Chapter 173: Before the Hunger — The Lord of Mercy (Part VI: A Cure at Any Cost)
"When enough people place their hope upon one soul, that soul begins to mistake hope for obligation."From the journals of Astraeus the Wanderer.Snow fell softly over the capital of Elyndor.The white rooftops, once symbols of peace, now looked like silent tombstones beneath the grey winter sky.
The bells of the Royal House of Healing rang every sunrise.Not to announce the beginning of the day.To count how many had survived the night.Each morning...
There were fewer.The Queen
The Queen lay peacefully upon a bed carved from white cedar.
She looked as though she were sleeping.
But the dark veins beneath her pale skin told another story.
The plague had nearly reached her heart.
Around her stood the finest physicians in the kingdom.Glass bottles filled with failed remedies covered nearby tables.
Ancient scrolls lay open across the floor.
Every treatment had been attempted.
Every prayer had been spoken.
Nothing had worked.
The Chief Physician turned to Myra.
"We have exhausted our knowledge."
His voice cracked.
"The kingdom now places its faith in yours."
Those words settled on Myra's shoulders like chains.Days Without Sleep
For the next six days.
Myra barely left the Queen's chamber.
She mixed herbs gathered from distant mountains.She brewed medicines described only in forgotten manuscripts.
She experimented with controlled Aether healing, carefully adjusting its flow through the Queen's body.Some attempts slowed the illness.None stopped it.When servants brought meals.She forgot to eat.
When exhaustion forced her eyes closed.
She dreamed of Elian.
Each time she awoke.
The Queen's condition had worsened.
The Weight of Expectations
Outside the Royal House of Healing, hundreds of people gathered each evening.
Not to protest.Not to demand answers.
To pray.Candles illuminated the streets as families knelt together.
Children whispered Myra's name with hope.
Merchants offered free supplies to the healers.Even soldiers removed their helmets before the House.
The entire kingdom believed one young woman could save them.
Myra heard their voices through the windows.
Instead of encouraging her.They terrified her.
A Letter Never Sent.Late one night, unable to continue, Myra sat alone beside a lantern.
She unfolded a blank sheet of parchment.
She began writing.
Master Elian,
I finally understand what you meant.
Every person who looks at me believes I can save the one they love.
I want to believe it too.
But every day I fail someone.
I don't know how much longer my heart can endure watching hope disappear from people's eyes.She stopped.
Folded the unfinished letter.
Placed it inside her journal.
No one would ever read it.
Astraeus' Visit
Near dawn, Astraeus entered the empty courtyard of the Royal House.
He found Myra sitting beneath a snow-covered willow tree.She looked smaller somehow.As though grief itself had worn away pieces of her.Without speaking, Astraeus handed her a warm cup of tea.
She accepted it with trembling hands.
"I've read everything."
She whispered."I've tried everything."
"I know."
"I was supposed to help people."
"You have."
"It isn't enough."Silence lingered between them.Finally, Astraeus asked,"If you were offered the power to save every person in this kingdom"
She looked at him immediately."I would take it." "even if the cost was yours alone?"
She didn't hesitate.
"Yes."Astraeus closed his eyes.
The answer was exactly what he had feared.
The Hidden Archive
That afternoon, while searching the oldest wing of the royal library, Myra discovered a sealed cabinet hidden behind a loose stone.
Inside rested a single book.
Its leather cover bore no title.
Only a symbol she did not recognize.
A crimson circle surrounding a silver flower.
The pages described healers from forgotten civilizations.Some had restored shattered limbs.Others had cured illnesses believed impossible.Near the end of the book...Several pages had been deliberately torn out.Only one sentence remained.
There exists a deeper current of Aether.
It does not heal the body.
It rewrites it.Myra stared at the words.
No author.No explanation.Only possibility.
The First Whisper
That night...She dreamed.
She stood alone in an endless white field.
Snow drifted gently around her.
Far ahead stood a figure cloaked in crimson mist.
Its face remained hidden.
Its voice was warm.
Kind."You've done everything they taught you."It said.
She remained silent.
"And still they die."
Her hands clenched.
"There is another way."
She took one step forward.
"Who are you?"
The figure laughed softly.
"A friend"
"who also hates unnecessary suffering."
The dream ended.Myra awoke, her heart pounding.
She remembered every word.
Elsewhere,In a chamber buried beneath the roots of the world. The crimson crystal glowed brighter than ever before.
Unlike before...It no longer watched from afar.
A single thread of crimson light reached upward through the darkness.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Toward Myra.
Not to seize her.
Not to command her.
Simply to offer an answer where the world had offered only failure.
For the first time.
Myra did not reject the possibility.
She only whispered into the darkness of her room,"What... is the other way?"
And somewhere beyond mortal hearing.
Something ancient smiled.