During the construction of the monastery, a small room was added to serve as an infirmary for local farmers seeking treatment.

Leta would have loved to get the monk’s thoughts on the Chosen’s updates on the place since then.

It was a mesmerizing blend of state-of-the-art instruments and old-fashioned architecture. The stone floors were no more, having been replaced with a gray hospital-grade linoleum, yet the stucco walls and wooden beams endured.

Against the wall, a trio of modern hospital beds offered patients a view of serene countryside hills through the expansive windows. A long table, equipped with multiple exam instruments, offered a window to the outside world for those working. An arched window was framed by bookshelves filled with scrolls and medicinal jars, creating a delightful aroma of chamomile and fresh linens.

When they arrived, Dr. Kudela was putting a glass jar with pungent dried leaves back on the bookcase.

Giving them one of her gentle smiles, she motioned towards a bed that was partially hidden by a curtain.

Her father was resting peacefully on the bed as the heart monitor on the medical tower next to him beeping evenly with the rise and fall of his chest.

He looked tired; the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy and his skin was pale and thin, his body looking skinnier than last night.

Leta spotted two gleaming handcuffs securing her father to the bed and gave the woman a pointed stare.

“He’s under a lot of sedation right now.” Dr. Kudela spoke quietly, “Until we know the extent of the mental damage from the bite and can treat it, it’s for the best. Handcuffs are being used as a precautionary measure in case the sedatives don’t have the desired effect. I don’t think your father would be very proud of himself if, in a moment of clarity, he were to realize that he’d hurt someone.”

Leta’s throat burned with regret at the woman’s words. “How do you know he’s a danger? Maybe it will go away on its own, like a cold.”

The Healer shook her head. “I contacted a colleague of mine in Canada who witnessed the effects of Loupgarou consumption by a person. Through his research, he confirmed that the patient’s mental ability would progressively deteriorate, leading to permanent effects. His Sect at the time actually had an alarming number of these cases over the centuries that the indigenous people had a name for the victim - Wendigo.”

Her breath was drawn in sharply upon hearing the name. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States, she was familiar with the local ghost stories surrounding the Wendigo and its cannibalistic tendencies.

“Contrary to pop culture,” Dr. Kudela continued quickly when she saw Leta’s expression, “your father isn’t in danger of turning into a horned deer zombie, but the need to consume flesh and meat is very real and will get progressively worse. Right now, it’s an odd but mild craving that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Finally, a tear broke free and traced a fiery path down her cheek. She collapsed to her knees beside her father, her hand gripping his cold palm, letting out a wail that was the final breaking point.

Her body wracked with sobs as she mourned over her father’s condition.

Her mind was filled with memories of happier times.

Her father putting her on his shoulders while they explored an archaeological site.

He spoke about ancient plant species with an infectious giddy excitement.

The way he looked at her mother and her with such pride and love.

He wasn’t dead, but the idea that her father would slowly turn into a cannibalistic beast made it feel like he was.

Dr. Kudela touched her shoulder and softly stroked her back to comfort her. “I don’t want us to give up on your father just yet, dear.” She spoke with a gentle but strong voice.

Leta looked up slowly, as if to avoid getting her hopes up. “Is there a way to fix him?”

“Not that we know of yet,” The Healer gave a rueful smile, “But medicine has come a long way since my colleague first studied Wendigo. With your permission, I’d like to do a few tests. Namely, I’d see about putting your father on a regiment of medicines and a specialized diet.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Leta gripped her father’s hand, reminiscing about the times he would playfully ruffle her hair while she explored the excavation site with him.

“You said he was going to turn into a flesh eating monster, but you think you can patch him up with what? Vitamins or something?”

“My colleague has a theory that introducing Loupgarou blood causes something akin to schizophrenia, as well as a change in the brain’s responses to specific triggers, and I’m inclined to believe it. Although curing your father might not be achievable, there is a possibility of slowing down the progression of his illness to a point where he can have a healthy life, as long as he maintains control and follows the treatment.

“I will not sugarcoat it. It will be a long, drawn-out process with much trial and error.” The Healer cautioned, “But we can’t change the fact that what happened happened. All we can do is decide where we go from here.”

Leta wiped away her tears. “What’s the alternatives then?”

Dr. Kudela’s eyes wavered to the window before looking back at Leta with a sad expression. “Voluntary euthanasia. Due to the safety concerns of the Sect, The Chosen cannot house an individual with such extreme needs. Honestly, I don’t think your father would be happy with the person he would become if left unchecked.

