Book 2, Chapter 7

Hello dears,

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Like the [Potionmakers] do in Amunara, this chapter scrambled my brain. The dialogue, all the moving pieces, the plots... I know it doesn't seem like much once it's on the page, but this chapter took so many hours to be ironed out you wouldn't believe me if I told you. 

So, I hope you enjoy these 5.300 words of developments!

As they approached Senuy’s home, the setting sun cast a golden hue over the modest adobe structure nestled at the edge of the bustling city, its silhouette sharpened against the dimming sky. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, carried the foreign scents of the city and refractions of its magic.

“A friend of yours?” Lily inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity as they neared the home. The question hung between them.

“Yes,” Senuy responded, his head bobbing eagerly, a gesture that spoke volumes of his anticipation. He paused, his eyes alighting with a memory that seemed both fond and sorrowful. “She’s a Dancer,” he continued, his tone infused with pride. “I taught her myself before...well, before all this.” As he spoke, he gestured at himself, his hands outlining the frame of his body and the wounds he had suffered because of the disease.

Lily nodded, but her brows furrowed slightly, the creases a map of her thoughts. “How will she help?” she asked, the question laced with skepticism.

Senuy’s explanation came smoothly. “She often dances for Khnum’s guests. If someone’s able to get you there to retrieve your ring, it’s her,” he said with confidence.

Before Lily could delve deeper, their conversation was cut short by a voice calling out, “Senuy!”

“My love,” Senuy replied instantly, his voice a blend of warmth and relief. Turning, they were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman, her eyes wide with disbelief and concern.

“What happened to your scabs?” she asked, her gaze shifting between Senuy and Lily, seeking answers in the space between them.

“This girl healed me,” Senuy explained, motioning toward Lily.

Senuy’s wife, Henutmire, upon hearing of Lily’s feat, allowed a frown to crease her brow, her skepticism mirrored in her stance—a physical manifestation of her doubt. As Senuy approached her, Henutmire involuntarily stepped back, a ghost of past fears momentarily clouding her judgment. But when confronted with her husband’s mostly healed visage, her resolve crumbled, and she moved forward, her arms encircling him in a desperate embrace.

“I’m sorry about kicking you out, my lotus blossom,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, my desert rose,” Senuy responded, his words a sigh.

Lily felt her heart tighten as she looked at the two.

Henutmire, still nestled in the warm embrace of newfound hope, turned her gaze to Lily, her eyes alight with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

“Senuy might be able to have some of the worst of his injuries from the disease healed by an experienced Healer,” Lily explained.

Henutmire’s eyes narrowed slightly as she sought to understand the full measure of Lily’s abilities. “You’re not a Healer?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

Lily, unshaken by the question, responded. “I’m not,” she stated, her voice steady. “I can cure diseases, but I can’t take care of wounds.”

Henutmire’s reaction to Lily’s clarification was immediate. Any lingering doubts seemed to evaporate as a large smile graced her features, her skepticism replaced by a warmth that radiated genuine gratitude and admiration. “Well, that’s more than anyone else in this city can claim,” she proclaimed.

With a gesture as welcoming as the embrace she had shared with Senuy, Henutmire invited Lily into their home. “Come, please,” she urged as she released her husband from her hug, her enthusiasm palpable.

She soon ushered Lily into the modest living room of their home. The space was simple, adorned only with the necessities of a simple life but infused with a warmth that spoke of a family well-acquainted with love and hardship. The adobe walls were lined with woven mats and the occasional clay pot, while a low table took center stage, surrounded by cushions serving as seats.

...

After a brief set of questions, Lily had been left alone in the dining room while Henutmire finished making dinner. Senuy had gone to talk to his daughter to explain the miracle that had transpired in his life today.

Lily, instead, just sighed, placing her elbows on the table and resting her face in her palms. It had been a long, long day. She was feeling quite exhausted from everything that had taken place. She wanted nothing more than to get her ring back and to get back on track with her mission here in Amunara. Sadly, the mission would have to wait.

