“Calm down, Ash.”

  “You’re not exactly calm yourself, Uncle Rihal,” she said, pointing at his tapping foot. She continued pacing in front of the stairway leading to the Royal Estate.

  The night was far spent and there had been no sign of Jerome yet.

  Please grant me permission to bring him home, master. He’s already in the city. Clearly struggling to reach the Royal Estate. Rihal sent his master a message.

  You will remain where you are until he reaches you…and this is NOT his home! His master replied coldly.

  Rihal sighed.

  “What could be taking him so long?” Ash said absent-mindedly, “Uncle Rihal, let’s go search for him. Who knows, he may be at the city gates. Or worse, the gates may be shut before he gets to any of them.”

  Rihal looked at her apologetically as he shook his head, expressing his dissent. “The city gates have already been shut.”

  Ash stopped pacing for a breath and looked at him angrily.

  “...but he’s already inside the city,” he said with a sad smile.

  “Urgh!” she groaned in frustration as she resumed pacing.

  Rihal sighed. His attempt at humor didn’t help to lighten the mood one bit. They waited quietly for two more quarters of the night before dawn began to peek out from the east like a lazy old flower.

  Finally, Ash saw someone walking up to them. “Is that him, Uncle Rihal?”

  “Yes, it is, Ash.”

  Ash ran up to Jerome elated as she jumped on him. They both met the floor in a crumpled heap.

  “Urgh.”

  “Sorry! I’m so sorry,” she stood up quickly and tried to help him up.

  “Who the hell are you?” Jerome jerked his hand away.

  “It’s me–”

  “Ash? Is it really you?” Jerome’s voice cracked, on the verge of tears. He had recognized her face, though she was a lot fleshier than before.

  The world stopped moving for him at that moment. He held her firmly in his arms as he sobbed uncontrollably, as if afraid she might fade away. They both cried for a long time. But unable to hold up his own weight anymore, Jerome collapsed.

  ~~~

  “...his organs are shutting down and his heart will fail him soon…”

  “...there must be something that can be done!”

  Jerome could hear voices from time to time as his consciousness drifted between slumber and waking.

  “Ash?” he called out.

  He noticed he was lying down. “Where am I?”

  His voice sounded hoarse, as if from overuse. He swallowed hard, feeling thirsty.

  When was the last time I felt thirsty? He stood up with great difficulty and looked around. This wasn’t his room. It was bigger and looked homely, painted in bright colors. There were two cushion chairs by the side of the single bed, and a reading table and chair were at the foot of the bed. There was also a wardrobe on the opposite wall.

  He walked unsteadily toward the window to take a peek outside. My eyes, what’s wrong with my eyes, he blinked repeatedly to keep the room in focus.

  Opening the dark curtains, sunlight poured into the room making his eyes hurt. The door behind him opened and in walked a stranger. Jerome turned to look at her.

  “Good, you’re awake. Come sit,” she gestured toward the bed.

  “Who are you?” he said, wrinkling his brows at the sound of his own voice. He wasn’t quite used to hearing his voice sounding so raspy.

  “I’m a physician…”

  “In an assassin’s robe?” Jerome said, looking pointedly from her uniform to her face.

  “...of sorts,” she whispered.

  He gazed deeply into her eyes before sitting in bed. It took a lot to keep her image in focus in front of him. He could feel that she loathed him. It was similar to how he felt around Elder Duten but more restrained.

  “How do you feel,” she said, taking a seat in one of the cushion chairs.

  “Not good.”

  “...” She looked pointedly at him, clearly wanting him to elaborate.

  “It’s hard to do anything, even talking is exhausting,” he said grudgingly.

  She looked at him askance. She knew he was probably right, but he could sense her dislike for him and she knew this. She wanted to snap back at him but she swallowed her words.

  Well, you asked. What did I do to deserve your abhorrence? Jerome thought.

  “From our examination, we found out you’ve got a lot of broken bones that aren’t healing. Your internal organs are shutting down due to overwork.”

  Nothing I haven’t heard before, he remembered what it was like laying on a hospital bed, hearing the doctor report his condition in his previous life. I lived to be sixty in that life, and I’ll live longer and stronger in this one too.

  “...are you listening to me?”

  “Ahem, sorry about that,” he looked away as he massaged his right hand.

  Pervert! She screamed in her mind, hugging her chest. She saw him checking out her boobs!

  His eyes were in their general direction—staring at empty space—but his mind was elsewhere.

  “Your eyes are also deteriorating, soon you wouldn’t be able to see again,” she said with undisguised animosity. “But I can assist you in getting better. You’d not be in perfect condition—far from it in fact. But at least, you wouldn't die like a chicken.”

  “Layla,” Someone called to caution her of her speech from beside the window.

  Jerome felt a splitting headache attack him from the sound of that voice. They both looked startled at the newcomer. It felt like she had been there all along. He struggled to hold himself together as the trembling of his body turned into a full-blown convulsion.

  “Lie down,” Layla said, going from bitter to concerned in a breath.

  “She’s a Sage, so being in her presence can be unbearable for normal Sprouts. It’s probably worse for you,” she said as she helped Jerome lie in bed. The spasms continued for a long while before he passed out from the pain.

