Several weeks later
The sun rose early in the sky yet again, its golden rays stretching over Sumer and its warmth pushing through the cool morning air, casting long shadows over the market. The first light caught the vendors' cloths, shimmering like freshly polished bronze as they began to set up shop. A waft of freshly baked bread and the sharp scent of spices cut through the morning air as the vendors called to passersby, their hands reaching out to hand over whatever goods they had in stock. The steady crunch of sandals against sand echoed throughout the land, the rhythm of their steps accompanied by conversations of shipping goods that glided like vessels on the sea. Other footsteps were crunching more hurriedly in the direction of the morning prayers, their owners speaking in hushed tones as they carried holding bundles of herbs, others clasping small statues of the gods. All the while, the wind blew softly between them, whispering its daily promises of prosperity and hope that would be kept alive for everyone to share and preserve for future generations to come. In addition, although not much had changed other than a few events here and there, this day had unexpected plans—something was bound to open the people's eyes, especially those of a certain high priest's apprentice and the people of a village she would soon liberate from a deadly ailment.
Meshara was in her quarters studying the sticky note that mysterious "G" had given her, the sun-colored paper trembling in her fingers as she gazed at the black ink. The cryptic writing about the so-called disaster gnawed away at her brain, the aching in her eyes from hours of reading blurring the letters slightly, but she refused to avert her gaze. She had spent several weeks poring over that note; her days consumed with perusing the sacred texts, asking Namkuzu if he'd ever heard of such a calamity in his many years as high priest, questioning scholars and oracles all over Sumer, and even pleading with the deities in the sanctuary for answers to her questions; but each time she only received silence, vague comments, or inconclusive responses that created a fragmented labyrinth in her mind. The room's silence hung heavily around her, pressing down on her shoulders as she thought about all the and find out what it truly meant. Despite the seeming futility of these efforts, however, she still persisted, her determination to prevent this disaster plaguing her mind as the futility began to weigh, and she wasn't about to let this mystery slip away unsolved.
As she looked over the note for the hundredth time, she heard hushed but frantic voices outside the temple complex speaking about a catastrophe happening far away. Their chilly phalanges grabbed a hold of her mind, spreading their frost throughout her body despite the heat outside. Could this be the answer? she thought, turning her head toward the doorway. Might it hold the key to stopping this great disaster that "G" was talking about? She folded the sticky note in half and slipped it under her waistband as she stepped into the hall to pursue the sources of the voices. Maybe Namkuzu finally has a piece of that puzzle I've been looking for. She glided across the floor, her feet fluttering softly like a butterfly's wings in the air. I'll find him outside and ask him about it, and maybe he'll tell me what I should do next.
But what she found when she stepped outside shocked her—she found Namkuzu talking to an elder from a village several miles from the city, speaking of a mysterious ailment bringing the people to ruin. This ailment wasn't from a disease known to the Sumerians, nor was it anything inflicted by the deities, and it certainly wasn't spoken of in any of the legends Meshara had grown up reading. She felt a cold sensation in her skin, her blood vessels developing ice despite the heat outside, her hands numbing, and her teeth clenching against the rising panic in her mind. She walked slowly down the stairs, her legs struggling to break free from their freezing confines, carefully placing her sandals on each step as she tuned in further to what the priest and the elder had to say about this malady. A tremor started in her metacarpals and spread to her kneecaps, releasing a torrent of sweat she began tasting on her lips. Her dress's fabric clung to her skin as her body shifted, uncomfortable and restless, wincing at the words flying towards it, and then…
"I heard you have a new apprentice," said the elder, fingering a shape on their kanauke's waistband, "and she seems very devoted to our people."
"Indeed," Namkuzu responded, looking back toward the temple door. "Her name is Meshara. She's only been under my mentorship for the last several weeks, but she's a fast and eager learner, and always ready to help anyone in need."
Meshara stepped a little closer, her feet feeling a little spring as they tried to escape their frozen prison. "I suppose she could help us find something—an herb, a stone, some magic, even a message from the pantheon—to escape this suffering before it swallows us whole," the elder continued, their hands trembling like an out-of-control spray bar on a malfunctioning washing machine.
