When Anther returned home tear-stained, shaking on his feet, and with a kind of friend she had never seen before, Anniil dropped her bowl of divination water and threw her arms around him as if the alignment of the stars would stop and wait for her.
“Anther, sweetie, what’s wrong?” She hurried to embrace him while the straw-haired stranger waited awkwardly off to the side.
Upon feeling his mother’s warmth, Anther couldn’t help but start wailing again. He clung tightly to her robes and cried and it was ages before he managed to calm down at all.
“Please, sweetheart, tell mom what’s wrong,” she pleaded, stroking his long brown hair.
Anther sniffled, pinching his lower lip between his teeth. “Can you call dad and great aunt Januiil?”
Even though the woman was bursting with curiosity and worry, she nodded without complaint.
“I’ll call them right now. Why don’t you and your friend sit down and drink some warm tea while you wait.”
On Anniil’s way out of the house, she made eye contact with Lilith, who nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him, ma’am.”
Anniil bobbed her head and ducked out of the treehouse. Once the curtains by the door had settled, it was nothing but silence inside. Lilith glanced around, spotting a kettle sitting on the stovetop.
“Where do you keep the cups?”
“Above the window,” Anther answered gloomily.
She looked up and indeed saw small hooks made of living branches where teacups hung by their handles.
I may not be a demon anymore, but houses that are alive and crawling with bugs still feel alien to me, she thought as she prepared tea for the both of them.
She didn’t have to tell Anther to drink. He was thirsty after all the crying he’d done. There was no lack of tea and no excess of familiarity for the two of them to talk, so they sat in silence until the others arrived.
Anniil, Yinether, and Januiil hurried into the house, looks of concern on each of their faces. When Yinether saw his son’s tear-streaked face in person, he rushed right over to give him a hug.
“Son, what happened?”
Anniil and Januiil sat down at the table. The old woman had a look of grim expectation about her, understanding that it had to be something bad to necessitate all three of them.
While the elves greeted Anther and sat down, Lilith stood up and prepared tea for everyone else.
“Thank you,” Januiil told her. “And you would be?”
“My name is Lilith,” she shrugged and added, “I’m a human friend from the dungeon.”
“Human,” the old woman muttered, sipping her tea with an eyebrow raised.
“Well what is it already, child? You can’t just sit there sniffling if you want us to help you.”
Anther wiped his eyes that had gotten moist again. “I let Archimedes look at my sickness today. He said he can cure me, but he also said I’ll die soon if I don’t get cured.”
Yinether’s face paled and Januiil’s grim expression remained, but a hint of skepticism sunk into Anniil’s eyes.
“Oh really? And what does this Archimedes claim the cure is? How much does it cost?”
“It’s free,” Lilith cut in, setting her teacup down and locking eyes with Anniil. “Archimedes is the dungeon that made me. He really likes your son. This isn’t some scam or anything like that.”
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“So I’m supposed to believe that my perfectly healthy son who’s already taking medicine for his condition is on the verge of death?”
“The medicine you gave him is for limiting mana flow, correct?” Lilith stood firm in her duty to Archimedes and to Anther. “You should know what happens to an elf whose mana flow gets blocked. You should know how much medicine your son has taken over the years.”
Anniil was unable to refute Lilith personally, so she looked to Januiil, who sighed.
“Of course I know. I’m the one who made and prescribed his medicine.” The old woman took a long sip from her teacup. “It’s true that it will shorten his life, but that’s why I’m careful with what I have him take. It isn’t something he’ll have to worry about in the next few decades.”
Lilith realized she never heard from Archimedes how long Anther had until his medicine killed him. He had focused more on his underlying condition, so she decided to do the same.
“But even the medicine you give him isn’t a cure for his condition: it only reduces the symptoms.”
“Are you claiming your dungeon can do better?”
“Yes,” Lilith nodded. “Archimedes already knows why Anther ‘stalls’ and how to fix it permanently. No more medicine: no more risk of mana blockages. On the contrary, the condition he has is fatal. Once he grows up more and starts practicing magic, your medicine won’t save him.”
Januiil heaved a sigh. “The plan was for him not to use magic,” she admitted.
“Januiil?” Yinether questioned.
“Jan?” Anniil also furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? You never discussed that with us.”
“It was a long way off,” the old lady waved her thin hand at them. “Still, even with all of that, you can’t call his condition fatal.”
Lilith sighed and stood up, using her own magic to do her best to replicate what Archimedes had shown Anther during his diagnosis. Her years of practice with fine mana control made her a master now that she had human mana to work with instead of feisty demon mana. By closing her eyes, she was able to recall the exact placements of the fireflies and replicate them above her hands.
“This should look familiar to you, Anniil,” Lilith said.
“It’s the magic array for the divination spell: Memory of the Earth,” Anniil answered easily.
Lilith nodded and moved one mote of light a bit to the side. “This is where the mana channels in Anther’s brain release.”
She stared at the skeptical mother, who now lowered her chin in worry. “That’s a misfire.”
Again, Lilith nodded and looked over all three adults in the room. “Does an untrained mage have no sudden mana spikes? Untrained as they are, can they perfectly contain their mana at all times? When startled or when asleep, can you be sure Anther wouldn’t cause a catastrophic spell misfire in his brain?”
Januiil took a sharp breath and hung her head in shame, while Yinether’s went another shade paler.
“Sun and moon, is it really that bad?”
“Skies above,” Anniil spat, “assuming what you’re saying is true, then we do need a cure and we need it before he goes through his next growth spurt.”
“My medicine may have bought us time until now,” Anther’s great aunt sighed heavily, “but herbalism just can’t cure everything. Treating symptoms has always been my limit.”
Lilith nodded. “If you’ve understood, then we can talk about the cure.”
“What is it?” Yinether asked eagerly.
“Simple,” she shrugged. While displaying the misfiring spell array, she moved the misplaced mote back into its proper position.
“No!” Anniil stood up abruptly from her seat and shouted. “No! Do you know how expensive brain surgery is? How long it takes? How damaging it can be? And you want me to let a dungeon do it?! To bring my only son’s mind stone into a dungeon? Absolutely not!”
“We’ve told you the cause and the cure,” Lilith replied. “If you have another avenue to take, you’re welcome to it, but Archimedes is offering to do it for free.”
After glaring for a while longer, Anniil eventually deflated and dropped down into her chair. She was a smart woman: she knew that her son’s condition wouldn’t cure itself.
“… We still want to get a second opinion,” she declared.
“That’s fine, but can you afford to go to a city and get one?”
“No,” Anniil shook her head. “But if your dungeon cares so much about my son, he can cooperate with the guild on his own and have them send someone to verify his findings.”
Lilith pondered only briefly before nodding. “Alright, I’m sure he’d be willing to do that.”
“Also,” she scolded sharply, “we will be there with our son while the dungeon does whatever it’s planning to do. I won’t settle for less than watching every second of it. Full transparency, alright? I’m a capable mage myself, and I want to be informed about every part of the process before it happens.”
“That’s fine.”
Lilith was confident that Archimedes could convince this worried elf. As he himself had said: cold hard facts could be quite convincing.