Soon, Senuy’s wife and daughter settled around the table with clay pots full of food. The aroma of cooking filled the room.

Henutmire’s daughter, Satiah, joined them, her curiosity about the newcomer evident in her cautious gaze.

“You really healed my dad?” Satiah asked with disbelief in her voice.

“I eradicated the disease he was suffering from,” Lily answered, her voice steady, betraying none of the defensiveness she felt. She met Satiah’s skeptical gaze with a calm demeanor.

Henutmire chided gently, “Satiah, don’t be rude.” But Satiah’s doubt was not easily quelled. “Mom, no one in the entire Order of Ankh-Mut was able to do anything. How am I supposed to believe that this girl could?”

The room tensed at Satiah’s words, a palpable shift as the skepticism seemed to seep into the very walls, casting a shadow of doubt over Senuy’s healing. Henutmire’s glance at her husband carried a weight of unspoken fears, the possibility that the disease’s specter still lingered inside him.

Lily’s response was measured. “I didn’t ask your father for money, nor do I need to be here,” she stated with sincerity. “But if you want me to show you that I’m not a fraud, just bring me a problem a common Healer can’t take care of. A disease of any kind, if you will.”

Satiah’s demeanor shifted when presented with the challenge, and she seemed confident as she shared her own ailment with Lily. “One of my teeth hurts, and the Healers said that if I don’t get it removed, it might kill me. I was about to go tomorrow, but it’s right up front, here,” she said, pointing to a swollen and reddened gum above one of her front teeth.

Lily rose from her seat and approached Satiah. She thought of bacterial infections in the gums, their potential fatality, and how they were treated. Then, with a touch to Satiah’s shoulder, she activated Death Touch and Lesser Mandala of Eradication. She felt a small drain on her Mana reserves and smiled confidently as she returned to her seat.

She watched as Satiah, perplexed by the quickness and lack of sensation from the ‘treatment,’ reached a tentative hand to her mouth. The transformation was immediate; disbelief turned to wonder as Satiah felt no more pain, and the tenderness and swelling were gone as if by magic.

“It’s not tender anymore!” Satiah exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and joy. Henutmire rushed to her daughter’s side, inspecting her mouth with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “It’s not swollen anymore, Satiah! It’s healed!” she cried.

...

After a display of her powers, Senuy’s family didn’t question her anymore. Instead, they invited her to eat as much as possible. Lily didn’t have to be begged as she scarfed down all the food she could stomach, prompting Henutmire to go back into the kitchen and make more.

“It’s been a while since I last had a normal meal,” she said with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

The light-hearted banter took a sudden pause, however, when Lily, her curiosity piqued by the day’s observations, brought up a figure that had lingered in her mind. “Who’s that drunk beggar that was in the square, where the Priestesses heal people? He looked... weird,” she inquired.

A hush fell over the room, the previously animated conversation dimming like the setting sun. The family exchanged a few looks, their expressions complex, before Satiah, with her curiosity mirroring Lily’s, broke the silence. “You’re probably talking about Thutmose. He’s... well, he’s a [Librarian].”

Lily’s reaction was immediate; a piece of bread lodged itself uncomfortably into her throat, prompting a sudden cough. As she struggled to regain her composure, Satiah offered a sympathetic glance.

“A [Librarian]?” Lily managed to choke out, her astonishment evident. Her mind raced with images of the beggar, his appearance a stark contradiction to Hadrian. She bit her tongue, stopping herself from revealing too much of her own knowledge of Librarians.

Senuy, sensing Lily’s confusion, leaned forward. “The Order caught him five years ago,” he explained, his tone serious. “You might not know this since you’re a foreigner, but the Order of Ankh-Mut considers death a blessing. They don’t kill criminals and those they apprehend. It’s against the principles of their faith.”