The young apprentice just stood there, her heart's rhythm thrown off by the intensity of those words. She tilted her head in their direction, her eyes slumped downward and softening as tears began to spill out. She looked around quickly, her gaze momentarily meeting theirs as her lips tightened in an attempt to avoid spilling her emotions. She'd helped villages before (both under Namkuzu's guidance and on her own volition)— to give the villagers food, to tell them the epic stories of the pantheon and heroes of Sumerian legends, to guide them in prayer, and even to give them hope for remembrance in the afterlife—but she'd never undertaken anything such a huge magnitude, and certainly not anything involving such a cataclysmic disease that eluded the kingdom's legends. Escape this suffering before it swallows us whole? she thought, her heartbeat reaching a frantic rate and spreading itself to her throat as she fidgeted with her hands. That sounds terrible. She shuffled a little, her toes starting to throb and her stomach nervously fluttering as she tried to keep her balance. I wish I could help these poor villagers get well again, but what if I fail them? What if I'm not enough? Or, worse, what if I'm the one bringing this disaster to pass?
She continued shuffling closer, the pain in her feet swelling with each step and the weight of her mandible threatening to pull her clenched teeth apart. A tingling sensation crept under her skin, racing faster than the pulsing vibrations of a massage gun gone haywire. Her head started burning as if it were buried under a ten-foot layer of snow, and her metacarpals vibrated with an anxious pulse pressing in a more panicked manner than ever; trying her best to resist the urge to add her worries to the conversation. She took one more step downward, her marrow reduced to Jell-O bouncing against the walls of her bones, and then she suddenly slipped, her brain on maximum overload with the conversation partners' words. She let out a quick yelp as she caught herself, the mud underneath her sandal crunching as she tried to regain her balance. The other two slowly turned her heads her way, their mouths dropping open in shock.
"Meshara?" Namkuzu said, his eyes pushing the confines of their sockets. "What are you doing here?"
"I…I was just overhearing…your conversation," she replied, her voice stumbling. "About an ailment, one that's threatening to swallow this village?"
"Yes," the high priest replied, a slight wave of light flickering in his eyes. "That's correct." He watched his apprentice take deep breaths to upright herself, the sharp pains ebbing away and the tension in her body melting to a manageable level. "We were about to call for your assistance, but here you are."
The three of them descended the stairs, a flow of relief washing over them, and the sand beneath their feet whispering as they proceeded past the entrance. "So you must be Meshara," the elder began, cleaning dirt from their fingernails as they stared at the young apprentice.
"Yes, I am indeed," Meshara replied, the breeze brushing away strands of her hair.
"You most certainly are," the elder continued, the corners of their mouth pulling upward to see that apprentice in the flesh. "We were just talking about you. I've been hearing a lot from you from Namkuzu, and it seems your heart is the right one for the great task at hand."
Meshara hesitated for several seconds, a cold pang shooting through her body as she involuntarily fidgeted with her fingers. "Are you sure about this?" she inquired in a quivering voice, brushing her hair away as sweat began glistening on her brow.
"Absolutely," the village elder replied quietly, their voice strong like an armored tank riding into battle. "We've been living with great uncertainty in this village for far too long." Their eyes began to twitch a little as unshed tears began to envelop them. "People have been falling sick—some even unable to stand. Wherever I've gone, I've seen them coughing up mucus and blood, clutching their chests in pain, collapsing to the ground in heaps as if the air is unbreathable, and even lying in beds or on the ground unable to move. All day I hear them screaming for help or because of the pain, but it never seems to occur to others to care—they walk by, turn their heads away, or even yell at the sick to 'get over it' themselves—as if their own pain blinds them to the suffering of their fellow villagers." Their voice began to crack as tears began streaming down their face. "We've prayed to the gods and goddesses every day and night, but they just keep saying it's outside their realm, or their hands are too tied with other matters. I just don't know what to do—I wish there was something—anything—to destroy this hate!"
"Exactly," Namkuzu replied, his voice vibrating like clanking metal in an earthquake. "That is why we need your guidance, Meshara." He paused for a moment as his eyes grew heavy, his pupils slowly dilating. "We know you've never faced anything big like this before, but your compassion, your devotion, your heart…it's what this village needs right now." He turned to his apprentice, the weight of his words settling on her mind. "We've seen all these acts of kindness you have done over the years—giving clothes to the poor, bringing hope to the despairing, encouraging others to be generous when the world makes them stingy. Your unwavering kindness and commitment are our best hope to bring light to the village, and they're what might save these people from this calamity threatening to befall them."
