he said.

I nodded, keeping him engaged in conversation as I prepared the tools. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I play with my friends, but I can’t now because everyone’s sick. My mom cries a lot too. I told her I’d be strong like dad, but she just cried more.”

I glanced away, uncomfortable where the kid was leading the conversation. Focusing on taking his pulse and checking his fever, they were indeed abnormally high. Once the water had boiled, I pulled out the sterilized needle and readied myself. “This might sting a little, but be strong for your mom, okay?”

The boy nodded, a serious look on his face. I carefully punctured a small hole in his wrist. He flinched but remained still as blood began to flow. I quickly angled his wrist over a bowl to collect the blood. When I felt enough had been drawn, I bandaged the wound and checked his pulse again. It seemed steady, and his forehead felt slightly cooler.

I grabbed the kid's other wrist to feel for a heartbeat. It seemed to be the same. I reached for the forehead, and it seemed like it was cooler to the touch.

“How are you feeling now?” I asked.

“Cold,” he replied.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, but I took it as a small victory. I discussed with Na whether to proceed with other children. She left the decision to me, explaining to me that she had no idea what to expect. I decided to proceed with four other kids, being careful not to take too much blood. Some reported feeling colder afterward, while others told me that nothing seemed to have happened.

The next day, I returned to the first boy. “How are you doing?”

“Sage! Sage! I’m feeling a little better!” he exclaimed with a smile. His cheeks were still white from the bloodletting, but he overall looked happier.

I allowed myself a small smile in return.