  ~~~

  “You’ve got two options. Take some pills made by the Royal Alchemists, some of our best and brightest,” Layla said.

  Jerome scrunched his eyebrows at that.

  “Or heal on your own. Which would take a lot longer and hurt a lot more.”

  “Forget about the pills, I’ll heal on my ow—oouugh!” he coughed up blood into a small pale in front of him. This had been going on since he woke up. Ash sat next to him with a worried look, massaging his back as he coughed violently. How much blood have I lost now? My body's truly shutting down. He thought.

  “Very well, let’s get started. Help him lie down, Ash,”Layla said standing up to close the blinds of the window darkening the room with shadows.

  “How else can I help?”

  “Help me light the candles.”

  They took out a few candles and a single match stick with a blue head from a storage bag. Jerome wondered how the strange matchstick would light all the candles they took out.

  Layla sat down crossed-legged next to him to regulate her breathing and Ash snapped her fingers next to the head of the matchstick, lighting it up. There was no fire, only a glowing blue match head, but he could feel its slight heat, and it was enough to light a candle.

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  Ash smiled at him. “Cool, right?”

  Jerome nodded with a smile.

  “I gaped when I saw it too—not that you did,” she said with pretend hurt.

  Jerome smiled sadly as he watched her light the candles around the room one after the other. The match didn’t go out, even after she was done. She used her thumb and index finger to squeeze the match head and with a muffled sizzling sound, the heat died.

  Ash chuckled. “Needs air to burn is what Uncle Kilian says.” Ash glanced at him on the bed, taking note of his ragged breathing. She didn't like the look in his eyes when he looked at her.

  Guilt.

  She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault things happened the way they did but she knew it wouldn’t help the way he felt.

  “If you two lovebirds are done, we can begin, right?” Layla said with her eyes closed, and Ash blushed visibly. Her voice sounded serene and coupled with the dreamy atmosphere of the room, Jerome felt sleepy from listening to her. His eyes fluttered as he heard her speak again.

  “Take a deep breath Jerome, slow…and…deep.”

  ~~~

  Jerome felt like he was drifting on clouds. From time to time, he felt a spike of pain, but nothing too serious. As long as he breathed as he was instructed and remained in this trance, his pain could be relegated to the back of his mind as he healed.

  He could hear Layla’s voice like a distant echo. How is she doing this? Jerome had never heard of anyone who could put people to sleep and make them forget their pain.

  Maybe a Sage could do it, but a Sprout? And the aura she manipulates, he thought. What is it? It’s not essence. Not one of the forces… He decided to find out when he came out of this half-conscious state he was in.

  Days passed like this. Slowly Jerome healed. But he didn't feel like he was healing at all. He was tempted many times to speed up his core but restrained himself.

  “Wake up, Jerome.”

  Jerome heard Layla’s voice. It was close, not as far away as he’d been hearing it this whole time. His eyes fluttered open and someone helped him sit up.

  “What happened?” He asked.

  “It’s been a full lunar cycle since we began. I need to rest,” Layla said. Her voice sounded weak

  Jerome glanced at her surprised. Her cheeks were sunken and she looked pale. She quickly hid her face behind long dark hair, not wanting him to see her like that.

  “Gratitude for helping me out,” he bowed deeply. She had earned his respect. He still felt weak and in pain but his eyesight had improved.

  “I’ll be back in another cycle,” she looked at Ash. “Take good care of him.”

  “And don’t stare at her boobs!” She glared at Jerome.

  “I wasn’t staring!” he said, turning red with anger and embarrassment. Ash laughed out loud. She was partly happy because he looked healthier.

  “Hmph!” Layla humphed as she glided toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  Layla stopped and turned around. “What now?”

  “I’m sorry for before, but I truly wasn’t looking. I would like to know what aura that was?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Jerome. I can’t tell you about it,” she smiled apologetically and left.

  “Ah,” he sighed and looked at Ash. “Got any idea?”

  She shook her head, saying “No, but it makes me sleepy.”

  Sleepy, Jerome thought. “Something that makes one sleepy,” he muttered.

