The night was dark and long.

I spent the entire night trying to keep the stranger who lay on the sheets warm with layers of blankets. I diligently stoked the fire in the fireplace as it dwindled, and I replenished the candles, whispering prayers as each one burned out. As the effects of the milk wore off, he grew restless, tossing and turning in bed moaning, even though his eyes remained closed. At every opportunity, I wiped his sweaty skin and moistened his parched lips with water. His breath was so delicate as if it could dissipate at any moment. I didn't know what more I could do while he was still unconscious. Time seemed to stand still. Despite no light seeping into the grand hall through the distant window curtains, I occasionally turned my head and glanced at them. I longed for morning to come, for someone to arrive, even if it was just Lea, Nadea, or anyone else. We were completely alone.

I tried not to dwell on what had happened. It would pass. I would find answers eventually. Ascula must have known what needed to be done. She always knew. I had to dismiss Lea's unwavering insistence on the immutability of fate. I had to confide in Ascula about my dreams. Deep down, I already knew, and it had been proven before my very eyes: the presence of this nameless man, lying on those stairs, and now here we were. Lea had been mistaken. I had been mistaken, by accepting what I heard.

While he struggled to hold onto life, I held onto his soul, silently praying to the celestial spirits above, begging them not to claim him. I hadn't seen those visions in vain. I had to help him. If my efforts would be useless and this young man, despite everything, would still die in my hands, why had he visited my dreams? Why had I seen him? Even if I couldn't make sense of my other dreams, I decided to tell Ascula everything. If I had prevented this, I could prevent the others as well. Oh, if only he could survive until morning. If only he could.

Hadn't I just seen him again, a moment ago? Under the shelter of an oak tree, laughing joyfully with other people, then waiting alone in a room, quietly praying. He had turned in the darkness and looked deep into my eyes. Just a moment ago.

He would endure.

We were going to meet again.

I looked at the young man, whose cold, calloused hands I held. His bronze skin glistened with sweat from the flickering candlelight. I gently withdrew one hand from his grasp, delicately wiped his face with my handkerchief, running it tenderly, then smoothing out the unruly strands of thick locks that fell on his eyes. Please, do not let his soul ascend to the skies just yet. Let him live a while longer among us.

As the night deepened, the room grew colder, and shadows danced upon the walls of the hall. My heart grew heavy, and my mind became clouded. I was sleepy and fatigued. I tried to struggle against slumber and to continue caring for my patient. Whenever my eyelids threatened to close, the image of the twisted, half-human, half-creature face of the serpent slithered before my eyes, jolting me awake. I was occasionally startled, mistakenly believing the house to be trembling once more. A part of me began to doubt the reality of the serpent I had seen. However, the worlds outside remained eerily silent, with no crickets, no whispers of the wind. Just an endless abyss of darkness and an unsettling silence. Stillness. Everything was too still. Almost suffocating.

It was an endless darkness and silence. My hands tingled with an eerie sensation. I shifted within my cloak, absentmindedly gazing at the walls. The room was warm enough not to make me shiver.

Then suddenly, it turned cold. I felt myself submerge into the depths of icy waters. In an instant, everything vanished, leaving me disoriented and bewildered.

I had no idea where I was. I was wet and cold, dampness clung to my skin, seeping into my bones. I tried to open my mouth, to call out to someone, but I couldn't. I had no lips. No tongue. I couldn't see where I was, for I had no eyes. Somewhere in the distance, the world was crumbling. The sense of impending doom engulfed everything that remained of me. Worry. Anger. Resentment. Grief. Fear.

What has remained of me?

What have I become?

Then, flames ignited.

I found myself traversing an interminable corridor, where darkness prevailed above, save for the cold, ethereal glow of the moon. Along the path, fires of various sizes and colors continued to materialize. Flames flickered on the ground while others danced freely in the air, stretching towards unreachable heights, thousands of trembling flames extending from the emptiness to the nonexistent end of the corridor.

Perhaps they had always been there, never gone.

Only I hadn't opened my eyes.

Without moving, I watched the faces in the fires; their scattered, shapeless, blurry faces. Though I knew they were there, I couldn't discern their features. Their eyes were crystal clear. Eyes brimming with sorrow, with helplessness, with lips that moved silently in their own way.

My body burned. Flames ignited an inferno within the depths of my chest.

I have the light and the hell, I thought.

The fire that consumed me did not illuminate the corridor, unlike the others. As I burned, and burned, radiating light with fury, and grief, my light darkened the holy sky. And then, as if the flames possessed a collective consciousness, all the eyes I had watched, eyes that were filled with sorrow and vulnerability, turned towards me.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

They saw me.

They knew me.

I yearned to reach out and embrace them, to bring them close. Come to me, I wanted to say, all of you. If you come to me, you won't be cold. I will grow you in my heart. You will be warm, and you will be safe.

No one will harm you.

But I couldn't speak.

A piercing sound suddenly shattered everything I beheld, dispersing them like ripples in water. A loud crashing noise echoed in the distance, growing nearer and more persistent. I tried to comprehend what was happening. Even though everything had disappeared, the moon and the faces, I still burned, my chest aching as if pierced by a dagger.

Breathing became increasingly difficult.

From my blazing hands, a warm, gentle breeze passed through. I looked at my hands and saw something strange, thick and rigid fingers intertwined with mine. At first, I couldn't make sense of it.

