I was frozen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing was real.

The forest fell into a suffocating silence as the serpent's transformation unfolded before my eyes. Its elongated body twisted and contorted, sinews popping and bones cracking. The once scaled skin now was turning to fleshy lips and patches of human flesh, devoid of a nose that should have been there. Its face, a grotesque fusion of serpentine features and twisted child resemblance, contorted into a grin that just stretched and stretched. Tears streamed down its watery, humanlike eyes, while it was smiling at me.

No. This couldn't be true. I was still dreaming. I was either still asleep or hallucinating from fear. My mind, my body, and my emotions were frozen.

Before I could understand what was happening, the snake suddenly curled up to attack us as if it was flying. An insane fear made my whole body tremble and melt. Thinking of nothing, I bent down, gathering all my strength and will in a second, I reached out and grabbed the sheet and dragged him in. The moment we stepped inside the house and closed the door, a thunderous bang hit the door, jolting the entire house. The walls started to shudder and the floor quaked beneath my feet. As I struggled to regain my footing, a heavyweight crushed down my entire body. The whole world turned black. The surroundings buzzed around me and I trembled uncontrollably, and collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe.

I didn't know where I was.

I was suffocating in a dark void, deep within. I couldn't scream. Somewhere far away, the world was collapsing. Glass shattered, the ground shook, and the earth and sky merged into one another. I remained motionless, but I was being tossed from one place to another. Every time I tried to speak, my throat constricted. Something was winding around my body, tightening slowly, squeezing my life out.

What was happening? Was I in a dream? What was going on? Something was squeezing me so tightly that I couldn't even move.

Then I saw fires. Fires of various sizes, pale flames filling the entire void. They appeared out of nowhere.

Perhaps they had always been there, but I was only just opening my eyes to them.

I gazed at the fires, at the shapeless faces within each one. Glowing eyes filled with sorrow.

I looked at them. I watched them.

Whatever was squeezing my body began to burn. All the eyes, all the faces I was watching turned towards me, my glowing, blazing body.

They could see me.

They were coming for me.

Somewhere far away, the windows shattered, their fragments scattering like stars. The terrified scream of a child pierced the air.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on the floor of the cottage. The door was closed, and the air felt still and calm.

Everything appeared normal. My ears were ringing. My head was spinning. I looked around trying to grasp what was going on. My gaze shifted to the wounded man lying near me on the sheets, his breathing shallow.

As I sat up and looked at him, a mix of emotions flooded me. My heart pounded heavily in my chest. My legs trembled with fear. I stared at the man lying beside me for a while, still unable to believe what had happened. I watched his expressionless face, parted lips, and chest rising and falling with difficulty. My tears were poised to flow, but I couldn't move. I couldn't cry. I reached out and touch his cold hand.

I struggled to grasp the reality of the situation. Everything felt unreal, like a hazy dream I couldn't quite wake up from.

What was it?

Where was I? Where were we?

The windows were intact, and the door remained closed. I was sitting on the floor of Ascula's house. I looked around, scanning the room and the shelves. Not a single item had fallen or even moved. It was as if time had stood still. For a while, I remained motionless, straining my ears to listen. The only sound I could hear was the weak, raspy breath of the man lying next to me. There was no wind, not even a whisper outside.

Had I seen a hallucination? Was I still trapped in a dream?

He is going to die, Mom.

A shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea what was happening. My senses felt numb as if they had been frozen. A sense of emptiness filled me, leaving me hollow inside.

I turned my gaze towards the door as if expecting it to be torn off its hinges, and the ground beneath me to shift away. It felt like I would be trapped in that darkness forever. Perhaps I was already imprisoned in some way. Nothing around me seemed real. It was all an illusion, like the flickering light of a burning flame.

A rasping sound rose from beside me, followed by a cough. When I turned my head to look, my mind snapped back to reality.

I reached out towards him, my hand trembling slightly as I gently touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice filled with concern. "Do you hear me?" But he was in too much pain to hear me. His face contorted with agony, and his eyes remained closed.

The weight of helplessness settled upon me. What was going on?

My gaze shifted back to the door, but this time it didn't seem like it would be torn off its hinges. It appeared colossal and sturdy as if it would protect us from whatever lurked outside.

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Ascula was not only a healer but also a skilled enchantress. Within every door and window frame of her house, she had inscribed various protective charms of her own making. No malevolent spirit could enter this place. Their entry would be their demise. I knew it. I should feel safe. Although it was evident that its enchantment couldn't fully shield me from the nightmares, Ascula had also imbued the talisman onto my chest. Nothing could harm me. Nothing could touch me. We were protected. Even if what I had witnessed was real, we were safe.

I sprang to my feet, praying to the spirits in the sky to protect us. I would think about all of this when Ascula arrived in the morning. That's when I would talk to her. Hurriedly, I grabbed a candle and a pair of scissors from one of the wooden shelves. With trembling hands, I struck a flint against a piece of steel, sparks flying into the air. After a few attempts, a small flame emerged, dancing at the tip of the wick. I carefully held the candle and placed it near the man lying on the floor. The flickering flame illuminated his face.

I needed to see the condition of the wound. The man's tunic was drenched in a vivid crimson, still wet with the blood I hadn't seen until now. The metallic scent of the blood stung my nostrils. With trembling hands and shortness of breath, I carefully cut through his tunic, exposing the injured area.