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. “They have very skilled [Potionmakers] who dose them with compounds that fundamentally alter their minds and then just let them go, enabling them to become beggars eventually: it makes them less responsive than zombies in some cases. It’s their way of warning potential criminals that there are fates much worse than death.”

Henutmire interjected, her voice carrying a mixture of pity and disdain. “Thutmose probably got the worst potions they could feed him. A [Librarian] with an intact mind is too dangerous because of the lies they spread. Usually, lesser criminals get potions that only mess with them for a while. Only murderers and rapists get their minds totally scrambled. But Thutmose probably got it ten times worse than them. However... I heard that the most skilled Potionmaker in the Order might be able to reverse those effects, too.”

The room fell silent as they considered the cruel fate of Thutmose. Senuy shook his head. “Librarians,” he muttered, “what a foolish bunch.”

Lily nodded without her heart behind it, her thoughts drifting to the possibilities that lay within her abilities. She craved the help of another [Librarian], and it just happened that she might be able to help him.

If I take the Potionmaker Profession that I got offered... could I... make him whole again?

...

As they left Senuy’s home, stepping into the cooler air of dusk that painted Amunara in shades of gold and purple, Senuy turned to Lily with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry if my family seemed a bit... odd to you. They had their reasons to be skeptical,” he murmured, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

Lily waved away his concern with a gentle smile, her eyes catching the last rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. “It’s okay. They were rightfully skeptical,” she reassured him.

As they walked, Senuy’s curiosity peeked through the remnants of his earlier apology. “Is this your first visit to Amunara?” he inquired, a hint of pride in his voice for his city.

Lily nodded, her gaze wandering over the sprawling cityscape that unfurled before them. The architecture bore a resemblance to ancient Egyptian designs, with towering obelisks in the plazas that stretched towards the heavens, their surfaces adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that danced in the fading light. The city was alive, its streets a maze of vibrant market stalls and lively chatter, yet she held her tongue on comparing it to the vastness of the Papal State’s Capital, not wishing to diminish Senuy’s pride.

“It’s a wonderful city,” she admitted sincerely, her appreciation genuine as she took in the beauty of Amunara.

Curiosity colored her tone as she glanced at Senuy, whose mysterious demeanor had piqued her interest further. “Can I ask where we’re going, Senuy? You’ve been quite mysterious about your friend,” she said, her curiosity now mingled with anticipation.

Senuy’s expression softened, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, my friend, have you looked at my tag yet?” he prompted, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Lily shook her head. She peered at the tag that floated above him and read, [Dancer - Level 51]. Her surprise was evident. “You are a [Dancer], too?”

Senuy’s smile turned regretful. “Was,” he corrected gently. The disease took me off my feet years ago. I started teaching instead. As I told you, we’re about to meet one of my students—my best student, if I have to be honest.”

They approached a bustling, crowded square, where the air carried the sound of drums and lute. The music beckoned them closer.

As Lily stood transfixed, she found herself immersed in a realm of movement that transcended anything she had witnessed on Earth. The dancer’s grace was otherworldly – each step, each sway of her hips, and each flutter of her hands held the audience spellbound.

The dancer’s attire accentuated her every move. The flowing crop top – a pristine white that seemed to capture and reflect the warm glow of the lanterns – revealed a toned midriff that rippled with each undulation. The long linen pants, their fabric caressing her legs like a second skin, flowed with her movements, creating mesmerizing patterns in the air.

As she spun and leaped, her caramel skin glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration. The light played upon her skin, casting an ethereal sheen that made her appear almost luminescent, a celestial being gracing the mortal realm with her presence.

Lily, even with all her Attributes, found herself humbled by the sheer mastery of the human body displayed before her. The dancer’s movements were fluid, seamless, and imbued with a grace that seemed to defy the very laws of physics. Each gesture and expression conveyed a depth of emotion that resonated deep within the souls of those who watched.

