The days following Sherry's tumultuous arrival and revival settled into a new, albeit slightly more complex, rhythm in Elowen.
Sunlight streamed down onto fields that looked greener than ever before. The gentle thud of hammers echoed from the rising frames of two nascent churches taking shape side-by-side – one bathed in morning light, the other designed to welcome the dusk.
The scent of baking bread often mingled with the cool, sweet aroma of Riku's chilled drinks shared during midday breaks, and occasionally, the distant sound of Lysaria and Sherry engaging in spirited debate over stonework placement drifted on the breeze.
Riku found himself falling into a pattern he hadn't realized he craved. Mornings were often spent near the expanding herb gardens or checking the simple irrigation channels. Afternoons involved overseeing the church constructions, mediating the theological (and sometimes personal) disputes between the two newest residents, or tinkering with Gnord on refinements for the coolbox and turbine designs. Evenings were quiet – sharing meals, watching the stars emerge over a village that felt more like home than his old world ever had.
The peace felt fragile, perhaps, but deeply cherished.
It was roughly ten days after Sherry had begun tentatively integrating into village life, under a sky painted with lazy white clouds, that the rhythm broke.
A frantic shout came from the boy perched in the makeshift watch post near the southern gate. "Cart approaching! Fast! Looks… looks troubled!"
Villagers turned quickly, shielding their eyes against the sun. Riku, who had been discussing timber supports with Barou near the church site, exchanged a quick, serious glance with the chief before heading towards the gate. Lila, Lysaria, and Sherry, who had been sketching layout adjustments nearby, followed close behind.
The cart that rattled into view was small, battered, drawn by a single, exhausted-looking pony whose coat was matted with dust and sweat. At the reins sat a figure slumped with fatigue, her silver hair escaping its usually neat bun in dishevelled strands, her simple robes torn at the hem and stained with dirt.
It was Sister Alia.
Beside her, huddled under a thin blanket despite the warmth of the day, were two small children. Their faces were pale, their breathing shallow, and a faint, dry cough rattled from one of them even as they slept fitfully.
Alia pulled the pony to a halt just inside the gate, her hands trembling as she dropped the reins. She practically fell from the cart seat, stumbling forward, her eyes locking onto Riku with desperate recognition.
"Riku…!" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. She took two shaky steps towards him, her hand outstretched. "Please… the children… save them…"
And then, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the dusty ground in a faint, the last of her strength gone.
"Sister Alia!" Lila cried out, rushing forward.
Riku was already moving. "Barou! Get them inside the inn, now! Gently!"
Villagers hurried to lift Alia's limp form and the two listless children, carrying them swiftly towards the inn. Lila, Lysaria, and Sherry followed, faces pale with shock and concern.
Inside the common room, Alia and the children were laid on makeshift beds of blankets. Riku knelt beside them, his expression grim. He quickly pulled out three smooth, faintly glowing stones from a pouch at his belt – similar to the ones he'd used before.
Everyone was already familiar with the stones, and more pressing matters awaited, so no one asked anything unnecessary.
A soft, warm golden light pulsed gently from the stones, washing over the three figures. The effect was subtle but immediate. The harsh pallor began to recede from their skin, replaced by a slightly healthier, though still exhausted, hue. The children's ragged coughs softened into shallower breaths. Alia's unconscious form seemed less tense, her breathing evening out.
After a few minutes, Alia stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked, focusing slowly on Riku's face above her.
"Riku…?" she murmured weakly.
"Rest easy, Sister Alia," he said softly. "You're safe now. The children are stable as well. Tell us what happened."
Alia pushed herself up slightly, leaning against Lila who had sat beside her. She took a sip of water offered by Barou, her hands still shaking.
"It started… not long after you all left Vintross," she began, her voice raspy.
"At first, the eldest boy came down with fever, the same one who was hurt outside on the day you visited us." Alia whispered. "We thought it was just a common cold. But it wouldn't go away. Then the cough… kept on getting worse."
A young boy, sitting near Alia, nodded. "Brother Riku, it hurt very much inside.. Now it is much better, though," he mumbled, clearly feeling much better as if a big thorn in his throat was removed.
"Soon, others started showing the same signs," Alia continued, her voice cracking. "Elara, then little Finn. Within a week, nearly half the children were sick. It spread so fast, Riku. Faster than any winter cold I've ever seen."
Lysaria frowned, stepping closer, her brow furrowed with concern. "Did you seek aid from the main temple in Vintross? They have healers, resources… Surely they wouldn't turn away sick children?"
Alia shook her head, a bitter twist to her lips. "I went. Twice. The first time, they claimed the halls were full, that they couldn't spare anyone for the orphanage. The second time… they wouldn't even open the gates to me. Said they couldn't risk 'contamination'." Her voice dripped with disbelief and hurt.
Lila gasped. "They just turned you away? But they're the Church!"
Lysaria looked stunned, her faith momentarily shaken by such blatant disregard. "Contamination? That's… that's not doctrine. That's cruelty."
"Heh, what else would you expect from a bunch of beasts." Sherry spat, some fury clearly rising in her eyes.
"There was a local doctor," Alia continued, her gaze distant. "Old Master Elms. Kind soul. He took us in, tried his remedies… but the sickness baffled him."
The little girl beside the boy whimpered softly, awake now too. "Doctor Elms got sick too," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "He couldn't help us anymore."
Alia nodded sadly. "He fell ill himself, three days ago. Last I heard, his shop was shuttered. People in his street were getting sick too. Some… some have already died."
A heavy silence filled the room. The implications were chilling.