The word calamity struck Meshara like a spear to her chest. Her heart frantically thundered, her mind raced desperately, her breath constricted in horror, and her hands twitched in protest as she struggled to grasp the immense weight of her responsibility. This wasn't just any calamity—its magnitude was so vast and its origin so mysterious no one in Sumer, not even the wisest scholars or oracles, could fathom it. It wasn't a normal plague, either—it was a curse that hammered both bodies and spirits, one that ravaged its victims both inside and out. It brought unimaginable pain to the community, trying its best to bring it to its knees, and no one seemed willing to stand up against its noxious gas. Meshara's stomach churned at this, her body tightening and the frost burrowing deeper into her bones, but she didn't have the luxury to falter.
Her right fingers brushed the sticky note in her waistband like a spider's legs, the yellowish orange paper rustling under their touch as her icy hand pulled it free. She stared at the black words waiting to jump out at her, her left hand clenching itself into a fist as it struggled against the cold's resistance. "I…I'll do what I can," she responded, her voice still fluctuating but gaining a little confidence with each word. "I don't have much experience, but I'll do the best I can."
The village elder gazed at her face, their eyes shining with hope like twinkling stars. "That's good to hear, Meshara. You're the one we need to bring us the much-needed hope we've been praying for."
Meshara's heart began soaring at these words, feeling a small but undeniable surge of confidence to break free of its confines. She straightened her back, bracing herself for the disaster ahead. "We have to move quickly," she told her companions, her voice growing stronger as her resolve hardened. "We can't hesitate any longer. We'll need all the help we can get—from those who still have it—if we are to bring an end to this calamity."
"That's the spirit," Namkuzu said, giving his apprentice a subtle nod of approval. "The longer we delay, the more hope is lost. Lives could very well be on the line, so we must not waste our time."
Meshara nodded her head and stepped forward, her heart now beating stronger than ever. Her eyes turned upward at the outer corners, her pupils slowly contracting toward the centers of the irises. She put the sticky note back under her waistband, her feet thawing out as if the cold had surrendered. The early morning breeze pushed against her back, beckoning her to continue forward, its silent voice speaking empowering words. She led her two companions toward the village; her body a bronze statue, her brain a hyper-focused laser, and her feet stalwart soldiers; looking back at them occasionally to ask for directions or (on two or three occasions) to get reassurance from them. The task's enormity began to weigh on her heart, but Meshara knew there was no turning back—the village was in need of healing, and the three of them would make their way through this storm no matter what stood in their way. Little did Meshara know, however, that the test of her leadership and faith was only just beginning, and some of the malignant influence the mysterious "G" had warned her about in their note would make its way toward her as she continued to grow.
Garęihnȉh's castle control room, Garęihnȉh's domain
A few seconds later
As Meshara, Namkuzu, and the elder continued toward the village; Garęihnȉh was standing at the screens with Tilmun by his side; observing the three allies' movements.
He looked at them proceeding through the desert with unwavering commitment, hardening his gaze and turning his focus toward a bottle of clear violet liquid (the same one he had used in his demonstration several weeks earlier) standing on a stool to the left of the controls. He scuttled over toward that bottle, staring at the contents and stirring up little bubbles with his left index fingernail. He motioned Tilmun to watch this show, moving the bottle closer toward the human's face to give him a better view of the chaos brewing its way to the top. "What do you see, Tilmun?" he asked, tilting it slightly toward the latter's eyes.
"I see bubbles coming up to the surface, and hate reaching the world beyond," the mortal responded, taking a long look inside the bottle. "It'll bubble up to the surface of Meshara's mind, and then we'll have total control over the village."
"Right, Tilmun," Garęihnȉh responded, a fire of passion flickering in his eyes at their next action, "but the hate won't be concentrated in Meshara's heart or her mind." He went to another part of the room, grabbed a sandy vanilla stone with black spots of varying shapes and sizes from another table, then walked back to show it to his Sumerian henchman. "It will go toward the village, with the help of this."
Tilmun winced at this sight, his eyes momentarily turning bloodshot as he jumped back. "This? I'll have to use this again?" he managed to spit out, his mind on high alert as he flashed back to the time he buried some of its powder in a mound of dirt that exploded on impact and the stinging pain his eyes had endured for several days as a result. "But you it'd be the end of it when my pain was gone!"
"I know I did, and I understand your pain," the evil death lord responded, his eyes aching with guilt. "But I'll need you to do it one more time, and that'll be the end." He hesitated for a few seconds, motioning Tilmun to take deep breaths, and then ground a piece of the stone into the bottle, whose contents began reacting increasingly violently. "What do you see now?" he asked, showing the human the bottle again.
