To heal first, to live second.

Those words were burnt into Keena’s mind as surely as if they were cut into her skin. She always thought that if that choice really came to be, if she had to decide whether to save someone or to save herself, she would not hesitate and do the right thing.

Now, covered up to her neck in degrading, necrotic tissue of her classmate, Keena was not so sure anymore. She wondered whether she was already infected, whether she would live until next week’s exams, whether she would be well enough to go on a date that she promised Ranil oh so long ago.

Inside, she was trembling with terror, yet her hands were steel-steady as she made incisions and injected miraculous healing serums. The plague was given the name of Inner Rot, for it spread inside the victim quickly without any symptoms, only to turn the insides to liquid, necrotic muck.

The origins of this plague were uncertain, narrowed down to two possibilities - either the plague was brought by the thousands of refugees camped in front of the Citadel gates, or by an unknown silk trader that was treated and mercy-killed by Larais and her students several days ago.

Although the second option was probably the correct one, hundreds of medics agreed with the first possibility. It was easier to blame the unknown people for bringing foreign filth with them than their own acting Triarch for not taking correct precautions after encountering the unknown sickness.

“Take a break, Keena.” Man’s voice was as calming as his eyes. He put the strong, large hand on Keena’s shoulder and smiled at her through the curtain of black curly hair. “Write up today’s count into the ledger, and get some sleep.”

“Put the hand down and wash yourself, you idiot.” She muttered towards the man. How did he convince me to go on a date? I still don’t understand… she thought to herself. “How did you get here? We are quarantined.”

For an answer, he started to cough violently, spewing black and green phlegm from his mouth. As he looked at his dirtied gloves, he chuckled nervously. “I’ll be fine, right?”

Keena shifted her attention momentarily. “You too? How? Did you get your treatment already?”

Ranil nodded. “I did. And I feel fine, honestly. I guess it’s working.”

Let’s hope so… Keena thought. Hundreds already laid either dead or dying, and the spread of the Inner Rot was far from contained, yet the treatment they applied seemed to be working, or at least slowing the sickness significantly. Sadly, a lot of medics and medical students had to die in the first few days of the epidemic for the treatment to be derived and tested out.

“Go lie down, and rest, Ranil. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She said calmly, trembling with terror inside. I’m gonna die… She thought to herself, yet her body did what it was being trained to do. Inside, she shook, she felt sick, ready to vomit on command, just seconds away from breaking down, but on the outside, Keena was steady, calm and focused.

“Is that an order, your highness?” Ranil asked with a smile, before bursting into cough again. “You’re not home, you know. This is not the palace of the Malorean high lord, and I am above you in…”

“You are a spoiled brat, an arrogant idiot above nothing and no one. Either go lie down voluntarily, or I will make you.” Ice in her voice surprised him, yet Ranil had to admit that she was never as beautiful as she was now. Filthy, reeking with death, yet her chestnut ponytail shone like a single star on a dark sky, her focused face more attractive than anything he had ever seen, the delicate movements of her gloved fingers more enticing than the show of dancers from Rooskuria. Reluctantly and without a word, he shuffled away.

Keena sighed. Being the daughter of a Malorean high lord, she knew that she would be pushed away, boxed and labeled as a royal brat. She never got used to it, and it irritated her that even after so many years, she was still labeled as someone she was not.

This was her home. This was her life now, this was her purpose.

Hours later, she sat in the shower, crying. Tears were streaming down her face in salty rivers, her body shook with both mental and physical exhaustion. Again, as it often happened before, she thought about giving up, about renouncing her healer’s oath…

And again, as it often happened, words of her former mentor sprang into Keena’s mind. She remembered how Auria looked that day, her beautiful face covered by a veil of snow-white hair, her smile that melted glaciers, and her deep eyes, filled with all the sadness, misery and death Auria saw and felt in her life…

“There will be times when you will want to give up, to crawl into the dark corner and cry silently, never to be seen again. You will burn out, your mind will give up much sooner than your body. Nobody will be as strong an enemy for you as yourself, your own thoughts and doubts, your overthinking and overanalyzing. You will feel useless and worthless, unnecessary even. You will feel inadequate, not enough… And that is okay. That is normal. With all the misery that will surround you in your life, it is normal to feel such things. It should not be normal, but it is. Remember one thing - no one can do what you do. No one walks in your shoes but yourself. You matter, and if you don’t do your work - if you don’t help those around you that need help, no one will.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Reminding herself of Auria’s words steeled her up, as it always did. She liked her - Auria was one of few mentors that Keena actually enjoyed studying under. Shame that she always traveled somewhere. But maybe once, she will take me with herself… Keena thought with a smile on her face. Maybe once, she will let me help her heal the world.

