“Just drink this glass of water.” Cira handed the guard a cup made of conjured stone. It was just water, but with a drop of dark, viscous oil in it. The poison Cira slaved so hard over.
The man watched the contents of the glass get darker, “Is it… holy water?”
“No, it’s poison. Like I said, it’s going to kill all those tiny demons. Your body’s going to go into shock and I’m going to have to keep you alive with magic for a little while. Once you stabilize, your son will take you home and feed you. You’ll experience severe pain and won’t be able to move for a long time.”
The man gulped before looking at his son.
“Dad, you don’t have to do this—”
The man tipped his head back and pounded the water in an instant. “Alright, so how long—Gyahhhhh!!” He keeled over on the ground, writhing in pain.
“Dad!”
Cira’s scepter began to shine, “I call upon the powers of the one beyond to grant this man the blessing of equilibrium!”
Now the guard began to glow with the same golden light as his torturous cries continued. “Radiant Heart!” Another light appeared on his chest. “Rapid Regeneration! Ceaseless Light!” The glow around his body intensified “And while we’re here, Detect Fungus!
“Okay, that should keep him awake long enough for his body to stop trying to go into shock. The blessing will keep him stable for about a week, which is why his diet is so important. Don’t mess up. His body should be stable enough on its own after that time, but that’s when the worst of it comes.”
The young man was nervously cradling his screaming father “Wh-what do I do then? Will you be here to make sure he’s okay?”
“I’ll probably be long gone, but that last spell won’t stop healing him until he’s all better. No matter how bad it looks, he won’t die. Just make sure he doesn’t fall over too hard or anything like that. It might tip the balance. He has to stay hydrated too, and again, well-fed.” She patted him on the arm.
“Did… did it cure the plague?”
“Sadly, no…” That was all she could say.
“Oh… I see.” He looked at her one more time with a conflicted expression, “How long do I need to wait here?”
“An hour should be fine, just carry him carefully.” She made them a pitcher of water
“That’s unfortunate…” Nanri’s tone as they walked away was sad, “Now what will you try?”
“It’s actually a good thing. If it was the cure, the whole island would be out of commission for months. Earth Vein would need to offer a constant supply of food and rare ingredients too. In short, I doubt they’d even do it. Most importantly, this narrows down our list of suspects a lot.” Cira yawned.
“What did that really do?” Nanri asked, “And what was all that about demons?”
Cira thought about it for a moment, “That was basically the gist of it, though there’s more to it. Brimbane is incredibly potent, but the other ingredients spread it through the body at a low, even dose. While the man is fine—er, maybe that’s a stretch—the body is a delicate ecosystem, and I destroyed it.”
“Oh… and how did that get you closer to figuring out the plague?”
“The body’s physical state is always reflected in the aura, meaning the slightest change can be seen. Of course, while I witnessed a rather large change, it’s a typical one for what he just experienced. Were there another creature affecting his physical state, I would have noticed its disappearance.”
“Amazing…” The witch squinted at her, “if I read those books can I see auras like that too?”
Cira shook her head, “Volume six covers sense.”
“Aww…” Nanri’s eyes fell, “Wait, did you figure out what the plague is, then?”
“Fungus,” Cira started counting on her fingers, “Large or external parasites, unknown contaminants, defective blood. These are the remaining culprits.”
“Blood can be defective?!” Nanri was shocked.
“Yes, but everyone here would have to be related and entire families don’t seem to catch it together. The plague is far too sudden as well. I’d rule it out if it weren’t for all that stuff about the children of salt. Let’s build this clinic, though. I can think better in the morning.”
The two went back over to the masses and Cira started molding the salt. Nanri found a place to cut in, so she worked ahead of the sorcerer who coated the rest with stone. This building was much larger and took over an hour to erect. When it was complete, the people showered them with gratitude and praised the weary saintess. She didn’t have the energy to do anything but accept it.
The handful of doctors at the infirmary came out during all this and took over the task of getting everyone settled it. Finally, as the moon rose high, her work was done for the day. The two girls made it back to Breeze Haven and climbed the steps.
“Sorry you had to see all that,” Cira said, “Sorcery is often unpleasant.”
Nanri waved her off, “Don’t be. I’m just glad I could help at the end.”