"I see hate waiting impatiently to break out of its confines," the mortal replied, his eyes twitching violently, "and spread itself across a much bigger area."
"Quite correct!" Garęihnȉh shouted, his eyes lighting up with wicked glee as he also looked into the bottle. "That hate is willing to do anything to achieve that goal." He turned his head back as the top of it started to crack, pieces of it falling to the ground as a cloud of black vapor with a dark moldy green aura burst out of its container. "In this case, it'll spread around the village and consume all who haven't yet endured the previous effects, diminishing their hope and killing all semblances of a conscience that remain inside of them. Not only will they endure the physical pain and sickness already plaguing them, but they will be devoid of any sort of empathy—they will be a ruined village of destroyed hopefuls now uncaring of any suffering happening around them, and you'll be their pain's harbinger."
He went back to the controls, reached behind one of the smaller screens, and grabbed a black cloak. "You'll need this to conceal your identity and protect yourself from these fumes of hate," he continued, handing it to the Sumerian mortal. "All you need to do is flap it and aim it in Meshara's direction to stop her efforts. When it gets to her, just keep flapping it and it'll eventually consume her mind. I know it'll be a challenge, but I think you'll be up to it. Are we clear?"
"Yes, we are," Tilmun said with great certainty, taking the bottle from his superior.
"Good," the insectoid being said, sadistically chuckling as he nodded his head. "Now go forth, we don't have much time to waste! Come back with some good news!"
"I will!" Tilmun shot back, his steps firm as he set out to enact their nefarious plan.
Afflicted Sumerian village
Many minutes later
Meshara arrived at the edge of the village with Namkuzu and the elder behind her, her eyes bulging with unease at what awaited her.
She stared at the disorderly atmosphere that sadistically "graced" her vision with its presence, her eyes wincing in pain at the toxins in the dark moldy green aura obscuring it from outsiders. Her ears perked upward at the soundwaves emanating from this area; hoping to hear something promising from the people inside; but any of that still remaining was drowned out by anguished screams, desperate howls, curses slipping from people's lips, and shouts furious enough to scare even the bravest of warriors and diplomats from passing the venomous barrier. The outgoing air carried invisible fire with it—the sensation of fresh sparks flew into the three companions' eyes, the atmosphere turned up their noses with the terrible odor of rotten eggs tossed in a campfire whose builders neglected to put out, the hot ghostly hands tugged at their skin in an aggressive but subtle manner, and the vapors enveloped their faces in a transparent substance that began clawing at their eyes and slinking into their nostrils—trumpeting its intentions to any unfortunate travelers who dared cross the place's borders. The place also flew dirty air toward their throats, its mind on high alert for anything that might disrupt the polluted way of life it had come to embrace over the course of multiple days, inflaming their taste buds and bringing itchy tears to their vibrating eyes.
"This is the village?" she asked, her eyes fighting the urge to shut out the smog attacking them.
"It is, indeed," the elder replied, nervously twiddling their fingers at the thought of all the horror they had witnessed. "This once vibrant place has become little more than a desolate town of hate and destruction."
Meshara listened to the weight of their words, her determination starting to crack as she felt tears climbing up to her eyes. "It worries me just thinking about that," she said back, her eyelids struggling to keep these tears at bay. "All these people who are sick and injured, nobody's willing to help them or take care of their needs—and the cause of their sickness has nothing to do with the deities or healthcare problems or anything we've recorded in all our history."
"I feel your pain, Meshara," Namkuzu replied, stepping forward slightly with a softened gaze, "and I feel sorrow for the people as well." He wiped away a tear as he gathered his thoughts. "These villagers have shown consistent devotion to the pantheon throughout their existence, and they've had prosperity for many years—I'm also not sure what is causing this. I've had plenty of experience finding the causes of events like this, and I've even recorded some of them, but they were mostly related to what is recorded in our official writings, so it's beyond my knowledge." He hesitated as he got his train of thought on track, his heart skipping a beat at what his next plans were. "Meshara, I know you're experiencing some uncertainty about this fog, but please listen to us. Whatever is plaguing this village is threatening to destroy any hope that remains, and it's swallowing the minds of the people inside. This is a very dire matter we have at hand—whatever is causing this is indiscriminate in its destruction, and it could spread throughout Sumer if it's not dealt with soon."