  ~~~

  “I thought you died,” Jerome said after Layla left.

  Ash sat down next to him holding his hands in hers. His hands, though boney and unattractive, were so much bigger than hers.

  “I failed them, Ash,” he muttered, “I promised Doti it was gonna be okay, but he died. I failed them.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Jerome,” she hugged him.

  “How did you survive?”

  “I don’t know how but when I came to, I was here in the Royal Estate. I was fed and clothed, and it was hard for a while. Not seeing my brothers and sisters around me. Not sharing meals as we used to,” She took a deep breath again, stretching the silence.

  “What about you? Where have you been these three years?”

  “Three years?!” he asked, surprised. His heart pounded hard, threatening to burst. He took deep breaths to keep it under control and Ash quickly began massaging his shoulders. Even though his condition had been stabilized a little, he was still far from healthy.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm,” he hummed, breathing heavily. Jerome looked into the distance, lost in thought. He'd been in deep slumber for three years at the bottom of a river. It was a crazy thing to say.

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he smiled at her. “Even I don’t know if I would believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  Jerome smiled at her, appreciating her openness. “I was asleep under a river in a canyon a few miles south of Farryn.”

  She chuckled. “you’re right, that does sound unbelievable. Blade’s Edge Canyon isn’t a place to take a nap.”

  “Hmm, that's why I need to speak with Rihal — wait, ‘Blade’s Edge Canyon’? Is that what it’s called?” Jerome tilted his head and asked.

  “Hmm. You do that a lot, you know,” Ash said.

  “What?”

  “Tilt your head like…so,” she said, mimicking him.

  It was cute. Her long hair shook loose in a cloud of soft black curls. Jerome blushed and looked away. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager with raging hormones. And those hormones were beginning to wake up. He was speaking with a beautiful girl after all. Worst of all he had no experience dealing with situations like these.

  This is stupid, I'm a man, he thought to himself. Man up and say something nice. He took her hands in his massaging them slightly. They were dainty and beautiful, her fingers long and slender. Her palms were soft on the surface, but he could tell she had been training. The flesh underneath the skin of her palms was tough.

  Jerome looked at his right hand noticing he could feel and use it again. “Schweet,” he muttered, flexing his fingers.

  Ash took a deep breath and blushed. “Please don’t remind me of that,” she said wryly.

  “You used to love saying that when you were little,” Jerome smiled at her, and her blush deepened. “Ahem, you speak better now.”

  What the hell was that? That was cringy. Way to go, Jerome, he chastised himself. “Tell me about your time here. I can tell you’ve been training.”

  “I went for Mhen Agrh’ur a few moons after I arrived at the Royal Estate. It was crowded. I never knew there were so many kids in Farryn!” She smiled as she remembered her experience.

  “It was the same for me and the boys too,” Jerome muttered. That statement roused an uncomfortable silence between them.

  “So, when will you be going for Pilgrims' Keep?”

  “In the New Year. House Alvric will be sending more than one participant this time around, to avoid what happened last time.”

  “And the Royal Family?”

  “They’ll also be sending at least four of us, including actual members of the Royal Family. I’ve met some of them. They aren’t like the Alvrics — at least to the best of my knowledge. Though they may have inflated egos, they can be reasonable.”