When I realized that the sound was the forceful knocking on the door and I was still at the cottage, I was about to jump out of the chair. Yet I noticed that the sound had not only startled me but also awakened the young man lying on the bed before me. Beneath partially opened, drowsy eyelashes, his brown eyes wandered. My heart pounded with excitement. "Are you okay?" I asked, leaning, "Can you hear me?"

The brown eyes stared vacantly at my face. Warmth filled my heart anyways.

The door was struck once again.

With joy and thrill, I released his hands and rushed towards the entrance of the house. I had no idea when morning had arrived or when I had drifted off to sleep. I didn't know when or how I had moved the young man to the bed, or how I had cared for his wound. One moment he lay on the ground, the next he rested in bed, one moment lifeless, the next alive.

Sunlight was seeping into the house through the curtains. The serpent I saw, or thought I saw, during the night didn't even cross my mind. Without a second thought, brimming with happiness, I opened the door. Nadea, Ascula, and the other girls were standing on the doorstep. The world slipped away from beneath my feet. Taking a deep breath, I tightly hugged Nadea.

"What's going on?" Tysha asked with concern. "Why are you here? Why did you lock the door?"

"I did not." I loosened my arms with a smile and stepped back from Nadea. "I waited for you all night. I was terrified you wouldn't come for a few more days. I prayed all night."

"What's happening?" Nadea looked at me with confusion.

My heart was still pounding. Excited and proud, I looked at the girls first and then at Ascula. The healer stood before me, adorned in her silver cloak adorned with golden-threaded oak tree embroidery, and wielding her enormous staff. Her deep, cold blue eyes stared at me. Ascula was always like this, but for some reason, I didn't like the look in her eyes this time. I sensed my joy fading, replaced by an unsettling feeling, and a shiver ran through me. I didn't know what to say all of a sudden. I didn't know how to explain what had happened. Everything that occurred last night seemed absurd now, and the words failed to form on my tongue.

Avoiding eye contact, I took a few steps back and opened the door wider for them to see. I retreated to the side, near the wall, and pointed to the young man lying in bed.

The girls looked at the spot I indicated, puzzled. Then, with shock and concern on their faces, they passed by me and entered the house. I heard them leaning over the bed, speaking to him, but I couldn't comprehend their words. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, happiness, and turmoil intertwined.

When Ascula turned her head towards the dirt path ahead, I then noticed the carriage and the driver waiting. The healer nodded her head in gratitude to the driver. As the carriage turned and retreated along the path, Ascula, without casting a glance at me or uttering a word, walked past me and entered the house.

The silence and Ascula's distant expression bothered me. Ascula had never been the warmest person, but I could sense that she wasn't sharing my concern and had something else on her mind. Unsure of what to do, I stood at the door and watched her. Then, closing the door behind me, I entered as well.

The girls made way for Ascula, as she approached. Their head turned towards me one by one. Nadea shook her head, seemingly questioning what what had happened, but without looking at any of them and maintaining a slight distance from the bed, I watched Ascula. I felt deeply uneasy.

"The young man," the Healer said in a calm, authoritative voice. "Can you hear me? Can you understand me?"

The young man seemed not fully recovered. He was visibly disoriented. Taking deep breaths, he looked at Ascula with half-empty eyes and shook his head hesitantly.

"I'm Ascula. I am the High Healer of the Five Southern Villages. Can you tell me what happened? How were you injured? How did you get here?"

"I don't remember," the young man replied weakly. "But I know you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes... I saw you in the castle."

Ascula nodded. Slowly uncovering the sheets, she examined him, noticing the bandage on his abdomen. She paused.

I couldn't see Ascula's face, but a chilling sensation ran through me. Unintentionally, I took a couple of steps forward before quickly stopping myself. I couldn't comprehend why she acted like this. I knew her. She was mad at me. I wanted to explain myself, even though I didn't understand the reason for her anger or how to defend myself. "I found him outside the house last night," I explained. "The wound on his abdomen was very deep. It was split from top to bottom. He had lost a lot of blood."

Ascula appeared indifferent to my presence. Without responding, she reached for the scissors next to the bed and started cutting the bandages. I wanted to get closer to the bed, see her face, and talk to her again. It was unfair for her to be angry with me for intervening. I knew very well that she was upset. Her stubbornness and assigning me cleaning tasks as her way of punishment for something that happened a few months ago were childish and know she was mad at me for this? It was unjust. Should I have left him to die?

If I wasn't going to heal people, if I wasn't going to do my best, why did she keep me around?

I leaned towards Ascula, looking at her intently, but she ignored me completely. "I had to do something; he would have died otherwise. I couldn't just wait until morning," I said, hoping to justify my actions. "I was alone. All alone. I didn't know what else to do."

She remained silent, cutting the bandages without lifting her gaze. Then, without turning her head, she asked in a subdued voice, "Do you work at Lord Sillavont's castle, son?"

My throat tightened, and my face grew warm.

"Yes, I am Sir Grimwald's apprentice," he replied hardly, meeting my eyes as he spoke. They were the same brown eyes I had seen in my dream, eyes that had shimmered with laughter.

"Sir Grimwald? The Lord's blacksmith? What's your n-"

Ascula's voice trailed off, and a heavy silence filled the room.

I turned around to understand what was happening. The Healer squinted her eyes, furrowed her brows, focused on examining the young man's wound with a clenched jaw.

Trembling and reluctantly, I also looked at the wound. I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, fearing that the wound might be infected or worsening because of me.

However, there was no sign of infection.

No trace of blood.

There was nothing there.

The wound had completely disappeared.