Cira’s spectators and assistants alike all watched the thin green liquid slosh around in its cauldron, then back at Cira’s disappointed frown wearing mixed expressions.
“Was it supposed to be orange?” Nanri asked with worry creeping onto her face.
Delilah started to jitter and looked like she would cry, “Did… did I mess up the recipe?”
“No, no… You didn’t mess anything up.” Cira shook her head.
“Then what?!” Kate suddenly shouted. Her auburn hair was disheveled, “After all this, you still don’t have the cure? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Cira admonished the misguided exorcist, filling a small jar from the cauldron, “Of course this is the cure. The color only means my father could cure everyone without torturing lost souls…” Remembering her dream, it wasn’t uncommon for Gazen to pull any given potion out of his sleeve, so there was no way to know the nature of what he used, “And it would work with a single dose… So why wouldn’t he leave me that one?”
As she crossed her arms and fell into frustrated thought, half of them stared at her dumbstruck, but Nanri encouraged her, “Don’t look at it like that. I mean, it’s the cure! If there’s another recipe hidden away in a deeper forbidden archive, wouldn’t you think it’s for a good reason?”
Cira pursed her lips and looked to Nanri at a loss. The sorcerer was defeated with that logic. After rolling her eyes and letting out a groan, Cira perked up, “You’re right. For all I know, it calls for the flesh of a seraph or dragon tears. Nothing that can be so easily sourced, I’m sure.” She seemed to have worked it out and nodded to herself.
“What in the god damn makes a Dragon cry? Who the hell could source that?!” Triton, the world-weary smuggler, was outraged, “And what even is a seraph?”
“My Dad could do it…” Cira grumbled back, “And a seraph is like an angel that can take human form.”
“Huh…?” Triton didn’t know what to be confused about, but Chip helped him out.
“Isn’t that what angels look like already?” He took everything she said with a grain of salt but couldn’t help asking.
Lazy Frank felt he was qualified to step into the conversation, “Yeah, they’re little people with wings.”
“Not so.” Cira wagged her finger. “You’re describing a seraph.”
“Then what the hell do they look like?” Triton was getting frustrated now.
“It’s difficult to explain, but I don’t recommend you go trying to find out.” She hoisted a pouch onto the table, drawing everyone’s attention, “We’re getting off track. All you exorcists go away, I don’t need everyone.” She shooed them off and returned to her alchemists, “There’s jars and whatever utensils you need in this bag of holding. Once the cauldron gets low enough, you should be able to pour the last of it out.”
“Hey Cira, I don’t mean to interrupt,” She turned an inquisitive gaze to her old companion Lomp, who jerked his head across the way, “But you’re gathering another crowd over there.”
Cira eyed the gaggle of Earth Vein and friends across the short and shallow chasm which separated them with irritation. It appeared there was yet another matter that had to be attended to before she could administer the cure. “I don’t know why this wasn’t the first thing I did.” Walls rose around the entire platform, blocking them off on every side before eventually butting into the alchemists’ quarters. The windows had shutters on them that could be opened and above there was no roof to allow for ventilation and the ability to see.
“Wh-what the hell?!” Jules cried, finally unable to hold it back anymore, “How can you just… do that? What are you?!”
“I am Cira,” she crossed her arms, “a very busy sorcerer.”
A line ran up the wall, then carved out a door before forming a knob. Cira twisted the lock and leaned against the door. Is that really all I need to do here? I’ll make pouches for the new exorcists before bed, and I think the alchemists are all set up now. Looks like the time’s finally—she yelped as her thoughts were bombarded by a firm knock on the door which reverberated up her spine. As she peeled herself away and began to groan, Nanri came rushing over.
“Oh, I’ll get it!” She flashed Cira a smile and started on the door, leaving her to back away impressed and swiftly quelled. Nanri opened the door with the same bright look, “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Uh, yes well, some of our staff at the moment are interns from Port Gandeux,” Cira recognized this borderline nervous voice, “and, well, if it’s alright, I thought it would be nice for them to see how witches work up close. They’re… finding it hard to contain their excitement.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Hmmmm…” Nanri drew it out for a moment, before turning to Cira behind the door and whispering, “Hey Cira, what do you think?”
A grin formed on Cira’s face as she failed to stifle a laugh, walking out from behind the doorway to a surprised Earth Vein Official, “I don’t think that’s a half bad idea. If you’re going to continue being stationed here it would be convenient to see us administer the first batch and what comes after. Besides, it never hurts to show off in front of some impressionable youths.” Her sudden appearance and immediate acceptance paired with the genuine smile on her face gave the poor man whiplash. “Just don’t bring too many and hurry up, we’re about to leave.”
“Uhh, yes Ma’am!” He saluted and sprinted back across the bridge which now connected Cira’s facility to the enemy.
“Wait for him here Nanri, we’ll leave when they return.”
“Yes Ma’am!” She mimicked the salute and managed to hold a straight face for two whole seconds.
