Chapter 7
Ailment
The group observed in utter silence as the priest worked, the tome hanging in mid-air before him as if by some invisible force. The only sound that filled the room was the whispered chanting of the priest, his voice steady and low, his attention focused solely on Freya's uncle. The light from the lime green glow continued to dance over the ill man's body, the room bathed in an eerie yet soothing luminescence. Alron, as he observed the strange tome before him, couldn't help but focus on the odd bindings holding the book together. The lime green bones seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, the course and grainy texture of their surface standing out in stark contrast against the worn cover of the book. The memory of his conversation with the wizard about the use of bones in magical practices resurfaced in his mind, making some semblance of sense of the situation.
Alron's ears picked up the faint sound of sobs coming from his left, and he turned to see that Freya had her uncle's hand cradled delicately in her palms. She was weeping quietly, her head bowed and her body shaking slightly with suppressed sobs. The sight tugged at Alron's heart, his own thoughts filled with a mixture of sadness and empathy. Alron, feeling the need to offer comfort, gently inched closer to Freya and reached out, placing his hand on her thigh in a gesture of reassurance. He could feel the tremors of her body as she wept, her grip on her uncle's hand seemingly growing tighter with each passing moment. He remained silent, his touch a silent show of support and understanding. Beor, his hand still resting on Alron's shoulder, leaned in and softly whispered, "Gotta work the farm" into his ear. Alron, acknowledging the message, nodded silently. Beor, seeing Alron's response, removed his hand from Alron's shoulder and quietly left the temple, leaving Alron, Freya, her aunt, and the priest in the dimly lit room. With Beor's departure, the room was filled with a renewed silence, the steady chanting of the priest now the only sound that could be heard. The light from the torch flickered as the priest continued his incantations, and Freya's quiet weeping seemed to echo louder in the stillness. Alron, his hand still on Freya's thigh, remained in his position, his mind filled with thoughts of the situation and the strange lime green tome that hung before them. The group sat in wait for hours, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. Alron's hand remained on Freya's thigh, providing a silent anchor of comfort. Meanwhile, the priest persisted with his incantations, his brow gradually furrowing deeper with the continued strain of the process. The room remained immersed in silence, save for the whispered words of the priest and Freya's soft sobs.
As the priest stood up, preparing to retreat to the main hall, he was stopped by Freya's aunt, who quickly rose to her feet and held onto his arm. The priest cast a curious glance at the woman, his face betraying a hint of exhaustion from the long incantation. "Is he going to be okay" she asked with a worried and solemn expression. The priest looked weary, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion as he answered, "He is stable, but I need to catch my breath." His eyes flicked to the woman and her pleading expression, recognizing her anxiety and concern. "I need to rest for a while, but once I've caught my breath, we must talk," he added, his face marked by the strain of the healing process. Alron observed as the priest carefully placed the tome back on the pedestal from which he had taken it. Alron noticed that the tome now appeared no different from a normal book - its once-glowing cover now just ordinary and unassuming. Alron, his expression laced with compassion, turned to Freya and softly asked, "You alright?" His voice was soothing, his concern for her obvious. He waited patiently for her response, his thoughts still lingering on the events that had just transpired. Freya, her attention focused solely on her uncle's hand in her palms, seemed to acknowledge Alron's query but was too overwhelmed to respond. Her silence spoke volumes, her thoughts seemingly consumed by her uncle's condition and the events that had just unfolded. Alron, recognizing her silent answer, decided to give her some space, allowing her to process her emotions in silence. He didn't press her further for an answer. Instead, he remained silently by her side, his presence a mute reassurance that he was there for her whenever she was ready to talk. The room continued to be permeated by a heavy silence, the only sounds being the faint crackles of the nearby torches and the occasional faint breathing from Freya and her uncle. While Alron remained by Freya's side, her aunt, seeking answers and reassurance, had moved out of the room to speak with the priest. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Alron and Freya in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the torches casting shadows on their faces.
Freya gently squeezed Alron's hand, her voice soft yet determined, "You go too. I need to be alone for a minute." Alron nodded, understanding her unspoken need for solitude. He gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze in return before reluctantly withdrawing his hand and silently turning to leave. Alron, his eyes lingering on Freya for a moment, finally pushed open the door and stepped out into the temple's main chamber. Closing the door quietly behind him, he took a breath and turned his attention to the main hall, seeking out the priest and Freya's aunt. Alron's gaze swept across the main hall, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of the priest or Freya's aunt. His thoughts were still on Freya, his concern for her well-being growing by the moment. The temple, though still dimly lit, was now devoid of the silent tension that had filled the room he had just left. The only sound that reached his ears was the soft echo of his footsteps against the stone floor. Alron's footsteps echoed softly in the main chamber as he moved through the dimly lit space. He continued to scan the area, his patience slowly beginning to fray with each passing second. The need to know what the priest and Freya's aunt were discussing weighed heavily on his mind, a sense of urgency growing within him. Alron's ears caught the sound of voices coming from a dimly lit room to the side. Recognizing the voices as belonging to the priest and Freya's aunt, he quickly made his way towards the room. The stone walls dampened the voices slightly, but Alron's curiosity spurred him onward, his steps now more deliberate and quiet as he approached the room. Alron entered the dimly lit room, his stance casual yet purposeful. He moved to a spot where he would be able to hear the conversation yet would not be a hindrance or an eyesore. He leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the priest and Freya's aunt, trying to listen in on their discussion. The priest, having noticed Alron's presence near the wall, gestured for him to join them. Alron approached the two, his eyes flicking from the priest to Freya's aunt, waiting for what the priest had to say. "Your brother brought the elf last night?" the priest inquired as Alron moved towards them. "Yes," Alron replied, his voice carrying a note of curiosity, "my brother brought the elf. Why do you ask?"
