My mother had already managed to lift her head somewhat, although she was still far from well. His breathing was steadier and the tremors had subsided, but the shadow of exhaustion was still visible in his eyes.
In the village, his status had become the topic of the day... of every day. It was enough to look out of the square or cross paths with any old man to hear whispers about his health, as if it were a story that had to be constantly updated, as if his life also depended on the morbidity of others.
My father spent a lot more time at home than usual. Toran's pride, the one who once led entire squads and faced beasts without hesitation, seemed to crumble in the face of weakness that could not fight with his strength. His humor, once dry but bearable, became dark. Every word of his weighed like a stone, every silence lasted longer than necessary. His frustration hung in the air like a rope about to break.
I watched him. He didn't say anything... but I understood. I understood it all too well.
The air inside the hut was dense, laden with sweet aromas, smoke, and something else that I didn't know if it was hope or resignation. My mother lay on the mattress, breathing heavily, her skin pearly with sweat and her eyes barely half-open. Lyvanna—Nimue's mother and village healer—ran a damp cloth across his forehead with an almost ritualistic firmness.
My father didn't say anything. He was standing, arms crossed, with that expression that he no longer knew if it was anger or fear. Nimue, leaning against a corner, played at being indifferent, but her eyes gave her away: she observed everything.
I could only watch. Sitting on the floor, with my hands clasped, feeling that the guilt suffocated me more than the humidity of the environment.
"This is not going to stop much longer," Lyvanna said suddenly, breaking the silence like a knife. I can calm the fever, but not cure the root of the disease. The disease continues its course.
My father gritted his teeth. His silence hurt more than any words.
"But there is—" "A possibility," she added, pouring a handful of blue powder into a bowl. A cure. An ancient antidote that only the mermaids of the marine continent know how to prepare.
I looked up suddenly. Until then, I didn't know something like this existed.
"Mermaids?" My father asked, suspicious.
"Yes. They keep a sacred flower: Nauvira. It grows deep in its reefs. They use it to prepare an elixir that revitalizes the blood and regenerates damaged organs. Years ago he saved one of mine. If we get that flower, we can save it.
"Oh, please," Nimue snorted, rolling her eyes. What's next? A favor to a dragon?
"Nimue!" His mother cut him off, dry as always. I'm serious. This is your only real chance.
My heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt.
"Where is that continent?" I asked, barely in a whisper.
My father looked at me for the first time all day. His expression was a mixture of surprise and something else... pride, perhaps?
"It's south of Tirgaleth, beyond Echo Bay," Lyvanna explained. But you won't go alone.
My eyes were fixed on her. Something in his tone made me nervous.
"You will accompany him, Nimue.
"What!?" We both jumped at the same time, as if we had rehearsed it.
"You know the roads, you speak the languages, and you know more about the sea creatures than anyone else in this village," he said, as if it were a truth set in stone. And you, Nakhúr—" he looked at me intensely, "you're stupid enough to try.
For a second, no one said anything.
My father looked down.
"I can't let Nakhúr leave the oni village. My father's voice was sharp, firm as the steel of his old spear. He folded his arms, planted in the middle of the hut as if he could stop the world with just his stubbornness.
"P-dad..." I murmured, trying to reason, but he wouldn't let me finish.
"People hate us out there," he continued with suppressed fury, staring at Lyvanna. Don't forget what happened in Tharuun Valley. They treat us like monsters. They will kill him before he even reaches the sea.
Lyvanna remained unperturbed. Standing in front of him, with her hands clasped on his lap and that gaze that pierced the flesh and reached the soul.
"There is no other way," he said at last, with a calm so unsettling that it hurt. Unless you want to watch your wife slowly die, Toran.
My father turned pale. He did not answer. He only lowered his head slightly, as if he had been hit in the stomach. That phrase... I knew I had torn it apart.
"Eh... "Yes, but..." he stammered, looking for excuses in a reality that offered none.
"It's the best they can do," Lyvanna said in a firm voice, irrefutable as a sentence. Then he glanced at me sideways and went on. You can't leave Asha alone, and you know it. I will send my daughter to your son. Nimue can protect you if something happens. It is not a choice. It is a necessity.
My father clenched his fists. He said nothing more. He just turned his head towards my mother, who was breathing heavily on the mattress. A lump formed in my throat as I watched her chest rise with effort, each breath weaker than the last.
"And you... are you sure? He managed to say at last, in an almost choked voice.
"Safer than I've ever been," Lyvanna replied sternly.
And so, without further words, the pact was sealed.
I would leave with Nimue... at the end of the continent, towards unknown, hated, dangerous lands.
All to save my mother.
"Wait a minute! Nimue exclaimed suddenly, banging one of the wooden walls of the hut, shaking some nearby jars. I don't want to leave the village! And even less with ... THAT one!