The music, an almost tangible presence in the air, seemed to intertwine with the dancer’s body, guiding her movements and lending them an added layer of poignancy. The rhythm pulsed through the crowd, their hearts beating in sync with the dancer’s steps, creating a collective experience that transcended individual realities.

As the performance reached its climax, the dancer’s movements became even more intricate, her body a whirlwind of controlled chaos. She spun, leaped, and contorted herself in ways that seemed to defy possibility, yet each move was executed with a precision and grace that left the audience breathless.

Finally, as the last note of the music faded into the night sky, the dancer struck a final pose, her chest heaving with exertion, her eyes sparkling. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, their cheers and whistles filling the air.

As more people surged forward, eager to express their admiration and secure the dancer’s services for their own events, Lily remained rooted to the spot, her mind still processing the marvel she had just experienced.

People approached the woman, who was collecting offerings into a hat, and many stopped to request private exhibitions for their own gatherings.

Finally, as the crowd began to disperse, Senuy stepped forward, reuniting with the dancer with a hug. They exchanged a few words, and Senuy gestured towards Lily, introducing her from afar. The dancer’s initial surprise gave way to a smile and a nod.

...

The dancer, her skin still gleaming with the sweat of her exertion, smiled at Lily. “I’m Hebet,” she announced, her voice carrying the melodious rhythm of her dance.

Lily, extending a hand, felt a sharp contrast between her pale skin and Hebet’s richly tanned, vibrant complexion. For a moment, the fleeting shadow of jealousy, unbidden yet palpable, crossed her mind. “I’m Lily,” she introduced herself.

“My teacher says you healed him. Is that right?” Hebet asked. Something about the woman’s voice made Lily’s throat tighten. It was as though Hebet’s every word was woven with an invisible thread of allure, compelling and hypnotic.

Before Lily could muster more than a simple affirmation, Senuy interjected. “Hebet, drop the skills. You’re making the poor girl sweat.” He turned to Lily, offering an amused explanation, “[Dancers] have charming skills on top of movement ones. They’re useful in a pinch, but I thought I had taught this girl better than having them on all the time.”

Hebet’s laughter, clear and resonant, filled the air, her earlier enchantment seeming to dissipate as she nodded in acquiescence. “Alright, alright,” she conceded, the atmosphere around her shifting perceptibly as she deactivated her skills. Lily felt an immediate lightness, a release from the invisible pressure she hadn’t fully realized she was under.

Observing Hebet now, Lily noticed a change not just in the air but in her perception of the dancer. Without the subtle enhancement of her abilities, Hebet’s age became more apparent. Yet, even without the charm skills at play, there was no denying Hebet’s incredible beauty.

Feeling overwhelmed by her own thoughts, Lily scolded herself for her fleeting vanity. It was unlike her to dwell on such matters, she reminded herself. Focusing on the matter at hand, Lily addressed Hebet with newfound determination. “So, Hebet,” she began, “Senuy says that you can help me get into Khnum’s palace?”

Hebet’s response was accompanied by a smile, both knowing and enigmatic. “He’s already explained that a naughty boy stole your ring, and that you’re very attached to it,” she said. “I can get you there with some preparation, but first, I need a favor.”

Lily’s agreement was almost immediate. “What is it?” she asked.

“If you can take care of my best friend, I will get you to the man who stole your ring,” Hebet stated.

...

Hebet’s home was a delightful mixture of practicality and artistry, located just a short distance away from where the day’s performance had captivated the crowd. The entrance exuded a welcoming warmth that can only be found in a place that has been lived in and loved. This was in stark contrast to the busy square they had just left. Upon entering the house, Lily was greeted by the comforting scent of herbs and a hint of jasmine. The interior was illuminated by the soft glow of oil lamps, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

“My hair?” Lily echoed, confusion lacing her voice as they crossed the threshold into Hebet’s place.

