The smell of a campfire tickled my nostrils, and the rhythmic crackling of wood in a fire roused me from my slumber. It was dark, and the air was cold, but it was the best damn feeling in the world. The darkness wasn't pitch black like a cave, just dark—good old-fashioned nighttime.
I felt something warm run across the top of my head and slowly opened my eyes to find a single dark blue eye staring down at me through a slit in a bronze mask. I slowly touched my face, felt cold metal, and realized I was wearing my mask.
"How do you feel?" Sylvia asked me in her usual soothing voice.
"Honestly, I don't feel too hot. My joints ache, and I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years," I groaned.
She giggled. "That's good. Better than being almost dead. There shouldn't be anything else wrong with you. Maybe your body is just tired."
"Maybe."
Is it, though? I feel kind of sick. But not quite? Maybe I'm just allergic to clean air or something.
"Voker… what happened after I passed out? How did we get out here? The Wyrm and —"
"Calm down. I'll explain everything," I interrupted her rambling.
I rolled out of Sylvia's soft lap and let out a long-winded yawn. I do feel off but I guess that's what happens when you almost die.
I began recounting everything that happened after Sylvia passed out. How she killed the Wyrm, the stone guardians, how I used her sword to do whatever it is that I did, breaking the crystal. I omitted the almost being turned to paste at the last second part. She didn't need any more anxiety in her life.
Sylvia also told me that the entrance to the dungeon was gone. Sort of the same thing that happened when she got teleported out of her dungeon as well. Typically dungeons tended to crumble out of existence slowly once a core was destroyed but maybe the bigger ones worked differently?
Hopefully, nobody was alive in there…
"What is the last thing you remember?" I asked.
"Not much. I completed the ritual then… that was it, I blacked out. When I woke up, you had a stupid smile plastered on your face despite being almost unconscious and almost dead."
"I see. Well, thank you for healing me again," I said earnestly.
"And thank you for saving me. For not leaving me behind," she squeaked.
"Of course. I did have a promise to keep. I wouldn't let you die down there, especially after you saved me all those times."
Finally, a promise was made, and a promise was kept.
Sylvia just nodded her head at my words, but I could tell she wasn't all that excited right now. I didn't need to see her face to notice her change when I started talking about her ritual and what happened with her sword. It seems not even she understands what the hell happened. But I wasn't going to assume. This was something I had to confirm.
"Your sword and magic? Any ideas why things went down that way? How did I manage to turn your sword red and make the stone into a liquid?" I asked.
Sylvia averted her eye and looked away from me. "I really don't know. I wasn't aware that doing any of that was even possible. If I'm being completely honest, I'm not even sure how the ritual was supposed to work. I was just taught how to do it and told what would happen after I completed it. That was the only guidance my mother gave me."
"You once told me that blood magic was misunderstood. That it wasn't what people thought it was. Is this part of that?"
Sylvia was back to wearing her oversized cloak that covered her entire body. However, she had the hood down so you could see her long purple and black hair. The campfire's glow illuminated her and I couldn't help but stare.
When people in my previous life talked about fantasy and the beings that inhabited those made-up worlds, this was it. Sylvia was the perfect definition of somebody from a fantasy world. Thinking about her like this made her seem like she wasn't even real.
But she is. This is all real. This is my reality now. I shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts. I already came to terms with this a long time ago.
She took her silvery-white Estoc out and caressed it. She gently ran her fingers across the red parts of the blade and sighed. "Maybe it's because of the person who gave this to me."
"I know somebody in your family gave it to you, but you never did say who."
"Well, remember when I said I was a thousand years old? That's not quite true," she said sheepishly.
"I knew that."
Sylvia looked up at me, and I could see her blinking her one over and over again. "You did? But how?"
"Simple, when you talked about Talgan, you made it very obvious that you were alive during his rule. He died over two millennia ago. Even if your family knew about him, that wouldn't make any sense unless you were influenced into believing the propaganda about a ruler that died before your parents were born," I stated simply. I could see she was about to refute but I stopped her. "However, you aren't influenced into believing anything. And you don't seem like the type of person that would just believe in whatever somebody tells you. Which only leaves one possibility."
The tips of Sylvia's ears turned red. "I see. Guess I made it that obvious, huh?"
"Yup."
Sylvia bobbed her head side to side nervously and shrugged. "You also remember when you asked me if Talgan was my father?"
