Jiehong had not expected to arrive in Hope-Ridge so early. The cloud, or whatever it was which he encountered, likely had a role to play in his swift arrival. How exactly, he did not know. And neither was he likely to find out, he reasoned with himself. Which meant he should not question his good fate. As mysterious as the encounter had been on route to the city, right now, he had to put aside his confusion to help his friend. He tucked the unusual encounter into a fold of his brain and said he would muse on the issue later, with a learned person.

Passing into the city, Jiehong turned to a guard and asked where the city's medical square was located. "Follow the main street until you arrive at an intersection. Follow the path marked in red paint. I hope your friend makes a speedy recovery. We don't get many people--"

Jiehong thanked the man but could not wait to hear the guard out. Rude as it was, Jiehong made a beat down the street, on the lookout for some red sleek. He found the intersection. To each street a different color corresponded over a modest stone arch. Jiehong found the red-painted stone arch and followed it until he found the medical square.

By the time Jiehong arrived in the medical square most of the vendors had left for the day. Finding one who was only just beginning her packing-up, Jiehong begged her: "Please, ma'am," he said. "My friend is deathly sick. Mana sickness! He needs immediate attention."

Muttering a polite rejoinder to herself, the nurse, who weathered many a year, as her face bore witness, said, "Fine. Lift him onto the table. I can't promise he'll be fine, but I can give him a look."

Jiehong placed Zan onto the table. The nurse searched for her handbag of medical equipment. She rediscovered it behind her. She reached inside and pulled a grinding bowl with its pestle.

"Sit, sit! You're in my way!" the nurse cried at Jiehong.

Taking a seat several paces away, Jiehong gave the nurse room to work as he kept vigil over Zan.

The nurse rushed over her workstation, grabbing bags and boxes from a nearby cart. Probably uses that cart to haul her many potion ingredients and tonics, Jiehong thought. She threw many ingredients, plus some water and other liquids Jiehong did not recognize, into the mortar. Then she ground the selections for a long while until they were well-blended.

"Open his mouth. I need to pour this down his throat," the nurse said.

Jiehong got up from his seat and stepped next to the table. He gently opened Zan's mouth to allow the nurse to pour the medicine. Jiehong saw the substance as it slipped from the bowl into Zan's mouth. Its odor was pleasant. Judging from how easily it fell from the bowl and into the mouth, Jiehong saw the substance was not sticky. Zan coughed some as the substance entered his mouth but with gentle coaxing from the nurse and his half-brother, Zan swallowed the goop.

The nurse stood staring at Zan for a moment. "Is that all?" Jiehong asked.

"Ha!" the nurse yelped. In a more somber tone, she said, "If only it were that easy."

"Do you know what is afflicting him?" Jiehong asked.

The nurse gave Jiehong a mixed look. "It's a strange condition," she said. "Sometimes, those chosen by prophecy exhibit such symptoms. You mentioned 'mana sickness' earlier. His body shows its weathering, yes, but I see nothing on his body suggesting the continuation of the condition. Whatever is effecting your friend, it will require, either a hand more practiced than mine, or the grace of a divine to solve."

Jiehong did not know what to make of the nurse's words. He had never before heard of the 'prophetically selected' having any condition, let alone symptoms of conditions similar to that of mana sickness. The whole notion was new to Jiehong. As was the idea Zan could be 'chosen' for a prophecy of some sort. Yet he had to think back when they were inside the Wizard Towers. Zan sensed holy energy. Not only that, but passages previous locked, unlocked for him. Something was amiss with Zan. Jiehong vowed he would help his brother until the end, whatever the course of his condition be.

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"Don't sugar coat it. Do you think he has a chance to recover?" Jiehong asked.

The nurse examined Zan closely. She bent his arms, legs, gauged reactions.

Looking at Jiehong, she said, "Maybe. I gave your friend a potent spirit tonic. With any normal person, a tonic as powerful as what I administered would be more than enough. I have a strange feeling in my tummy, though, young man. You and he are not normal people, are you? I sense unusual fluctuations in your personal auras."