“Yes,” Hebet affirmed matter-of-factly as she led Lily through the living area towards a more secluded part of the house dedicated to personal care. “I can’t believe a woman would ever walk around with such a mess atop her head. What happened to it?” She inquired, delicately lifting a strand of Lily’s neglected hair with her fingers.

Defensively, Lily recounted her ordeal, “Well, I was confined in an underground temple without running water for four years. I tried washing it, but—”

“I see that you tried,” Hebet interjected, her eyebrow arching in a silent critique, “but I’m puzzled as to why restoring your hair wasn’t your first priority. You’re a woman. Your hair, after your body, is your greatest asset.”

“My greatest currency is this,” Lily countered, raising a fist.

Hebet’s response was patronizing. “You might be a warrior, or whatever ‘Alchemist’ means, but you are still a woman, dear,” she stated as she ushered Lily into a washroom, where a large pot of water sat over a newly kindled fire.

“Don’t worry,” Hebet reassured, sensing Lily’s rising frustration, “we’ll take care of this. I cannot allow you to be seen in the city with me looking less than your best.”

Lily bristled at the insinuation. “Excuse me?” she retorted, incredulity mixing with indignation. “I need to retrieve the ring my father gave me. I’m not here for a beauty pageant.”

Hebet, unphased by Lily’s rising temper, offered a contemplative look. “Do you know the difference between men and women, little girl?” she asked as if Lily were a student. She ignored Lily’s mounting irritation and guided her to a chair reminiscent of those found in a hair salon positioned conveniently near the steaming pot.

Lily’s internal monologue raced with disbelief and a simmering anger.

Little girl? Is she serious?

“The difference,” Hebet continued, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to Lily’s vexation as she began the process of untangling Lily’s hair, “is that men pursue women. Women don’t chase after men; they attract them. It’s akin to a weapon, Lily. Whenever you forget you’re a woman in dealing with men, you’re handing them an undue advantage.”

The room was filled with the sound of water being poured and mixed, and the air was growing warm and humid as Lily sulked while being pampered. Hebet worked with a skilled hand as she prepared to restore Lily’s hair to a state befitting her natural beauty. Despite Lily’s initial resistance, the soothing warmth of the water and the rhythmic motions of Hebet’s hands gradually eased her into a reluctant acceptance.

As the process unfolded, Lily found herself reflecting on Hebet’s words. The concept of femininity as a form of power was foreign to her, a stark contrast to the brute strength and alchemical skills she had relied upon. Yet, in the heart of Amunara, amidst the steam and the scent of cleansing herbs, Lily began to ponder parts of her identity that she had perhaps ignored even back on Earth.

...

Lily found herself navigating through a conversation that felt as intricate and revealing as the dance Hebet had performed in the square. “In fact, would you mind telling me how they stole the ring from you?” Hebet inquired, her tone carrying a note of genuine curiosity.

“This guy, John, took my hands to bid goodbye, and by the time he was gone, I realized that he had taken my ring. Why?” Lily responded, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice, not yet understanding where this line of questioning was leading.

“Why did you let a stupid boy like that take your hands?” Hebet asked pointedly. “Men shouldn’t be able to touch you whenever they want. You’re not one of their pals. You’re what they should fight among each other to get.”

“What? What am I, a stupid prize?” Lily retorted, her frown deepening. She did not take kindly to being reduced to an object of conquest.

“You’re quite dull,” Hebet agreed, not missing a beat, “because you don’t see how being such a pretty girl could make all the difference in how the world responds to you.”

“Hebet,” Lily frowned, confusion and irritation mingling in her expression, “what is this? Why are you telling me these things?”

Hebet smiled knowingly. “Because I’ve taught many girls how to dance, just like Senuy taught me. But Senuy, who’s a man, understands what it means to be a woman better than you do. So many girls come to me and ask me to teach them how to dance so they can just move their bodies and not think about who they really are. You would be really surprised how many girls just want to turn off their thoughts and twist and turn their bodies just because they don’t like their family or the men around them. But my first lesson is that you never dance for yourself; you always dance for someone else.