"Please don't tell me you are actually his daughter," I begged.
"No, I'm not his daughter. My father was just a normal High Elf."
That's good. I didn't imagine one of her parents not being a Vampire but it doesn't surprise me all that much.
Sylvia was fidgeting nervously with her sword. I watched as her hand shook slightly, and her one dark blue eye darted around behind her mask. "Well… you see…I'm his granddaughter. My mother was his third daughter," Sylvia said quickly.
Oh.
…
…
Sylvia's ears were turning red again, but it wasn't that she was embarrassed this time. "What? Is that a problem or something?"
"I— uh, no… not, it's not. Just a little surprised is all."
My early thoughts of Sylvia being a fantasy seemed more on point now than ever. She is literally the incarnation of a fantasy being in a fantasy world. The Vampire Progenitor's Granddaughter, now that's something.
"You are obviously bothered by it. Guess I shouldn't have—"
"I said it wasn't a problem. It was merely a surprise. None of this changes how I feel about you. You are still Sylvia to me. The only person who can change that is the person sitting in front of me," I said, interrupting her.
"Oh, I uh— yeah… thank you. You have no idea how much it means to hear that," Sylvia said quietly. I watched the faux frustration and nervousness melt away from her body as she settled down.
"Sure thing. Now we can be twins and not use our real names. Speaking of real names… guess I should mention that my last name is actually Shadowheart."
Sylvia tilted her head to the side. "Like the same last names of the Dark Elves that roam around? I've heard about them. They have some strong fighters called Shadow— uh… something? Shadow Fighters?"
"Yeah, my father is a member of that clan. And it's Shadow Dancers. I don't know much about my mother's side, but… I'm sure they played a part in the most recent war against the Old Empire and Tel'an'duth. To what degree, I am uncertain. Unfortunately, they didn't get a chance to tell me much before I was enslaved."
"I'm sorry…"
"You can stop apologizing every time I bring up my past. It has nothing to do with you, so there is no reason for you to be sorry. It sucked. It sucked a lot. But it's in the past," I said matter of factly.
Sylvia had nothing to do with what happened to me. She wasn't even awake during those times, and putting the blame on Sylvia for what one random vampire did to me was not only in poor taste. It was downright wrong.
She nodded her head slowly and continued to stroke her sword. She hadn't put it away yet, so I figured she was still game to talk about it. There was a lot I wanted to know.
"Your sword…. if Emperor Talgan gave it to you, it must be special. Do you know what metal it's made out of? And why can it do those things?"
As for the powers behind the sword, I had no idea where to start other than "Because of Blood Sorcery" that was it. But the metal… that was something I could figure out.
I was almost sure that metal was an aluminum alloy of some type. The color, weight, and strength add up to it being such… the only problem is that it shouldn't be possible.
Dwarves are credited for nearly every advancement in metallurgy. Steel wasn't steel. It was Dwarven Steel. Iron was still standard in this world, but the iron was exceptionally pure in most cases.
This was all due to the Dwarves and their years of accomplishment as the finest craftsmen in the world. The World Forges in the Kingdom of Krunbar are built inside of the mountains in the north of the continent. I imagined they were using the extreme heat and pressure along with some magic to do things normal smiths wouldn't be able to accomplish without the proper technology.
Not to mention that Dwarves seem incredibly talented in not only metal but all forms of craftsmanship, housing, leatherworking, woodworking, the list goes on and on. If it's a house made by a Dwarf or a leather tunic with a Dwarven stamp of approval, you can expect the item to be of the highest quality possible.
Most of the time. A Dwarf once made me a knife, and it wasn't very good, though it was his first attempt. Guess it did kill somebody, though.
Even my sword, although in the style of the Old Empire, was probably forged by a Dwarf, judging by the quality alone. Even a simple smith in a small Elven village in the middle of the jungle, Padraic's father was a master craftsman.
He might have mostly worked on farming tools, but the man also made my father's arrows. Those arrows were of Elven design but expertly crafted by Mr. Whitehelm. If even a simple Dwarf like him can achieve those kinds of results, then a Forge Master using the World Forges would be leagues above everything else.
Regardless, I still believe creating an Aluminum Alloy comparable to the best steel is far too advanced for this world.
Sylvia shook her head once more. "I really don't know. It was a gift for my tenth birthday. Grandpa didn't explain anything to me, and he definitely didn't mention it had some kind of magical properties inside of it."
