Flamerule held it's sweltering grip over the generally arid land of Thay. An oppressive heat hung over the city of Tyrtauros, as it did every year, hearkening in the Reeking Heat -- Thay is not known for cleanliness in even it's larger cities. Refuse and offal smoldered in the warmth of the season, the air becoming heavy, and unpleasant to breathe. For this reason, the Vhirkina family has retreated from the city, to a small house in the featureless wastes of the Tharch. The Reeking Heat, however, was not their only reason for retreating.
Within the walls of the adobe dwelling, a small woman sat, wiping sweat from the forehead of a girl. The young mother's lips were drawn back in an expression of worry. The room lacked windows, and it was considerably cooler because of it. The child's skin was grayed, her breathing labored. Eyelids fluttered in a state of restless slumber as the woman rose to her slippered feet and hurried from the room.
"I just don't know what else we can do...", the woman said softly to a man crouched over a small table. Both were bald, though the man was considerably more pale than the woman that was his wife, his head covered in intricate tattoos. The man raised his eyes from the table with a weary smile, motioning the dark skinned woman to sit. With a hesitant sigh she did as beckoned, hands raising to run across the smooth skin on her skull. "She's just not getting any better. Every night, her fever gets worse, and she eats less. I feel useless."
"The required tithe at any of the temples was just too much for this time of year, dear. It's not our fault." The man broke a piece of bread in half. With a tentative smile, he offered the chunk to the woman. "All we can do is pray to the Gods she makes it." His wife wrinkled her nose and brushed away the proffered food, her hairless brows furrowed in anger.
"That doesn't work!", she spat out in rage. "Every night, I pray. Less and less, though, do I find myself praying for Talona to spare her from the illness." Licking her lips, the woman raised her hands to her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I find myself praying for Cyric to take her soul quickly to his realm, and get it over with."
The husband's lips drew back in a stern frown as he reached out, his fingertips touching her slender chin. "The day we give up is the day we kill her. Stop being so sentimental, we're doing everything we can." Though his touch was gentle, the voice he addressed his wife with was black with anger and disgust. "You can love her, and still accept the inevitable with grace."
Painted eyes fluttered shut as the woman heaved a sigh. "...inevitable."
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Umolka's sleep was fitful. As her parents slumbered, the perspiring girl thrashed in her small, sweat-drenched cot. Dark shapes plagued the girl's fevered dreams; spined lizards thrashed at her as she ran in the distorted world, wings flapping, the beasts squealing and roaring. She would wail and cover her head as she ran. Occasionally, she would stumble over some disgusting creature. Lumps of green and black flesh, acid and bile oozing from their mouths, would peer up at her and cackle. The moment she would take to right herself would be enough time for the beasts to descend on her, the events replaying again.
The girl felt herself being pulled from the dream world swiftly, her eyes shooting open. Though young yet, Umolka realized something was wrong. She had not woken up this easily since illness had beset her, and that face disturbed the girl. Tugging wet hair from her face she sat up, stray drops of perspiration falling on the girl's bare thighs. Her vision was fuzzy and dark as she glanced across the room to her parents, sleeping quietly in their own thin bed. Cautiously she lowered her feet to the sandy floor and moved to stand.
As she stood, Umolka's knees buckled, her breath catching in her throat. With a helpless gasp she crumpled to the ground noiselessly. The child's perceptions jarred as she caught her breath, her muscles falling lax as she stood once more. This time, the naked girl managed to stay on her feet. It was at this time she realized she was seeing herself walk, as if she were outside of her own body. This didn't alarm the Thayan child, for she had dreamt of far stranger things in the past moon. Slowly her body began to move, bare feet scraping against the sand as she made her way for the door.
A rush of warm night air woke Umolka's mother. She stirred lethargically at first, turning onto her side and opening her eyes. She found it strange that there was a breeze making it's way into the hut, but it was not until she noticed her daughter's empty bed that she thought anything of it. With a panicked whine she stumbled out of bed, shaking her husband's shoulders.
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The four-year-old's grayed skin crawled under Selune's light, and the chill its wind brought to her damp form. When first the child's small feet began carrying her, it had been kind of new. But now that she had exited the hut and began towards the wilds of the desert, things did not seem so innocent and adventurous. Inwardly the child began to panic, mind screaming against the force commanding her body, and it seemed to have an effect. The girl did come to a stop, though relief did not last for long.
Her feet had brought her to a halt in the path of a snake.
The large brown serpent hissed, it's form coiling up and over it's own body innumerable times. Slowly it rose into the air and swayed toward the girl's position, crimson tongue tasting the desert air. To her parents, who rushed out of the hut at this moment, Umolka seemed serene, her face carrying a smile. The girl's mind, however, was paralyzed with fear. Beyond her own control, her body stepped forward, her right hand balling into a fist.
The snake's strike was clean and instant, and before her mother and father could react, the serpent had disappeared into the moonlit sands. Umolka felt the pain suddenly then, as the force left her thin form and allowed her to reenter. The child swooned and crumpled into the sands, unconscious.
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"Momma, Poppa..."
The woman awoke with a start at the high-pitched voice addressing her. Dried tears made the effort of blinking difficult, but she did so within a matter of moments and reached out toward the girl. Here they had hauled her to die, both holding onto her small body in a tight hug, falling asleep to the sound of one another's sobbing, and their daughter's failing breath. She felt, under her palm, a cool face drawn up in a smile.
"Momma, I feel good now, can I have some bread?"
Vision clearing, she could see the child's brightly tanned face. She didn't seem to be sick, and certainly, she didn't seem to have a fever. Struck speechless, the mother grabbed Umolka in a fierce hug, beginning to cry. Her husband grumbled and shook his head, confused as he came to. Tears clouded his eyes after the realization, his arms wrapping around the two females, holding them close.
Oblivious and unremembering of last night's ordeal, Umolka giggled between her parents. The illness that had nearly claimed the child's life was now a distant memory. All she had to show for it was a set of scars on her right wrist, they would later found out. Oddly enough, it seemed the snake had an extra tooth. Never, however, did the parents mention to one another that it appeared similar to the holy symbol of a goddess. A goddess they never wished to visit them again.