Her tears stayed in the shower along with her doubts and worries. With memories of Auria in her mind, she dressed herself up into clean medic’s robes and went back to infirmary.

I can do a few more hours…. I know that she would.

***

Morro watched wordlessly as former refugees - now paid workers - heaved heavy boxes of artillery ammunition aboard the Scythe. One bad movement, one box hits the ground, and we may blow up… he thought to himself, dismayed and irritated at the same time.

The plague that hit the Citadel’s population made it necessary for refugees to be used as a paid workforce, and truth be told, most of them took the opportunity with gratitude. They had a chance to build their lives anew, and they were not going to throw that away.

At least, most of them.

He turned away from the workers and watched the blue horizon. He almost could not discern where the sky ended and the sea began and he smiled unexpectedly at that sight.

“I’ll never get tired of this, Layana.”

“Sir?” She asked cautiously. Seeing him in such a good mood was as rare as a falling star.

“The sea.” He looked around from the top of the bridge-tower of Scythe, admiring each of Citadel’s ships shortly. “The fleet.” His sight ended at large artillery cannons of his own ship. “The genius of human engineering, thousands of calculations and equations necessary for all this around us to be able to sail…”

Sudden scream followed by a loud clang of falling steel stopped his words. He turned his head quickly and saw a group of workers running away from the cargo pier.

“What the hell is happening?” His good mood was gone, as quickly as it came. He ran down the stairs followed by Layana, ran through the deck of Scythe quickly and leaned over the starboard railing to see what spooked the workers.

As soon as he saw it, his mouth dried up and his throat clenched.

A single five-limbed creature was struggling to climb from the water atop the pier, its trembling limbs seemingly unable to pull its weight up from the water. Hundreds of small holes in its skin were slowly pulsing, reminding Morro of a man out of breath. Needle-like teeth in the shrieks’ mouth clattered against one another as its mouth opened and closed again and again.

“Shriek!” Layana cried out as she pulled her revolving gun from the holster and aimed it at the creature. Morro stopped her. “No. We need to catch it alive. We need to…”

Although Layana did not kill the shriek, someone else did. Thundering of multiple gunshots was followed by shrieks’ wailing, the creature’s dying scream sending shivers down Morro’s spine and clenching his stomach in a vice grip.

“Fuck! We need to study them, and we need to study them alive!” He shrouded furiously. His shouts were soon drowned in a cacophony of gunshots, coming from ships all around the docks, and in the terror screams of workers running for their lives away from the water.

Layana turned towards him with a serious face. “Something tells me that there will be a lot of opportunities for that, sir.”

***

They were trapped in the dark. Walls made of wet wood were covered by white, fluffy fungi. They were dotted with holes and through them, hot air was coming inside...

Squeaking and rattling of rusty wheels mixed with moaning of twisted, malformed figures laying all around. Bodies marked with tumorous growths, horn growths and weeping wounds were pressed together in the mixture of filth, heat and stink. There was nowhere to move. There was nowhere to run...

The carriage has stopped. A wooden wall disappeared and bodies pressed against it fell down from the carriage onto the hot, sandy ground. Monsters covered in golden scales started to sort through the bodies and drag them away, being as gentle with them as with a pile of horse shit in the middle of the road. The moaning of suffering figures was getting more intense...

Her fall to the ground was painful, but not more than what followed. A golden-scaled hand grabbed her, scraping the skin on her upper arm while his other hand hit her across the face. Her once white hair, now darkened with filth, started to change color again – this time to blood red. The world was fading in front of her eyes, the wicked grin of a gold-clad man chasing her into the darkness…

Something was wrong. Something changed.

The projector rose above her shoulders, mercilessly seeking its next target. The man was impaled just a moment after, life draining out of him before her own eyes. She was filled with joy, with incomprehensible bliss and pleasure. As she turned her head and threw the drained husk of a man on the ground, she was ready to kill anyone in her way. All the golden monsters would suffer what they deserve…

But they did not. The dream repeated itself. Again and again, she was back in the disintegrating wooden wagon, barely breathing, barely staying alive. Each time, the dream ended with her wielding the projector, but each time, the dream was a little bit different. She killed the man once, twice, thirty times, and then moved on to other targets, yet before she could kill them all, before she could escape that hellish place, she was again in that same wagon.

It did not happen this way… She reminded herself in thoughts. Don’t twist your memories. You did not have a projector back then… Remember the truth, Auria. Remember what really happened….

She woke up with an ear-tearing scream.