Meshara's heart began beating nervously again, struggling to widen the cracks in the ice of uncertainty as her right hand began reaching for "G's" sticky note. "The danger seems to great to enter," she replied, her voice struggling to maintain its shaky confidence. "I'm worried my words won't get through to them when I do this, and the ailment might be too strong—or worse, I might be the one spreading hate across Sumer."
"I understand, I've had that fear as well before," Namkuzu replied, positioning a gentle hand on his apprentice's shoulder, "but this village needs guidance, and I feel like you would make a good leader for these people. They've been waiting for some fresh air to help lead them out of this, and I am certain you'll be able to provide it. Your devotion to our people truly shows, and I think it'd be a good opportunity to demonstrate your leadership."
Meshara hesitated for a moment, her heart struggling to slow its rate, then she turned to look back at the village, breathing deeply as her eyes hardened and her left hand formed a fist. "I'll go through," she said, her feet firmly planted to the ground, her muscles slowly tightening, and her lungs pumping air like a pair of bellows fanning a mighty flame. "I'll do my best to reach the people and guide them toward the elixir we seek to destroy the hate. Time to save the village is short, and the people are slowly succumbing to hate. I'll try to find any hope that is left, anyone who's willing to help us, and we'll find whatever it is that's necessary to lift this cloud. It might take days, weeks, or even many months; but however long it takes, we will find the cure."
Namkuzu and the elder smiled at their companion, a soft light of encouragement emanating from each of their eyes. "Indeed, you will," the elderly priest replied, the sunlight reflecting off his teeth as if to motion his apprentice forward. "I know you'll do well. Your selflessness and loyalty will definitely be an asset in this quest." He paused for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as he gathered his words. "This miasma is a sign of danger, and based on what it's trying to do to us, it seems like it'll do its best to destroy your morality, so I'd advise you to be careful and preserve your commitment to our people." He paused again, blinking to get some of the nonphysical sparks out of his eyes. "You'll need to use your resources to navigate through this environment, which will surely be challenging, but I have faith in you."
In response, Meshara took the first step forward into the village, prepared to destroy the source of the malaise enveloping its people. Her feet hit the ground with great purpose, ready to crush any hate that might try to stop their owner in her tracks. Her eyes also sharpened with newfound life, primed to slash through the vapor surrounding her and this elixir. When she made her first step in the village, she heard Namkuzu's voice calling back to her. "And one more thing, Meshara," he said, each word an arrow deflecting the surrounding smog, "this will test you on things you don't know yet."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she inquired back, whipping her head around.
"You'll find out," her mentor replied, nodding at her. "These things will come in all shapes and sizes, and it's up to you to discover them." He turned his head toward the elder, who was fingering a symbol on their kanauke. "Now go forth," he told his apprentice, his voice shaking, "the village is waiting. Our companion and I will see what we can do to help revitalize it."
Meshara nodded back and advanced into the polluted village, her heart pounding harder than a snare drum's beat. "I will," she said, turning back to the other two one last time before disappearing into the vaporous darkness, "I'll find a way for them. I don't know if there's any hope left, or if it's too late, or what awaits us, but I'll face it, and I'll do what I must to restore it."
"Best of luck, Meshara," the elder encouraged, a powerful glimmer returning to their eyes. "I hope you'll find the elixir."
"I agree," Namkuzu added, the sunshine on his teeth beckoning his apprentice forward again. "I know you'll do well in guiding them towards the light. You have the power within you."
These words propelled the fourteen-year-old girl forward, beckoning her toward the source of the malevolence. She looked around her, hoping to find some light to guide her closer, but the clouds were adamant in blocking her view. She waved her hands at these clouds as she progressed, hoping to clear a path, but the vapors kept reforming. She finally reached the borders after a little over a minute, coughing and blinking all the way, ready to take in the hazy sight ready to throw her eyes a feast. What she saw when she entered, however, was even worse than what appeared outside.
The village had fallen into heavy silence over the last several days, the shadows a harrowing reminder of the evil that had befallen the once vibrant place of joyful chatter and bustling activity. The joyful sounds of friendly conversation and children playing no longer accompanied the sun's gentle rise; instead, there were raspy arguments, emotionally charged accusations of betrayal, and the oft-present bloodcurdling screams flying in the wind between houses. A row of these houses had fallen into disrepair, their walls cracked and their roofs sinking to the ground under the weight of neglect. The once arable fields were overgrown, dead grass and weeds reaching about a fourth of the way up the doors as the wind howled its melancholy tune. The stench of rotten produce dotted the air, turning up Meshara's nose as it accompanied this tune throughout the village. The bitter taste of blood and salt soared toward her head like a falcon pursuing its prey, slamming itself into her mouth as she gazed upon the ruins that awaited her. Suppressing the sick feeling in her stomach, Meshara pressed forward, scanning the area around her for any sign of hope still left.