  You do speak better now, he thought, remembering how fumbled with language when she was younger. “Really? I never met any of them so I wouldn’t know.”

  “Uncle Rihal did say so.”

  “Uncle Rihal? He doesn’t look like an uncle to me.”

  She laughed at that. Jerome smiled; he loved her laugh. It was beautiful. She exposed her slim neck when she laughed, he felt like kissing her there. Jerome blushed again. His hormones were directing his mind elsewhere and he didn’t know how to deal with it on the spot.

  “He said you only spent a month preparing for Pilgrims’ Keep where you beat up Hedon to a pulp,” Ash chuckled.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said solemnly.

  Ash hugged him at that. They were both hurting and needed each other to stay strong.

  “Not all of them are dead, you know?” Jerome said.

  Ash jerked away and held his shoulders, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not, but a man can hope,” Jerome reached up to hold her hands in his, bringing them around the nape of his neck. He touched his forehead to hers breathing in her fragrance. They remained quiet for a while enjoying each other’s company; listening to each other’s heartbeat.

  For the first time in a while, Ash felt that she was not alone anymore, and Jerome felt gratitude for having her back in his life.

  I'd have to ask Rihal who saved her so I can thank them. Whoever they are, I owe them a debt of gratitude.

  “I should go,” Ash said.

  Jerome hugged her for a while longer breathing in the scent of her fragrance, committing it to memory. Ash walked towards the door and stopped. Not looking back, she asked, “Jerome?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you avenge them?”

  “If it’s the last thing I do,” Jerome said.

  She could hear the resolve in his voice. Her shoulders shook slightly as though she was on the verge of crying again. But she stood up straight, shoulders squared.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, with resolve matching his before leaving.

  Jerome watched her leave. Ash had grown up to become a beautiful lady and a determined one too. He’ll have to leave her behind to go search for their surviving friends, and she’ll be mad.

  And I most definitely can't take her along to avenge them, he thought with a sigh.

  “Don’t put her in danger,” Rihal said, startling him.

  Jerome jumped in freight. “Where’d you come from?” And how do you assassins keep popping up out of nowhere? He thought, remembering the Sage from before.

  “I have my ways,” Rihal said with a shrug, his heart light in his chest. He was thankful for Jerome’s safe return.

  “Have you been here the whole — heavens, your eyes Rihal, they are normal!” Jerome said excitedly, his weakness forgotten.

  Rihal smiled and shrugged. This was the only person he didn’t feel awkward being congratulated by. Jerome didn’t know the circumstances surrounding his eyes.

  Jerome stared at him for a while, worried. He looked exhausted; like a mortal who hadn’t been sleeping fine. Rihal was always so full of energy. He was someone you wanted to lean on in a bad situation. Everyone has their own bad days, though.

  “What’s up with you?” Jerome asked, feeling concerned about him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look exhausted.”

  Rihal didn’t answer that. He just raised an eyebrow as if to say, you think?

  “I’ve been worried sick about my dear disciple for three years now so…” Rihal said, giving Jerome a flat look.

  Jerome looked away avoiding his gaze, “By the way, I never met any Blank from the Royal Family. How come she did, and I didn’t?”

  Rihal considered his question for a while and Jerome could almost hear the gears turning inside his head. “There’s a surprising answer to that question of yours, but let’s leave it for later. In the meantime, you have to train.”

  “I’m hungry and thirsty,” Jerome complained, lying back in bed and burying himself under the covers.

  “...sorry about that,” Rihal looked at him, guilt-stricken. “Let’s get you something to eat then.” He vanished.

  Sacred artists didn’t need sustenance like mere mortals. Sprouts could go on for days without needing to eat — months if they were in seclusion. Jerome’s condition made him almost mortal so he had to feed, and he hadn’t done so in three years.

  I thought the Patriarch said his foundation was damaged, Rihal thought as he grabbed some succulent dishes from Kilian’s Palace. Jerome’s core was as vibrant as any newborn Sprout’s. It was just the condition of his body that was terrible.

  At least there’s still fire in his eyes. And if he can talk without whooping, he can train, Rihal smiled wickedly.