I was taken aback as I revealed the wound. It was larger and deeper than I had anticipated. The gravity of the situation hit me hard, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.

I couldn't help him. The bleeding seemed unstoppable. I couldn't even see the extent of the damage amidst the sea of blood, but his organs could have been torn apart. They probably were. The fact that he had survived this long was nothing short of a miracle. I could not help him. I could not. I was just a simple girl who could make basic remedies and assist Ascula in treating the sick. I couldn't stitch up a wound like this. I couldn't do it. I did not know how to.

He was going to die.

Reality hit me hard once again.

He is going to die, Mom.

I felt trapped in a state of uncertainty. I couldn't leave him to his fate, but I also didn't know how to help him. Thoughts raced through my mind, yet clarity eluded me. My legs tensed, ready to spring into action, but something held me back. I was torn, indecisive about the best course of action. The weight of responsibility and the fear of making the wrong choice immobilized me, leaving me standing there, frozen in a state of hesitation.

I had to try.

I knew I had to do something.

I looked at his pale face, distorted by pain. I couldn't waste another moment.

I needed to clean his wound first. I had to clean it as quickly as possible, to stop the bleeding. I needed to light the fireplace, prepare the needle and thread, and get clean cloth ready. I had to boil some water. Herbs, plants. I needed to tend to them. Breathe, breathe. I had to make a poultice. I would have to stitch up the wound. I needed to try. Breath. I could do it.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself. My head was spinning like crazy.

Okay.

I rose to my feet and swiftly grabbed the candle, then I walked to ignite the fireplace. With a sense of urgency, I hastened to the supply room, scanning the shelves filled with an array of herbs. My mind raced, trying to recall the exact location of the ones I needed.

The first logical step was to clean the wound with water and salt, or with vinegar and to stitch it up, but I hesitated, not wanting to take unnecessary risks while he was still in such a fragile state. Before stitching the wound, I could give him poppy milk to alleviate his pain. The more he could be eased, the better. Though I had never performed sutures on anyone before, I was willing to take the risk, but only under the condition that he remained unconscious.

My hands were trembling still. I searched through the jars, desperately seeking the poppy seeds. My usual organization had eluded me, and frustration grew inside me.

Then there it was, the jar of poppy seeds.

I delicately measured out a small portion and crushed it into a fine powder. Carefully, I added the poppy powder to a cup of water, stirring it until the liquid took on a tinge of pale gold.

I placed the cup of poppy milk by the fireplace, ensuring it was within reach. Summoning my last strength, I carefully dragged the injured man closer to the fireplace. Then I approached him, supporting his head as I brought the cup to his lips.

"Drink this," I murmured, hoping that he would understand, and the milk would ease his suffering.

Time seemed to stand still as I waited for the poppy to take effect, my gaze fixated on the man's face, searching for any signs of relief. Even though I wanted to watch him, I could not wait.

I carefully poured water from a nearby jug into a sturdy iron pot resting upon the open flames of the hearth. I delicately submerged the needle into it. While waiting for the water to boil, I went to the table to prepare a poultice that would help to heal the wound after I stitched it up.

I gathered the calendula, comfrey, plantain, and lavender. Then I took a small amount of each dried herb and ground them together using a mortar and pestle until they formed a coarse powder. Crushing the herbs would help release their beneficial compounds. To create a paste-like consistency, I added warm water, as it was readily As the mixture took shape, I transferred the herbal blend into a clean bowl.

After leaving the poultice on the table, I went to check on the young man. His face appeared more relaxed, yet his chest still rose and fell with a raspy rhythm. I knew he was breathing with all his remaining strength. Even if I stitched up the wound, I couldn't restore the blood he had lost. Was it a mistake to give him the poppy infusion? It weighed heavily on my conscience. It would only add to his burden, considering how little life force he had left.

I did not know. If only I had more time to contemplate.

I approached the fireplace with a sense of heaviness in my heart and made my way to the boiling pot. The sound of the boiling water echoed in the room.

I carefully retrieved the needle from the boiling water, using a pair of tongs to protect my hands from the scorching heat. I looked at the needle, feeling a mix of excitement and preemptive regret for what lay ahead. My stomach twisted with cramps, but I knew I had to proceed. Despite the discomfort and anxiety that gripped me, there was no turning back now.

Oh, good spirits.

I took a deep breath and approached the wounded man. With a mixture of warm water and salt in a small bowl, I dipped a clean cloth and gently cleaned the edges of the deep gash. The sight of the exposed flesh made my hands tremble, but I couldn't afford to. I had to be precise, careful, and do my best. I could not faint either. Good, heavenly spirits, help me.

With a needle and thread in hand, I leaned in closer, my focus intense. The books I had read provided some guidance, but this was my first time attempting such a delicate procedure. I knew I had to be steady, sewing each stitch with care. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing as I examined the deep, bloody wound. It was difficult to see the extent of the damage amidst the crimson pool. I feared that vital organs might have been torn. I carefully reached for a clean cloth soaked in warm water. Gently, I pressed it against the wound, applying just enough pressure to help cleanse away the excess blood.

The blood-soaked cloth revealed fragments of torn tissue, but it was difficult to ascertain the exact nature of the damage. Frustration grew within me but I tried to remain calm. I would stitch the wound to the best of my ability. What else could I do?

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my trembling hand and carefully guided the needle through the layers of skin at the bottom of the wound.

O spirits of light and mercy,

Spare this young man from death's journey.

And me.