"I see… a mystery… one more thing then."
"What is it?" Sylvia asked.
"Your ring… who gave it to you? Why is it so big and—"
"You looked inside of it," Sylvia said flatly.
"Well yeah... I had to…"
"What did you see?" Sylvia hissed.
"Noting important…" I shot out quickly. I waved my hand and dismissed her rising anger. "I just wanted to know why it was so big inside and why you had so much money in it."
Sylvia probably had well over five hundred regular gold coins in her ring. The coins weren't the same as any money I've seen in this world, so they must be from her era.
Sylvia eyed me suspiciously, but she eventually sighed and told me what I wanted to know. "I have no idea who gave me the ring or who put the things inside of it for me. I woke up, and I was wearing it. As for why it's so big… what do you mean? How big is your ring?"
"About the size of a room at an inn."
Sylvia blinked once behind her mask. "For real?"
"Yes…"
Sylvia shrugged. "Sucks for you, I guess. I don't know anything special about spatial rings. I know they existed and my family had a bunch of them but that was pretty much it."
A bunch of them, huh? Does that mean Vampires had access to the rings… or did they make them?
"Did Vampires make the rings?" I asked.
Sylvia shook her head. "I don't know… never asked."
This dungeon left me with a whole lot of questions and not a lot of answers. But of course, none of it is Sylvia's fault. She was a regular girl before she found herself awake at the bottom of a dungeon two thousand years later.
Well, as regular as being the granddaughter of one of the most feared men on the planet.
"By the way… you probably shouldn't mention being Talgan's granddaughter to anyone. I imagine things wouldn't go very well if a certain holy kingdom knew you existed."
Sylvia snorted. "Don't have to tell me twice. As far as I'm concerned, you will be the only person in the world who knows."
"That's good. Thanks for trusting me, Sylvia."
Sylvia grunted and put her sword back into her ring, which made me think about my ring. I dipped my mind into it and pulled out the dungeon core shard. I rolled the yellow crystal around in my hand. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. The crystal structure was perfect and appeared as if it was cut out of a much larger piece.
That dungeon core… the way it made me feel. Mana so thick you could breathe it in and see it with the naked eye. The feeling I got when I broke the core just by touching it… why would I have felt that way? Can I say for sure that those were my feelings and not something else? Was the dungeon trying to play a trick on me in its final seconds?
So many questions and almost no way to know for sure. I should try to find an expert on dungeons or at least somebody more familiar with them. Then again, do I even care? And that's only the beginning of my problems.
The warp jump…
Does that mean mana existed in my previous life? Is warp travel magic? Maybe mana existed, but we just couldn't feel it? Is this reality connected to my old one? Could Humanity warp jump to this world?
So many questions and an infinite amount of possibilities. There was no telling which way the dice would land. Maybe there was a connection, and maybe there wasn't. I just don't know. And I might never understand.
And that's okay. I honestly hope there is no connection that my rebirth in this world was a fluke. Or the whims of a divine being feeling pity for an insignificant mortal like me. Maybe what ever entity is residing in the void feels bad for me… can a God even feel bad? Is that thing even a God?
Either way, none of this concerns me right now. Thinking about it would only turn my hair gray... ah wait it's already gray right now…
Anyway, I had goals. People to see again. A place to return to. And a person I have to find in Luminar. That is what's important to me right now. Worrying about the deeper meaning behind this world's mysteries was none of my concern. I would leave those to the scholars.
And the first steps back on that path begin tomorrow. Sylvia and I are heading back to the small village we stopped in before coming to this dungeon.
"Hey, do you mind… if I ask you about your family?" Sylvia asked me shyly.
"Sure, a promise is a promise. Maybe I should just start from the beginning?"
—
Sylvia Talgan's POV
Despite Voker being tired, we talked for a long time last night. We talked about both our families and lives, but I didn't expect him to tell me his whole life story.
Then again, I'm really happy he finally told me some things about himself. It sure put a lot of things into perspective for me. I was finally able to understand why he acts the way he does most of the time…
He might have kept a few of the more… harsher details… to himself, but it wasn't an attempt to hide things from me. At least, I don't think it was. Maybe he was just sparing me from the harsh reality he went through, but I think he doesn't want to remember those days.