Leta’s eyes squeezed shut, her body recoiling as if she had been struck.

She had to decide if the experimental treatment would prevent her father from becoming a living nightmare or if it was better to let him go with dignity.

Although she initially agreed to the treatments, she wondered if her father would be willing to endure a life bound to a hospital bed, filled with pills and therapies that would drastically change him.

Leta ran her hands over her face, feeling like any decision she could make was the wrong one.

However, deep down, she was completely certain about one choice.

“You don’t need to decide now,” Dr. Kudela soothed, “But the faster we get started, the better if you want to do treatment.”

“No, I’m okay.” Leta cleared her throat, her voice cracking as she tried to get herself under control. “I don’t need time. We’ll do the treatment.”

“It’s a lot to take in and process. Don’t make a rash decision without really thinking about it.” Allister had said nothing this entire time but spoke up to make sure she was choosing this option after deep consideration.

Leta simply shook her head.

Her decision was already final.

“It’s not a rash decision. If there’s a chance that my dad could live even a remotely normal life, I’ll take it.”

“Even if it removes you from the picture? Keep in mind that this is the first time anyone has ever tried something like this in history. If getting your father’s help includes sending him to a remote location so that nothing disturbs his treatment, are you willing to accept that?”

Leta swallowed, but nodded. “Yes. Whatever it takes.”

Giving her a smile full of understanding and pride, the older woman nodded in response. “Alright then. We’ll be starting with a series of medications to increase his glucose intake and promote fatty tissue. The research shows that the Wendigoexperience a feeling of starvation even though they are eating normally, so we’ll try to counteract this first.”

Dr. Kudela went through the complete treatment plan, covering everything from prescribed medications to her father’s diet, therapy sessions, and exercise routine.

She was a patient Healer and answered all of Leta’s questions no matter how odd or off-the-cuff they seemed.

They’d probably been discussing everything for about an hour when Dr. Kudela asked, “Do you have any more questions?”

Leta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think at the moment. Probably once all this starts, I’ll have more questions, but not right now.”

Allister said quietly, “There are a lot of other decisions that need to be made. If you’re ready, we’ll go to Atreus and get things sorted out.”

“Oh, shit.” Leta exhaled, the chaos of last night almost overlooked by her father’s situation. “The Blessed attacked a hospital full of ordinary people. How’d they survive? Shouldn’t they have self-imploded or something? And Vigo! Where’s Vigo?”

“The Blessed and the Chosen have both become very good at subterfuge.” Dr. Kudela shrugged.

“Aye. Atreus will review with you what the Mundane are seeing and what’s being reported. As for your friend.” Allister shook his head with a baffled chuckle, “Man’s holed up in the scriptorium. Huda the Scribe took him on a tour of the monastery, but once he laid eyes on our assortment of scrolls and texts, he got lost in books for a few hours. We’ll swing by on after we speak with the General. I’m sure Kudela will send for you once he’s awake.”

The Healer nodded her head. “Of course. The moment he’s conscious.”

Leta’s lips were licked, her throat parched from speaking for such a long time. Even though the discussion gave her hope and dried her tears, she was still reluctant to leave her father’s side.

She paused to memorize her father’s serene face, then leaned down to kiss his forehead.

He showed a slight response to her touch, as if he could feel her presence nearby, but he didn’t wake up.

“Love you, Dad. Always will.” She whispered, giving his hand one last squeeze before following Allister out of the infirmary. She turned her head as the door shut behind her, catching one last glimpse of her father. It felt almost immoral to go, like her father was on his deathbed and she had left to answer a work call.

Leta walked behind Allister, oblivious to his presence, consumed by thoughts of her father’s health and the remote chance of her mother’s survival. Leta held onto the hope that her mother, feisty as she was, had escaped the Gargoyle and find safety.

She understood the unlikelihood, but embracing the slim chance of Naomi Black’s well-being was better for her mental state.

An awkward silence separated the pair like a physical wall as Leta followed one step behind the giant as he led her through the monastery.

“As was said last night.” Allister cleared his throat when the silence became unbearable. “You’re da’s in excellent hands. Eirene Kudela is literally one of the greatest Healers of our time, and as she said, medicine has come a long way.”

“I know that she’s a good doctor.” Leta said absently, her eyes roaming over an antique painting hanging in the hallway as they walked, “I just I don’t like not knowing.”

“Aye, lass. Well, one thing at a time.”