Cira raided her stores for a midnight snack and came up with beef jerky. They stood at the window of the living room eating in the moonlight for a few minutes until Cira found a pillow and threw it on the couch, “You can sleep here. I don’t have a lot of bedrooms.”
“Sounds good to me,” She fixed her robes and laid down on the couch, “See you in the morning, Cira!”
As Cira yawned and trotted away, she didn’t see the witch’s gaze grow distant and land on a particular spot on the wall.
Downstairs, there was something gnawing at the back of her mind. She saw what she expected from administering the poison, but something about the whole thing was off. Almost like there was a disconnect between the man’s aura and his body.
Cira’s deductions turned out futile as sleep washed over her.
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The sorcerer dreamt of dark times past. The faces of countless dead refused to leave her mind even after all these years. Her hazy memory left most of these moments where they came from, but the odd one would surface now and again like this.
The man who would be her father stood tall in the face of strife, but she could only see his back. When he found Cira, she was weak, and before they left, he had much work to do. In these memories, Gazen was often outlined in a golden radiance that pulsed without rest.
She had no understanding at that age, but whatever was wrong with someone would go away every time the light shined. And it never stopped, even when the sun set, and she drifted off to sleep. Then when morning came, he was still at it. The man never showed a sign of tiring.
All this could never leave her, but it’s the bits before and in between that got lost in the sea of memories, hidden away somewhere deep.
There were people from her home that… just weren’t right anymore. Their legs were a little too long or their backs would start hunching. Some of their hands had grown too large, hair falling out. Maybe something was wrong with their face that you just couldn’t quite place, and it got more jarring the more you looked.
A little girl even younger than Cira approached her father. A divot pressed into her forehead like a vestigial eye socket. Three streams of tears ran down the girl’s face and her cries pierced through Cira’s mind, becoming louder and more shrill until they drowned out everything. The hills in the distance fell off into darkness and her surroundings faded. There was an orange glint in her father’s hand before her entire body was thrown aside. Everything turned black.
“Cira.” Her body was being shaken, “Cira, wake up.”
“Wha—?!” She sat up in bed and took in the light, blinking herself back to reality, “Nanri…? Why are you in my bed?”
She looked concerned, “You were crying…”
Cira put a hand to her face and felt dried tears. Wiping them off, she looked at her hands confused before drying them on a blanket, “That doesn’t answer the question.”
Nanri got flustered and went red with embarrassment, “Well, you see… that lady in the painting wouldn’t stop staring at me…”
Cira’s brow furrowed as she thought about it for a minute, then she gave her a funny look, “Nanri… She’s facing the other way.”
The witch’s expression fell. She offered her a pained frown before getting up, “I see…”
She was quiet while Cira led them to the kitchen. The sorcerer needed to be at optimal thinking capacity today. The dream was already disappearing. Gazen cured them all, oh sure, but of what condition? She never asked directly, but she’d heard it a couple times.
Two hefty Rak eggs cracked on the counter and started sizzling in the pan. In another, she sprinkled herbs on top of steak cutlets. The aroma of well-seasoned beef filled the room and Cira took it in with a smile on her face.
“Nanri, could you grab me some oranges from the garden?” She asked.
Her assistant nodded, “I’m on it!”
Cira flipped the steaks over while she waited and a few waves of the hand later, the oranges had been squeezed into two glasses.
“And it’s done!” She held out a plate to Nanri with one fried egg and a steak on it, then handed her a glass of orange juice, “Let’s eat outside.”
They sat at her table in the garden, listening to the single bird chirp and eating a large breakfast. She wondered if he lived on Fount Salt, or if he was a stowaway too scared to leave because of all the dry air outside the barrier. Breeze Haven’s climate was quite pleasant, and Cira could still enjoy a light breeze on her face. It never became too strong inside, even in the open sky or at speed.
“What’s the plan today?” Nanri asked before finishing her orange juice.
Cira delicately wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, “We’re breaking into the forbidden archive.”
She stared blankly at Cira, “What’s that? And why? It sounds dangerous.”
“It is, but we’ll get to that. When my father found me… many people from that island suffered from a condition similar to what those of Fount Salt are experiencing, two patients especially. I’ve remembered what it’s called—”
Nanri lit up, “Does that mean you did it?! You can cure the plague?” She’d leaned over the table.