Hearing him talk about his family was an odd experience. Even the way his voice sounded was utterly different than his usual self. The way he spoke about his mother and father… his two friends, and the things they did together like going to school and stuff, even his grandpa, who is a doctor but isn't really his grandpa…
It's almost like there are different people inside of Voker's head.
You have the boy Kaladin Shadowheart from a village in Syn'nari… a little rough around the edges but just a normal kid. Then you have Voker Winterheart, a child prodigy who is already more accomplished than most veterans despite only being an adventurer for a year or so. Voker is standoffish, but he isn't full of himself. He can be a little dense at times but not in a bad way just in certain areas. And even so, Voker isn't a bad person. He has saved my life far more than I care to admit and has even tried to console me… in his own unique way.
Then you have whatever that other thing is…
I'm not sure what to think about that part of him. A specter of something I can't even begin to understand. Voker didn't talk about that part of his life, if it even was his life. So when he said he didn't want to talk about it, I've never seen him so… conflicted.
It was like I stabbed him in the heart from behind or something. He almost looked afraid that I knew about that part of him. But on the other hand, I've watched him face down monsters that could kill a man in a blink of an eye, and he never once seemed shaken.
Maybe it's not three people? Maybe Voker is just a combination of these two parts of him? But what does he want?
I've only run into that scary part of him twice. Once when I said some… embarrassing things out of my frustrations and made a fool of myself only to get put into my place. Then again, in that Slime dream.
Making sense of it is difficult, and I don't think I'll be able to figure it out unless he tells me. Maybe it's some kind of magic or something? He is a member of that shadow clan… maybe it's a shadow of somebody from his family following him around?
No… it's definitely him. Could it be his shadow? But from what? Ugh…
I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair. The inn we stayed in wasn't up to my usual standards but… I found it hard to complain about a decent bed that wasn't made of stone and somewhere to wash after months of being in a literal pit of death. Unfortunately, it will probably take me a century to get this stench off my body and out of my hair.
Do I really smell? I can't tell… maybe I should just ask Voker.
Speaking of Voker, it was time to wake up and start the day. Knowing Voker, he is probably already awake, eaten breakfast, and moved on—
Moved on… he didn't leave me, did he?
I started panicking as I hastily threw on my clothes and mask. My hair was a bird's nest from not brushing it before going to bed… Big sist—Salihn… would be lecturing me for it if she was here…
I allowed myself a few seconds of silence to remember them. Grandpa said something like, "People aren't truly gone until you forget about them," or something like that. I never imagined things would end up this way. So I'll just never forget them.
Somebody has to remember.
Once I got downstairs, I scanned the main eating hall for a brooding Elven child in a mask but I didn't see him. The place was surprisingly packed for being such a small village. Maybe it's because it's so cold already. Speaking of that… why is it so cold? What time of the year is it?
I could find that information out later. I immediately went up to the young man running the breakfast counter, and before I could even speak, he cut me off without even turning around to face me.
"Go wait at a table to be served, like everybody else," he snapped.
"Shut up," I spat.
The young Human spun around, his eyes going big in surprise as he was met with my masked face. I probably shouldn't be glaring at him so hard, but he started it first.
"I don't want your gruel. I want to know if you have seen an Elven boy wearing a mask today. It's like a silverish gray color with gold on it, can't miss him," I interjected before he could even get a word out.
He shifted nervously and rubbed the side of his head. "Uh, no… I haven't seen anybody like that this morning."
"Tsch…"
Did Voker just up and leave me? He would have said something to me at least… we are going to the same place after all… he wouldn't leave me…
"Uhhh, is there something I can help you with, miss?" the employee asked me.
"Yeah, stop talking."
I didn't even bother looking at his reaction as I continued to think. Voker would never miss a meal unless he absolutely had to. I've watched him scarf down food in seconds, and he was always grumbling about losing weight.
Unless something is wrong with him…
He was complaining about being in pain and that he wasn't feeling all that good but when I tried to heal him, I couldn't find anything wrong with him. But, wait, what if it's some kind of illness that he got from my ritual or my sword? Did I make him sick?
Voker!
I ran back upstairs, ignoring the employee's shout, and went straight to Voker's room. Voker always tried to get the furthest room from the stairs. I imagine it was something born of his paranoia, but I don't blame him after hearing his story.
I quickly knocked on the door. "Voker? Voker! It's me? Are you in there?"