The ground began to crumble under the weight of her sandals, the cracked layers of dirt screaming curses as she continued her journey. The once sparkling irrigation channels traveled alongside her, their once sparking water now ghosts of vapor moaning in despair. The dusty wind launched itself against her, clawing at her skin like sandpaper scratching wood, shouting withering insults at her to turn back. The voices inside the houses exchanged poisoned arrowheads at each other, the venom enveloping their neighbors as Meshara forced herself onward despite the feeling of heaviness threatening to push her deeper under the earth's crust. A blast of freezing air slammed into her chest like a volatile missile as she stepped into one of the fields, her bones encasing in frost as the withered crops scratched her legs like tiny swords in battle. The smell of sour acid also rose toward her, the ammonia seeping into the air as it crept toward the Sumerian apprentice, finding a comfortable home on her body like moss on a stone. She tried to shake the feeling of this place off of her, struggling to throw death's cold grasp to the ground, but the giant hand refused to loosen its grasp. She had reached a point about halfway through the field when she found another sight that wrung her stomach—a few villagers shambling around like sleep-deprived zombies, struggling to stay upright as they fought against their sickly confines.
These villagers dragged their feet across the sharpened plants, their mouths releasing raspy moans of days long forgotten. Their pale faces twisted in pain as they continued scrambling, the hyperpigmentation under their eyes darkening, their hair thinning and falling out in great patches, strange blotches forming on the skin like freckles under the sun, and their bitter saliva turning a deathly green as it fell toward the ground. Their clothes hung loosely from their almost skeletal bodies; the flaps of wool, fabric, and sheepskin flowing uneasily in the wind and catching a variety of snags on the ground. The skin underneath these clothes was dotted with painful ulcers, their mouths quietly screaming with their owners' as they endured the invisible fire permeating the air. Their pale moldy green fingers clutched their foreheads, weakly flicking away the speckles of sweat that dotted the ghostly white skin underneath. Meshara felt a sloshing sensation in her stomach, her hands shaking as she struggled to contain the torrent threatening to tear its way out.
She stood there for about ten seconds, her heart pounding restlessly as the Jell-O started returning in her bones, scanning around for anything that could help these poor villagers. She moved her hand up to her stomach, her fingers trembling uncontrollably, her mouth slowly opening against the pressure pounding down on her brain. "Hello?" she managed, her voice slightly weak like a runner after a marathon.
The villagers turned their heads toward her, an amber hue flashing from their sclerae like faded glass in the sun. "Who are you?" one of them asked, their eyes slightly drooping as they turned away from hers.
"I'm…Meshara," she responded, an invisible electric shock sending vibrations through her feet. "I'm…I'm Namkuzu's apprentice, you know, the high priest Namkuzu?"
"Who cares about Namkuzu?" another villager rasped, each word punctuated with a chilling cough. "That priest doesn't care about us, just like everyone else in this wretched community!"
"Yes, he does," the apprentice said back, her voice beginning to shake more rapidly, "and so do I." She took a deep breath, her eyes softening and her tear ducts stinging. "Please listen, I'm not here to harm you. I've come to help you get out of this."
"Bah," a third one replied, a thick layer of mucus covering her voice. "I've heard them say that all the time. Every time they come here, telling us they've found a cure, but since this plague began, I've never seen them do anything about it!"
"That's not true," Meshara added, slightly biting her lip. "I've heard there might be an elixir somewhere."
She walked a few feet forward, sniffing the putrid air. She scanned to the left and right, but the invisible fire kept raging in her nose. She walked several more inches as she continued sniffing, but there was still no luck. She also turned to the right, the dust stinging her eyes and nose, but the cloud still insisted on blocking her way. To the left, however, a long-awaited scent—a hint of poppy petals, a touch of salicylic acid, smatterings of thyme leaves, and an undertone of mustard—breezed toward her, stirring the inside of her nose. She walked back to the villagers, her eyes starting to sparkle. "I've found the elixir," she burst out, her voice slowly rising against the wind.