Shrugging the question off, Jiehong came back with the truth. "We are members of a Martial Order recently re-awakened. Zan, here, as well as I, have unusual, crystalized entities within our bodies. 'Power Crystals,' they are called. Allowing them to comingle inside of us was a perquisite of the order. Plus, Zan has all the weird technology-stuff, as you've seen. I never thought about how all this crap could complicate our health."

Putting her items away, the nurse shrugged. "I have seen many strange things in my career. You would be surprised, trust me. Load your friend onto my cart and I will bring you both to my humble flat. We have room for a couple of travelers. Inns and bars are full of refugees from the war. So, your options are limited, I'm afraid."

Thanking the woman repeatedly, Jiehong moved Zan to the cart and then helped the nurse with her many boxes of flowers, herbs, plants, and animal and monster parts. She had an impressive number of goods. Jiehong could tell her career had been lengthy, and interesting.

Walking back to her flat, the air was dry, but pleasant. Stars shone overhead; each glittering twinkle marked where a lounging god claimed court, lumbered, as they did, in the High Depths of the horizon. The thought made Jiehong smile. He imagined how it must feel to step atop a Divine's throne and talk with them as though they were a mortal. What was the god of bread's opinion on the god of jam? Somewhere out in the infinite sky, both gods reside, and somewhere, they might, theoretically speaking, meet for an exchange of the minds.

Then, Jiehong felt a pang of sad.

The only thing preventing me from stepping forward and speaking with a Divine is my own self-pity, he imagined and told himself.

Another thought came to him, however. One which restored self-assurance: perhaps a pilgrimage after the war is on the table? Researching the major sects of the day, finding where they hold themselves, going there, learning with them. And then, after a time or more of practice and study, making the immense journey to the throne of the sect's deity? When Jiehong imagined himself leading that sort of life, it did not repulse him.

Food for thought, Jiehong thought.

"Here we are," the nurse said.

They had stopped in front of a large Mudbrick building. Layers of stone and wood snaked their ways throughout the building's layers. Several stories tall, constructions made from Mudbrick often housed the majority of the city's inhabitants, with the wealthier folk living in their private houses. Such buildings were common in larger settlements, Jiehong knew from his private tutorials. He had never seen one in person, though. It had an intensely earthy smell.

The front was open. Nothing like a door could be seen, though inside, lesser doors made from iron bars, could be seen. "You live here? And run your business, here?" Jiehong asked.

"Yes, I do. Why?"

Thinking back to his youth, Jiehong remembered how the people of his village lived in the communal rest homes. Though the rest homes retained peacefulness throughout the majority of its days, the collective areas also saw their share of personal property disputes and space issues, especially when tourists from nearby cities came trouncing through the countryside and needed a place to stay. When you threw into the mix personality clashes, Jiehong thanked his lucky stars he and Zan had the comfort of a private hut. "Aren't you worried about theft or bad apples?" Jiehong asked.

"Heavens, no! Everyone knows my work is important. It benefits everyone who lives in the city and is given to everyone freely by decree of the King and His Peasant Association allies. Many social customs honor my trade and afford me respect. There are many laws which protect my goods and offer high punishment to a ne'er-do-well who wishes me harm. When I leave my goods about, more often than not, I find my supplies higher than it was when I left them be!" the nurse said to Jiehong's surprise.

The nurse left her goods in a side-garage next to the building. Going inside, they used a stairwell to go up a flight of stairs. Then another. They were on the fourth floor and at the end of a long hallway before the nurse stopped before an iron-bar door in the same fashion as the many other apartments.

Pushing the door open, if iron bars could even be called a door, Jiehong carried Zan into a large room with dozens of sleeping mats, most of which had occupants. "Use your indoor voice," the nurse whispered before they gently made their way through the room to the very back.

Jiehong laid Zan to rest on one such mat and pulled up another mat next to him. He wanted to keep an eye on his buddy in case things took a turn for the worse. Should that happen, though, Jiehong knew he would be of no help to his half-brother. He would be a mess and not know what to do. Still. All the same, he wanted to be here and be next to him should the impossible happen and Zan passed. Dark as it is, Jiehong said to himself, I will be here for my friend in his darkest hour.

Resting alongside Zan once again, as they had done many times when younger and allowed to run free, Jiehong fell asleep nearly the second his head hit the pillow. When he woke up, the sun was shining. And Zan? He stirred.