Chapter 15: Sickness and Strain

We stepped into the hut, and it hit me. This wasn’t just poor. This was survival held together with hopes and dreams. The roof was a patchwork of tattered sacks stitched together with vines. A cracked pot sat in the corner, full of stale water and dead flies. Bits of straw lay clumped across the mud floor, probably meant to be bedding, but they looked more like discarded nests. I’d seen poverty back on Earth from cardboard beds under highway bridges to slums clinging to cities like barnacles, but this was worse. This was poverty without even the illusion of help. No hospitals. No charity groups. Just rot, rust, and resignation.

Nira pinched her nose with a dramatic whine. “It’s so stinky here.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Watch your mouth, Nira. They live here.”

Her pout didn’t vanish, but she at least lowered her hand. In the far corner, a boy was curled on the straw, his cheeks flushed and his breathing shallow. His limbs trembled faintly beneath a ragged blanket, and a patch of dried vomit stained the floor nearby. Lydia was already kneeling beside him, checking his pulse, her expression grim but focused.

“It’s just a fever… and maybe a lack of spirit,” she said. “Did he eat something strange?”

A girl from the group scratched the back of her neck. “Some weird mushroom… cheeky bugger wouldn’t share. Now he’s like this.”

Another kid snorted. “Serves him right.”

That earned him a glare from Lydia. “Pips is your brother just as much as everyone else here is your family. I know life’s been rough. You’ve all had to grow up too fast. But you don’t get to throw each other away.”

The kid ducked his head. “Sorry, Lady Lydia.”

“Lydia is just fine,” she said, her tone softening.

Then she placed one hand above the sick boy’s chest and whispered, “Healing Light.”

The glow bloomed from her palm like sunlight through clouded glass. It spread over Pips, wrapping him in warmth and healing. After a few long seconds, his breathing evened out. The redness in his cheeks began to fade. The worst of the fever had broken.

But the spell had its cost.

Lydia wavered, her hand slipping away. She collapsed to her knees, gasping. Her breaths came short and shallow, and a fine sheen of sweat broke across her brow.

“Sister Lydia?” one of the children asked, stepping closer.

She didn’t answer. Her body slumped forward.

The hut erupted in chaos.

“Is she dead?!” one boy cried, his voice cracking with panic.

“No, no, she’s just sleeping, right?” said a girl, tugging on Lydia’s sleeve with trembling hands.

“Wake up, Miss Lydia! Please!” another shouted, his eyes brimming with tears.

“She’s not breathing!” someone screamed from the back.

Nira gripped my arm tightly, her small hand cold with fear. “Ren… do something…” 

Strange, she could touch me, but this was not the time to think too much about it. I didn’t have blood or a beating heart anymore, but in that moment, something still twisted inside me. It was fear, not just of losing Lydia, but of letting these kids lose the only adult who’d ever looked at them like they mattered.

And then came the voice of a younger one, barely a whisper, “Is the church lady going to heaven now…?”

No. Not on my watch.

“Hey,” I said, turning to Nira, “can you let me borrow your body?”

To my surprise and growing concern, her face lit up with the kind of smile usually reserved for cake and festivals. “Sure!”

That was… too enthusiastic. There was definitely something wrong with this little girl. I mean, I was glad she’d crawled her way out of the gloom-and-doom hole she’d been stuck in for some time now, but still. Most kids don’t volunteer for possession like it’s recess.

I sighed. Never mind.

I dove into her like a swimmer taking the cold plunge. The transition was smoother now. Through her little frame, I took a breath and spoke in my best grown-up voice. “Out of the way! Give her time and space to breathe!”

Of course, the kids didn’t listen. They clustered around Lydia like panicked ducklings, pawing at her, tugging her sleeves, shouting over one another. It was chaos. I tried pushing through politely at first, but subtlety clearly wasn’t on the menu today.

So I went with plan B: knees.

One, two, three swift kicks at the backs of unsuspecting knees. Not hard enough to injure, just enough to buckle them.

“Out of the way!” I barked. “Give her air and let me through!”

“What’s that for?!”

“She kicked me!”

“I’ll beat you up!”

I raised Nira’s tiny index finger and summoned a small arc of electricity. I controlled their strength, not keen on hurting the little girl. Blue sparks danced harmlessly between her fingertips.

“I will zap you if you don’t behave,” I growled. “And it’s gonna hurt.”

That shut them up.

The crowd backed away with wide eyes and trembling lips. Maybe I overdid it a bit, but hey… discipline mattered.

“I know what to do,” I added confidently. “Leave this to me.”

The problem? I didn’t actually know what to do.

I knelt beside Lydia’s collapsed form. She was pale, her chest unmoving. Her lips had lost color. I hesitated, then reached up with Nira’s small fingers and pressed them against her neck, searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

That chilled me more than I expected. She looked too alive to be dead, too stubborn to just keel over from a single spell. But there was no time to think.

I straddled instinct and memory, then leaned in.

“Okay… don’t sue me later, or something,” I muttered before performing mouth-to-mouth. Nira’s small lungs weren’t ideal, but it was all I had. One breath. Then another. I began chest compressions, trying to recall every outdated first aid video I ever skimmed through.

Still nothing.

Then I got an idea.

Electricity. Of course. It killed me once, but maybe it could save her now.

I gathered a tiny surge at the tips of Nira’s fingers and gently pressed them to Lydia’s sternum. Just a pulse. Not enough to damage, instead, just enough to jolt.

A second passed.

Then another.

Lydia gasped.

Her eyes flew open, wild and confused, her chest rising as she choked for air. I slumped back, still in Nira’s body, breathless from relief.

The kids erupted in cheers.

“Welcome back," I said through Nira's lips. "Sister Lydia.”