"What is it?" the first villager asked, their eyes struggling to stay open as they turned back to face her.
"It's a healing herb," she replied, a small smile forming as saltwater trickled out of her eyes. "It's not just any herb; it's a special one that can only be found in the northern mountains of Sumer. It might hold the key to freeing us."
"How do you know this?" the villager asked, their eyes widening as their lips tightened into a slight frown.
"My parents ran a medicinal stand," Meshara replied, reminiscing about her much younger days before her parents mysteriously disappeared. "They sold herbs for all sorts of illnesses and injuries." She grabbed a small branch under her waistband, its dark green leaves giving off a bright white sheen that cut through the haze. "Do you see the distinct veins on the leaves? And the light bouncing off their surface?" she asked, slowly moving it around for the villagers to see. "That's how you know it's potent—it's infused with compounds that soothe pain, reduce dizziness, and even prevent vomiting and coughing up blood." She picked off one of the leaves and crushed it gently beneath her fingers, releasing a fairy dust-like substance that sparkled an earthy green and brought a distinct mustardy fragrance to their noses. "The scent here confirms it," she noted, sending more green dust their way. "One time we were in a small town, and one of the elders got a really venomous scorpion sting. My parents gave them this exact herb, and it flushed out the venom in just a few days."
"I understand your worries," Meshara continued, her eyebrows knitting together. Her eyes shone softly, holding the weight of the village's long-departed tenderness. "I know this is frightening, but please listen. This ailment has been plaguing us for days now. We've seen what it does to us—preying on our hope, our goodwill, the very fabric of this village. We can't afford to lose any more of our morale. This herb is our chance to break free, but it can only help us if we work together."
Her words cut through the wind's mournful cries, attracting the villagers' attention one by one. They stepped forward hesitantly, their bodies trembling as if fearful of breaking her promise, reaching for some of the leaves and slowly grinding them into more of that fairy dust. They slowly sniffed the air, their nostrils flaring rapidly as they leaned closer, their symptoms slowly melting as their eyes opened widely in a long-lost delight. They slowly followed Meshara through the fields, cautiously wading through the shriveled plants, their movements laced with a liveliness they hadn't felt days. The group eventually happened upon a dilapidated hut, a faint light flickering inside its hearth and casting long shadows on the walls. The villagers' eyes reflected this glow, a faint sensation of warmth stroking them to bring its promise of long-forgotten comfort.
"Hello?" Meshara asked, her voice echoing off the walls as it flew inside the dilapidated abode.
Two shadowy figures appeared in the doorway, their eyes also reflecting the warm glow inside. "Yes?" one of them asked, wiping twinkles of sweat off their brow. "Who are you, and why are you here?"
"I'm Meshara," Meshara replied, her voice strong and steady. "I'm Namkuzu's apprentice. I'm here to find the herbs that will heal the village."
"Herbs?" asked the second, their gaze slightly hardening. "I haven't heard of any healing herbs around here. This disease must have destroyed them all."
The young apprentice took a deep breath, her heart speeding its rate and her skin tingling in anticipation for another verbal beatdown. "Exactly," she replied, her voice slightly wavering. "The herb we're seeking is up in the northern mountains."
"Hmmm…" the first figure replied, raising one eyebrow. "The northern mountains." They hesitated, scratching their head for an answer, and then they advanced slightly forward, their trembling hand extended. "I think I know what you're talking about. The Cedar Mountains, aren't they?"
"That's right," one of the diseased villagers rasped, coughing a few times. "Those are the mountains she spoke of."
Meshara nodded her head in agreement. "That's where we'll be going soon," she continued, carefully picking off another leaf, crushing it between her fingers, and releasing a small disconnected cloud of green dust toward the doorway, "to get the main ingredient of our elixir."
"Elixir?" the other figure asked, their voice quickly rising on the last syllable. "I haven't heard of an elixir in years." They leaned further forward, revealing a brightly glowing face with watery eyes that twinkled at a fast pace. "I've heard people talk about it around here, but I've never heard it said in such a truly kind manner."
Meshara's heart slowed slightly, a soaring feeling rising in her chest as she processed those words. "That's why we need your help," she replied, her feet firmly planted to the ground. "We need all the hope we can get around here if we are to move forward." She stepped to the right of the doorway, a faint glimmer sparkling through her eyes as the two figures revealed themselves to the outside world. "The kind that will keep us going even when our journey seems pointless."
