Ikem turned fully toward his father, the memory still fresh in his eyes.
"It all began with a desperate desire to heal my people… my children."
There was no grandeur in that confession. Only desperation and love. Ikenga nodded slowly.
"When you spoke of your divinity," he said, "and the professions that practice it, I was struck by something."
He glanced sideways at his son.
"You did not mention healers."
Ikem stilled.
"Do you know how many mortals succumb to ailments they do not understand?" Ikenga continued, his voice neither accusing "Some are fortunate and survive by chance. Others meet their end without ever knowing what afflicted them."
