Jack attends to his wife, cleaning her mouth with a clean sheet of cloth, then laying her down comfortably on the bed. Frida rests, and her eyes are bloodshot red, where she lies unmoving on her sickbed.
I witnessed it all; it wasn't easy to take in. I saw how much Frida struggled, how very little I could be of help. Now I watch Jack, who sits on the stool beside his wife. His eyes were glossy, fighting back the urge to cry as he watches her.
Just a moment ago, the man I spoke with showed no emotion. He was unmannerly with a bad temper. But what I see upon me- is a different man. His expression displayed affection and distress. What's hurting Frida is also hurting him.
"What else can I do- how will I lift you off this misery?" broken and exhausted, Jack asks in a hushed tone. The pang on my chest only worsen.
I find myself approaching him, hesitantly placing my hand on his shoulder for comfort, "Mr. Flinttank, what was that you made her drink?"
He pauses for a while before he answers, "it's a herbal tonic from Thapabia; my wife's good friend gave it to her. The problem is, we only had three bottles, and that was the last one."
Eyeing the flask that sat on top of the dresser, I ask him, "how do we obtain more?"
He breathes out, "we can't."
"Journey to Thapabia, it'll take you about two days. Some are discovering ways of altering their medicinal potions- as a result, making them immortal. Thapabia stopped providing ever since," his brows knitted as he explains.
My face only drops after hearing it. Thapabia can't stop providing medicine; some are genuinely sick, requiring medical assistance at once. So what if some abuse the use of their medication? They can't neglect those who are honestly ill, just because of witless acts. Frida is not the only one that I know is sick, and Mrs. Hellen too.
"If her illness worsens, we no longer have a tonic. She might-"
"No!" I stop him there and then. There must be some other way- it's awful to give up just like that. I feel my headache from thinking of ways to save Frida.
At the same time, I appear to be holding a tiny crystal ball. I came to a realization, and this might be the only way. She'll question why I brought her here, but I am desperate, and so is Mr. Flinttank.
Jack watches me as I place the ball on the floor, gently, before stepping on it firmly. It cracks and breaks to pieces, a cloud of mist swirls from the ground. Before we could blink, Blossom appears in all her gloriousness.
Affable smile laid on her face but turned sour instantly when she scans the area, "what in Bohr's heaven is this horrific clutter?" she exclaims, dismayed.
"Who in dwarfs beard are you?" Jack jumps down from his stool, walking beside me. He eyes Blossom with a deadly stare, his arm crossed.
"You don't recognize her?" I ask him, confused, "that's Blo-"
"Hold that!" Blossom cuts me off, "I'm Dahlia, and it's nice to meet you."
I lift my brow at her, not quite getting why she would lie about her identity when I understood it. The fact that our appearance is concealed by that magical dust always slips my mind. What Jack can probably see is not our real faces, for he doesn't know us by heart.
"Yes, she's Dahlia, and she's here to help,"
"I am?" Blossom asks, narrowing her eyes at me. I begged her with my eyes, hoping that she'll agree to this, for she is known to be quite powerful.
She sighs after taking a long stare at my pleading eyes. She nods, defeated, and walks toward the bed where Frida laid. Jack's eyes bulged out of its sockets when he sees her nearing. He holds his hands out, "stop don't you dare go near my wife!"
"Step aside, dwarf, if you want your wife to suffer, then don't do as I say," she grumbles, making Jack's eyes twitch upon hearing Blossom. He releases his defense, giving Blossom a chance, but he still held a strong grudge on her as he glares daggers on her back.
Blossom rolls her eyes, fully aware of the enraged dwarf that stood behind her. She places her right hand on Frida's forehead, a soft glow forming at her touch.
"You're not even a Thapabian, so how could you possibly heal her?" Jack adds on in the background, and I shush him. He looks at me, and I shake my head, telling him to calm down.
"I'm not a Thapabian, but my sister taught me a lot of things," she mumbles under her breath, and I could vaguely hear it.
In just a few seconds, she lets go, collecting whatever she needed before speaking, "she's poisoned twice; the first one distorted her memory, and one recently got her wound infected. The infection is drastically getting through every system of her body, first her brain, lungs, and lastly, it'll stop the beating of her heart."
My hand flies to my mouth as my breathing becomes unsteady again; my vision is blurring from the amount of pressure I got upon hearing what she said.
"No-no, how do we save her? Please save her," Jack falls on his knees, with hands clasped together, and he looks up to Blossom with a pleading look. I've seen fear countless times; his expression is one of them, genuine and real. As if his body will pass out from the stress he holds.
Blossom looks at me, "there's only one way."
"What is it? Anything, I'll help," I try my best to sound strong, seeing that Jack is already weakening. But I stand true to my words- I'll do what I can to save Frida.
"Rise," Blossom holds her hand out for Jack. He stares at her with sorrowful eyes and takes her hand. He bows his head, ashamed that he had doubted her.
"There's a way to save her and those who are innocently sick. One must journey to Thapabia on a mission for both reasons."
I nod my head, eager and willing, "Please allow me to do it."
"No."
"Please, Blossom!" I cry out, catching Jack's expression turning puzzled when he hears another name slip out of my lips, "let Rhys come with me or maybe Faye. Let me do it."
She closes her eyes, pausing to think. She sighs before opening them, "okay, but we'll elaborate on this conversation when we head back home."
Relief washes over my body, and I watch Frida with a hopeful smile. That's when I capture her eyes fluttering to open, her fingers fidgets. I went closer to her be, the three of us staring at her as she tries to move.
Then unexpectedly, she tries to speak. Her voice is groggy and dry, "you're sav-saving me twice."
She barely opens her eyes, but she's staring right at me, "t-thank y-you," and with that, she heads back to sleep. Her breathing is calm.
What did she mean by saving her twice?
"Her memory is falling apart," Blossom utters, "there's a need to restore her missing memories, or else, she'll start forgetting everything and anything. She'll go crazy."
"Will Thapabia have a way to do that?" Jack asks as he grips his wife's hand.
"Yes, Thapabia can heal and restore anything. However, I'll need to extract her memories, and doing so will put her into a deep coma until it's returned."
"Isn't that dangerous?" my voice is soft. I gaze at Blossom, and she shakes her head, "No, extracting won't be. But, bringing it back to her is vital- fail to do so, and she'll never wake up."
"This journey is far too risky and dangerous; it'll take days of travel, you'll meet creatures that may harm you on the way, the storm you'll have to go through, and there's a chance Thapabians won't let you in."
"But we'll have to try," I insist, but it came out weaker than I expected. I'm only trying to act strong, but what if I give in to my fear halfway through. But seeing Frida like this is pushing me to my limits.
"Okay, Mr. Flinttank, do I get your permission? She won't wake up until her memories are back together with her medicine. Your only role here is to protect her from any harm that may come her way."
Jack nods his head without hesitating- he must have learned to trust our words, "yes, anything that'll save her."
After Jack granted permission, Blossom placed her hand on Frida's forehead, the same thing happened. It glows but much brighter this time, and a ball of light appeared from Frida's forehead. Blossom's eyes glow as she leads the ball of light inside a small jar that she prepared on her other palm.
It goes in, and she seals the lid securely before passing it to me. She nods her head that it's finished. For the last time in a while, I look at Frida's frame that laid peacefully on the bed. Her memories far from its shell.