“Those girls and boys who just want to isolate themselves from the world will never become true [Dancers] because they lack the connection with others that you need for each performance.”

“I’m not a [Dancer],” Lily said with a wrinkled nose, her skepticism clear, “what does that have to do with me? I don’t want to be rude, but I’m here to get the ring, not a weird lesson in femininity.”

“You might not be a [Dancer],” Hebet conceded, her hands gently caressing Lily’s face, sending a shiver down her spine as the warm water cascaded over her hair, “but even fights are performances. And not all fights are about swinging your fists. In fact, you were brought to me to get your ring back, not to a [War General], weren’t you? But we’ll get to what you’ll need to learn later.”

As Hebet worked tirelessly, washing, detangling, and occasionally trimming the mess of Lily’s hair, she ventured further into the terrain of personal inquiry. “Where do you come from, Lily?” she asked.

“Far away,” Lily sighed.

“Mysterious,” Hebet smiled, her interest piqued. “I like it. And what about your family? What did they teach you?”

Lily’s response was a mixture of reluctance and reflection. “Magic, fighting—sort of, and... yeah, normal stuff.”

“And how about healing diseases that not even the strongest Priestesses can affect in any way?” Hebet probed.

“Self-taught,” Lily replied with a hint of pride.

As Hebet continued her work, the conversation ebbed and flowed, going from simple matters like the most appetizing local food to how Hebet made her living.

In the meantime, Lily resisted the notion that embracing her femininity was a lesson she needed to learn now or at all. However, Hebet’s words planted seeds of thought that refused to be easily dismissed. She came to confront a God, yet here she was, being treated with a tenderness she hadn’t known she needed by a woman she didn’t know and who was lecturing her on how to be a woman.

...

The streets of Amunara were bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Lily, with her newly tended hair catching the light in waves of silken strands, walked alongside Hebet through the winding alleys that led to an unknown destination.

“Do you like your hair?” Hebet inquired, a note of smug satisfaction in her voice.

Lily exhaled softly, her fingers brushing through the softness of her hair, a stark contrast to its previous state. “Yes, very pretty,” she conceded.

“Is your friend sick?” Lily asked.

“Yes,” Hebet replied. “No Healer in the city has managed to make her better. She is strong, very strong, but this disease is slowly eating her from the inside. She can’t eat anymore, and she has barely any energy to get out of bed. Just yesterday, she mentioned that she might ask the Priests of Mut to relieve her from all her pain when she briefly came out of her unconsciousness. I told her that she would do that over my dead body and prayed to the moon that someone could help her. Perhaps you’re the response to my prayers, young girl.”

Lily bristled slightly at the term ‘young girl.’ But she couldn’t tell Hebet that her cumulative age was actually greater than hers. So, she chose to focus on the task at hand, setting aside her irritation. “I’ll do my best. Can you tell me when the symptoms started?” she inquired.

“She came back from an expedition into a Dungeon full of the Undead. When they returned, they all started to feel sick. It was about six months ago. One by one, they started dying like flies until only my friend remained. She was the highest level among them, but... she’s still going to die if someone doesn’t figure this out.”

“The Undead might carry diseases,” Lily reasoned aloud. “Have the Healers said anything about it?”

Hebet shook her head, her expression one of frustration mixed with curiosity at Lily’s line of thought. “Why do you say that? They haven’t mentioned that at all.”

“Really? Isn’t it pretty common knowledge?” She cringed, remembering the plague she had had to deal with. “They might not know how diseases work, then,” Lily sighed. “But I do. And don’t worry, if it’s a disease, I should be able to eliminate it without a problem.”

The conversation took a sudden turn when Hebet asked an unexpected question. “By the way, I do know the two men we’re after, Vince and John Hawthorne. They became quite famous in these past two years in Amunara. What was your impression of them?” she probed.