The priest, his tone becoming more serious, turned his attention to both Alron and Freya's aunt. "Look," he continued, "As I said, he is fine and will be fine. But that is not the main issue here." The priest's expression grew solemn as he explained, "The ailment he has is not physical or mental. It seems to be something metaphysical." Alron's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tried to process the priest's words, his mind racing to understand what the cause of the mysterious condition could be. The priest's voice held a hint of confusion as he continued, "What has happened does not fall under any known school of magic, and to be honest, I didn't even think it was possible." Alron's mind whirled with questions and confusion, the weight of the priest's words only adding more mystery to Freya's uncle's condition. "What's the problem?" Freya's aunt retorted, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Just a moment ago you said he was fine." The priest exhaled deeply and met Freya's aunt's confused gaze. "I understand your confusion," he began. "Let me explain. When I say he is fine, I mean his life is not in danger and his physical health is not at risk." The priest paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "However, what happened to him is not something I have seen or read about before. It is an anomaly, something that doesn't fit into any known category of magic or illness." The priest's tone was tinged with confusion and worry as he tried to explain the unusual situation. "He is... slipping out of time," he began, his words laced with a hint of disbelief. "He has no wounds or illness, but it seems that he is gradually diverging from the flow of linear time." Alron's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to comprehend the implications of the priest's words. Freya's aunt looked at the priest with a bewildered expression, expressing her confusion. "What do you even mean by that?" she inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The priest shook his head, a look of perplexity on his face. "I am honestly at a loss," he admitted. "I have never encountered such a situation before, nor did I ever imagine that something like this could be possible." The priest shifted his gaze to Alron, revealing a new piece of information. "Your brother's elf friend also had a similar injury," he stated. "Fortunately, since it was a wound, we were able to effectively treat it, almost completely healing it." The priest's tone grew more ominous as he elaborated, "No matter what we do, the wound keeps shifting between different stages of healing. Unfortunately, I fear the situation of your husband and the elf's injury share a similar pattern." Alron and Freya's aunt exchanged worried glances, the implications of the priest's words sinking in. The notion that the injury of the elf and Freya's uncle were somehow connected only added to the mounting sense of unease. The priest's voice was reassuring as he stated, "We will keep him here for a while longer and monitor his condition to see how it progresses." Alron and Freya's aunt nodded, accepting the priest's plan. The priest excused himself and went over to a nearby bed, laying down as Alron and Freya's aunt left the room. Their footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor as they headed back to the chamber where they had left Freya and her uncle. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of the priest's words hanging heavily in the air.
Freya's aunt turned to Alron, her voice firm yet sympathetic. "Please don't tell her," she implored. "She's already worried enough as it is. I don't want to add to her anxiety." Alron nodded in understanding, respecting the aunt's decision to protect Freya from further distress. "Understood," he replied solemnly. "I won't mention any of this to her. You have my word." Alron's voice was resolute as he responded, "She needs to know," he insisted. "She deserves the truth, and it's better coming from us rather than having her find out on her own." Freya's aunt's expression softened as she appealed to Alron's sense of understanding. "Trust me," she advised. "It's best if you don't. Tell her instead that the priest reassured us, telling us he'll be fine. Do it for her sake." Alron, though reluctant to keep information from Freya, was moved by the aunt's plea. He knew that keeping her ignorant might save her from unnecessary worry, but at the same time, he felt the weight of the unspoken truth. He sighed, torn between the need to be truthful and the need to protect Freya's emotional well-being. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke, his voice strained. "Alright," he said finally. "I won't tell her." Freya's aunt nodded slightly. The door creaked open, and Freya's aunt and Alron quietly entered the chamber where Freya and her uncle were. The room was still filled with a dim, somber light, and the quiet sound of their footsteps barely broke the still air.
As they stepped into the room, Freya looked up, her eyes anxiously searching their faces for any signs of news. Freya's face was taut with worry, her eyes wide as she observed the expressions of her aunt and Alron. She waited with anticipation, her heart heavy with the fear and uncertainty surrounding her uncle's condition. Freya's aunt tried to reassure her with as much confidence as she could muster. "He will be all right," she affirmed. "The priest just needs to keep him here a little longer to ensure he recovers completely." Her words seemed to offer a faint glimmer of hope, but the worry still etched on Freya's face didn't completely go away. She looked over at her uncle, his still form lying quietly in the bed. Alron's voice cut through the tense silence, attempting to distract the worried Freya. "Let's go out for a bit," he suggested. Her aunt, also eager to get Freya out of the house, quickly chimed in, "Yeah, and while you're out, would you mind watering the field?" Her aunt reassured her, gesturing to the darkening sky outside. "It's already late, and the crops need water," she explained. "Don't worry, I'll stay here with him. You two should go out." Freya reluctantly stood up, her movements heavy with a mix of worry and resignation. As she made her way towards the door, she reached out, gently tugging at Alron's arm, hinting at him to follow her outside. Her touch was light but purposeful, a silent plea for him to accompany her. Alron, understanding her unspoken request, nodded slightly, stepping closer to her. Together, they quietly left the temple.
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