When Cira returned to the alchemy station, she found them to be pouring out the last drops of green potion into a third jar. It took two of them to hoist it back onto its stand and by the time they finished, their last visitors had arrived. Nanri led them over to Cira who scrutinized them thoroughly.
Aside from their chaperone, they were younger than she expected. The six teenagers looked like nothing out of the ordinary. They had curious looks to them, almost starstruck. Their clothes were the same dark orange and gray as Earth Vein’s, but more simple button downs and loose-fitting pants. There was one girl among them. She wore a blouse of the same colors with thick glasses resting on her fair face. She held a notepad, pen at the ready. The exorcists all stared at them with disgust or confused looks, making them noticeably uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, one of these guests was not like the other, nor did he belong to Earth Vein. There was a black sheep among their flock—or in this case, a white one, clad in pristine robes with fresh creases like he just put them on and wearing a faux-gilded headdress. She recognized him well as a person to avoid. As the disdain grew on her face apparent, his smile grew more strained.
“Mr. Official, what is the meaning of this?” She stared him down.
“I’m, so sorry…” He bowed, looking thoroughly troubled, “He insisted that I allow him to join.”
“Please excuse my imposition, Lady Saintess!” The high priest of Fount Salt threw himself to his knees before her. “I only wanted a brief moment to witness the esteemed one bring salvation to this island with my very eyes…”
“If you don’t get off the ground, I’ll throw you out.” He sprang up at her cold voice with a start, and timidly apologized. The recruits all looked at her with great apprehension and she sighed, turning back to the priest. “You will not call me Saintess, nor the esteemed one. In fact, do not speak. You have come to witness, so that is all you may do.”
A toothy smile grew on his face, and he nodded exuberantly. She had no choice but to move on.
“Alright, I have a brief list of rules before we begin.” Cira spoke clearly and looked between them to make sure she had everyone’s attention then began counting on her fingers, “Follow behind us at all times. No stupid questions. Don’t be too loud. No bothering me or anybody involved in my work. If anyone breaks one of these rules they will be ejected from the tour without delay. Is this agreeable?”
They nodded meekly and shared a look. One seemed scared to meet her or Nanri’s eyes, and Cira couldn’t discern what the girl was writing. If it mattered, she’d check, but it did not.
“Very well,” Cira continued, pacing towards the opposite end of the small complex. As a new door grew in the wall, she had her alchemists prepare the medicine and bring it over. They would all be going straight to the final platform. She took a jar in hand and gave the interns a brief rundown, “The plague afflicting this island is otherwise known as corporeal degradation—an illness of the soul, if you will. What I have here is known as soul remediation elixir, or soul remedy.” She held it up to the light and let them get the oohs and aahs out of their systems, “Everybody on this island, including you, is infected and will need this treatment for three years—”
“Seriously?!” One of the kids shouted, a muddy-haired boy with a rough tone.
“There’s our first.” Cira pointed at him and dragged her finger up. His feet lifted off the ground and he was thrown into the air before hurling back to the checkpoint. Softly, but not too softly. His friends were there to help him stick the landing. “Can’t have outbursts like that in front of the patients.”
Meanwhile the others and even her own companions held their breaths, the sudden shock frozen on their faces. The girl called out, sputtering, “P-please continue.” and bowed.
Cira nodded, “Where was I… Ah, yes. One spoon drop, once per year. We’re only curing the worst patients right now, but let’s go.”
She pulled the door open, and a bridge assembled itself ahead of her. Even the alchemists looked on with wonder, but Nanri had a smug grin for some reason. This bridge took them all the way to the back of the cave. A couple minutes later it turned and led them the rest of the way to the final platform. The guard posted there didn’t know what to make of it but figured it was above his paygrade and got some distance.
“It’s her!” Cries from the patients came to meet her.
“The saint has returned to us!”
“Tell us saint, have you come with the cure at last?” a withered woman called to her from the ground.
Cira felt a tinge of relief and let a smile creep onto her face—the ill calling her a saint was dismissible. She took the liberty of adding some more stars to the false sky, brightening up the night while she was at it, “Turns out I have, this time.”
A rough count gave her about eighty patients. It had increased since she was last here. Mere days ago. She gave her alchemists quick instructions, and they got their utensils ready. Seeing everyone on death’s door hadn’t left any room for complaint, even from the former sponge maidens.
They each had a measuring spoon and a jar and Cira led them to the back, starting with the man in Uru closest do death. She had to give a quick explanation to her assistants and spectators before greeting him. His physical condition hadn’t worsened visibly, but he seemed much lower on energy. It was silent as everyone gave him time to cough out a lung before smiling at Cira and her gang of ladies, “You angels just keep multiplyin’. Go on ‘n’ take me then. I’m ready.”
While an actual angel was no comparison for a lady, a light chuckle was the least Cira could offer him, “In that case I've got bad news for you. I come bearing the cure.”