He pointed at me shamelessly, frowning and an expression of contempt so genuine that for a second I wondered if I had done something really horrible without knowing it.
"What have I done to him...?" I murmured, more to myself than to the others.
"You don't have to do anything to me to make you unbearable to me!" He growled, crossing his arms and turning his face away.
"Nimue," Lyvanna interjected in a grave, authoritative tone. It is not a request. It is a responsibility.
"Tsk!" he clicked his tongue, as if those words had stung him more than a slap.
"You're the only one who can protect him out there," his mother went on, not raising her voice but firmly. You've already shown that you're ready. If you want to continue calling yourself my daughter, then do your duty to the people.
Silence took over the place. There was only the faint hum of bubbling jars and my mother's faint gasp from the other room.
Nimue lowered her head. His expression changed, just for a second, and although it was fleeting, I noticed: it wasn't cruelty... It was fear. Or perhaps a mixture of wounded pride and resignation.
—… "I'll do it," he said finally, without looking at me. But let's be clear: I don't do it for him.
And he left the hut with heavy steps, as if each one hurt more than the last.
Toran looked at me then, without saying a word. I didn't know what to say either. I just felt the weight of the inevitable falling on me like a stone.
We all watched as Nimue strode away without another word, leaving behind a trail of discomfort that permeated the room like thick smoke.
A collective sigh took over the atmosphere, as if we all shared the same thought: Why did it have to be her?
Lyvanna walked up to me slowly but steadily and put a hand on my shoulder. His touch was surprisingly warm, as if he had stored the warmth of the healing in his skin.
"Don't worry about her," she said quietly, almost as if she were talking more to herself. Someday she will realize that, at this rate, she will be left alone... marginalized.
I nodded without really knowing why. I wasn't so worried about Nimue, but about the idea of sharing such an important trip with someone so... unpredictable.
It was then that my father, who until now had remained silent, got up from the corner where he observed everything. Toran stretched out his hands towards the center of the room, and without uttering a single word, a black aura began to envelop him like a dense mist pouring out from his fingers.
The ground shook slightly, barely perceptible, as a kind of scroll began to materialize in the air. First it was thin dark strands, like threads of ink floating, which slowly intertwined to form a rectangle. The map appeared before us suspended in mid-air, with changing shapes and runes that moved as if they were alive.
"This map is tied to my lingering shadow spell," Toran said, his voice sounding deep, as if speaking from another plane. It will show you the safest route to the sea continent and adjust if any mishaps arise. It will follow in your footsteps. You don't need to read it, it will guide you.
The map floated down to my hands. As I touched it, I felt a cold tingle in my palms, as if my father's darkness had barely brushed against me.
"But remember, Nakhúr," he added, fixing his gaze on me, "this spell feeds on your life energy. If you use it too much without resting... It might start to absorb more than it should.
I swallowed hard. A map that guides you... but that could also kill you if you force it too much. That's great.
"Thank you..." Father," I whispered, with genuine respect.
"Do it for her," he said, looking into the room where my mother was resting.
And I nodded.
I left the hut determined to look for Nimue. I couldn't wait for her to decide whether to come or not. I needed it for this trip, even if it pained me to admit it.
I found her sitting on a rock, just a few feet from the door, staring at the horizon. His gray skin seemed almost glowing in the dim afternoon light, and the blue runes on his arms stood out with a cold glow. Her white hair fell messy over her shoulders, and violet eyes were fixed on the ground, but she seemed oblivious to everything around her.
"You haven't gone far," I said as I approached, trying to sound firm.
She looked at me with a lopsided half-smile, cocked her head, and replied in a dry tone:
"I'm not one of those who disappear without warning. I just needed a break.
I sat next to him, feeling the tension in the air.
"You'd better leave today," said a voice behind us. It was Lyvanna, who had come out to check that we were ready. With luck and without distractions, you will reach the sacred grove before nightfall.
"The sacred grove?" I asked, with a hint of skepticism. It sounds too mystical. Surely it is nothing more than a simple ordinary forest.
Nimue let out a harsh laugh.
"You're not the only one who thinks that, kid," he said without looking at me. But I assure you that there is more than meets the eye.
I got up from the floor with a false security that I didn't feel.
"Then there's no time to lose.
As we gathered our things, I couldn't help but think that this forest could be much more important than any of us imagined.
Before leaving, I approached my parents. My mother, weak but determined, held my hand tightly and whispered to me to be careful. My father, though reserved, placed a firm hand on my shoulder, conveying silence and support. There were not many words, only looks full of concern and hope.
With the bewitched map in hand and Nimue's forced company, we head together towards the village border. People watched us in silence, aware of the importance and risk of our journey.
Finally, we crossed under the great stone arch that marked the boundary of our tribe. Gone was the village, its customs, and the life it knew. Forward, the unknown.