No answer.
No time to think. I jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. Power coursed through my veins as my Blood Sorcery ignited. I twisted the knob off, breaking the mechanisms within. The knob rolled across the ground with a loud clanking noise, and I tried pushing the door open, but it wouldn't budge.
Did he block the door? Voker…
I put my shoulder into the wooden door and empowered my legs. Unfortunately, I ended up going a little too hard, and I might have accidentally crushed the door and a chair… oops.
However, I could care less about the stupid door or chair; instead, I saw Voker lying in bed. Even from here, I could tell he was having a hard time breathing, and I immediately went over to him, but before I could put a hand on him, he grabbed my wrist.
I looked at him and remembered that this was a common occurrence. Generally, if I tried to shake him from his sleep, he would just grab me before I even got close to him. Maybe years of living on the edge taught him this bad habit… but unlike all those other times, Voker didn't wake up just now, and his grip around my wrist was weak.
"Voker! Hey, are—"
I tried shaking him, but the second my hand touched his bare shoulder, I brought it back in surprise. His body was soaked with sweat, and his skin was burning. I quickly ran back to the door and checked the hallway to see if my commotion had drawn any attention. Then, not seeing anyone, I ran back to his side and lifted my mask up.
I sank my fangs into his arm and drank a little of his sweet blood. I could never ever ever never ever tell him that his blood tasted this good. I haven't drank many people's blood, but for those I've had, nobodies tasted like his… not Mom, Dad, or even Salihn. Besides, he would probably only be disgusted by the idea of his blood tasting good to somebody.
I extended my Blood Sorcery into his body and tried to find what was wrong with him. But everywhere I checked, there was nothing I could find. His brain, chest, arms…. nothing. There is nothing wrong with him… I can't heal him, but something is wrong with him!
"Hey! The door… what happened! What are you doing?!" a man shouted from behind me. It was the young man running the breakfast counter.
I wiped the blood off my mouth and lowered my mask while sliding a hand into my pocket. I brought out a single gold coin and flicked it hard at the Human. The coin smacked him in the center of his forehead and fell to the ground.
"Screw your door. Is there a healer in this place?" I asked.
"You! I— oh…" the man's anger faded when he looked at the ground and noticed the gold coin.
It was probably more money than this place made in a month.
"I asked you if there was a healer here."
The man picked up the coin with a smile. "Yes! We do have one! I'll go fetch her for you right away!"
"Run."
The man squirmed nervously. "Huh?"
"You better start running. Now," I said seriously.
The man ran off immediately and nearly fell flat on his face from tripping on the broken-down door. I went back to Voker's side and sat on the edge of his bed. I wasn't sure what some healer in the middle of a shit hole village like this was going to do that I couldn't… but letting him stay like this wasn't an option.
Seeing him like this… made my chest hurt. Of course, I've seen him injured before, and it was because of me a lot of those times, but this is different for some reason. He just looks so… vulnerable, I guess? This is just an odd reminder that despite all the things he has been through, he is still an average person… or at least he is trying to be one.
I've often woken up to this small frame being beaten and battered. How many times has he put his life on the line to save me? Not even mentioning all the attempts at comforting me… even if they were a little… blunt.
But how can somebody like me ever make amends for that? Then again, maybe he doesn't even care? Voker doesn't strike me as the kind of person who counts favors.
Suddenly he took a deep breath, and despite not being able to see his eyes, I could tell he was awake now and was just staring at me because he was focusing on his breathing. My eyes drifted across his mask until, eventually, he mumbled something.
"Thanks."
—
"Hello, sweetie. Would you mind moving some of this out of the way for me?" a sweet voice called out to me.
It had been over an hour since the man ran off to go fetch a healer. Standing in the doorway was an old Human woman with leathery skin. She had long black hair and deep wrinkles formed around her face and I couldn't even see her eyes all the way. I had to wonder if she even had eyes…
Well, this must be the healer and I guess I wasn't going to let somebody's grandma trip over the mess I made…
I cleared a path for the old healer and watched as she shuffled toward Voker, carrying nothing but a satchel over her shoulders. She immediately reached for his mask.
"Don't touch his mask. It stays on no matter what," I hissed.
"But I—"
"If his mask comes off we are going to have a bigger problem," I said dangerously.