The figure who had spoken first took a few steps forward, their much livelier step hinting at long morning jogs in spite of the putrid climate. "I agree with you, Meshara," they affirmed, their skin shining warmly through the pollution, "but we must warn you. This is a long and treacherous journey, and it's in a land not many have returned from. The Idigina River's flow is unpredictable, the Southern Deserts get really cold at night, the forests can be hard to navigate, and there are probably pickpockets waiting to get our hands on our valuables.
"Exactly," the second person added, "and the mountains aren't much better, either. The path gets very steep at certain points, there's slimy moss dotting a lot of the rocks in the upper parts, and you never know when it's going to rain." They paused, their shiny eyes slightly drooping as water began to spill out. "Furthermore, I've heard of a legend that says only the most devoted and genuine of heart may harvest this herb, and it's closely guarded by the spirits of healers past. They have seen people come by claiming to have the power to heal, and while a few truly lived up to their word, many others…just wanted more power and fame, and they want to be especially sure to prevent such a thing."
The first healthy person nodded their head, exchanging soft glances with Meshara and the others. "This legend also says the last time someone passed the test, they wrote this message on a stone just past the beginning of the path: All who wish to obtain this herb shall prove themselves worthy; only the truest hearts may return with the cure." They briefly paused, their heart beating slowly as they gathered their thoughts. "If you truly are Namkuzu's apprentice, Meshara, then maybe…maybe…you might be just the candidate we're looking for."
The fourteen-year-old apprentice stood there, a slight pain gripping her chest as she leaned her ear further in their direction. "I suppose so," she shared, her arms tingling and her eyes faintly glimmering as the weight of their words descended upon her like a tidal wave. She'd heard warnings about the Cedar Mountains for the better part of her years—her parents forewarning customers about the slimy moss, Namluh urging her to avoid its steep rocky edges, various people in the marketplace chatting about the sharp stones, villagers advising her and others to stay away from these mountains in the rainy season—but the gravity of the situation began to push down on her frantically beating heart. What if I'm not truly ready? she thought, her shin marrow unstable gelatin starting to wobbling inside its walls. Can I really undertake such a dangerous mission? Her eyes darted around, the fumes threatening to crush her strength. What if I mess up really badly and let people die? What if it turns out I'm not really worthy of the healers' blessing? Then what will happen? Am I simply chasing an impossible dream?
She deliberated over this for a few moments, grabbing her sticky note in the process, and then she stepped forward, her heart banging heavily against her ribs. "But I can't turn back now," she continued saying, her eyes steadying themselves as the Jell-Oed marrow slowly solidified. "I've promised these villagers their long-lost hope, and I can't let them down." She looked around at the people around her, catching the warm twinkle in their eyes. "We'll help everyone get this elixir—not just this village, but all over Sumer—and this haze will disappear. Are you all with me?"
"Yes," they said, varying degrees of enthusiasm and hesitation peppering their voices. "You lead the way, and we will accompany you."
"That'll do," Meshara nodded, the bright twinkle returning to her eyes. "No matter how long it takes, or what stands in our way, we will reach our goal, but we must work together. If you ever feel like giving up, just remember: the village is counting on us to regain their hope and save their lives. Are we clear?"
"Yes, we are," the others agreed, the light in their eyes glowing brighter.
"Good," the apprentice added, her gaze hardening as she turned in the direction of the Cedar Mountains and replaced the sticky note under her waistband. "Now let's get this journey started!"
The expedition party left the field, navigating their way through the cracked buildings and wading through the scratchy overgrown grass. They talked amongst themselves, discussing the weight of the task at hand, and evaluating their chances for success. Meshara walked a few steps ahead of the group, her grip tightening around the herb branch, her heart thundering loudly, her breath steadying itself, and her nose seeking the faintly fragrant trail in the filthy air. She led them with a steady pace, her gaze fixed ahead, and her body unwavering even as the wind whipped her hair backwards; the others following her with the same quiet certainty as if she knew exactly where to find the herb they sought. This would indeed be a treacherous journey—one that was no friend to the faint of heart. But with their newfound hope and fledgling bonds; they would be able to track down this herb, save the village, and spread those bonds throughout the kingdom of Sumer and beyond. Little did they know, however, that this journey would test everything they had, and a certain cloaked man was following their movements, ready to some send some of the village's hate their way. For now, though, they readied themselves to step up to the expedition, their hearts pounding and their footsteps strong, and bring down the ailment plaguing the village for years to come.