“John seemed alright before he stole my ring. Vince was a jerk,” Lily responded, her disdain for the latter clear in her tone.

“I hear he’s quite handsome,” Hebet teased, a playful glint in her eye.

“He can die in a ditch for all I care,” Lily retorted sharply.

Hebet’s response was a knowing nod, her smile cryptic and teasing. “Mhh-mhh,” she hummed, amusement dancing in her gaze.

“What?” Lily frowned, puzzled by Hebet’s reaction.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hebet continued, her smile persisting as they approached their destination.

Before them stood a large manor, its imposing structure silhouetted against the night sky.

They crossed an ornate gate and took the path to the front door, lined with meticulously kept gardens.

Hebet knocked on the door. A few tense moments passed before it was answered by a servant, whose eyes flickered with recognition and then concern upon seeing Hebet. A brief exchange of hushed words ensued, and they were ushered inside with a deference that spoke of Hebet’s standing with the household.

Hebet’s grace was soon replaced by a palpable edge of worry. “If you try anything funny, I will have you killed,” she whispered to Lily.

She’s finally getting serious, it seems; Lily frowned.

Hebet led Lily into a room where the air felt heavier. Upon opening the door, they were greeted by the sight of a woman lying unconscious on a bed, her features peaceful yet marred by the pallor of illness. Her hair, a magnificent cascade of golden locks that extended to her hips, framed her face like a lion’s mane.

“Aziza was the leader of one of the strongest mercenary companies. They called her the Lioness,” Hebet said with a regretful sigh.

“Well, I can see why,” Lily murmured, her eyes taking in the striking figure before her. Approaching the bed, she added, “I’ll take a look. Please, don’t disturb me.”

Activating Meditation, Lily began her examination, her hands moving gently over Aziza’s body, the covers pulled back with respect. No obvious signs of illness were visible to the naked eye.

She tried using Death Touch and Lesser Mandala of Eradication, but almost no response came back.

Dammit, Lily swore internally. I need to see what the problem is, then.

That prompted her to resort to Reality’s Whisper.

She had discovered an additional function of the skill while playing with dead Diseased Venomshade Stalker bodies. She had indeed gone quite mad to reach the point of examining the disgusting insectoids to pass the time while her Mana was recovering. What she had discovered was that she could see a lot of their inner biology if she concentrated hard enough.

Up until now, she had never used it on any other living being other than herself. Still, she laid her hands on Aziza’s abdomen and closed her eyes. Direct touch was necessary to activate this aspect of the skill.

Lily’s focus intensified, drawing an image of the human body and its biology. She shifted 280 points from Strength, Speed, and Toughness to Focus, Perception, and Charisma. Then, as she slowly lowered herself into a state of semi-consciousness, she started running her mind across Aziza’s body.

What she found almost made her jump back.

As Lily’s mind traversed the landscape of Aziza’s body, a horrifying scene unfolded before her mind’s eye. Innumerable tiny creatures swarmed within, their forms grotesque and alien. Each parasite was no larger than a grain of rice, yet their numbers were staggering, a seething mass that infested every organ and every vein and capillary.

Their bodies were translucent, revealing pulsating organs within. Hooked mouthparts jutted from their bulbous heads, latching onto healthy tissue and leeching precious nutrients. Segmented bodies undulated as they swam through blood and lymph, propelled by their whip-like tails. They reproduced at a frightening rate, clusters of eggs clinging to the walls of arteries and intestines.

The parasites had infiltrated every system, from the lungs to the brain. They clogged delicate structures, impairing function and triggering inflammation. Some had ruptured, spilling caustic fluids that ate away at surrounding tissue like acid. Others had died and calcified, forming jagged concretions that tore at the soft membranes with every movement.

It was a hidden battle raging within Aziza’s weakening body, an invasion so thorough and devastating that Lily marveled at the woman still clinging to life.

The sight chilled Lily to her core.

This might actually be beyond me, Lily realized silently. Wait. I just had an idea.