“Not exactly… Corporeal degradation is when one’s aethereal form, their soul, is warped to such a degree it alters their body, or corporeal form. I do not know what it takes to fix, nor how to diagnose it without the medicine to treat it. I didn’t notice before because my sight isn’t good enough to see souls clearly, and, well, I guess I kind of forgot about it.”
There was no guarantee this was what she faced, and it wouldn’t even eradicate the plague, but it could allow everyone to heal. The possibility was there and couldn’t be ignored.
Nanri put a hand to her chin, “So what do we do?”
“Break into the forbidden archive. Here, come on.” Cira pulled her along back into the house. Down the stairs they went into the stoney underbelly of Breeze Haven. Past her bedroom, past her father’s, then around the corner. They followed a red rug down a long hall with windows on one side and even more rooms on the other with thick wooden doors. These housed the workshop, forge and other such rooms.
At the end of the hall was a large, dark double door. It had no handles, nor did it look like a door. The center split somehow, but there was a slotted hunk of orichalcum fitted through both sides. Each half also had an intricate, multi-layered seal with another that connected them. Not a single one of these devices had activated when Cira attempted all those years ago.
No, she knew there was a barrier in front of it that would drain her mana completely in an instant if she attempted to touch the door. Step one would be removing that. Nanri made awed noises and streched out her hand.
“No, don’t!” Cira reached out and hardly stopped the witch in time, “Fool, you almost forfeited your entire aura.”
She went pale, “I-I’m sorry! I won’t touch anything…”
“Don’t apologize, just be careful. This place isn’t safe like the living room, not even I know what to expect.”
Nanri went even more pale as she tried to compare two unsafe places of varying severities.
“My dad did this thing where he would enchant space with other spells. I’m really bad at it, but I’m almost sure that’s what he did here.” Cira knelt down and stared at what was essentially nothing for a few minutes, “I see…”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Dispel!” Cira reached her hand out slowly, wincing as it got closer to the door, until finally, the cold stone singed her hand in a burst of glowing white smoke. “Eeyah!”
Cira jumped back, shaking her hand, watching the luminous smoke rise off it with wide eyes, “Heal! Great—Sacred Heal! Hahhhh…” She blew on her hand, trying to cool it down then caught her breath, gasping for air on the ground.
“Are you okay?!” Nanri knelt down, but held her hands up, fidgeting and unsure of what to do, “Was that the seal? D-did it take your aura?”
“That old bastard…” The palm of her hand was white, “My aura’s fine. My pride as a sorcerer is wounded… This door is made of purge stone.”
Nanri tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh bubbled up and she joined Cira on the ground, “You know… You know Cira, you should really be more careful!” she slapped the floor.
Anyone who wields magic, or has any semblance of an aura and the know-how, can consciously stop mana from flowing to a certain part of their body. If one doesn’t, certain materials like purge stone will cause mana to discharge wherever one makes contact. It was an incredibly common material to craft locks with.
“This just makes me more suspicious!” She shook a glowing fist. Her corporeal form, for lack of a better word, needed time to calm down after such focused mana output. “Was that supposed to be a prank? This is too easy!”
“Is it…?” Nanri asked, “Are you sure I should even be going into your father’s forbidden archive with you?”
Cira just shrugged, “It’s my forbidden archive, I’m pretty sure I can do what I want with it. So long as it looks safe enough once I get inside, I don’t see a problem with you joining. There will be a lot of books I’ll want help looking through. Just make sure you don’t learn too much while we’re in there, it’s forbidden for good reason.”
In her hand was a staff she knew she’d need. Her father’s geomancy staff—it was solid orichalcum. Perfect for this task. Cira raised it into the air and the soft glow of sand filled the hall, “Hnggghhh! Grrrrrrr! Ahhhh! GRAHHH!!”
Sweat poured down the sorcerer’s face and Nanri had to shield her eyes from the burning light, Cira’s labored grunts got louder as her face grew red. The only sound aside from her grueling screams was the whipping of their robes in the wind her mana generated. Eventually Cira leaned the staff against a wall and slumped over, propping her hands on her knees and panting.
The slotted chunk of orichalcum within the door had moved toward the girls enough to catch a fingernail on.
“Seriously…” Cira huffed and puffed as air returned to her lungs, “Something’s up,” then she rested her staff on the ground to lean against, and without energy to turn her head she side-eyed Nanri, “This is still too easy.”