I wanted Voker to be healed but revealing his face was a big no-no. I was absolutely sure he would kill me if I let somebody take his mask off. Grandma here would have to kill me first before I let that happen.
She nodded to herself and set her bag down on the nightstand. "You won't get mad at me if I poke around him a little, will you?"
"Do whatever you have to do, just don't touch his mask. Are you even a light mage?" I asked.
The woman chuckled. "A light mage? I'm afraid I can't use any magic, sweetie."
"Then how the heck are you going to help him?" I said, unable to hide my annoyance.
"There are many ways to help somebody without magic, dear," she said with a wrinkly smile.
I watched closely as she began feeling around Voker's body. I nearly lashed out when she started at his neck first but she was just probing him gently with her fingers. Next, she made her way down his arms and lifted them, and poked around his armpits.
She scooted Voker closer to her and laid her head on his chest while putting her arms underneath him, looking like she was feeling around his back. The old lady sighed and turned to me.
"Has he had any complaints recently?"
Every day. About every little thing.
"I uh… yeah, said he wasn't feeling very good. That his body was aching and stuff," I answered back.
"What about eating and sleeping? Has he been doing both of those a lot?"
"I mean… I guess? But he has always been like that."
I tried thinking hard about him and how he has been acting recently. Finally, something clicked in my head.
"He has been more moody than usual! That's saying something even for him."
She chuckled to herself again, and I immediately felt the tips of my ears start burning. I uncrossed my arms and found something interesting on the far wall to stare at.
"What about his balance? Has he been falling over himself recently? And how old is this boy?"
"Balance? I… there was one time when he fell over by himself for no reason… that was really unlike him. And he just turned thirteen," I stated.
The old healer made a choking noise and turned away from me, nearly falling on top of Voker in the process.
"Ah, what's wrong? Are you okay?!" I shouted.
I tried helping her, but she waved me away and started laughing hard. "Oh my, I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to do that. I was just surprised to hear that he was that old despite being so small. But I believe I know what is troubling him now."
My hands reached out and grabbed the old lady as I cut her off out of pure excitement. But I was starting to get worried too!
"Really?! What's wrong with him?! How do we help him?!" I shouted.
The healer laughed even harder this time. "There is no reason to worry. He is just growing."
What?! But it makes sense… if he isn't sick or hurt then, I can't heal him. But I can't be so trusting!
"Huh? What do you mean he is growing, lady?!"
"Calm down now, sweetie. I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with Elves, but I am confident that I have helped many young boys through a similar time in their lives. Many mothers have acted the same as you even, hahaha. But it's true that none of them were quite this bad… but then again, most of them weren't so old. His body is merely changing, and this is the result. There is nothing to help him with," she said thoughtfully.
Mothers? I'm not his mom…
But I can see that this old lady isn't lying… I think. At least she has no reason to lie. She could have said there was something seriously wrong with him and tried to charge me for the herbs, but she didn't do that.
Maybe he is growing? I mean, he is thirteen, and he still looks like this…
"Is there really nothing I can do for him?" I asked.
"Well, there are a few things you are going to need to do for him."
"Ah, like what?" I asked quickly.
She grabbed her satchel and started fumbling around for something. "First, you need to make sure he gets plenty of food and water. There will be bouts in his fever and he needs to eat and drink as much as possible during those times. You will also have to make sure he doesn't get sick."
"Okay… food and water, I can do that. But how do I make sure he doesn't get sick?"
"Ah, there you are…" she mumbled to herself while taking out a glass jar filled with some reddish-brown powder. "Simple, clean his body of sweat and change his sheets frequently. You wouldn't want him to catch a cold during all of this."
"Clean his body?!"
"Is that a problem? He is your sibling, right?"
Sibling?!
"WHAT! No, we are not related! Not at all!" I yelled.
"Oh, sorry to make a fool of myself then. Well, somebody has to do it. And since you won't trust anyone to take his mask off, I'm afraid that task falls to you. And here," she said while giving me a pouch of the powder. "This is Bloodroot. Only give this to him if his fever gets noticeably worse, do you understand? You don't want to give him anything unnecessary. Just put a pinch of the powder in a warm drink or soup."
"I understand…"
She smiled at me. "Good luck."
The old healer started walking out of the room, but I stopped her.
"Wait! How long is he going to be like this?"
She didn't even bother turning around as she gave a small wave. "As long as it takes."
What… what is that supposed to mean?